My Mom Rocks

I love my Mom.

Not only did she watch my kids for me so I was able to go on a mini vacation...

...but she also allows her grandkids to decorate her face like this:





They thought it was hilarious.

I probably wouldn't have let them put stickers on my face. I'd have been like, "Hello, get some paper and put the stickers on that."

But my Mom was all, "Sure, decorate my face to your heart's content!"

My Mom also teaches my kids about plants and flowers.

I can't plant things for the life of me. I've tried and many things have died. I swear that flowers move away from me when I walk past them. It's like they can sense that I am a PLANTKILLER.







Tommy is watering the one plant we do have. I've kept it alive for two years and I have to say, I'm shocked.

It's probably because that plant is hard to kill. Mom promised me this when she bought it. I looked at it nervously and reminded her that plants do not fare well with me.

"Don't worry. This plant is hard to kill," she assured me.

The plant started growing sideways right before my Mom got here.

I thought I had killed it.

Sometimes I would forget to water the thing so I tried to make up for that by dumping a lot of water on it.

Water spilled from the bottom of the potter.

Then when I explained the situation to Mom she told me that the plant was SUPPOSED to grow sideways and that I shouldn't overwater it.

Oh.

I am just not a plant person.

Thank goodness my mother is. She has taught my kids a lot.

My Mom also gets down on the floor and plays with her grandchildren. I do this sometimes and you have to be TOUGH in order to take two rough kids who don't know their own strength. Tommy likes to barrel right into your gut and Natalie will fling herself on your back.



Here's a tip: NEVER expose your back to Natalie at her level. If you do, she'll jump on it.

I learned this the hard way when I was on my hands and knees picking up the living room. Suddenly I was knocked over by her tiny frame and she had her arms wrapped around my neck in a death grip.

"HORSIE!" she cooed. "HORSIE!"

For a two year old, she is surprisingly strong. I tried to sit up and Natalie remained hanging from my neck.

"HORSIE!" she screeched into my ear.

"Darling. You're choking Mommy," I managed to croak out.

I had to bribe her with chocolate to get her to let go.

I gasped out, "Chocolate," and Natalie dropped to the floor and went, "Where?"

She takes after me.



Doesn't my Mom look exhausted?

But even when she's tired, she still will happily play with her grandkids.

They were sad to see her go.

Mom left last week and we miss her. I always get a hollow feeling in my heart when she has to go.

But the good news is that I will see her again in June.

And that's also when I'll see my husband again.

---------

I would also like to thank Tasha again for the hilarious book. She did a giveaway awhile back and I won.

Usually when I win a giveaway I post about it as soon as I get the prize.

The trip to the Mall of America has put me behind but I still wanted to post a thank you.

This is what I won:



The book is SO funny. It has a lot of amusing signs.

This was one of my favorites:



It reminded me of the Do Not Feed The Animal signs that are posted at the zoo. I started to picture Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt and Mel Gibson all caged up and then I couldn't stop laughing because I'm just immature like that.

So thank you for the laughs, Tasha!

Hi. I'm a Wimp.

Okay fine.

I admit it.

I’m a total wimp when it comes to roller coasters. It’s just, they’re so high! And they look dangerous. It’s a fear of mine that my safety bar will flip up the second the coaster heads for the first loop and I’ll fall to my death. I’ve read about it happening before. I know it’s rare but the bottom line is that IT HAS HAPPENED.

Some coasters look like they’re about to collapse at any second. It’s not normal for them to creak, is it?

I’m also deathly afraid of heights so whenever I go on a high ride I shut my eyes. I’m told that this doesn’t make it as fun but I don’t care. If I look down, I panic.

I practically go into convulsions when I see people flinging their arms in the air while on a high coaster. Do they have that much faith in their safety bars? I could never lift my arms up. Mine are always clenched around me in fear.

I can usually be coerced into going on most rides. I don’t want to be known as the boring friend, after all. Some rides, however, I refuse to budge on. I put my foot down on the Tower of Terror ride at the Disney MGM studios. There was just no way I was going to go on that. I mean, they OPEN the doors so you can look out and see how high you are! If I saw that I’d burst into tears. And the second the ride dropped I would emit a scream so loud that it would render all the other people on the ride deaf for a few hours.

I also curse on the scary rides.

I can’t help it. I sometimes say that I have Scary Ride Tourette Syndrome because the second the coaster goes down the first drop, I shout a string of words that would probably make Andrew Dice Clay blush.

Why am I talking about this?

Because Jennifer and I went on all the rides that the Mall of America had to offer. I was a little petrified over the Spongebob Roller Coaster. I felt foolish being so frightened because small children were clamoring to get on the ride. But me? My knees were starting to shake and I began to feel weak when I saw that the coaster went straight up and then straight down.

“I just....maybe not this one...” I told Jennifer.

Jennifer wasn’t having it.

“We’re going,” she said firmly.

I watched as a little girl rushed past us to get onto the ride. She looked to be around seven.

If a SEVEN-year-old can go on a roller coaster, then I certainly could.

Right?

If I can GIVE BIRTH (twice) then I can certainly go on the ride.

Right?

My heart was starting to thump nervously as we climbed into the roller coaster car. It was designed to look like a Krabby Patty. I quickly pulled the safety harness down on me. It’s also my fear that the ride will suddenly shoot forward the second I sit down. Then I asked the ride operator to make sure that the bar was firmly over me.

