Christmas Blast Out Blog Tour

A SCRAPBOOK OF CHRISTMAS FIRSTS

(Leafwood Publishers, October 2008)

A wonderful new gift book, A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts, is available in October for Christmas giving. Today, I’ve invited the six coauthors to share their unique story of how they came together to publish this exciting book full of stories, recipes, tips for simplifying the holidays and so much more (click on bookcover to see the trailer!).

First, let me introduce Cathy Messecar, Leslie Wilson, Brenda Nixon, Trish Berg, Terra Hangen and Karen Robbins. Thank you for being here today, ladies.

Karen: Thank you for the invitation.

You are from three different areas of the country—Texas, California, and Ohio. How did you all meet?

Terra: We all six joined The Writers View, an online group for professional Christian writers. Trish and Brenda met in person in 2004 for lunch, I understand, and on 9/18/04, after reading a post Brenda sent to TWV, I sent an email to Brenda, asking if she would like to join with me and walk alongside each other, as a Barnabas group. Brenda said yes that same day, and suggested Trish too. Very quickly Cathy, Leslie and Karen joined in and our stalwart band of six was formed. Living in California, I was so happy to find 5 Barnabas writers in other states so we could bring together a wealth of different viewpoints and expertise

Brenda: Actually, We haven’t met. We’re all great colleagues and friends via the internet. Four years ago Terra and I formed a dyad to support each other as Christians who write in the secular markets. Along came Trish, Cathy, Karen, and Leslie (not necessarily in that order) and we formed a close knit bond of support, creative energy, and professional accountability.

Karen: I met Trish through an online forum called The Writers View and she invited me to join the group.

Trish: Although we belong to the same Yahoo writing group, we met one by one online. Eventually, the six of us decided that since we all write as Christians for a secular market through magazine articles and newspaper columns, we could support and encourage one another.

Leslie: Though we met virtually through The Writers View, I have been blessed to give and get hugs from Trish (at a MOPS conference), Cathy (in the area on business) and Karen (in town for a writers' conference). I can’t wait to meet Terra and Brenda face-to-face, though I feel as though I already know them!

How did you come up with the idea to do a book together?

Brenda: The book is Cathy’s brainchild. She mentioned the concept of telling stories of events that happened for the first time at Christmas and sharing holiday historical tidbits and recipes and each said, “If you need any help, let me know.” That offer morphed into each of us equally contributing and co-authoring A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts.

Trish: Yep, Cathy came up with the idea and the title, and asked us if we wanted to join her on this project. Of course, we said Yes!

Terra: Cathy mentioned the idea for a Christmas book to the group, and someone (I think it was Leslie) suggested that maybe our group could all write the book together. Cathy agreed to lead the way on the project. The earliest email I have on this is from 9/7/05, which shows that this has been a three year collaboration from idea to publication.

Karen: (Chuckling) Terra is a librarian and keeps our historical records by saving our e-mails.

Leslie: Actually, Terra, I wrote that comment (in a group e-mail) kind of tongue-in-cheek. Cathy, the ultra-sweet person she is, took my joking at face value and here we are. However, I believe God prompted the passion and ideas we all bring to the project and that He will do mighty things as a result of our collaboration!

Why did you decide on a Christmas theme?

Brenda: It was Cathy’s concept to write a book centering on Christmas.

Cathy: For several years, I’d been thinking about Christmas as a threshold to introduce Jesus to folks who aren’t familiar with him, and I love a simpler Christmas with the emphasis on family, friends and doing for others. I knew of some families who had experienced “firsts” at Christmas—reunions, losses, special surprises—and I wanted to collect those stories.

Terra: Cathy’s idea immediately resonated with me because Christmas books are “a way past watchful dragons,” as C. S. Lewis wrote. Many people won’t buy a book about being a Christian, but will buy a holiday and family fun book, thus the “past watchful dragons.” People who want to grow in their faith, and people who have no faith but celebrate Christmas will buy our book and hopefully be led to put the focus back on Christ for the holiday, and for their lives.

