Uncle Billy

It is late and I am tired and sad. As much as I talk about Still Magnolias most of you know that my cousin Amanda and I sing and write songs together. Years ago we wrote a song called Grandpa's Music that is on our CD. Anyways, the song is about growing up at my grandfathers where music was the pulse of the house. The Avondale mill whistle would blow and my grandfather and his buddy's would get together in his living room and play music until late into the night. As kids we were not allowed to stay up and be part of this excitement...but we would get our pallet, do you remember those things?...you know...kids used to sleep on the floor, and drag it just as close to the door of the living room as we could get it without being seen. It usually worked and we would fall asleep listening to gospel, blue grass, folk ballads, country music, all the great crooners of the time period. It was heavenly. When we were big enough to play a whole song, that had at least four chords, all by ourselves on the guitar we were allowed to play with the big boys. Well...today is a sad day in my little world. The last remaining member of the player/singers of the mill group died this evening. He was known to most of the town as Uncle Billy. He worked for years at the A and P and managed a pack a sack on Hwy 280 at the top of the river bridge hill. Everyone loved him...especially me. He was a dear sweet man....and the cool thing is that he was actually related to me...as a cousin. He was just my mom's age...so we always called him Uncle Billy. He was one in a million and he will be sorely missed by this town, by his family and friends, by the music world. God Bless his precious wife Liz, his daughter Sherry and his grandsons and great grandchildren. His death will live a huge void in their lives. When you go to bed tonight...lift up a prayer for his family. God Bless You All Real Good Tonight! K

Birthday Shopping

It’s my birthday.

So I went shopping.

I decided to head to Barnes and Noble first. I think I could spend an entire day in Barnes and Noble. When I walked through the doors I breathed in that familiar coffee smell and started perusing the new books.

This is the life....standing in Barnes and Noble, surrounded by books and...oh my God, look at that cheesecake in the display case at the bakery. I MUST try that cheesecake. Okay, so I have cake at home but not chocolate CHEESEcake. Plus, it’s my birthday and there are no such things as calories on birthdays. I just need to---

“Mommy. Natalie is leaving,” my son’s voice piped up.

Ahh nice. Natalie is leaving. She must be....

Then it suddenly dawned on me that Natalie was MY kid. And that she was totally taking off into the travel section.

Crap.

I put the book I was looking at down and rushed off in pursuit of my daughter with my son at my heels. I was a little annoyed as I made my way past books about places that I will probably never get to go to. Before we had entered Barnes and Noble I had explained solemnly to my kids that it was a magical place that needed to be respected so they had to be quiet.

“Kind of like a church?” my son Tommy wondered.

I patted his head. “Yes! Kind of like a church!”

Why didn’t my daughter comprehend this? Is it so hard for her to stand in place for a few minutes? Didn’t she realize we were in BARNES and NOBLE?

I found Natalie crouching in front of the books about Disney. I have to give it to her, she has taste. I’d love to go back to Disney. Maybe one day.

I didn’t want to move too fast because if I did Natalie would probably take off again. So I sort of bent over and started speaking in soothing tones. I pretended she was an abandoned pet and that I was saving it from leaping off a cliff.

“Hi there, Natalie. Hi. I see you’re in front of the Disney books. Disney was so much FUN, wasn’t it?” I cooed as I slowly approached her. At my right Tommy started rushing over and I put a hand on his shoulder. “Stop,” I hissed. “If you move too quickly she’ll run again.”

Tommy nodded seriously and copied my movements. I was almost able to grab Natalie’s arm....almost....almost...

“Here’s the book about Tibet!” a woman’s voice rang out.

This was all Natalie needed to make another escape.

CRAP.

Dang lady, could you not have lowered you voice?

Natalie giggled over to the magazines and covered her face. Then she threw her palms open and shrieked, “Peekyboo!”

I managed to grab her this time.

“We do NOT run off,” I admonished her as I headed over to the fiction section. I had my arm around her waist and tucked up underneath my left armpit. She was not pleased but it gave me a few minutes to look through some books. I quickly picked one up for our trip to Texas next week.