“I will. I promise,” she assured me.

I think it amused her that I was so afraid.

I was also worried because TEENAGERS were the ride operators.

Teenagers! You know, the people who text while driving? The people who think that walking around with their boxers showing is COOL?

How was I supposed to entrust them with my life?

After my safety bar was checked the ride operator asked if I was ready.

"I guess," I said uneasily.

And then the ride sprang forward. I immediately squished my eyes shut. The ride climbed up and up and up.

Then it plunged right down.

"HOLY #*(&@$*(& MOTHER OF *#&&@& SONOFA #*#(@*(#(#*!"

The expletives just poured from my mouth.

Thank goodness we had the car to ourselves. Otherwise I surely would have ruined a child's innocence or something. Then they'd have gone home and said something like,

"Hi Mom! F***!"

When the ride was over I was panting in my seat. The teenaged operator smirked and asked me how it was as she helped me up.

"It was fun," I lied.

Okay, so it wasn't a TOTAL lie. It WAS fun.

But it also scared the mess out of me.

This probably makes me a wimp but I don't care.

We went on a bunch of other rides.





I cursed and cursed.

Our final ride was the log ride. We saved that for last because there was a chance that we might get wet when the log dove into the water.

Log rides make me nervous because there are no safety bars.

You're supposed to grip the sides of your log and that just does not seem safe to me.

I always feel like I'm going to fling right out of it.

This ride had two drops. When we went down the first one I shouted words that made me sound totally unladylike.

I assumed that was the only drop.

But no.

The log suddenly started to CLIMB again.

This time higher.

"I thought that drop was it," I told Jennifer, who was sitting in front of me.

"No. We have one more," she explained, her voice laced with excitement.

Drops don't scare Jennifer.

Before I knew it, we were falling at what seemed like to me as an unsafe rate.

I gripped the sides with all my might and prayed that I wasn't about to be ejected from the ride.

Oh, and I cursed and cursed.

When that was over we went to check out the ride pictures just to see if it captured anything thrilling.

It did.

When our photo popped up it showed a delighted Jennifer and...

well...



...a terrified me.

Malcolm, the Mountains, and the Dukes of Hazzard

This is going to be an adventure. Several years ago I went Chavies, Kentucky on Appalachain Service Project. Chavies is in Perry County....but could easily have been Hazzard County....that is the home of Bo and Luke Duke and the General Lee....Uncle Jessie...and Roscoe P. Coltrain!.....but they were on vacation when I was in the area. Instead...I met Malcolm, a.k.a. June Bug. Our house was in Bonnyman and actually not bad...it was missing supports underneath it....but the house itself was nice....compared to some we worked on. Anyways....our group was working....when a local came to meet us, check out what we were doing, and offer his advice. The locals name was Malcolm. I never got his last name...mainly because I did not think he threw it. Malcolm lived next door to our family...he was a gentle soul...a few fries shy of a happy meal, simple, and happy. Our first day he came to offer us Barbie dolls. These dolls were some he and his momma had been collecting for a long time and now needed to move to make space in their house for his sebenteen year old son. BTW...I spelled it like he said it. He and his momma loved buying Barbie dolls at yard sales and flea markets....but now those days were over....junior needed a room to himself. Malcolm offered us bags and bags of dolls...which we took. They would provide some child with hours of delight....and then told us how you can tell if a Barbie doll is real....do you know? Come on...bet cha do....well...if you don't...I will impart this wisdom to you....according to Malcolm. "There are two shure fire ways of tellin' if a Barbie doll is the real thang. The first way is to pull the hair up on her neck and if she has U. S.of A. stamped on her neck....then she is a real Barbie doll.....but the best way...the very bestest way....is to pull her little panties down....and if she has Mattel stamped on her arse....then she is the real thing. I nearly died. Later on...he returned to us....with a prize for me....a rock. He then assured me that it was not just any rock....it was a special rock....and I saw the fossils in the rock....and the rock was a chunk of coal. About that time he grabbed my hand....and was pulling me out from under the house....to take me down on the crick bank to get some more....I dug my heals in....because I was hearing Deliverance's Dueling Banjos kick up. Needless to say...I did NOT go to the creek bank that day....or any other. News of the Barbie story spread through our work crews like wildfire and on Weds. our Senior Pastor, Don, came to visit us. We were eating supper when I felt the hair on the back of my neck being lifted up....and my pastor whispered laughingly to me...."just seeing if you are the real thing." Willie, another adult from the other side of the room shouted...."try the other way preacher." Ahhhhh Lawd....there was no hole big enough for me to crawl into....but I lived to work another day, we finished the house and were very proud of what we accomplished. I loved my time in Chavies/Bonnyman. Kentucky is a gorgeous place to visit. Being from the south...I understand that the south gets a lot of bad press from everyone....we are called slow, stupid, dumb, etc....but let me tell you something about southern....southern is a state of mind. No where on earth are you treated like you are in the south. Here, where you meet someone you are told to draw you up a chair, have a cold glass of tea, and chat a bit. I love living in the south...and would not have it any other way. Only in the south will we let someone we have never met spend the night in our house....just because they know a cousin...five times removed. Only in the south...will you hear music on porches in the evening, yes ma'am and no sir being said by all...old and young. Only in the south...does warm hospitality cover you like black velvet at a midnight ball. It is a smooth...soothing feeling. If you have never experienced it....you should. It will change your life forever. It did mine.