Leslie: Though Cathy birthed the idea, the rest of us quickly hopped on board. Not only is Christmas special to me—especially now that I have a family of my own—but also that particular holiday cries out to be simplified, to return to the meaningful aspects of celebration, and to lose some of the hype and commercialism.

Tell me a little about what is in A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts? What is your favorite part?

Cathy: I like that you can read one chapter in about 15 minutes and, with all the different suggestions, it feels like Christmas Eve. Makes you want to set up the nativity! Many of the suggestions for family activities can be adapted for any family get-together.

Karen: There are heartwarming stories about things that happened for the first time at Christmas. For instance, one of my stories is about the first Christmas with our adopted children. And the book is pretty. When I first saw the colorful pages and drawings, I fell in love with the illustrator’s work.

Brenda: I don’t have a favorite part – I love it all!

Terra: I like the way the parts are woven into a seamless whole, like a patchwork quilt, that is stronger and more beautiful than the parts.

Trish: It’s like everything you ever wanted to know about Christmas, all the best tips and recipes, and neat stories all wrapped up in this perfect little package.

Leslie: I love reading the special stories, hints, recipes—whatever—and imagining the precious family time that precipitated each moment. Plus, the book is gorgeous, beautifully printed, truly something to be proud of. And we are.

I’ve heard that the book is really a nice gift book; can you tell me a little about the format?

Cathy: Yes, it’s a hardbound book, full color interior. The layout makes it easy to read. It has a definite scrapbooky look on the interior. Different logos identify sections, such as an oilcloth-look Christmas stocking appears beside the “Stocking Stuffer Tradition” (help for connecting family members), and the “Cookie Canister” recipes are on a recipe card, and the back ground of “A Gift For You” is a gift box with bow. It’s a classy gift that they can be placed on a coffee table or in a guest bedroom during the holiday season.

Brenda: I like to describe it as a Starbuck’s sorta gift book. It’s high quality, crisp, and practical.

With six different personalities and areas of ministry, how did you manage to put this all together and still remain friends?

Karen: We pray a lot for each other and it helps that none of us have an over-inflated ego.

Cathy: There were no squabbles. Surely, we had differing opinions, but we knew that any of us could suggest an idea for this book and that each idea would get fair reviews from others. We actually voted on some aspects—everyone in favor say, “Aye.” If you’ve ever watched women at a Dutch treat luncheon when they divide up a meal ticket, it can be intense as they split the ticket down to the penny. As the project came together, I was in awe of my gracious coauthors, unselfish women who respect each other.
For some decisions, we did a round robin—things like book title and chapter titles and what categories to put into the book. Then, as compiler, I’d send out a list of needs to The Word Quilters, that’s what we call ourselves. For instance in a section we call “Peppermints for Little Ones” (hints for children’s activities), I’d put out a call, and the WQs sent in their hints, and then I put them into appropriate chapters.

Brenda: (Smiling) Are we still friends? Seriously, we each have our own platform, ministry, and family life, and those interests kept this project in perspective – it was important but not the only thing on our plates. No one was so enmeshed in this project that she campaigned for her own way. We never had a bitter disagreement or insistence to be “right.”

Terra: We are each other’s biggest cheerleaders.We offer support and ideas for our separate writing projects and for personal prayer requests. I love these ladies, and I have only met one of them in person. So far, Karen is the only one who has met each of us, and one day we hope to meet in person, in a circle of friendship and love.

Trish: I think we are all very flexible and forgiving. We do have a variety of personalities here, but God has worked amazing things through our little group.

Leslie: Though I have seven non-fiction projects in various stages of completion, I could not be more thankful that this is the one to reach publication first. I am truly blessed to have worked with these women, learned from them, watched as they’ve poured heart and soul into crafting a product that will impact lives for the Lord.

Where can my readers get a copy of SOCF?

Cathy: The coauthors will all have a supply, plus our publisher, Leafwood Publishers, will have plenty of copies and discounts for buying five or more. Or they can be ordered at most online stores or by your local bookstore.

Karen: And anyone who leaves a comment here can be entered in a drawing for a free book and a gift basket worth $200! For a list of its contents, check our blog, A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts. And while you're there, leave another comment and increase your chances of winning!

Tell me more about your blog.

