As if I Haven't Griped Enough About the 'Mart.

I nearly came on here this morning with flaming fingers at the ready. I went so far as to log in and begin typing. But I had to pause and remember that my readership is potentially gentle. Or potentially expects me to be gentle.

Or I wanted to be able to show my face at church tomorrow.

So I signed off.

I've had eleven hours to recover my wits and senses. And though my wit won't be quite so ascerbic, I find I cannot, I repeat, CAN NOT not write a post about the trauma I endured at the hands of Sam Walton this morning.

Serves me right for going against my own unofficial boycott in quest of a cheap fish tank.

Which, it might be fruitful to point out at this moment, was OUT OF STOCK.

You might remember that once I discovered that IF I skipped the self check lanes, and IF I went on Tuesday mornings at 8:37, and IF I only brought one child, two at the max, along, Wal-Mart was nearly tolerable.

My first mistake was going at 10AM on a Saturday. My second was taking Charming.

Both, mind you, not my choices. I rudely point my finger at Hubs who was told at 7:15 this morning that I intended to take Eldest on a "special date" assoonas he got home from the airport.

He got home at 8:35. (Yes, I can make it to Wal-Mart in two minutes.)

Hubs "needed" to clean out his car. I thought he meant trash. When he got out the shop vac I tacked on another 10 minutes.

I didn't know the man planned to detail the thing.

But that is for another post and I need to remember that I've forgiven him. (Wal-Mart at 10AM on a Saturday didn't help his odds of survival.) And that he totally forgot we had people coming over in TWO HOURS.

Back to "Save Money. Live Better."

So, my question is: If you go into Wal-Mart specifically to get something that only they carry (to your knowledge) i.e. the $10 fishtank (for the toads, plural, that we need to find a home for) and the Wall-E short set for $5 (for which Frodo is aching) and you've promised Eldest that he can, indeed, pick out a new back pack TODAY, THIS MORNING, and they've moved everything in the store to a new location since your last visit, and they are in the middle of renovations (sorry for the inconvenience, but when we get it finished it will be so much nicer {shah}) even though the store is less than nine years old because you remember being so excited when they were building it so that you wouldn't have to drive across town to get to your (then) favorite store, and they don't have the things on your list, they have no back packs that Eldest likes and you've re-hurt your back wrestling Charming into and out of the cart seat, and you still have to go next door to Target to get what you need (not the things that only Wal-Mart carries, mind you), and it is hot and muggy and you want to bang your head against a wall, or a floor if that's all that is available in the gigontimous building...

Does that count as "living better?"

And One More

From Princess after discovering a void in the silverware drawer where there used to be kid forks and crazy straws:

Princess: "Mom, where did all the stuff go?"

Me: "I put it away."

Dad: "Forever."

Princess: "So it's in the trash?"

Me: "Um, yeah."

Princess: Why?

Me: Because there is too much stuff in this house cluttering up my brain and since you guys won't get rid of anything, I have to do it.

Princess: Your brain needs Space Bags.

Too Much TV?

Yesterday, on one of my many trips back or forth across town to pick up one child or another from one camp or another (and we wonder why it is harder to have them in camp than at home...) Eldest pipes up from the back seat:

"Mom, could we get some Batman Go-Gurt? We need an especially large package!"

"Why an especially large package? We always get an especially large package." (We shop at Sam's.)

"So we can win a trip to New-Ork to see uncle-(won't be my friend on facebook). And ride in the batmobile."

"And win lots of money!" Frodo chimes in.

Ah, a specially marked package. Got it.

Love as a Way of Life by Gary Ghapman

I don't know how many of you have read The Five Love Languages but it is one of those books that belong in every library. My sister handed it to me while I was engaged and told me I couldn't get married until I'd read it. Both Hubs and I did and we refer to it often. "My touch tank is low," or better, as a mom, "I need giving touches, people have been taking them all day!" It was even our standard wedding gift for years.

Now Gary Chapman has a new book out that expands on the principles of loving. As he said in his new book, Love as a Way of Life, "I had made the assumption that if people know how to express love effectively, they would be eager to do it. I now realize that assumption was wrong. Love languages are important ways to communicate love, but without a basis for the love languages, our words and actions are empty." I think he's right.

Below you will find an interview with Gary Chapman about this topic. And after you've read it, leave a comment. I have an extra copy of Love as a Way of Life to give away. I especially encourage a certain subset of people (you know who you are) to comment. Because if, say, I were to lead a study this coming year, this is the book I'd plan to use.

1. Describe some of the everyday situations that can be changed if a person has a foundation of love.

When love becomes the focus of ones life it will change every encounter we have with people. In the family, the husband is thinking, “what can I do before I leave for work that would be helpful for my wife?” Such thinking may lead him to take the trash out, put his breakfast plates in the dishwasher or feed the baby while his wife takes a shower.

In the workplace, employees are asking, “on my break, what might I do that would help someone else?” They will also make time to listen to a co-worker who seems to be having a hard time with a personal issue.

At the bank, post office, or cafeteria, the lover will look people in the eye and smile, perhaps opening the door to a conversation. They will express interest in what is going on in the lives of those they encounter.

The focus is not on “it’s all about me.” But, rather on “It is all about others.”

2. What is the take-away message of Love as a Way of Life?

Love as a Way of Life is designed to help the person who sincerely wants to make a positive impact in the world. I believe that is ‘most of us.’ Our biggest problem is that we don’t know how and we keep getting tripped up by our own selfish ambitions. The purpose of the book is to help us break free from the prison of selfishness and come to experience the satisfaction of truly loving others as a way of life. It is little acts of love that build up to a lifestyle of service.

3. Why do you need a foundation of love before you start figuring out our love languages?

The five love languages give information on the most effective way to express love in a meaningful way to a particular person. But, if you are not a loving person – don’t have the heart or will to focus on others – the information is of little value. Most of us must make a conscious change of focus from self to others if we are going to genuinely, and consistently enrich the lives of others. Love as a Way of Life is designed to help people make that change.

4. When did you realize the need for this book?

I first recognized the need for Love as a Way of Life when in a counseling session a husband said to me, “I’ll tell you right now, if it is going to take my washing dishes, and doing the laundry for my wife to feel loved, you can forget that.” I had just explained to him the concept of the five love languages and that his wife’s primary love language was ‘acts of service’ and that these acts would deeply communicate his love to her. I realized that he lacked the will to meet his wife’s need for love. He was locked into his own perception of what his role was to be and it did not include washing dishes and doing laundry. I knew at that moment that there was something more foundational than simply knowing a person’s love language.