A Trip to the Aquarium

Did you know that the Mall of America has an aquarium?

Well, it does.

So Jennifer and I decided to check it out.

After we got our tickets, we walked into this room that was made to look like a forest.

I got the feeling that we were being watched and sure enough, we were.

By these guys:



Their expressions remind me of my own when I'm desperate for chocolate.

This guy freaked me out:



I had calmly rounded the corner and there he was. I was about to swing my purse at him and emit a Zena Warrior Princess-like roar and then I realized, duh, he's fake. I've probably been watching too many episodes of Lost. I now feel like there are Others lurking behind trees or bushes whenever I enter a wooded area.



This guy looked like he was mocking me. Look, I know my hair is scary but you don't have to laugh. It's rude.



This guy clearly did not like me. I think he was sick of being called Jaws. He was probably all, "Dude, my name is NOT Jaws. It's Brian."



Thank goodness for the glass. Otherwise I would have surely been shark food.



As we continued our tour, Jennifer picked up a new boyfriend. He's handsome, no?



I'm starting to wish that my husband were a lined seahorse. I told him so on the phone. I wistfully said, "It would be lovely if you were a lined seahorse," and he went, "EXCUSE ME?"

Though if he were the one that got pregnant it would be awful. I mean, the man whines and moans when he has the sniffles. What would he be like with swollen feet and contractions? Yikes.



We found gold! Hurray! I can pay off the Honda Insight! But no...it was fake, of course. And glued to the bottom of the pit. Dang. It's not nice to tease.



Oh noes! That mean shark broke free and ate Jennifer!

Teachable Tuesday Thought 2

" I am a teacher! What I do and say are being absorbed by young minds who will echo these images across the ages. My lessons will be immortal, affecting people yet unborn, people I will never see or know. The future of the world is in my classroom today, a future with the potential for good or bad. The pliable minds of tomorrow's leaders will be molded either artistically or grotesquely by what I do." Here's hoping I do a good job.

You know, "I wake up every morning determined both to change the world and have one hell of a good time. Sometimes this makes planning the day a little difficult." E. B. White

I want to die...thinking that I had the greatest ride of all...and it was all worth it. Every single day I walked into a classroom...was worth the pain, the tears, the fears, and the anger....but most of all....the compassion. We are all teachers of some sort....do your best!

The Glamour Shots Experience

Jennifer and I did Glamour Shots while we were at the Mall of America. I had done them a few years before and actually got some good photographs from the process. See, I don’t photograph well. Apparently I need makeup caked on my face and half a can of hair spray in my hair in order to look appealing on film.

It’s just how it goes and I’ve accepted that.

So Jennifer and I get to Glamour Shots and we’re given papers to fill out. The two women who were going to be doing our makeup kept shooting perplexed expressions in our direction. I was beginning to think that my fly was undone again. I mean, it’s happened before. I surreptitiously checked my fly and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that it was up. But then I worried that there was something stuck on my teeth. Was that what the women were gaping at? I ran my tongue along my teeth and didn’t feel anything. I was about to lean over to Jennifer and ask if I smelled or something but then one of the makeup ladies spoke.

“How old are you?” she demanded. She was Latino and I’ve heard Latinos are quite blunt. Maybe it’s just because I watch Desperate Housewives and I’m used to the Latino character Gabby mouthing off.

I get this question a lot. Jennifer does too.

“I’m 26 and she’s 25,” I said, gesturing to Jennifer who was busy filling out the paperwork.

The Latino woman didn’t look like she believed me at first.

“You’re kidding?” she said, her perfectly shaped eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs.

Then the other makeup lady chimed in.

“I was wondering where your mothers were!” she chirped.

It was on the tip of my tongue to say something like, “You caught us! We’re high schoolers. We’re totally ditching school and our first stop was Glamour Shots.”

But see, that’s sarcastic and rude. And these ladies were in charge of my makeup. If I pissed them off they could make me look like Bozo the Clown. Or, you know, a streetwalker.

So I just gave them a friendly smile and said something like, “We’re in our twenties.”

After the paperwork was finished we were led to the makeup chairs. The Latino woman was in charge of my makeup. She stared at me for a full minute. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable and squirmed a little on my chair. It makes me nervous to be stared at. I was about to say something cheesy like, “Please stop looking at my zits!” but then she spoke.

“You have nice eyes,” the Latino said. She continued to gaze at me sharply.

“Oh,” I answered. “Thank you.” I gestured to all the makeup she had laid out in front of her. “You seem to have a lovely collection here….” I trailed off. I just wanted her to STOP LOOKING AT ME.

“What kind of makeup do you like?” she inquired. (Still staring.)

I shrugged. “I don’t wear a lot at home. Just, you know, some foundation and some blush. I attempt eyeliner but usually fail horribly.” I gave a nervous laugh. The makeup lady didn’t even flinch. She just stared and stared and stared. There was another brief silence and I was tempted to slide off the chair and say, “You know what? Forget this. You’re totally creeping me out.”

But then the lady suddenly clapped her hands and I jumped in my chair.

“Did I scare you?” she wondered, rubbing my shoulder.

No lady. I just leaped out of my skin for the fun of it.

But to her I just went, “I’m okay. I scare easily.”