Karen: We started our blog in July and it is accumulating a wealth of information about Christmas. Each of us posts one day a week following the theme for that week. Watch for new recipes, tips, ways to simplify, stories, etc., similar to what is in our book.

Leslie: Ooh, ooh, let me answer this one. I’m probably the newest to blogging among the group, but I LOVE it. I’ve enjoyed posting and receiving comments back from readers. What an amazing adventure having an online voice can be! This blog will focus on a different theme each week—anything from tips to avoid overeating during the holidays to how to give a guest room special touches—and expand on the material in the book. I think readers will get to know the authors’ individual personalities and connect on a more personal level. Plus, they get that many more ideas, information, inspiration (!) at no additional cost.

WQs: As an added bonus for inviting us to your blog, we’d like to pass along this Christmas tidbit to you and your readers:

Enjoy a blessed Christmas this year! And thanks for inviting us to share our book, A Scrapbook of Christmas Firsts, with you.

Stop! Hold Everything!

Today I got Siri Mitchell's A Constant Heart in the mail. A moment of silence, please. And then burst into cheers. Few books or authors do that for me anymore.

Between that and the Heroes season premier, you may not hear from me for a while.

Who am I kidding? Twenty-four hours. I give myself 24 hours to finish both. Unless, of course, I NEED to comment on something. At which case you cannot hold it against Siri OR Heroes. Heck, it's probably them I'll be commenting upon.

The Makings of a Great Monday

1. Make sure your husband has Toastmaster's so he is up and creaking around the bedroom at the butt-crack of dawn...and gone by the time he can be of any use to you.

2. Make sure your kids have a field trip that they know about so they wake up super excited and unable to focus on small, insignificant details such as eating breakfast and getting dressed.

3. Whatever you do, don't pack lunches (in a throwaway bag with a throwaway drink) the night before.

4. Make sure that your know-it-all "helpful" kids drag their sunscreen and bug spray OUT of the van so you have to run all over tarnation trying to get it in the same place to spray them when you SHOULD be heading off to school.

5. Make sure you mention to the kids that you are only providing two quarters to each kid to feed the goats and that if they want to feed more than $0.50 worth of animals they should bring their own money.

6. So they go scrambling all over the house trying to find their money and there is great wailing and gnashing of teeth that they don't have $5.00 worth of quarters to stuff down the gullet of some overfed duck.

7. Don't triple check that the kids brought their back packs in which you lovingly placed each person's lunch.

8. Forget to remind them to brush their teeth and hair and wash their faces.

9. Screech at them when you get to school, "Where is your backpack?!? Did you brush your teeth? Why not? I guess you have no lunch then!"

10. Make kids burst into tears.

11. Break the sound barrier while you hightail it home to get aforementioned lunch.

12. (Stop and thank God that that police officer you saw coming around the bend came 30 seconds after you.) (Okay, I wasn't speeding....much.)

13. Grab backpack from living room without checking contents because you specifically lovingly placed lunch into back pack, didn't you?

14. Get back to school with empty backpack.

15. Mooch off the church to make dry peanut butter sandwich. Hand dollar to teacher and plead insanity, begging them to buy overpriced drink for poor underfed kid.

16. Hope that the other two kids don't think they were gypped because they got a "good" meal but no drink from the snack bar.

17. Come home to discover that the trash guys who typically come at 4:30 in the afternoon, decided to come at 8:45 this morning...before you've put out half the trash.

18. Have husband call with "not-so-great news."

19. Pull your bully of a toddler off his friend more than one time as he goes in for the kill because she thought she might like to play with some toy he hasn't touched in a week.

Other than THAT, I'd say it's been a relatively uneventful, peaceful and happy morning. ;)

Don't You Just Hate It

when you have a good blog post idea come to mind, and you tell yourself you'll write it just as soon as you get the baby down for the night, but the baby doesn't go down for another hour and a half and when it's time to post, you've got nuthin'?

Yeah, me too.

How To Lose A Pound While Still Eating Like Crap

Going...

Going...Gone.