5. What are the seven characteristics of lasting love?

I view love not as a single entity, but as a cluster of traits, which if developed will enhance all of life. These traits are:

Kindness: discovering the joy of helping others

Patience: accepting the imperfections of others

Forgiveness: finding freedom from the grip of anger

Courtesy: treating others as friends

Humility: stepping down so someone else can step up

Generosity: giving your time, money, and abilities to others

Honesty: caring enough to tell the truth

6. Why do you think it’s so hard for people to embrace these characteristics?

All of us have some of these characteristics to some degree. Most people see love as being better than hate. But most of us are comfortable to live somewhere between love and hate in a lifestyle that is fundamentally focused on self. We feel good when we are making money, accumulating things, gaining status, but in time these things do not ultimately satisfy what I call the ‘true self’. The true self longs to make the world a better place to live. To do something to help those less fortunate than we.

However, we all suffer from the malady of being ego-centric. I call this the ‘false self’. It is that part of man that pulls him to focus on self-preservation and a self-centered lifestyle. This is not all bad. Indeed we must meet our own physical and emotional needs in order to continue life. It is when we never get beyond this self focus, that life becomes a ‘dog eat dog’ world where everyone is out for self even at the expense of others. Such a life never brings long-term satisfaction. However it is often later in life that people discover the emptiness of selfish living. I’m hoping that Love as a Way of Life will help people discover the satisfaction of developing the ‘true self’ earlier in life.

Joining the Cult

I was persuaded by the very best babysitter, EVER, and recently married young friend to join facebook because, as she put it, if I didn't join the cult, she wouldn't be very much in contact.

Well, when you put it that way.

So I joined. Not that I know what I'm doing. I searched for her. I asked if we could be friends (does this sound 5th grade to anyone else?). I searched for my brother in law, I asked if we could be friends. She accepted, he did not.

Don't know what to do with that, exactly.

I promptly forgot that I joined facebook. I come back today to four friend requests.

What the hey? How did they know I joined? I wondered. I searched for people all over the planet and found only my babysitter and my brother and I'm far too smart to think these people have lain in wait, searching out my name every ten minutes hoping against hope that I'd join.

Because, let's face it, my life is not that interesting.

And then I figured it out. Sort of. Facebook is like the matchmaker of Fiddler on the Roof. They make matches. I only had to find Mandagrace and they did the rest for me.

I know why the cult is so popular. They make you popular. Hey! You know someone who is popular! Do you know any of their friends? Maybe they'll be friends with you TOO! And no one is going to turn you down if you ask to be their friend. Because they couldn't look you in the eye in church next Sunday. What would people think?

Except, it seems, brothers-in-law who are too cool to be your friend. Even if you are a loser and don't have any other friends. And you make a really cute plea to save you from certain nerd hood. No. We can't help our uncool sister-in-law even if she did stand up for you when you were ten and annoying because she remembered how it was to be ten and annoying to HER big sisters and their boyfriends and that sometimes ten year olds want to be part of the action and interesting and important. We won't mention these long harbored debts, no we won't.

Or maybe he just hasn't been on the net. Possible, but not probable.

Or I searched another guy with the same name, graduating the same year from the same college living in the same city.

That's it. It's the geeky hick sister in law of the very suave New Yorker. Humph. Can't be bothered, too busy wearing black to pay any heed to this pastel friend seeker.

By the way, there are seven of me. One male. And that's just on Facebook. I know that if you google my name some bizarro 50 year old dude living in Florida also shares my name. I don't think he's the male on facebook.

However, our new children's pastor, whom I haven't met, asked me to be her friend. I accepted.

I also noticed that on political affiliation that Facebook doesn't offer "conservative" so I chose "republican" but noticed that many my "friends" got conservative in there somehow.

As if blogger wasn't enough of an addiction. Now I have even more to obsess about.

A Timely Demise

My kids came home from a week at their grandparents' home with some new pets.

One caterpillar.

One chrysalis that was apparently a caterpillar earlier in the week.

Two bullfrog tadpoles.

Two crayfish AKA lobsters.

One baby snapping turtle.

As I thought these critters might be more enjoyable if we can actually see them, I went out and bought two fish bowls. My thinking here is that crayfish are bottom feeders and might help keep the water clean for the reptile and amphibians (notorious for putrefying water in about six hours).

First I put the crayfish in with the tadpoles (who sprouted arms today). While the kids watched their new pets, I looked online to see what we needed to feed these critters. The internet tells me that crayfish can co-exist with fish, but will try to eat them. About that time I noticed the crayfish were chasing after the tadpoles. As I thought the tadpoles might be more important to the kids, I immediately scooped the crayfish into the turtle habitat.

Then I look up what turtles eat. Mostly vegetarian, etc.. We bought some turtle pellets which he promptly ignored. We went out for a walk. We come back. Eldest said the crayfish is dead. We said no, he's not. He said he's missing his back legs. We said, no he's not, he's a crayfish, he's hiding his back half under the rock. He said, oh. He wants to go get a stick to poke him and make sure. We said, don't torture the stupid crayfish. He goes for a stick, anyway.

Enter Princess who starts the conversation over. By this time I've re-entered the area and look at the crayfish. Who is literally missing his back half. And, oh, so, very DEAD.

And a very satisfied snapping turtle that I didn't know had it in him.

Seriously people. This turtle is about the size of a child's fist. A very small child. The crayfish are not huge, but not tiny. I don't even want to know. But I've noticed the dead half a crayfish is now a dead quarter of a crayfish. I don't know where the other one is. I thought I saw him under the rock. I haven't seen him lately. I'm going to presume death. If not now, imminently.

This is not your mama's biology class.

Now, of course, I'll have to buy another fishbowl for the next load of crayfish we catch. Which I've already promised we'll do since I screwed up and killed two of their pets in one fell swoop. Besides, we need turtle food.

I didn't just type that.

Still can't figure out what to feed the caterpillar because I can't figure out what kind of caterpillar it is and it doesn't want any of the green stuff we've put in its bowl.

Anyone know of a really good field guide for identifying butterflies and caterpillars?

Why Is It

That when Hubs is out for the evening, my children are all restless, having nightmares, kicking walls, having fits, waking each other and in general making me want to shoot darts out of my eyes when he walks through the door?

Assuming he EVER returns.

And, Oh. My. GOSH. someone just shot off a gun in the neighborhood for the second time of the night. I kid you not.

And city people think country people are bumpkins.

I'd rather my gun toting neighbors had had hunter safety, thankyouverymuch.

Wiser Than Serpents by Susan May Warren

Yes, AGAIN! Can you believe how many books this very talented woman can put out in a year? And what amazes me even more is that they are all so different. Three series going, one kinda western romance, one Russian chick/mom-lit and one romantic suspense! (The writer in me is blown away.) And I can never put any of them down.