“I know what I’m going to do,” the lady told me seriously. She started rummaging through her makeup and suddenly she was putting stuff around my eyes. A few minutes later she instructed me to close my eyes because she was going to spray foundation on my face.

“Like the celebrities. The celebrities get this spray. Isn’t that exciting?” she gushed, getting the tiny silver machine that was sitting on the counter ready.

Um. I guess if you find getting liquid sprayed on your face exciting. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to breathe when it was being splashed on my face. So I just held my breath as I was sprayed and then I realized, crap, I need to BREATHE but then I was paranoid that the foundation would get into my lungs, I’d get sick and then die and wouldn’t that stink if I perished because I inhaled foundation?

Right when I was about to pass out from lack of oxygen, the lady finished.

Phew.

You never appreciate breathing until you take a brief break from it.

“Eyes again,” the lady muttered and started rubbing more stuff on them. Then she practically poked my eye out with the mascara.

“Look down,” she instructed. “DOWN!” she shrieked when I accidentally looked up.

I’m sorry. I panicked. When you see a POINT coming at you, you lose all sense of direction.

I feel like my eyes were totally abused. Because she kept adding mascara to them and I was about to say something like, “I’d rather not look like Tammy Faye Baker (may she rest in peace) if that’s okay with you…”

But then she announced that she was done.

Just like that.

Oh.

“Let’s go take some pictures,” she said and led me into the back.

There was a photographer waiting. She introduced herself and instructed me where to stand.

“I’m taking off my glasses so I can’t quite see what you’re doing,” I explained as I headed for the backdrop.

The photographer would tell me how to pose and I’d be squinting at her in confusion, cursing my poor eyesight and eventually having to admit that it looked like she was just doing jumping jacks from my perspective.

So the photographer would have to stand two inches from me and go, “No..like THIS!” and she’d twist herself into a pose.

Oh. Right.

Then my Latino makeup artist stood and watched because she’d be in charge of fixing my hair if it messed up. And my hair messed up a lot because it hates me. So the photographer would be about to snap a picture and the makeup artist would suddenly shriek,

“STOP! Her HAIR!”

Seriously. I nearly had a heart attack. My poor nerves.

Then my hair would get fixed and I’d be told to smile….BIGGER SMILES!....is that really a big smile?

“I don’t want to look like a possessed clown,” I said, my lips pulled up as high as they could possibly go.

“You don’t. You look CUTTEE!” the photographer cooed.

Oh fantastic. When I think of the word cute I think of puppies and kittens. I wasn’t going for cute. I was hoping for sexy, as I wanted to send these photos to my husband who will be in Texas until June.

My mouth was really starting to ache towards the end of the shoot.

“Can I do some silly pictures? Maybe leap through the air or something?” I asked the photographer.

She looked like she was about to say yes.

But then my makeup artist interjected and said, “No.”

No?

Excuse me, last I checked, I would be paying for these pictures. What did she mean NO?

“Why not?” I wondered meekly. To be honest, my makeup artist scared me a little bit. Not only did she abuse my eyes but she also seemed the type who slapped people when she got upset.

“Because this is GLAMOUR shots. Not SILLY shots,” I was told in a sharp tone.

“Can’t I be glamorous sailing through the air?” I said.

The makeup artist shook her head. “No.”

No.

Okay then.

So we did a few more shots and then Jennifer came into the back. I was close to running over to her and throwing myself into her arms and shrieking, “Save me! My makeup artist is SCARY and she won’t let me do SILLY shots!”

But I contained myself.

Jennifer and I took a bunch of pictures together. We were finally able to do some silly shots because we both starting begging and I think we started to give my makeup artist a headache. So she waved her arm and went, “Fine. Some silly shots. It makes no sense but fine.”

Yay!

So Jennifer and I did some silly shots with some sunglasses and some strange looking hats that we were given.

When those were done we got to have one last individual shot. While I went to get dressed, Jennifer got some pictures done.

I decided on the red dress that the store had hanging up. The zipper didn’t work and I went over to my makeup artist and explained the situation.

“Zipper isn’t supposed to work. I’m clipping you up in the back for a better fit,” she said sternly.

Oh.

And clipping me up she did.

“HOLD YOUR BREATH!” she shrieked at me. “You want a good fit, yes?”

“Yes,” I croaked out. “But I’d also like to be able to breathe.”

I was ignored.

The makeup artist just finished clipping the dress and was all, “There we go!” Then she twirled me around so I could face the mirror.

The dress did fit well but seriously, I could barely breathe.

“How do you like it?” the lady asked me.

“Well,” I said honestly. “It’s pretty but I can’t breathe very well.”

The makeup artist waved a hand in the air. “Breathing is overrated.” Then she tossed her head back and let out a cackle.

I was beginning to wonder if she was part witch or something.

Then it was time to change up my makeup. I was a little afraid to be honest. My eyes were given fresh eye shadow and yes, the mascara was put back on.

“You must look down or else I’ll poke you,” the makeup lady chastised as she applied mascara. Then she laughed because I guess a horrified expression appeared on my face. “I’m joking!”

But I wasn’t so sure.

Jennifer came back out to switch outfits as I was headed back to take more pictures. These pictures were more the sexy kinds. The photographer had brought out a chair and showed me how she wanted me to drape over it.

“LOVE the chair,” she told me seriously.

This made me laugh. I giggled until I caught my makeup artist’s expression. Her lips were set in a firm line and she shook her head slightly.