And, yes, I'm putting it to good use. I'm sending it here. Because I kinda have a thing about breast cancer fighters/survivors. The lady in black behind me wasn't my stylist. She was just so durned excited that I was donating my hair she couldn't stay away. They kept asking me, "Are you okay? Are you alright? Are you sure? Lat chance to bail..." Pretty funny, really. I can't remember the last time I was so sure about a hair cut. Something about waking up all night when I'd roll over and wrench my neck because I'd rolled over on my hair, did it for me. That, and even though I'm a granola, hippy, hello-I-graduated-in-the-90s gal, I don't want to be precieved as a granola, hippy kinda gal (most of the time). I've been in the burbs too long.

And One More Thing

How can I scrub THAT long on a shower and it look THAT much better and still look THAT bad?

Speaking of Neighbors that Don't Understand Grace or Christians that Sometimes Lose Their Tempers and Say Friggin

So I'm out walking the baby when my neighbor hails me and the offspring with, "Can he have a Popsicle?"

I'm not sure if they buy Popsicles for the kids or if the kids have just figured out that if they smile nice they sometimes get them...but as the greedy little tykes weren't with me, I have to assume the former.

So he hustles to get the squirt a 'sicle and delivers it, "Complements of Obama."

To which I couldn't resist the faithful, "You're really gonna vote for that guy?"

And the ensuing political conversation takes place wherein he spouts his party line and I spout mine. Something like this: That Sarah Palin has no experience. What if McCain has a heart attack. Do you really want her as president. What and she has less experience than Obama? Biden. Biden? The Veep doesn't do anything unless the pres. dies. Are you hoping Obama dies?

Yeah, I know, you're either on one side or the other...half of that made sense to all of you. But here's where the conversation got interesting:

Well, she's one of those, whaddaya call 'em...evangelicals.

Uh, yeah....your point is?

You know...those....hmmm. Evangelicals. (gestures) Crazy. (remember he's telling me this...me...who asked him when he's gonna cave to the dark side become one of US (cackle) evangelicals. He avoided me for months.)

(Wide eyes, pretending I have no idea what he's talking about (I think the word he was looking for was "pentacostals" but I'm not about to help him out here.)) Huh.

Yeah. (knowing look) She's not much like you.

Huh.

Well. Tell the kids the popsicles are on Obama.

Um yeah, I'll do that.

(walking off, whips around, snaps fingers) You won't vote for Obama because he's black.

That's it. You got me there, Tuck. (I certainly hope he was kidding. No, no. I want MY son to be the first black president. It is unacceptable for anyone else to be.)

So, I'm wondering what exactly he thinks I am. I am obviously far too normal to be (whadda we call it?) Charasmatic, aren't I? Snort.

He says it like it's a bad thing.

Friggin!

It isn't just me!

Oh, my. Laughed until I cried.

(Gentle readers, or neighbors that don't think Christians should say "Friggin," may not want to click through.)

The Road of Lost Innocence

Do you sometimes have subjects that come up again and again in all sorts of conversations and reading and surveys and on TV and on blogs and at playgroup and...you get the idea. The latest one for me is human trafficking. Something I'd never given a second thought to is suddenly everywhere. Last year there were arrests just a couple miles from me and several women rescued (I hope!) out of slavery. IN MY OWN CITY! And we don't exactly live in an area that you'd expect to see that. I hope. Ahem.

So I got this book in the mail on Friday that I wanted to share with you. So that I can join the echo that will hopefully get loud enough that something can be done for the victims of this nasty endeavor. Here 'tis.

Born in Cambodia and orphaned at an early age, Somaly Mam, a Buddhist sex trade survivor, grew up never knowing her real name or birthday.

As a teenager, Somaly Mam was sold into prostitution and spent years in the brothels of Cambodia where she witnessed and experienced the full-blown horrors of the human sex trade – rape, torture, and nearly unfathomable abuse. After her eventual escape, she could not forget the young girls (some as young as 5) left behind in the brothels, and so she returned to serve them. Her new book, "The Road of Lost Innocence," is her newest means of advocacy. It tells her personal story, ultimately inviting people of conscious, such as our Christian community, to become involved (or to continue involvement) in this war against an epic evil, a modern battle for "the least of these." Truly, not only is this book worth reading, it's worth sharing.