About Wiser Than Serpents: When her sister vanishes into a human slave ring, FSB agent Yanna Andrevka is determined to rescue her. Unfortunately, she's in over her head, with no way out, especially after destroying the undercover operation of Delta Force Operative David Curtiss, who is deep undercover in the Twin Serpents crime syndicate. David has his hands full trying to save Yana, and his operation -- one that could rescue hundreds of women from the Serpent, or cost he and Yana their lives. The thrilling next chapter of the Mission: Russia series!

A note from Susan:

Did you know that there are 27 million people around the globe held as slaves today – more thank 80% of them women and children, and up to 50% minors. In fact, there are MORE slaves today than were in the time of William Wilberforce. That leaves me horrified, and it was those stats that compelled me to write a story with a human trafficking plotline.

Wiser than Serpents is a continuation of the Mission:Russia series, a thriller about Yanna, whose sister is snatched through a Russian dating service, and disappears. Yanna enlists the help of Delta Force Captain, David Curtiss to find and rescue her. Readers who’ve read, In Sheep’s Clothing and Sands of Time will recognize Yanna as the tech expert, and David as the solid Christian of the group. (Read the 5-Rose Review here!)

The book is written from the point of views of the rescuers, not the victims, and offers hope and empowerment, instead of feelings of helplessness. It raises awareness without lowering the standards of Christian fiction.

However, the world is real, and the need to get involved is great. I so greatly admire people who take their beliefs and put action to them –hence why a portion of the proceeds of Wiser than Serpents is going to help the International Justice Mission, (www.ijm.org), an organization dedicated to rescuing victims and fighting the scourge of slavery.

Susan is donating 15% of Wiser Than Serpents' royalties to the International Justice Mission (www.ijm.org)! Let’s help spread the word about the IJM and their vital work!

About Susan: Susan May Warren is the award-winning author of seventeen novels and novellas with Tyndale, Steeple Hill and Barbour Publishing. Her first book, Happily Ever After won the American Fiction Christian Writers Book of the Year in 2003, and was a 2003 Christy Award finalist. In Sheep’s Clothing, a thriller set in Russia, was a 2006 Christy Award finalist and won the 2006 Inspirational Reader’s Choice award. A former missionary to Russia, Susan May Warren now writes Suspense/Romance and Chick Lit full time from her home in northern Minnesota.

Contest Info! Susan will be giving away 3 SIGNED sets of the Mission: Russia (In Sheep’s Clothing, Sands of Time, and Wiser Than Serpents) series. To enter the contest…click on over to Susan’s blog tour post here and tell us which ministries/charities you support and why! Susan will randomly select three winners!

Icy Hot

ROCKS!

I can almost walk without hobbling.

A Hitch in My Giddyup

Man, oh man, have I hurt myself.

I knew my back was sore. I knew I needed to baby it. But it was my back or Charming and I chose to save my baby from eminent death due to drowning.

I still believe I chose correctly, but I'm not sure who is going to care for his needs.

I can almost not walk. I certainly can't walk and hold anything. That includes books, bottles of Pepsi and Charming. I can't sit and hold him. All I can do is lay there with him cuddled up next to me.

Babies have radar. He knows something is up. So he nurses. As long as he has his nurse, all is right with the world. Unfortunately most nursing positions hurt. Certainly getting out of them does.

I wish I could show you a photo of how absolutely wretched I look. If there was blood, I'd say it looks like I was run over by a bus. What I do know is that those little old ladies, bent over in a ninety degree angle, shuffling down nursing home corridors in their SAS shoes could beat me in a footrace and have a better gait than I do currently.

I've taken to crawling to get around.

Don't ask how I used the bathroom. Let's just say I'm limiting fluids.

Lilies

My mom and I had a lengthy discussion on Friday about lilies, what makes a pretty lily, whether we should buy exotic lilies, which ones we've bought all while we looked at her lilies.

This morning, one of my more exotic lilies opened and I wanted to send her a photo, but being the techno savvy person that I'm NOT, I can't make my photos small enough to email several at a time, so you all get to see my lilies this morning.

This first one is, I think, a Stargazer. It isn't even fully opened yet. It is an Asiatic lily (I believe) and therefore a bunch of flowers atop a skinny beanpole of a stem. The stem falls over by the last flowers and they lie in the dirt. I don't know the solution. It frustrates me. I think Asiatic lilies, though lovely, are a pain in the butt. I won't buy them anymore. (Unless they are fifty cents for a pack of four like this one was...I may not have self control if that ever happens again.)

This second one is my favorite. It is an Oriental lily (I believe). The foliage is more leafy like a daylily, but the leaves are fuller and the overall foliage is much thinner. The flowers bloom one at a time. I greatly prefer the Oriental lilies of the exotic lily choices.

The bottom lily is another of my Oriental lilies. I have several of this one and of course they double every year. I am especially fond of the Pepsi bottle hiding down in the foliage.

And, that's about all I know about my lilies this morning. My daylilies aren't blooming yet. They re also lovely and give you the most bang for the buck. Especially when you mooch the plants off your mom and stick them in the ground off season, just to see what happens.

Calico Canyon by Mary Connealy

Today I'm going to share with you a book that is unlike those I normally read and recommend, but is a super fun read anyway.

Calico Canyon features Grace Calhoun, an instructor of reading, writing, and arithmetic, who, in an attempt to escape the clutches of a relentless pursuer, runs smack dab into even more trouble with the 6R's - widower Daniel Reeves, along with his five rowdy sons. When a marriage is forced upon this hapless pair - two people who couldn't dislike each other more - an avalanche isn't the only potential danger lurking amid the shadows of Calico Canyon. Will they make it out alive? Or end up killing each other in the process?

Friends, this isn't your typical prairie romance, though, frankly (and I hate to mention this, but it is blatantly true) I love Janette Oke books and all that "prairie romance" implies. But Calico Canyon isn't that, as I've just said. There are humor and suspense and rapid fire word flinging. Overall it is a light, easy, and fun read with a bit of edge of your seat thrown in for good measure. You've got to love yourself a bit of thrown together in a forced marriage together with male hormones that love the women that drive them crazy and villain with a grudge, don'tcha?

That Explains a Few Things

Tonight, as I was digging clam shells out of Charming's mouth I discovered two molars. This on top of the bottom tooth he grew in on Saturday.

Suddenly the fussiness, low grade fever and overall lack of sleep, routine, and charm all add up.

(If you must know, the clam shells are from his brother's collection which he discovered while I was otherwise occupied. They were relatively clean and non-clammy.)

Deaf Muskrats

Or, otherwise titled, Getting in Touch With My Inner White Trash.