I ended up buying this one:



As we were driving away I realized that I forgot to pick up the cheesecake.

Shopping with children is not fun.

But still, there was one place left that I wanted to pop into.

Gymboree.

Gymboree is currently having their Red Balloon Sale and a bunch of things are $7.99 and under.

I had a $25 gift card from my best friend Jennifer because she knows me well.

When we got to the mall I put Natalie in her stroller and told her she had to SIT which is like a foreign word to her. My heart started beating with excitement as I made my way to Gymboree. I was thrilled to search through the clearance racks—who knows what I might find? Maybe I’d discover—

“Mommy! Wait up!”

I realized that I was walking so fast that my son was a few feet behind me.

Oops.

“Sorry Tommy,” I said as he caught up.

When we walked into the store another burst of excitement went through me when I saw the clearance racks set up towards the front. There were two other women going through the racks and at first I gazed at them with appreciation. They probably understood completely how exciting children’s clothing could be. They probably wouldn’t look confused when I gushed about the different line names. In short these were my people!!

As I was thinking this one of the women realized I was looking over and shot me an evil look.

Well. Okay. Maybe she’s not my people after all. She probably just walked into the store because she was enticed by the giant sale sign and would gape at me in confusion if I rambled on about how Sweeter than Chocolate was one of my favorite lines from the store.

Plus, she couldn’t be one of my people anyway. She had a huge pile of clothes draped across her arm. Wait a minute. She was stealing all the deals! I can’t let someone who isn’t even into Gymboree steal all the deals! I walked determinedly over to the rack and started going through it. All the sizes were much too large for my children. As I was debating buying a shirt in a size 5—-because after all, Natalie would EVENTUALLY get there—-I heard Tommy say,

“Mommy, Natalie is leaving the stroller.”

What?

I stared at the stroller and realized she was calmly climbing out of it.

“No, Natalie,” I said sternly.

She immediately took offense and tilted her head back and emitted a scream that caused everyone in the store to look over.

I quickly dug in my purse and handed her my cell phone.

“Here. Take this!” I practically shoved it at her.

Natalie quieted down and happily took it. If ever anyone receives a strange text message from me, it’s likely because Natalie has my phone. Just an FYI.

I was able to go through the racks but I didn’t find much.

Slightly dejected, I went to check out. As I went to pay Natalie suddenly announced, “I farted.”

Lovely. She’s been saying that for the past few days and I’ve explained more than once that that’s the sort of news that one keeps to themselves. But she doesn’t seem to comprehend and it’s been “I farted” several times a day to the point where I’ve started to wonder if she could benefit from some Beano.

The girl who was ringing up my clothes looked up in shock when Natalie announced her flatulence.

“She didn’t say what you think,” I said in a rushed voice. “She said...'I started' because she started to play a game on the cell phone.”

Look, I go into Gymboree a lot. I can’t have them thinking that I’m the customer with the kid that announces that she’s cut the cheese. I just CAN’T.

The check out girl looked impressed. “She can already play games?” she said incredulously as she put my clothes in a bag.

I nodded. “Yes. Just the, um, easy ones.” To be honest, I don’t even know if games are even ON my cell phone. I reached over and surreptitiously pulled the cell phone from Natalie’s mouth and tried to send her a silent message that she needed to look as though she were playing a game.

“Have a good day,” the girl said, handing me my receipt.

“Thanks,” I replied. “It’s my birthday so I intend to have a good day.”

Now, what I was hoping that would happen in response to birthday announcement is that balloons would fall from the ceiling and Michael Phelps would pop out of the back blowing a whistle and that the CEO of Gymboree would stroll out from the back and ceremoniously hand me a $5000 gift card to the store.

What really happened is that the girl looked bored, blew a bubble with her gum and gave me a pity, “Happy Birthday,” because she was probably tired of me looking at her expectantly.

Oh well.