Sweet September by Tricia Goyer

Sheesh, it's prolific writers month here at the land of Chaos. (I only say sheesh because I WISH I could write and much and as well as these wonderful ladies!)

Tricia Goyer, author of WWII and Spansish Civil War novels as well as Gen X lifestyle books tries her hand at contemporary fiction and does marvelously. Sweet September is part of the Home to Heather Creek series put out by Guideposts. Each individual book is written by different authors so I can't vouch for the series as a whole (though I'm sure they are all wonderful books). I CAN tell you that you can read this book without reading the others (because I did it and survived...even enjoyed myself in the process). I love the contemporary farm aspect of this book and the small town feel. It takes me back to high school. Which, though frought with anxiety, were peaceful times overall. And, if you know Tricia, you know she'll fit some history into even her contemporary books. Gotta love that.

I also hear that Tricia is currently working on book 7 of the series, so there is that to look forward to. And maybe inspire you to invest in the whole series.

Here's a bit about the book and series:

Harvest time at Heather Creek Farm is an exciting time, but the kids don't seem to be getting into the spirit. One day while he's wandering through the fields, Christopher stumbles across an old piece of metal buried in the ground. He doesn't know what it is, but he hides it in the shed.

That night, the garden by the house is uprooted. Who could have done such a thing? Charlotte is determined to find out, but is distracted when she gets news that Sam is failing school. The sullen teen is indifferent and won't study. He starts spending a lot of time with Pete. Though she loves her son dearly, Pete never finished high school, and Charlotte is afraid he'll encourage Sam to do the same. How can she help him get back on track?

A gripping story that examines the Stevenson family's history as well as its shaky future, Sweet September will bring you deeper into the loving community of Bedford and the deep ties of love that bind this broken family together. As they forge new connections, you'll be entertained, inspired, and reminded that God's grace can make all things new.

About Guideposts' Home To Heather Creek series!

Charlotte Stevenson's world is turned upside down when her daughter, Denise, dies in a tragic car accident. She ran away at eighteen and Charlotte has never forgiven herself. Now, Denise's children, abandoned by their father, are coming from California to live on Heather Creek Farm in Bedford, Nebraska.

video

Because I'm an idiot and can't post these type of things to my blog, I MUST send you here. Besides, she's artistic and you'll like it over there.

What a Gift!

Today, while teaching 5th and 6th grade science, in the middle of a sentence, I chipped two teeth.

I wasn't yelling.

I wasn't grinding my teeth in irritation. (I may have been rolling my eyes, but that's for another post.)

I wasn't eating Gobstoppers.

I was just talking. And by some freak of nature, two of my teeth caught on each other. There was a very loud crack and then chunks of enamel floating around in my mouth.

And then I got to hear about all the broken teeth my students have endured in their short lives.

Hubs says, "It sucks to get old."

Thanks, Hon.

If this is what it means to be 33, I'll think I'll sit this one out.

Happy birthday to me.

Ah, Now I Remember

The following photo is very distressing. For the faint of heart (namely my mother-in-law), I advise you to quickly navigate away from this page.

It's like a car accident. You can't look away, can you?

The following is the reason that I rarely go for the self-pampering. WHILE I'm participating, I enjoy myself and think, "Well, golly, I should get out more." And then I come home to this:

And the reality is much uglier than the photo.

The problem with taking a night off, it that you still have to face it in the morning.

My toes are pretty, though.

Just in Case You Need a Giggle

Thanks to Jenni for sending me to this mindless diversion.

I don't know what I expected, but it just got goofier and goofier and totally cracked me up.

He loves me. He really loves me!

Maybe because I'm voluptuous...

Rrroooowl!

My Virgin Toes

My toes have been deflowered. Or decalused. Whatever.

I have now officially had a pedicure.

Now if I could only get my hair cut, I would be a new woman.

A Week in Pictures

My week.


His week.

My week.

His week.

My week.
His week.

Any questions?