And before anyone decides I'm a jerk, let me point out that I lived in a trailer, a rusty, nasty, trailer with mice inhabiting my oven while I cut my husband's hair (with his shirt off) in my front "yard" right up until we bought our first house. I know from which I speak. No, people aren't "trash" but you know what I mean when I say it, don't you?

I could also say getting in touch with my inner country girl, I guess.

So.

Hubs pointed out, as we drove "home" July 3rd that summer, especially the summer days surrounding Independence day, brings out the weirdos. People who live in a dump of a home, but stand out front shooting off the biggest fireworks money can buy. Hello? You just spent a month's rent on that one, mister. With your shirt off, and your beer belly hanging out. Oh, and is that your wife mowing the lawn in, wait, is that a bikkini or a bra and panties?

And then we proceeded to the fireworks stand.

Ever thrown Black Cats down a muskrat tunnel? It is this massive underground series of tunnels that lead to the water, some are underwater, some are dry-ish. They make a sound like FWOOMP! when you drop lit Black Cats into them. If you drop them into the swampy ones, it makes a geyser. A mud geyser that might splat all over you.

But I deny knowing that information.

You know those little tanks you can shoot off that will roll and shoot flames out? You can set several off at once and have a demo derby of sorts. Of course, they might light each other on fire.

But I deny knowing that information also.

No matter how plush and nice and green the grass looks, it still may harbor chiggers.

Just typing the word chiggers makes me feel a little less citified.

I deny knowing how bad chiggers in the bra and panty line might or might not itch for days on end. Or knowing that they seem to itch worst at 3AM.

Because I'm a city girl. And we don't talk about chiggers.

Oh, heavens. What am I saying? I had the distinct privilege of sitting out in a hot open field while my children rode combine (and tractor and wheat truck) during the last day of wheat harvest.

I haven't felt that peaceful since I was in high school and could go off into fields by myself and watch the stars. I just stood there with the wind blowing through my hair. And if I closed my eyes all I could hear (as long as the combine was on the other side of the field) was crickets and prairie grass blowing. I told Hubs that next time I'm all wrought up and anxious he just needs to haul me out to a field and dump me for an hour.

I could BREATHE, people! I'd forgotten what it felt like to breathe!

And later that night we put the kids to bed (home with the grandparents) and went out into the middle of a field and watched people set off fireworks all around us. And looked at the massive quantities of stars in between.

It was way better than those elaborate fireworks shows we get into traffic jams to see around here.

Call me white trash. I'm a country girl at heart.

I'm all for peace, but...

This morning I bought a couple patriotic tanks because, well, I wanted them. I buy a new one every now and then and I guess this was now. But I'm re-evaluating my purchase this afternoon.

Anyone else see the oxymoron here? 1776 was anything but peaceful.

Besides that, this side of heaven or Jesus coming back, peace ain't happening whether we forfeit this war on terror or not and I don't want people (particularly my military friends) thinking that I am not in full support of my country.

God Bless America.

I'm taking the shirt back.

Tell Me About It

Tonight I watched The Baby Borrowers, unable to look away. Fascinating.

There was this argument between one of the couples which went something like this:

You haven't done anything all day.

I've worked all day.

I don't care if you've worked all day. I'm tired of taking care of this kid.

Preach it sister.

I watched it while wrangling the Charming infant all my own after wrangling him all day and wrangling him while making dinner and wrangling him while eating dinner wrangling him during the hail storm wrangling him while dragging my computer downstairs when we saw the wall cloud (that wasn't rotating even if there was an updraft).

Could someone else take a turn, please? My back hurts.

This is what comes of teaching a baby that boobs solve all problems. Even when they don't want it, they want it close.

My Soul to Keep

Well, here we are in July. Who knew that summer could be half over and we've only just started? It must be the fact that it just hasn't been H-O-T like I remember summers being. Maybe that's because I played outside as a kid and I hide in the AC now.

No. Can't be that, I spent the better portion of the morning outside. And most of the afternoon also.

Dang, I love shade. That's the best part about this side of the state. Trees.

And I am Finally! Done! reading for ACFWs Book of the Year contest! Dear me, I was looking at my stack of books that had to be read last month and I thought it might not happen. I W-A-Y over committed myself between BOTY and Armchair. It's never a good thing when reading becomes a to-do rather than an escape-from.

So, as this is "New Book Tuesday" I shall tell you the first book I grabbed as soon as my obligations depleted: My Soul to Keep by Melanie Wells. Back cover copy reads like this:

As nasty as I knew Peter Terry to be, I never expected him to start kidnapping kids. Much less a sweet, funny little boy with nothing to protect him but a few knock-kneed women, two rabbits, and a staple gun...

Talk about your bizarre books. One minute you're laughing (it's written in first person, almost chick-lit voice) and the next you're, like Frodo says, "scared out of the creeps." No kidding, this 32 year old woman sat on the loveseat with her feet tucked up under her and made her dear ole Hubs get up, go lock all the doors and close the blinds because...well, because Melanie Wells writes this supernatural thriller stuff well enough that a rattlesnake might just get me if I got of the couch and maybe, just maybe someone was stalking me. {{shudder}}

And then she gives you this:

I should add here that it is an essential truth in the universe that all women obsessively compare themselves to one another. Why we engage in such futility is one of life's great mysteries. But as any married man knows, this should be accepted as fact without argument.

It's inevitable. It's a reflex. Just make peace with it now.

Was she at the pool with me this afternoon? And here I was thinking I was the only one with this obsession. But right there in black and white, I know that a fictional woman is just like me.

Confession is good for the soul.

Anyway, it was an excellent book. However, I believe that although this is a stand alone book, it is kinda related to another couple (which I haven't read) and you might want to go in order (even though it says nothing anywhere on the cover about being a series).

I Hesitate to Mention This

Someone (I'm not naming names) may (or may not) have to decided that it is (or is not) okay to sleep (dirty word, I know) through the night (define: night? and while we are at it: through).

As The Lizness has mentioned, you don't post those kinds of things on your blog if you wish for them to last, but as that someone may or may not be 16 months old in a few days I'd say it is about stinking time for him to "sleep like a baby" and may (or may not) quit doing said sleeping if he gets word of mom's blog.

Yes, he slept through at eight weeks or so. If by "through" you mean 11-6. And he quit sleeping "through" when he began starting his nights at 7 and mom took pity on his hunger pains. And yes, we did the long weekend cry through wherein he slept through for a week or so before he got a cold and mom took pity on him. And later, at about a year, we did the 10 night cry thorough and got one, maybe two sleep throughs before he decided sleeping was for the birds and mom needed sleep whenever she could take it and if she had to get it with a baby crammed in her armpit, so be it. And just when I decided that this was ridiculous and he couldn't possibly need to nurse every two hours as a 15 months old and when he bit the bejeebers out of me because he grinds his teeth like his papa and wasn't really nursing but pacifying as he slept and on the 15th wake due to bite mom said, never mind, we'll let him cry it.