The giggles abruptly stopped and I loved the chair.

And then, about ten minutes later, it was all over. I watched as Jennifer took her last photos and tried not to laugh when they had her draping over a chair backwards. Jennifer just looked startled so the photographer nixed that idea.

We were finished after that and told to come back in a half hour to look at our pictures.

So Jennifer and I walked around the mall and then returned. There was a guy waiting to show us our pictures on a giant computer screen. He was all, “Here is a slide show of your pictures,” and he clicked a button and cheesy music started up in the background as our pictures appeared on screen.

Some of my pictures were scary. But some looked okay.

Then you had to tell the guy the pictures that you liked. He marked them on a piece of paper and then started adding everything up.

“Okay, with all the pictures you want that’ll be four thousand dollars,” he said without flinching.

I think my jaw fell open. How he could say that so casually was beyond me.

I mean…four thousand dollars? For PICTURES? I can understand if it was for a wedding or something. But for a bunch of silly pictures?

“Um,” I said weakly. “I don’t think so.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to remind that guy that we were in a RECESSION.

So I started taking pictures out that I didn’t like so much.

“That’ll be six hundred dollars,” he said calmly.

SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS?

“Sir,” I pleaded. “Our husband’s are in the military and don’t make a lot of money. I just had to buy a new car because my old one crapped out. I don’t have six hundred dollars to spare for a bunch of pictures.”

The guy looked startled. “But these pictures are amazing!”

“Maybe so. But I don’t have that kind of money lying around.”

I think we sat there for nearly an hour trying to get the guy to lower the prices. It gave me a headache.

The guy lowered them to three hundred at one point and I shook my head.

“Too high.”

The guy looked confused. “But I’m giving you free stuff….”

What free stuff? I didn’t see anything free.

When we walked out of there my head was pounding from all the haggling.

And no, I don’t have the pictures now. They’re going to be mailed to Jennifer’s house and she’ll scan them for me and then I’ll share.

I do have other pictures to post though. That night Jennifer and I took a bunch of pictures. We had had a few drinks at TGI Fridays and, well, this is how I tend to get when I’m around alcohol so it’s best that I stay away from it:



Since the makeup artist wouldn't let me do jumping photos I just did them in the hotel room.



Like my spiffy glasses? I got them at Claires.





Um. I have no idea.





I got the giggles. This is how I started to laugh when I was instructed to love the chair.



I take my video game playing seriously, yo.



Hey look! A non-silly one.

Upcoming 200th Anniversary Giveaway

Ok...In 7 more posts I will be celebrating my 200th post anniversary. May not sound like a big deal to you....but it is to me. It means that 200 times I have sat down and poured my heart and soul out for the world to see...and I think that deserves a prize of some sort. So I am looking for the perfect giveaway for Monday May 4th. I hope all my blogger friends will spread the word and everyone comes and reads my 200th post. I am working on something very profound. The giveaway will run from the
4th to the 6th and I will draw at 9 p.m. cst. I will post the winner immediately and get a snail mail address to send them their prize...keep watching this week for more info on the Amazing 200th blog post anniversary giveaway! Happy Monday!

The Keys

Matthew 16:18-19, "And I say also unto thee, That thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven."

My pastor, Bill, talked about keys this morning in church....and I have never heard a sermon quite like this one. The thing that stood out the most to me was a story he told about a man....a no good person according to the town...named...George...Bill's his father and a set of keys. Bill's dad....believed in the character of people obviously and did not always believe what people said maliciously...anyway....George had a little problem with the bottle...but Bill's dad...went to him...and gave him a most important job....the most important job at the business...he was to be the keeper of the keys....his job was to open the doors before everyone got there....and lock them up after everyone left. In all the years that followed...he never let Bill's dad down. Someone had believed in him and entrusted him with the keys not just to a building....but to self-esteem and responsibility. When Bill's family left several years later...the last person they stopped to see was George....Bill's dad thanked him for his service...and told him the next man was counting on him too. How awesome a story was that? I was mesmerized by it and will probably never look at a key the same again. How many times have I given someone the keys they needed to achieve?

All the way to Waverly I thought about the many types of “keys” in the world. My personal favorite Keys are the little islands at the tip of Florida. I do so like those. There are also keys that are points of knowledge that open the understanding to science and mathematics. I am not so in love with those keys...science and math...not so much my thing. There are keys, or steps that must be taken, or procedures followed in order to make machinery work. There are keys that are used to unlock or lock a door or a gate. There are keys that are on musical instruments and on office equipment, and then there are keys that are used to turn something on or off. Keys abound around us that is for sure....

I guess one of my most memorable key moments was when I was handed the keys to the car for the very first time. Talk about a feeling of empowerment...that was the biggest rush of my life. I felt as though there was a birth of freedom and an instant increase in trust that was placed in me. For me, the teenager, this marked the beginning of a whole new kind of freedom. I was an adult and ready to take on the world. Now, I have to tell you....my first solo ride after I got my keys....went textbook perfect....BUT...my parking in the driveway left something to be desired. I was distracted by a boy I was liking...and turned my parent's car...right into our next door neighbor's chain link fence...talk about embarrassment. I got out of the car and handed my dad the keys....and my license....my freedom was short lived. He handed them back and said, "get it off the fence." I did...and it made a much more responsible person out of me. He, my earthly father, had given me a key to freedom and I soared.