Birthmothers and Birthdays

She labored all day eight years ago, so that I could be a mother.
She handed over the very best birthday gift I've ever received, and she didn't even know me.
She gave him life, even when she didn't have to.
She stepped back and let me step in.
She doesn't demand.
She doesn't ask.
She doesn't expect.
She gave.
Willingly.
She is my hero.
And she is heavy on my heart today.
What does she think?
Does she cry?
Does she remember?
Does it sneak up on her?
Does she dread this day for weeks?
Does she wonder?
Does she regret?
Because of her, I have him.
Most days he's just mine.
One of the crowd.
But today he's ours.
She's peaking over my shoulder.
Reminding me of the blessing I have.
The blessing she delivered to me.

Almost On Topic

Eldest steadfastly refuses to eat toast with "spread" on it. He likes his butter.

I thought that he was just a creature of habit. Melting butter for his toast because that's what we did for the first seven years of his life. So I snuck (which sounds so much better than sneaked) spread on his toast when he wasn't looking. He took one bite and refused to eat the toast because it was "gross."

And my MIL thought I was the only one who could believe it wasn't butter.

So, even though he only wants to eat pizza and Mac&cheese, I have cultured those picky taste buds.

There is hope for my gourmet cooking, yet.

That's It, I'm Buying Lean Cusine.

When Hubs and I first married, I fancied myself a good cook. And I suppose in comparison to my friends living in the dorms and the Chi Omega house, I was. I mean, if I decided to cook a "real" meal I could follow a recipe as well as anyone. And that I chose to eat cereal most meals had little to do with my cooking prowess. Shoot, I was an engineering student widow. The only time I saw the man was when I took food to the engineering lab and then I had to bring enough for everyone there. Which meant Five Soup Casserole was the norm and was also considered fine dining by those pasty skinned creatures that blinked at the sky once or twice a week when they ventured forth for those nasty general ed credits.

No wonder my cooking ego was inflated.

Any-hoo, Hubs survived and I burnt out on cereal and cold cuts. When I started grad school and he got a job, well, I still fancied myself a cook. But mostly I existed on Slim Fast shakes and Cup-a-Soup. The Slim Fast because it was actually cheaper than Carnation Instant Breakfast and kept me fuller longer. The Cup-a-soup because coffee mugs were relatively easy to wash in the lab sink with all the mouse blood monoclonal antibody paraphernalia.

I still cooked on the weekend when I didn't have a Rasmole project staring me in to suicidal tendencies. (I did NOT just admit that on a public blog. Actually I would call it less suicidal and more nervous breakdown tendencies. YOU try to figure Rasmole out on deadline.)

And when I dropped out of grad school and moved to this godforsaken wasteland of suburbia where people's ideas of "cooking" include the deli at Hen House and adding saute'd chicken tenderloin to Lipton Noodles and Sauce, let's just say I KNEW myself to be a gourmet chef.

Never mind that on lunch break I subsisted on Marie Calendar's Chicken Pot Pies. Which, I might mention, microwave beautifully. Because, let's face it, I could still whip out a tasty Verenikke or Chicken Cordon Bleu when the occasion called for it.

And then I had kids.

Hubs worked from home and I cooked THREE MEALS A DAY for several years. And my taste buds developed the ability to discern between "meals" and MEALS. And "meals" just didn't stack up.

I love cooking with wines. And sauces. And special vinegars. And spices. And fresh herbs. And free range eggs. And BUTTER. Oh, my stars. I love food. Good food.

My children have absolutely NO appreciation for what I can do with a chicken.

And my husband started going to the office.

And now even the kids are gone at lunch.

Who spends that much time cooking succulent food with no one around to appreciate it?

And I find myself subsisting on the Chex Mix Turtle bars. And Lo, though they are "made with whole grains" and are a little slice of store bought heaven...aren't food. And I find that I have been basically fasting until there is someone here to appreciate my cooking. And as Hubs has been galavanting around New York City for a week, I've basically eaten a handful of BBQ chips, a few candy corn, a glass of milk here and there, a Pepsi, a stick cheese, um, the random apple slice as I prepare school lunches, I'm catching on that good food, it ain't happening around these parts much.

I think it's time to stock up on Lean Cusine.

Get Cozy, Josey!