One long cry.

One.

One night.

And he's sleeping through.

Or not.

But three nights is a pretty decent run, wouldn't you say?

Hey, to a woman who hasn't slept much in something like two years, it is a blamin' miracle.

My Poor Husband

Or maybe my poor waistline.

I can't seem to get out of vacation mode. I just caught myself eying the Pizza Mia add wondering if I could talk Hubs into picking up dinner tonight.

I won't do it. I won't.

But I sure am tempted.

The Good News and the Better News

I don't have HPV.

(Hubs gets to live another day.)

I don't have cancer, pre-cancer, or anything else questionable that may or may not be cancer upon closer inspection.

I do have a cyst that caused the questionable cells, that should resolve itself, that can be removed or drained or whatever should I keep getting abnormals.

So.

Now that I have put my junk on display for all the world to see, I will step back into less obsessive behavior regarding my health and will return to obsessing about my poorly behaved children who I am sure won't be nearly so awful now that I am not obsessing about other stuff.

Praise be to God our Healer and Protector!

Nerves

I thought I had finally resolved my mind to the fact that abnormal paps are normal and nothing would come of it.

The last 10 minutes, my stomach has been flipping around like they are about to announce the homecoming queen and I think I have a fighting chance. Maybe I mean before stuco president speeches. (I think I remember some dashes to the bathroom for that one so it probably isn't that bad.) Oh, I've got it. When I get an email from an agent I've submitted to and I am about to open it in hopes of an acceptance, yet expecting a rejection.

Yeah, that's what my stomach is doing.

Say a prayer for me. Tomorrow is the day when I will at least find out...who am I kidding? When I find out that either I don't have noticeable junk in my junk and I'll have to have another pap, or that I do and I have to wait for results. So tomorrow is good for precious little except getting to the next stage.

But at least I'll be to the next stage.

Early and Often

That was Hub's and my motto last week in regard to caffeine consumption. I decided to not limit this motto to vacation only and have continued on my quest this week as I go through re-entry.

What a week it has been.

So you might just imagine my delight this morning when Princess turns to me from "helping" me crack eggs for muffins, indicates the coffee I've just opened, and asks, "Mom, do you really need that?"

Well, lessee, I was awakened from my attempt at a doze this morning after about four hours sleep by Frodo's scream of annoyance and pain because Charming whom Princess lifted onto my bed (where Frodo was sleeping, of course) whacked him awake.

If I were her, I'd shut up and let my mom suck down whatever caffeine laced drinks she wanted.

But I have that innate self-preservation about me.

Move Varmint!

After a very aggravating trip to Target this morning for the all important toilet paper, I had HAD it. All the goofiness and silliness and drama I could stand. So when they decided they needed to climb into the van via the back door and Princess decided to choose that moment to pretend she was "stuck" and couldn't get over the back seat all while kicking wildly so that Frodo couldn't follow and I couldn't shut the door so I stood with the baby in the 90 degree sauna we call summer...I yelled "move darn-it!"

She did, Frodo leapt over the seat, I slammed the back door and when I opened the side door to put Charming in his seat, Princess says, "I don't like it when you call me varmint."

Well, when you're acting like one...

Guest Blogger Allie Pleiter!

Stretching weaknesses, stretching strengths

I’ve started exercising. Me and some TV guy with a thick accent who looks like he could lift my refrigerator with one hand get together three times a week (thanks to the magic of DVR) and exercise. I’ve never been a sports person, or much of an active person. I’m a big fan of comfy chairs with knitting needles nearby. I rank being out of breath (i.e. that thing that happens when you run) up there with a root canal. Age has caught up with me, though, and left me no choice. Unless I wanted to pay my monthly Weight Watchers fees until my social security checks started coming, I had to bite the bullet and pick up a hand-weight.

All this has me thinking about stretching , strengths, and weaknesses. Stretching—not just the physical extension part like touching your toes, but the pushing of a muscle beyond its ease—is essential to this exercise process. You must push your muscle to the point of weakness to gain strength. I’ve decided this is true in the spiritual world as well. God is in the habit of taking a weakness and asking us to use it—even to flaunt it in some cases—so that He can show His power through us. Most of us understand this concept, and many of us have lived it when asked to do something that feels completely out of the box for us. It’s one of my favorite places to take my characters because I think it’s where the real growth of life happens (and it makes for great drama which makes for good reading). But God does this to our strengths as well. He’ll take a talent we have, or a skill we possess, and push it like the TV guy does to my muscles. God will push our strength to the point of weakness because we grow when that happens. In Masked by Moonlight, Georgia is asked to take her talent of storytelling and push it into an entirely new realm. Matthew, on the other hand, learns that something he once considered a weakness (or more precisely, what others in his family considered a weakness), is actually a great strength—once God gets His hands on him.

The trouble with all this is that stretching and strengthening hurts at first. Georgia and Matthew get their happy ending, but they go through a lot of “pain” before they get their “gain.” And me, I’m always groaning the morning after my exercises. I’ve learned to think of that soreness, however, as the byproduct of beneficial growth. That—and a little Advil—makes it easier to take.

You may think writing is my strength, but it didn’t start out that way. If you want to see me use my original strengths, come to www.alliepleiter.com and click the link that lets you hear me read the first chapter of Masked by Moonlight to you. I have a theater degree and I’m not afraid to use it.

So how’d I end up a writer? How God does love to put a fork in the road….

As If!

I just opened a credit union account online for my "insurance" (who conveniently denied my claim today) and had to verify my identity. They gave me, among other things, a list of previous phone numbers that may or may not have been mine and I was to choose mine.

Let me just say here that I've had my current phone number for nine years now.

The phone number I had before that one I had for something like 6 months.

I picked the only one that looked like it might be vaguely familiar. Not that I ever dialed that number.

I guess I guessed right, because they gave me the account.

But seriously. As if. They also asked my previous address. Not from a list. I was supposed to come up with it out of thin air. I've lived here five years. Who keeps information around like that? Who wastes brain cells remembering stuff like that? We moved three times in 11 months when we fist moved to this city. I'd have to drive past the other places to remember those addresses. I guess I guessed right on that one also, though, because, like I said, they decided I was me and gave me the account.

So that they can continue to not pay my bills.

Whatever.