Hi! I Am Karen and I Am a Spirit Jumper

Today I was reading some blogs when I came across one that touched my soul. It is by my blogger friend Jacki over at Counting My Abundant Blessings. For a while now we have been praying and keeping up with her brother Mike's battle with cancer and today she issued a challenge for her readers to pay it forward through an organization called Spirit Jump. Spirit Jump is a program that directly connects a gift giver with a person battling cancer. It was founded in November, 2008 by two young women who have both battled cancer. Wow, I thought that is so very awesome. It was so awesome that I found myself joining immediately. You all know my father and aunt both are battling lung cancer and I thought what a great way to do more. The Mission of Spirit Jump is this: "If you have a shop, artistic abilities or even an extra card in your drawer and you want to give it to a person in need, send Spirit Jump an email that you want to be a Spirit Jumper at spiritjumper@spiritjump.com. They will then connect you directly with a person in need, or they can give you a list of names, a brief description of what their particular cancer battle is and you can choose. When the match is made, They’ll give you that persons mailing address and then it’s up to you to send the gift. It’s a simple. I truly believe that "If you decide to be a Spirit Jumper you will be overwhelmed with the joy and warmth you feel when giving a gift. Additionally, every Spirit Jumper is welcome to write a post on their website and tell their many readers about your shop, blog or website. You may include links, photos and any information you want to be featured on the site. They encourage you to also include why you decided to donate, who you donated to and maybe even a photo of what you donated. This will be wonderful exposure for your shop, blog, website and you will be lifting someone’s spirit, it is a WIN, WIN" situation for all involved, don't you think? If you are interested and want more information then click on the link I provided for you at the top of this blog. You won't be disappointed I can promise you that. There are a lot of cancer patients out there who need some extra love. Can you pay it forward?

Petrified of Airplanes

I fly to Texas on Wednesday.

I do not like to fly.

I especially do not like to fly with children.

But flying in general makes me nervous. If the plane so much as gives a funny lurch then I’m positive we’re all going to die. I grip the armrests until my knuckles turn white and I’ve been asked more times than I care to count by other passengers if I’m okay.

“You look terrified, dear,” an elderly woman once said to me.

Well. That’s probably because I AM.

My heart immediately starts to race the second I step onboard the aircraft and am hit with the familiar airplane scent of recycled air. That alone can send me into a panic attack.

It doesn’t help when I read stories about plane crashes. When I heard about the Air France flight that went missing I started to chew on my nails in fear. At first I had hope that perhaps the aircraft went to an island like the one on Lost. But then pieces of the plane were found in the ocean followed by bodies—and I crossed myself even though I’m not Catholic and muttered something like, “Sweet Jesus.”

Then I read about a Continental flight this morning where the pilot ended up dying so the co-pilot had to take over.

So…not only do I have to worry about the plane crashing, I also have to worry about the health of the pilot. I think when I board the plane on Wednesday I’m going to take a good look at the pilot and ask point blank how his ticker is working and does he think he’s healthy enough to fly? If he gives a funny cough I’m going to be tempted to turn on my heel and walk off.

Flying with children just adds to my stress. I have a backpack stuffed with small toys that I’ve picked up that will hopefully distract them. I have a portable DVD player that is all ready to go. I think everything will be okay. I think….

Oh my God, I just have a feeling that my kids are going to turn into monsters. This is the first time that I’m flying ON MY OWN without any help. They sense fear just like dogs. They latch onto any sort of weakness. I’m tempted to pick up harnesses but then I picture myself being dragged down the terminal at top speed.

What if I have to use the bathroom? I suppose I have to lug everything in the stall with me along with my two kids. I can’t very well leave my seven-year-old by himself at a busy airport.

I’ll just have to take it easy on the liquids. Because going to the bathroom on the airplane will just be out of the question.