It's that time again, about bi-monthly, when I tell you that another Susan May Warren book has hit the shelves. Let's see...the last one was a suspense about the sex trade set in Taiwan. Before that it was hottie Rafe in a romance set in the back woods of nowhere (Montana?) so it must be time for....JOSEY! Who is moving, not only to Russia, but again to the backwoods of nowhere...SIBERIA! (I'm seeing a theme here, Susie.) Can Josey survive the cold, the suspicion and the constant separation from her husband? As always, I love me some Susan May Warren. Here's a bit about the book:

How do you get cozy when your new "home" is a frozen tundra? Josey's dreams of small-town Minnesota bliss melt away when her hubby's relocated to a Siberian village. No indoor plumbing...or junk food! But this feisty former missionary knows how to multitask: juggling toddler twins, empowering local housewives, spreading God's word - no worries, Josey. It's finding time alone with the man of her dreams that will take some real work!

You can read the first chapter here.

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! The “Get Cozy” Contest!

Head over to Susan’s blog tour post and leave a comment on that post for your chance to win a Get Cozy gift basket! The basket will be loaded with Godiva chocolate, Starbucks coffee, Harry and David Moose Crunch, gourmet hot cocoa, and a fab pair of snuvvy PJs!

In your comment tell Susan your favorite winter time activity or winter memory!

Thanks for stopping by, gang. I've had one heck of an evening and I'm going to go collapse in my bed now. Maybe shed a few tears, maybe pick up a light read. That is, after I smash that huge-mondo wolf spider crawling up my wall. Eek! ( I can NOT even IMAGINE a life in Siberia. Do spiders live well there?)

Saturday's With Stella by Allison Pittman

Oh, my goodness, this is a great book! Hubs and I don't consider ourselves to be dog people. Of course we also don't consider ourselves to be cat people, fish people, reptile people, or anything needy besides our children people, so that isn't saying much. I honestly wanted to read this book because it seemed awfully close to my book idea (export dog, import children) and I wondered how she would do it and whether me taking the other angle would be a re-do.

Man, she pulled it off well. My dear Hubs glanced over the cover and the cover copy and deemed the book "cheesy" and was quite surprised when I told him how very excellent the book was. (I'm rather glad he didn't tell me what he thought until I'd already read most of the book. He can poison my opinion, I'm ashamed to say.) But this book REALLY works. Despite the cover and copy (if that looks cheesy to you. If not, say, if you are a dog person, or even just a pet person which I think is what Hubs is missing, ignore this part.).

I LOVED it. I LOVED how perfectly she expressed dog personalities. I know dogs just like each of those in the story. And I LOVED how dog-like we people should be in relation to our Master. And maybe this book just hit me at the right time of my life, but it hit me square between the eyes. And I highly recommend it.Even if you aren't a dog person.

And here's the cover copy for your enjoyment. Weigh in: do you think it is cheesy? I think he's being a bit harsh.

Sometimes your best four-legged friend is also your best teacher

When you bring a new dog into your home, a wash of great joy can become a trial of perseverance as your furry pal chews, digs, yaps, and yes, piddles her way through every room in the house. Allison Pittman learned this all too well when she adopted a “tiny, shiny puppy of indefinable breed(s).” Stella wasted no time in turning her home upside-down as only a pup can.

As could be expected, six weeks of obedience school covered the much needed basics–sit, stay, come, and down. What Allison didn’t expect was the spiritual benefit she would receive as each Saturday lesson revealed a fascinating metaphor. In this heart-warming, thoughtful, and often hilarious tribute to her beloved Stella, Allison Pittman shares how she came to understand what it means to follow the ultimate Master, including how to:

Sit!–at the feet of Jesus and listen for His voice
Drop It!–and let go of personal agendas
Come!–when it’s time to run in the right direction
Stay!–in God’s presence

In Saturdays with Stella, a slightly neurotic yet curiously adorable canine will not only capture your heart–she’ll show you how captivating you are to God.

What Was I Doing At 1 AM?

Why, thank you for asking. I was listening to the water company JACKHAMMER my neighbor's driveway. Yes, I did say AM.

Insanely, my children slept through the jackhammering. I know not how.