Now that I have been a parent to three driving teens I have found myself on the other side of this scenario, I realized that my parents most likely did not feel that same sense of joy that I felt that day. They more than likely felt the sense of dread that I felt when I handed my son my car keys for the first time. When the phone call came telling me he had put my car in a ditch...I was nauseated. I hoped both he and the car were alright. I got there...and one of the little old ladies that had called me told me..."just remember momma, cars can be replaced...but 16 year old boys can't." I looked her in the eye and told her I had a 16 year old boy that was free to a good home. Funny...he lost some of his appeal to her then. I loved my son.

I had many more opportunity to hand over the keys to my car to my children over the years, and while I trusted them to do the right thing and take care of the vehicles that I loaned or gave to them, there was always that same sense of dread that arises when I saw them drive away. They never left my sight without a fervent prayer for their safety and for the return of a fully functional vehicle.

A key is simply a tool that can be either used or abused. It isn’t the key that is the problem; it is the person who possesses the key that determines how it is used. So today, Sunday....how do you use your keys? Do you use them to do good? Do you use them responsibly? Do you use them to achieve greatness? How do you use your key? Let me encourage you today to give others the keys they need to be responsible people and use your key well. Happy Sunday you guys!

The Chocolate Volcano

So, okay.

The Mall of America trip was awesome.

I'm not going to lie.

In fact, I think Jennifer and I will be planning another vacation. Maybe to New York City. I've always wanted to go. She's always wanted to go. So it would be perfect.

But anyhow, I already wrote about how my plane trip was on my way to the Mall of America.

Jennifer and I basically dumped our luggage off in our hotel room and headed straight for the mall, which was across the street. The thing that amused me was when we were checking in, the lady behind the front desk said, "If you want to take the shuttle to the Mall of America it's out back."

I sort of gave her a bewildered look when she said that. Because hello, the mall is across the street.

"Can't we just walk?" I asked stupidly.

Because again. The mall was RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET.

Maybe that's why America has a weight problem: because there are shuttles that take people places that are right across the street.

The lady behind the desk looked surprised that I'd even mention walking. She sort of blinked at me a few times and replied, "I suppose you COULD walk..." as though the thought had never occured to her.

So yes. Jennifer and I walked. It took all of five minutes to get into the mall.

And then...

We were inside the largest mall in the world.

Or maybe it's just the largest mall in America.

It doesn't really matter. All I know is when I stepped inside, that I wanted to twirl around with my hands straight out and sing a song about the mall as though I were a Disney character or something.

I didn't though.

I didn't want to embarrass Jennifer. Oh, and I can't sing.

Instead I just calmly gazed around in awe and said something like, "Wow."

The first store that we went into was Gymboree.

Of course.

You'll be shocked to know that I didn't buy a thing. Oh, of course I oohed and awed over the tiny outfits but I reminded myself that the kids had a drawer full of clothes. And totes. And closets.

We basically just walked into store after store and tried to avoid those annoying workers at the kiosks. They would leap out in front of you with a straightener in their hand and shout, "Can I make your hair straight?" and we'd be all, "No thank you!" and they'd still talk to us about how our hair would thank us or something like that.

No means no.

We ate at The Rainforest Cafe that night.

It must be an annoying place to work because every half hour the entire room would flash and the animals would go off.



This is Bogey, the monkey that we were seated in front of. He'd go off every half hour and make loud monkey noises. I wanted to tell him that we got the concept the first time and he didn't have to continue going apeshit like that but he didn't listen.

Jennifer and I both ordered the chicken chimichangas. I think they were the cheapest thing on the menu at $14.99.





Everything was tasty except for the beans. The beans tasted like gruel. Not that I've ever HAD gruel but I can imagine that they'd taste about the same.

The Rainforest Cafe has this delicious volcano dessert that Jennifer and I had to try. The thing is, when the waiters bring it out, they sing to you.

Our waiter started to sing as he brought it to us and I was making a chopping motion against my neck and hissing for him to cut it out.

I don't like people to sing to me.

Not even on my birthday. It happened a few times and when it does, my face gets bright red and I force a smile on my lips so I don't look ungrateful or anything--but honestly, I'm not a person who likes to be the center of attention. When I'd give reports in front of the class while I was in school, I hated when the teacher would clap her hands and shout at the students to give the speaker their undivided attention.

I always wanted to shout, "You know, that's okay, keep talking. I'll do my thing, you keep doing yours and it'll be fantastic."

Thankfully our waiter cut out the singing.

He placed our delicious volcano down...



...and I practically drooled all over the table.

Forget jewelry. If you bring me out chocolate, I'm good to go.

Basically, I'm a cheap date.



The waiter took a picture of us digging in.

We ate...and we ate...and we ate..



...and then we had to admit defeat.

Then the next evening we went out to TGI Fridays for drinks.

I hadn't had alcohol in over two years because I was breastfeeding.

I ordered the appletini, which made me giggle because that's what JD off Scrubs orders.

I love the show Scrubs by the way. It always makes me laugh. I wish I had a friend like JD. I think we'd totally hit it off. Of course, it would be a bit odd because we both stare off into space and start to think strange things. So there we'd be, standing there, our heads cocked to the side looking comatose.

Oh well.

The appletini was delicious.

Jennifer got a mojito, which is fun to say.





We also ordered some food because we figured we could stuff our faces and it would be okay since we were doing so much walking.