What if both of the kids take off in opposite directions? Who do I chase first? Do I leave all our stuff just sitting there? But…that’s not allowed these days at the airport. The announcement that sounds overhead every five minutes specifically says that if luggage is abandoned, that it will be destroyed. I can’t have my luggage destroyed! There are adorable Gymboree outfits in there! Oh, and my stuff too.

If we go through turbulence on the airplane I’ll have to pretend like everything is okay.

“It’s perfectly normal,” I’ll tell my kids in a fake voice even though what I’ll really want to do is curl up in a ball and pop a Xanax in my mouth.

Everything is going to be okay.

That’s my mantra. That’s what I keep telling myself when I feel another wave of hysteria coming on.

I can do this.

I’m a grown adult for heavens sake.

If I can survive birthing and breastfeeding two children then surely I can handle a silly little plane ride.

Right?

Right.

Turtleneck Turtle Race for Alzheimers

When I moved to Alabama in 1976 I was amazed at all the little festivals there were. The cotton festival, the peach festival, the boll weevil festival(only in the south would there be a festival for a bug.) Four years after I moved here the greatest event I have ever attended kicked off. It was the Turtleneck Turtle Race for Alzheimer's. The tradition started in 1980 and pits amphibian against amphibian in a fun, family event. Few competitors leave empty-handed, awards are given in multiple categories, including best-dressed, best-decorated, etc. The coolest thing about this event is that all proceeds benefit Alzheimer's disease research. In 1980 that did not mean a whole lot to me because no one in my family had ever suffered from Alzheimers. In 2009 it means a great deal since I have two parents suffering from this dreaded disease. If you are not busy at 8 a.m. on Saturday, are the proud owners of a racing turtle, like to run(there is also a human race prior to the turtle event), or just plain bored....come to the T.C. Russell Airport Park and participate in the turtle races. When I decided to blog about this today it made me think....I wonder what events my blogger buddies know of and are willing to share. Heck...I might find a new event to attend. So what event takes place in or near your town? Care to share?

Of Spills and Mystery Stains

Being a stay at home mom isn't easy.

Especially when you have two messy kids.

I lose count of the messes that I clean up in a day.

So I decided to take pictures of everything I had to scrub up today. Here is what I've cleaned up so far:



This morning I found moon sand in my bathroom sink. I rue the day that I decided to purchase it because I've been finding the sand all over my house. I asked my son why there was moon sand in the sink and he said he was "watering" it. This confused me.




I'm working on potty training Natalie. I'll sometimes let her run around naked because I read that it's easier for kids to be that way when they're potty training. Needless to say, I don't think Natalie will get the chance to be naked for a long time. She peed all over the carpet and then calmly told me, "I pottied!" Then there was the time that I found her crouching over my shoe and it took me a few seconds to realize that she was totally PEEING in it. My poor Sketchers!

Do I have a daughter or a puppy?




I wish I could blame this spill on the kids. But it was me. I'm a total klutz and I knock things over on a daily basis. I may be the only adult who still bumps her drinking glass over on the table.




Natalie somehow managed to find some candy powder and took it upon herself to spread it around on the kitchen floor. "It's pretty!" she told me grandly when I caught her. Do you notice what her shirt says? It says Little Monster and I'm sorry, sometimes she truly is one.




Ack! Look what Tommy did. Okay, I'm kidding. I did that. Again, I'm a total klutz and I went to take a sip and managed to knock my juice onto the floor. What adult still does this????




Um. Can someone explain to me what in the world this is? I found it about an hour ago and at first I thought it was a bug. Then I peered closer and I was all, "The crap???" Is it pudding? Ew, what if it IS a smushed bug? But my husband isn't here so I doubt it--he has a bad habit of killing bugs and leaving the carcasses behind for ME to clean up. Whatever it is I'm still wary of cleaning it up. I'm slightly paranoid that it's...feces...though how it got on the wall like that is beyond me. But I have talented kids who have figured out all sorts of ways to leave behind messes.

Yuck.

I'm Surrounded by Weeds

I am not a fan of yard work.

Some people find it soothing to sit there and pull weeds or plant a new flower.

I do not.