Vacation, as Journaled by Princess, with photos and (commentary) by Mom

Day 1: first we went swimming. then we went to Wal-Mart. then Arby's (actually we started at Arbys, she must be thinking of Taco Bell, where there was a life size velociraptor out front, but I shouldn't quibble). then we went home and watched ice age. then we went to bed.

Day2: Today I saw lots of turtles. And rode on a trolley. And got poison ivy went home took a bath and watched a movie. (she fortunately left out the part wherein I discovered that they were bathing in a patch of poison ivy the size of Texas and I demanded that they immediately climb into the 58 degree lake, fully clothed, sneakers and all and undo the ivy bath. Yes, I climbed in with them. I feared we wouldn't get it off fast enough and we'd have to come home for benadryl injections (do they do such a thing, I wonder?)) (I don't remember the movie.)

Day 3: today we went to Silver Dollar City. I was really scared on Powder Keg. It was scary on Fire in the Hole. On Powder keg, I cried like a baby. I loved the American Plunge. A guy was tinkling then we went down a giant slide. And got wet. We went on hopping frogs and a rocking boat (as soon as our parents wised up and remembered we are still very young children and maybe shouldn't go on the "very exciting" roller coasters).

Day 4: It's my birthday today. We went to the Butterfly Palace. We went to where butterflies were free (though for the cost of admission, one might question the use of the word "free"). There were lots of different butterflies. We watched a movie with 3D glasses. and did a rain forest maze. And went see rain forest animals. And went to the gift shop (where we spent a god-awful lot of time making our parents listen to us whine about junk we could probably get at home for half the cost but were totally uninterested in looking the the really cool things our parents wanted to buy for us). (Then we went fishing for minnows in the river beside our condo.)

Day 5: today we went to Silver Dollar City (again, you didn't read that wrong) and made a rag doll. (and ran into Frodo's best friend and his family. I was totally shocked. Frodo was uber-pleased as he had spent the entire week fretting that his pal wouldn't know where he was). And got a puppet and went home. (she again fortunately forgot to mention that we were trapped several hundred feet underground in a cave during a lighting storm because they don't run the tram up and out of the cave during lightning. As many, many unhealthy individuals were down there with us, we couldn't just walk out. It would have been difficult for us as well as Charming really wanted to crawl around in the bat guano so he was really squirmy and difficult to hold on those wet, uneven paths, stairs and tunnels.)

Day 6: today we went to the pool. And that's all I remember. (complete with a frowny face with a question mark over its head.) (yeah, because it is really hard to remember visiting the fish hatchery, wading in the river, swimming in the (warmer) lake, fishing, hunting for rocks, and the like.)

Day 7: Today we went to Silver Dollar City (hey! it was a three day pass!) and had to leave because of a rainstorm. (we were bummed because there were a few rides we intentionally left for the last couple hours that they didn't get to ride, but had been asking for all day.) (I didn't realize those sunglasses looked quite so, um, wide. May have to shop for another pair.)

On our way home: I hate going on a long drive so I made up a verse. here it is. Princess 1:13 when you're bored praise to the God (later changed to the Lord). (We asked her what Princess 1:12 was and she said she hadn't made that one up yet.)

(We're home. We're glad. Even nearly caught up on laundry. You wouldn't believe the stink day old lake swimming clothes can make. I think Hubs is very glad to be home also. I think he is pretty excited to get to go to work tomorrow. He's trying really hard to not be "done" with us, but surely even you can see that straining look on his "happy to be home" face.)

Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World by Joanna Weaver

I booked this blog tour before I booked my vacation and as I don't know for sure whether I'll have internet access, I'm posting now, sticky noting until Thursday. I may be in to visit with you all and sharing how un-Mary-like I am able to be during "vacation" or.....I may not. What I will for sure be attempting, is to live in the moment for the next few days.

Because if we can guilt trip ourselves for not spending enough time enjoying our kids, we can guilt trip ourselves for not enjoying our kids when we give them more than enough time.

Hopefully I will be proven wrong. You never know on a family vacation.

Joanna Weaver was voted the Most Promising New Writer of 1997 at the Mount Herman Writer’s Conference. She has authored Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World and written for publications such as Focus on the Family, Home Life, Aspire, and The Evangel. A pastor’s wife for more than eighteen years, she and her husband have counseled many couples, both those approaching their wedding and those struggling in marriage. The Weavers live in Montana and have taught young married classes and spoken on the topic of marriage throughout the northwestern United States.

About Having a Mary Heart in a Martha World:An invitation for every woman who’s ever felt she isn’t godly enough, isn’t loving enough, isn’t doing enough.

The life of a woman today isn’t really all that different from that of Mary and Martha in the
New Testament. Like Mary, you long to sit at the Lord’s feet…but the daily demands of a busy world just won’t leave you alone. Like Martha, you love Jesus and really want to serve him…yet you struggle with weariness, resentment, and feelings of inadequacy.

Then comes Jesus, into the midst of your busy life, to extend the same invitation he issued long ago to the two sisters from Bethany. Tenderly, he invites you to choose “the better part”–a joyful life of intimacy with him that flows naturally into loving service.

With her fresh approach to the familiar Bible story, Joanna Weaver shows how all of us–Marys and Marthas alike–can draw closer to our Lord: deepening our devotion, strengthening our service, and doing both with less stress and greater joy.

Contests:

She'll be giving away 7 copies of Having a Mary Heart. All you have to do to enter is leave a comment on Joanna's blog tour post .

She is also giving away 7 copies of With This Ring, her latest release. To enter that contest, simply leave a comment on Joanna's blog tour post telling her which chapter of Having a Mary Heart was your favorite and why.

Easy and fun!

Personally I "enjoyed" "Lord, Don't You Care?" If you can call it enjoyment to look at the pages and know someone has been spying on your black heart. "What about me?" My envious little mind whines when everyone wants ice cream and I haven't sat down for my dinner yet. But I'm learning. Learning the three D's and I'm catching on. If I can just nip distraction in the bud (okay, so I'm not sure I can do that) I can avoid discouragement (let's say I nip this one in the bud instead) and keep the doubt out of my life. Ya think?

Yeah, yeah. Still learning.

Playing Princess

When being oooo'd and aahhhh's lost it's luster, she gave up her royal subjects and just played instead.

I realized after we called it a wrap and stripped them of their confining clothes that I never took a posed picture of the two in full garb. I'm so angry with myself.

Hopefully the photographer got something worthy of my mantle.

Frodo the Ring Bear(er)

Frodo is again going to live up to his name and bear some rings this weekend.

But yesterday was a bit too much for him.