I got the brownie dessert and Jennifer got some nachos.



Yuck, it came with guacamole, which tastes like flavored paste. Not that I've ever HAD paste (maybe in kindergarten) but as I've said a lot, I have a vivid imagination.



I also ordered this blue lemonade drink that was quite tasty.

Apparently I'm a light weight because by the time we left, I was feeling a slight buzz.

Oh, and everything was funny to me.

Jennifer and I took some pictures, which I'll share on Monday.

Here is a preview of one of them:

I've entitled it why Amber should not drink booze.

A Tribute to Cmdr William Tamm Arnold

In 1968 I joined a group called Vital Voices in America or VIVA. It was a turbulent time in America. Vietnam was raging and I had just lost a good friend. When I joined VIVA they sent me a stainless steel bracelet that I put on and have worn ever since. I began writing to his mom and dad as soon as I put on this special piece of jewelry and was fortunate enough to meet them once in Birmingham. Cmdr. William Tann Arnold became part of my daily life and now 41 years later I still wear the bracelet with pride. This man gave his life to keep me safe and for that I will always be eternally grateful.

This is not just appreciation for Cmdr Arnold though, I am grateful for every single military personnel who has fought and died so that I can live a life free from worry. After all these years I want to see all accounted for and until that day comes I will wear my bracelet with pride.

So, let me tell you a little bit about Cmdr. Arnold. He was 32 years old when he was shot down. He was an only son, brother to three sisters, did two tours of duty in Vietnam and was shot down. He was from West Allis, Wisconsin. I carried his picture around for over 30 years as if he were a part of my family....he wasn't. I never even met him...but he was a good man...and 12 years ago I retired the picture because it was very ratty looking. His face is burned into my memory. Of course...that face is of a 32 year old handsome navy pilot. Today he would be 73. I am sure there would be a huge difference.

On 18 November 1966, then-LCMDR William T. Arnold of Attack Squadron 22 embarked in the aircraft carrier USS CORAL SEA launched as the wingman in a section of A-4Cs to conduct a coastal weather reconnaissance mission. Arnold was flying A-4C Bureau Number 148496. The flight approached the North Vietnamese coast 15 to 20 miles south of Cap Mui Ron. The weather was overcast and was solid up to approximately 7,000 feet. Flying beneath the overcast approximately 7 miles from the coast, the flight leader determined that the cloud base was of sufficient height to effect a bombing maneuver. The flight leader completed his maneuver, staying beneath the overcast, and was turning east when he heard the transmission, "I'm in the clouds, coming down." The leader looked back, but did not see Arnold's aircraft. The flight leader called to Arnold but received no response. He saw no evidence of an ejection nor any debris which would indicate a crash. The Coral Sea conducted search and rescue efforts but without result. The flight leader believed that LCDR Arnold inadvertently entered the cloud deck, became disoriented, and crashed into the ocean while trying to recover. Even so, the possibility existed that LCDR Arnold had ejected from his aircraft and been captured, so he was classed as Missing in Action. He remained in this status until a Presumptive Finding of Death was approved by the Secretary of the Navy on 18 May 1978, almost 12 years after his loss. While the casualty database reflects William T. Arnold's end grade as Lieutenant Commander (O-4) as reported here, his family has advised that he received a final promotion to Commander (O-5). His remains have not been recovered. That last line is what makes my blood run cold. There was never an end. His family was never able to put it to rest. They never knew for sure what happened....only what was speculated. How very sad.

I have been to the Wall in Washington several times over the years. I visit his name every time I go, I touch where it is etched into the marble, I can feel the electricity run through my body, and no matter how hard I try....I find myself crying. Thank you Bill Arnold for giving your life up for me. I love this country and pledge allegiance to it daily because men like you gave me the freedom to do just that. I am truly proud to be an American. How sad it is that others are not.

And..I'm Back

I'm home now.

To celebrate the occasion, Natalie took a gigantic dump in her diaper. Fantastic.

I was also sitting next to a guy who smelled like tuna at the airport. I kept expecting him to pull out a tuna sandwich but he never did.

Tommy was racing around the house like a mad man and I briefly wanted to gather my luggage and walk back out the door.

I'll be back to update about my trip tomorrow. I have tons of pictures. Of course, you won't be seeing the ones where I look constipated. For some reason I make this scrunched up face whenever I pose for the camera. I can't help it.

George Jones Concert

This is me singing Dixie Man when we opened for George Jones at the Columbus Civic Center last weekend. It was an awesome experience. I wanted to share a couple of the pictures with you all.



Here is a shot Kat took of the whole band from up in the nose bleed section. The far left is Marsha Short on Mandolin, Amanda Brown on guitar, Robert Earl Lowry on Bass, Rebecca on vocals, Me on Vocals, and Stan Edwards on Dolbro/Violin. Oh what a night...I will never forget it. Now I want a tour bus. Hummm....I need to win the lottery. LOL! Happy Trails to you all.

One Artist Share

My sweet friend Carla posted this challenge on FB and being the music person that I am had to pick up the gauntlet and run with hit. The rules are simple...Using only song names from ONE artist, cleverly answer these questions.