Oh, I always marvel and admire other people’s yards and vow that I’ll try harder to grow stuff next year. But then that year comes and I’m all, “Well....maybe NEXT year....”

The thing is, I generally kill everything I plant. Not on purpose, of course. It starts out well but then I wind up forgetting about it and the next time I remember it’s all brown and shriveled.

My husband is usually in charge of the yard. But since he’s gone, I’ve had to take over. And I have to say, I’m not doing a great job. There are weeds dotting the yard and they’ve started popping up through the driveway cracks. I seriously need to weed eat but I can’t even BEGIN to figure out how to work that crazy contraption. It’s nearly as big as I am! I try to mow as close to the corners as I possibly can but the last time I did that, a rock flew up and nearly hit me right in the face.

Since we live on the military base our yard is inspected on a weekly basis. If the yard is deemed “unsightly” you get a citation. If you get enough citations you’re kicked out. Now, I’ve never heard of this ACTUALLY happening but I do know if you get a ton of citations that it goes to the first sergeant and the military member gets an ass chewing.

We got a citation last week. For having an unsightly yard. The guy wrote down that I needed to pull the weeds and to mow the back area.

Like I don’t already have enough on my plate!

I managed to pull a few weeds and then I got bored and came back inside. Then, okay, I somehow FORGOT about the yard because I was busy dealing with the kids. The yard completely slipped my mind until I saw the housing inspector trolling around the side of my house yesterday after I had put Natalie down for her nap.

Shit!

He had a clipboard in his hands and was frowning at some weeds. Then he started scribbling something down and I just KNEW it was another citation.

I couldn’t get my husband yelled at by his first sergeant! He’d never let me forget it. It would give him a leg up on EVERYTHING! For instance, if we were deciding what to have for dinner and I suggested spaghetti and he wanted lasagna, he could add something like, “And remember that one time you got me yelled at by the first sergeant..” and would just trail off and raise his eyebrows at me. Then I’d feel guilty all over again and let him have his way.

I can’t have that!

So I took a deep breath and pinched my cheeks---Scarlett O’Hara was always pinching her cheeks before speaking to a man. Apparently they make them red or something but I don’t know if I pinched too hard or what because they really started to sting.

The things we do to impress the opposite sex.

I strolled over to the inspector and said in a jovial voice, “Hello there!”

I made him jump because he was so busy writing something down. He looked up all startled and I relaxed a bit because he was an older man which meant that perhaps I would remind him of his precious granddaughter and he’d cut me some slack.

Of course, his granddaughter could be a total druggie who once stole a bunch of money from him and he totally hates her now but in my mind she was this sweet girl who went to Harvard and is now a doctor.

“You have weeds all over the place,” the inspector told me after finding his voice. His tone suggested that he was quite offended by this and I was surprised he didn’t wag his finger at me reproachfully.

Okay. It’s okay. Just look innocent. Flutter your eyelashes. No, scratch that, you don’t want him to think you’re coming on to him.

“I’m sorry,” I said regretfully. I even lowered my chin and tried to make it look like I was really disturbed by having an unsightly yard. “It’s just, my husband is gone and he’s usually in charge of the yard. I have two kids and a house to take care of...” Not to mention a novel that I'm trying to finish!

I thought this might move the inspector. But it didn’t. He just stared at me as though I were lying to him. I imagine he hears a lot of excuses. But in this case, it wasn’t an excuse!

“Where are your kids now?” he wondered, eyebrows raised.

“Er…one is sleeping and the other is watching TV,” I admitted. As soon as I said that I realized I had made a grave mistake.

“Then…how about you get to pulling out some weeds? That way I don’t have to give you another citation.” He gave me a stern look.

He can’t possibly be a grandfather. If so, he probably terrifies his grandkids. My God, he didn’t even CARE that my husband was gone…

I nodded my head. What else could I do? I couldn’t very well wave my arm and say, “Nah,” and head inside.

So I forced a smile and said, “I’ll get right on those weeds!” and bent down and pulled a wad of them up.