After welcoming the sun to our side of the planet, playing with toads, driving his siblings to camp (car ride approximately 1 hour), having swimming lessons, learning! to! swim! (two weeks of classes and I wondered if they would get around to the swimming part, but I got to see the moment it clicked in the last three minutes of the very last lesson!), welcoming Grandma and Popen, playing hard with them, going to the barber, playing hard some more, practicing going down the aisle (twice? I have to do it again?), driving through Burger King (hulk toys make great bribery), and joining his parents eating themselves into oblivion (I was literally sick I was so full of that AMAZING food), not even being able to finish his ice cream (it is there in the silver cup), begging Mom to PLEASE go home, he gave it up and took matters into his own hands.

We had to leave just before the toasts and fun stuff began. I knew better than to take the kids to the dinner, but I wanted to go and they are the wedding party.

I think I'm gonna cry today. I'm getting a hint of how hard it might be to marry my kids off someday. I'm having a hard time letting my babysitter go.

Sniff.

That's Good News?

I finally called my doctor and harassed the nurse yesterday. I had questions that begged to be asked.

Her reassuring words?

"It's probably just HPV."

(excuse me while the steam exits my ears)

If I have HPV, I have a whole 'nother set of issues which I am unwilling to even consider.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Well, not really, but I'll try to keep my sarcasm sheathed.

Today.

Devastation

I got a phone call today telling me that my first home (well, the first one I owned 10% of) was wiped out by a tornado last night. The detached garage is still there, but only two walls of my house are still standing. I'm supposed to get pictures soon and I'll show them if I can.

It was the only house I've ever really loved.

Also very glad I don't live there anymore...for the first time in say, eight years.

Also the reason that when they blew the sirens tonight, I woke my four children and made them sprint for the basement.

That Kinda Day

Do you ever sometimes think that your children are a shining example of entitled, ungrateful, brat?

Who me? Never.

How Rude!

Let me just preface this with the admission that, yes, I also see that I played a part in the fault here.

My kids have been in what we affectionately call "Nature Camp" this week, the week we look forward to for a year and talk about all winter. The camp you might remember I almost didn't get them into and was berating myself for. In nature camp, they need bug spray and sunscreen, as you might imagine. That produces a pretty heavy fog of smell in the car and it is not a short drive to nature from my home. So.....when we get there, I screen 'em up and OFF! them substantially.

Today my customary parking place by the door was taken so I pulled into the overflow parking (guffaw) fifteen paces away, hop out and start spraying the kids.

Let me just take this moment to paint a picture. Parking lot in the middle of nowhere. Twenty kids in the entire camp. Parking lot has, I don't know, thirty spots. Most kids come with siblings. And there are five or six cars already parked by the door (not in the lot). The lot is VACANT, people, VACANT. Except for my car, and one car on the other side of empty spot next to mine where I am standing, spraying down my kids.

So this van pulls in. Can totally see that I, and my three kids, occupy the space. That there are CLOSER spaces available. Doesn't even slow down. And as I grab my kids and pull them towards the car (ours) and in process to exit the space so that she doesn't mow us down, SHE KEEPS PULLING IN. No pause. I tell you, this lady didn't even tap the brakes. Thankfully my children actually listened to me and my yanking of their arms and plaster themselves along with me to my car so that none of us lost a limb, BUT STILL.

And yes, I know, I am not a car and cannot actually qualify to fill a space. And yes, I also know my car already took a space, so technically I was using two. And yes, I also know that when I saw her coming, I kept spraying and assumed she would take a different space, because WHO TAKES THE SPACE BETWEEN TWO CARS WHEN THERE IS A WHOLE EMPTY LOT (AND EQUALLY CLOSE SPACES)????

But Come On.

Oh, and how is this for wishful thinking? Dreaming of princes, already?

(Nah, we posed it in copy of Meg. )

Yes, that is our first toad of the season. After screaming like a little girl, she named him Hoppy and he's sleeping next to the fish tank in an old salad box.

Copper Fire by Suzanne Woods Fisher

Suzanne Woods Fisher’s just-released historical novel Copper Fire, is the sequel to the three-time award-winning Copper Star, a World War II love story inspired by true events. Fisher was a contributing editor to Christian Parenting Today magazine. Her work has appeared in Today’s Christian Woman, Worldwide Challenge, ParentLife, and Marriage Partnership. She has contributed to ten non-fiction books, including Chicken Soup for the Soul: Children with Special Needs. A wife and mother, Fisher lives in the San Francisco Bay Area and raises puppies for Guide Dogs for the Blind. The best thing about being a writer, she feels, is that all of life becomes material for writing. It’s all grit for the oyster.

Suzanne can be found at www.suzannewoodsfisher.com.

During the month of June, Suzanne is running a book-a-day-giveaway contest. To enter, scoot on over to her blog (www.suzannewoodsfisher.blogspot.com) to pop her an e-mail: Suzanne@suzannewoodsfisher.com

Welcome Suzanne!

Tell us about Copper Fire.

SWF: Copper Fire is the sequel to Copper Star, picking right up at the very end of World War II. On a summer day in 1945, my main character, Louisa, receives a telegram from the International Red Cross Tracing Service. She discovers that her cousin, Elisabeth, has just been released from Dachau. Louisa is determined to go to Germany to get Elisabeth…and that’s where the story begins.

Oh, how I love reading that period in time! What's your favorite place in the world?

SWF: Nantucket Island on an autumn day.

What's your favorite possession?

SWF: My friend Gwen drew pencil sketches of my children that I have framed in the bedroom. I’ve hauled them all over the world (we lived in Hong Kong for four years).

Finish this sentence: I wouldn¹t be caught dead…

SWF: In a bikini. Not after four kids! No, no, no.

Boy, do I understand that! If you could change careers now without any consequences or financial loss,
what would you switch to?

SWF: I am passionate about writing, and I only make about a dime an hour. Still, though, a passion is a passion.

I think I'd pick tropical island reviewer. Can you tell us what’s on your desk right now? What can readers look forward to?

SWF: In late August, Grit from the Oyster: 250 Pearls of Wisdom for Aspiring Writers, will be released from Vintage Spirit. I wrote Grit with three other very talented authors.

And another piece of great news! I just received a contract from Revell/Baker for a non-fiction book called Amish Peace in an English Life. It won’t be out until 2010…but ‘everything Amish’ is filling up my head right now.

Thanks for letting me pop-in, Jamie!

Find Suzanne on-line at www.suzannewoodsfisher.com

Copper Star (ISBN: 0-9793327-4-5) and Copper Fire (ISBN: 978-0-981-5592-0-9) are available at Amazon or other on-line booksellers, at Suzanne’s website, or can be ordered through your favorite bookstore.

Ugh

I know most of you are getting tired of this continual fretting I am doing, but I have to just come on here and say:

Screach!!!