Pick Your Artist: The Eagles

Are you male or female: Witchy Woman

Describe yourself: Take it to the Limit

How do you feel about yourself: Learn to Be Still

Describe where you currently live: Seven Bridges Road

If you could go anywhere, where would you go: Hotel California

Your best friend is: New Kid in Town

Your favorite color is: Tequila Sunrise

You know that: (I’ve Got to)Get Over It

What's the weather like: Good Day in Hell

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called: Spread Your Wings and Fly

What is life to you: Learn(ing)to Be Still

What is the best advice you have to give: (Here is the) Best of My Love

If you could change your name, what would it be: Desperado

Your favorite food is: (Anything from)The Sad Cafe

Teachable Tuesday Moments

I am going to try something new. I am going to dedicate Tuesdays for Teachable Moments. You know the kind of moments that stand out, make an impact, or just are profound. Today's Teachable Moment is a quote that a former student gave me when she graduated from Grad School with a degree in Education. I was very proud of her. I don't know who wrote this quote but it made an impact in my life.

"A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was, the sort of house I lived in, the kind of car I drove. But the world may be different because I was important in the life of a CHILD!

When I chose to teach I knew I would never be rich in money....but I have always been rich in the fact that I touch students lives daily. I took the road less traveled and it has made a big difference.

I'm Here!

Fantastic News!

I survived the plane ride and am currently at the Mall of America.

Well, not right now.

I'm currently in the hotel room across from the Mall of America.

But I WAS in the Mall of America for most of the day with my best friend Jennifer. My aching feet can prove it. But I hardly feel like I'm exercising because I'm SHOPPING. I wish I lived by the Mall of America. Then I could work out and not even know it! I could squeeze back into my size 3 jeans! Of course, if I lived by the Mall of America I'd probably be broke. So it may be best that I don't live near it.

Anyhow, as I was saying, I survive the plane ride.

I hate to fly.

I'm one of those nervous fliers who is gripping the arm rests in horror if the plane so much as makes a funny noise.

My flight had a little bit of turbulance and I guess I looked horrified because the guy sitting beside me asked if I was okay.

I think he was worried I was going to vomit all over him.

"I'm fine," I assured him even though what I wanted to yell is WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!

I gave him a half smile and said, "It's just, I watch Lost and usually when planes on that show start to shake it means they're about to break apart and we're all going to land on some creepy island where there's a smoke monster and..."

I trailed off because the guy was starting to look a little afraid of me. I saw him inch away slightly.

I guess he doesn't watch Lost. I suppose to a non-Lostie that would have been a frightening conversation. I mean, who talks about smoke monsters??

Thankfully, our plane was okay and I didn't end up trying to outrun some polar bear on a remote island. Whew.

I was almost in a panic when I realized I couldn't find my bag on the carousel though. I had met Jennifer at that point and I explained that I had no idea where my bag was. I was getting nervous at that point because the crowd around me had dissapated and it was me and some old guy watching the carousel go round and round with the same 3 bags.

Then I realized, wait, that bag sort of looks like mine and I reached out to check. See, I thought it MIGHT be mine but I was worried that if it wasn't mine and was someone else's, that the owner of the bag would suddenly hit me over the head with her purse and accuse of me of trying to steal it. And I'd be all, "No, I promise I was just checking to see if it was my bag!" and she'd be screaming, "STEALER!" at the top of her lungs...

But it turns out that it WAS my bag. It was just turned over.

I was a little embarrassed as I took it off the carousel. But it's not really my fault. It's not as though I look at the back side of my bag!

Then Jennifer and I found our hotel shuttle and dropped our stuff off in the room and then went shopping.

Of course we started on the shopping right away. We're girls.

Then we ate at the Rainforest Cafe and pictures will follow soon.

We went to see 17 Again and I realized the reason why Zac Efron bugs me: it's because he has better legs and hair than me and that's just not right.

The movie was good though. There was this one lady on the other side of the theater who was sort of giving her own commentary on the movie. Like when Zac Efron turns up she went, "And look at that boy, playing basketball.."

It's like, yes lady, I can see he's playing basketball. I have eyeballs in my sockets.

Anyhow, I better head off to take my shower and then get into bed. We have another full day of shopping...

Oh, and we're totally going to eat at Hooters and I'm totally getting a Hooters t-shirt.

Whenever I think of Hooters I think of Adam Sandler in Big Daddy going "Hooters, hooters, hooters.."

It cracks me up every time.

Too Cool to Believe!

I cannot believe it. I am still pinching myself. I went to Walmart today....and no..that is not why I am pinching myself. Well....as I was leaving...a cashier said, "hey....you...I know you!" I did not know her. But I acknowledged that she was speaking to me. I told her who I was and where I worked and who my mother was. It was almost like name, rank, and serial number for the military. She continued with, "I know I know you....and those things you just told me are not how.....but...hummm....WAIT! You opened for George Jones in Columbus on Friday night...didn't you?" I blushed a bit and admitted that I was guilty as charged. The lady in the line then said, "I saw you when you sang for Cowboy Crush at the RiverCenter in Columbus," and the man behind her said, "I saw you at the ampitheater in Phenix City. I can't remember the name of your group....but it was you and a couple of other blonde women....and you guys were great! Now...Alexander City is over 90 miles from Columbus....yet, here I was....in my town....in my Walmart....having a moment of paparatzi (excuse the spelling), my brief shining moment of fame....and to be honest. I loved every moment of it. They won't remember me next week....but today...today....I was somebody to be reconned with....I was a Still Magnolia! Happy Monday