Of course after I did that I was all, crap, where do I put weeds? A regular trash bag? A paper bag? I sort of sat there holding the weeds in confusion as they rained dirt down my legs.

“I’m going to finish checking out the rest of the houses on the cul-de-sac,” the inspector said. “You might want to get a bag for the weeds. There is a lot of them,” he added pointedly and gave me another non-warm grandfather look.

I wanted to flip him the bird but instead I bobbed my head enthusiastically. “Thanks for the tip!” I said, my voice a few octaves higher than usual because I was trying so hard not to lose my temper.

I rushed inside and grabbed a paper bag and then walked back outside.

This sucked.

What I wanted to do was sprawl out on the couch and enjoy a few minutes of silence.

But I couldn’t.

I had weeds to pull.

My son Tommy offered to help and at first he did a good job but then he got distracted and started chasing some butterflies.

I yanked up weed after weed after weed…my fingers started to ache and the tips of them had turned brown from the dirt. After I pulled up a huge mound a worm fell off the bottom and landed on my knee.

“JESUS CHRIST!” I boomed and shot straight up. The weeds I had just pulled up were flung across the yard and I started doing a silly little worm-get-the-crap-off-me dance around the yard.

“Yay! Dancing!” Tommy said and started copying my movements.

There we were, two crazies doing the strangest dance you’ll probably ever see.

The inspector was across the cul de sac and looked over in confusion as I leaped across the grass. I immediately stopped when I saw his expression and brushed myself off and pretended like I had meant to do that all along.

“Leg cramp!” I called out to him and then went back to the weeds.

I spent what seemed like forever plucking out weeds. My throat started to feel all dry and I wanted some water but I was afraid the inspector would stalk over and hit me over the head with his clipboard or something. He seemed like the type.

“This is not fun,” I said wistfully to myself as I moved over to this rock mountain in our yard that was dotted with the dreaded weeds.



I hate the rock mountain. It was here when we moved in. I wish the previous owners had destroyed it before they left because it is a pain in the butt during the summer. When we first moved in there was a plant growing in the middle but we managed to kill that less than a year after moving in.

After what seemed like forever, I was starting to really hate weeds. My hand accidentally bumped a rock as I went to yank up more weeds and I watched as the rock landed over a tiny mound.

The rock totally covered the small patch of weeds!

Suddenly my mind started racing with excitement. I could take a bunch of rocks and just COVER the rest of the weeds! Then I wouldn’t have to worry about them and maybe I’d have a few minutes left to rest before Natalie woke up. YES!

With rejuvenated energy I started grabbing rocks and hiding some weed patches. I was so busy doing this that I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me. Then I heard someone clearing their throat loudly and I whipped around in shock.

The inspector stared down at me with thin lips. He did not look pleased.

Shit.

“This…isn’t how it looks,” I said lightly. I even pulled out a patch of weeds to show him that there was no way that I was covering them up.

“It looks like you’re covering the weeds with rocks,” the inspector said sharply.

Shit again.

Nervous laughter escaped my lips. “Don’t be silly...I would never...”

The inspector just rolled his eyes. “Look. I’ll give you a break this week. Next week you need to have this yard taken care of. Make sure you mow in the back.” He gestured with his clipboard. “It looks like a jungle back there.”

I didn’t tell him that I had STARTED to mow the back but then had gotten tired and had sworn that I saw John Krasinski leap out from behind a tree so I figured it was time to stop.

“I’ll get it done,” I promised.

The inspector gave me one last stern look before getting into his car and driving off.

So now I’ve got to make sure that I have the yard done. I plan on picking up some weed killer and hoping that it’ll do the job for me. I asked my husband which kind I should get and he started prattling on about different ones and saying things like, “But don’t put it on the grass or it’ll KILL it!”

Oh. Well that would suck.

I just assumed the weed killer would sense when something wasn’t a weed and leave it be.

But I guess not.

Obviously I have a lot of learn.