My doctor's office just called to reschedule my procedure. For two more weeks away!

I got up this morning, glad to have finally made it to this very busy week, wherein I would be so stinking busy as to either pass the time quickly OR not think all the time about "what if," but NO.

I actually groaned when she told me.

The good news is that, thought I'm not paranoid or superstitious, my procedure is no longer scheduled for Friday the 13th. The bad news (for me) is that it is now scheduled for Friday the 27th.

Okay, enough of that. I promise to get more cheerful and funny again really soon. Well, as funny as I can get.

Blog Fodder

Mother's Day came a couple weeks late, or Father's Day came a couple weeks early this morning.

I don't think you can see my place card, but it says "mom," that is a straw in my coffee, toast sans butter, a nutty bar, peanut m&ms, almonds, a chocolate chip cookie and a mug of milk.

That, below? The centerpiece. Fresh snapdragons in a new bottle of water. Only the best for me. Resting gently on a table runner for fall.

And this? Charming, snagging my nutty bar.




"And how are we this morning? We are well? Then I'll take our order. So we are having the breakfast ala kid's choice. I'll bring us some silverware."

Our waiter took the whole, "we" thing w-aaaaaa-y to far last night. I wonder if I adopt his method, if the kids will buy it enough to leave a big tip after ooo-yucking dinner.

Say Wha...?

Last night Hubs and I went on our very last date before our most treasured babysitter gets married. After eating ourselves into an oblivion at PF Changs (I'll have to tell you about our waiter some time when Charming is asleep), we walked over to Barnes and Noble.

I thought surely I was mistaken, but I verified three times.

There was a Sex and the City movie pack (some kind of boxed set of something) on the endcap of the Christian section.

I asked

He assured me that no, he was not being ironic and yes, he was praying.

I was almost too afraid to ask after I posted all lovey-dovey. What if I'd have to come back here and say it was all in my imagination?

He looked kind of sheepish like he got caught thinking I might die. I asked if I should be worried that he's so worried. He said he's not worried "it's just..."

I filled in. "Unacceptable for me to kick off?"

Yep.

I agree. Guess there will be no dying this year. It's unacceptable.

My apologies for using the term "dying." I know that even IF there was something there, chances are good that whatever it is can be removed and we'll live another 85 years and there is probably nothing there in the first place. After all, Hubs prayed and I got tingles. And on top of THAT, God is still in control. But, you know, as a mother my second worst fear is that I'd have to leave them to fend for themselves.

Now where are those chocolate chip cookies?

Suspicious Minds by Christy Barritt

Q & A with Mystery Author Christy Barritt

Mysteries that play havoc on the nerves and the funny bone!

Q: Tell us about your featured book.

A: In Suspicious Minds, crime-scene cleaner Gabby St. Claire takes a mold remediation job to make ends meet. While in the crawlspace of a dilapidated old house, she finds Elvis—dead and still wearing his blue suede shoes! Gabby can’t resist sticking her nose into another investigation. Along the way, she tries to figure out her love life, her spiritual life and the wacky world of Elvis impersonators!

Q: Where did you get the idea for Suspicious Minds?

A: I’ve been writing for my local newspaper for five years now. One interview I did was with an Elvis impersonator (or, an Elvis Tribute Artist, as I was quickly informed) performing at a senior citizens’ center. I had no idea what to expect before I went. After I finished the interview (and I’ve had easier times getting interviews with senators than I did with this guy after his show), the president of his fan club came running after me as I walked to my car. She presented me with an autographed picture of him. I thought, this man has a fan club? The ideas spun from there.

Q: Your book touches on the issues of loneliness and abandonment. Is this something that you’ve dealt with?

A: In some ways, the more I write, the lonelier I become. Writing is such a solitary job and best writing times are often my worst times of isolation. I struggle with being alone and feeling unconnected. For my mental well-being, I make sure I get out of the house several times during the week. Sometimes I’ll take my computer to Starbucks and work there. Other times, I’ll participate in different “mommy groups.” It takes effort, though. I’m a more effective writer if I’m out and among people. But, as the book points out, you can be surrounded by people and still be lonely.

Q: I heard you’re doing some local Mystery Dinner Theaters featuring characters from your book. Can you tell us more about that?

A: I’m so excited! The way everything has come together for the Suspicious Minds Mystery Dinner Theater is truly because of a Higher Power. I had the crazy idea to write a mystery dinner theater for the release of my book. But doors began opening up and it’s evolved into something much bigger. I actually have a troupe of actors who are willing to perform the play several times in the summer and once a month after that. Churches, libraries, schools and clubs are hosting the event—they’re in charge of the food and advertising. Any donations for the event will go directly toward whatever project they’d like. The actors will come in and act, giving them an outlet for their talents. And I’ll sell my book afterward, a portion of the proceeds going toward whatever cause is featured. It’s going to be a blast! We still have some dates open. If anyone is interested, they can email me at cebarritt@yahoo.com for more information.

Q: Do you ever find it hard to balance being a mom and writing?

A: Definitely! But I’m learning to trust my gut to know when I’m off-balance. Then I need to take time to evaluate how I’m spending my hours. Life is constantly a process of learning, changing and adjusting!

Q: What’s next for you?

A: I’m writing the third book in the Squeaky Clean Mystery series. Gabby, of course, has to get into some more trouble! But she also explores her relationships… from friendships, to romance, to God. She has some unresolved issues from her past that she needs to lay to rest. And, of course, she has crime scenes to clean!

Visit Christy’s website at: www.christybarritt.com for more information!

He Still Gives Me Tingles

Today Hubs and I were word bantering via email when I finally decided he won the word war and said, "You know you love me."

To which he replied:

"That is indisputable and quite obvious."

Now, you could take that two ways. Obvious? As in obviously he loves me, because why else would he stick around with my poor homemaking skills and body going the way of gravity?

I choose to take that as the compliment I think he was making (I'm not going to ask) and sigh a big ole 14 year-old sigh of infatuation like I did back when he complimented my ability to burn marshmallows and tick off one of the leading ladies of our freshman class.

And this following the middle of the night minute long interlude of his hand gently resting on my mid-back wherein I have decided he was praying for me. (I was long gone for the night and he knows better (if you know what I'm saying) so when I said "what?" (meaning did-the-baby-wake-and-I-didn't-hear?) and he said "nothing" I promptly decided to go back to sleep but almost felt tingles emanating from his hand and running through my body to the source of my concern. And, just like that, it was over when he lifted his hand and went to sleep himself.)

Amazing. After 12 years of marriage he can still shock me with his love. (What's really shocking is that he still loves me after all he has to forgive me.)