Forty-five minutes later, as the jackhammering was winding down and I began to hope for the sleep that I still shamelessly desired, THEN my Charming decided it was time to wake. Big kids kept sleeping.

I brought Charming to my bed and did as I do when I'm desperate for sleep. I positioned myself on my side and prepared to be the human pacifier. But Charming is not content to nurse. No. He also has to snuggle. And he's not content to nurse on whatever side I choose to give him. No. It must be my right side (As a side note, I pumped into bottles the other day and discovered my right side is about half cream and my left is skim. How bizarre is that?). And he wants to have his cold little feet shoved into the space between my legs (not my crotch, you dirty thinkers) but there isn't as much space as you can well imagine and I don't feel good about cutting off the blood flow to his feet so I have to position my legs Just So as well. Along with holding a pillow over my head to drown out the incessant BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! of whatever monstrous vehicle is now loading the chunks of cement into the empty dump truck and the WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! of the driveway hitting the dump truck.

I failed to mention that Charming has sucked a BLISTER on aforementioned right mammary gland.

I gritted my teeth and hoped he would soon return to slumber. Which takes much longer considering he isn't sleeping through the noise any better than his mother and I won't let him have a pillow over his head.

Charming finally drops off to sleep and I try to wiggle into a more comfortable position. He notices that there is one square inch of his body that isn't against mine and wakes. I try unsuccessfully to give his the other side as a pacifier. That is unacceptable.

It is now 3 AM.

I lift charming onto my chest where he is not nursing, just sleeping. The noise is now a dull rumble and I again have hope. I doze off.

And then the ringing begins. I tell you a PHONE IS RINGING. Loudly. Except it isn't MY phone. It isn't MY cell. It isn't a PHONE at all. It is...

I have no idea. I wouldn't know because there is a baby sleeping on my chest and I dare not move to look. It seems like every time some truck, or lift, or digger, or loader goes into reverse this phone rings. AND IT GOES INTO REVERSE ALMOST AS REGULARLY AS A PHONE RINGS.

And as soon as it stops, I try to maneuver out of Charming's snuggles. I love them, but my back aches and I sleep best in any position besides my back. I maintained contact on 98% of the contact points, but I dared slip him onto his side beside me.

And I would have pulled it off, too, except THE BLAMIN' PHONE STARTED RINGING AGAIN!

Now I have a phone ringing truck in reverse, a screaming baby, a blistered boob (excuse me, mammary gland) and little to no sleep. I begin thinking about guns. Big guns. And whether waving them would get me in jail. And whether it would be quieter there so I could get some sleep.

And then it all stops. Blissfully stops. Just like that.

AND THEN THE THUNDERSTROM ROLLED IN.

I kid you not.

Now the big kids that slept through the jackhammering and the dump truck dumping, and the BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!ing and the phone ringing, did NOT sleep through the thunderstrom.

It is now 4:30.

I can sleep through thunderstroms. I did. And dreamed of the water company guys doing all sorts of things to my house including but not limited to painting and subsequesntly scraping my windows with a razor at which time I did go onto my porch and ask them WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DID THEY THINK THEY WERE DOING TO MY HOUSE AT 4:30 IN THE FREAKING MORNING? (My neighbor, Tuck, would ask me about now if Christians should say freaking. And I would have to shamefully admit that I shouldn't say Freaking nor In God's Name, but it is my dream and I'm being honest here.)

I'll have you know that the water company moved six houses down and started the process all over again. But I can do dull roar. Besides, it is now 5 AM and practically morning. And I have a sleeping baby back on my chest. And can't move to go tell my bloggies all my misery anyway. And I haven't slept, not really, for many long hours. So I go to sleep.

At 7 AM a second thunderstrom begins in earnest and Eldest, bless his pea-pickin' heart, decides that now is the time to get up and practice playing drums on his stand in drum set (read: six books set up in a semi drum set formation and a couple hangers for sticks). And as angry as I am with him for waking me from the only sleep I feel I got for the night, I know we have to move! move! move! to get out the door.

For it is Monday.

Coffee, where are you?

Things I Will Never Understand

Children that leave their cleats and water bottle home when they go to practice, even though besides their bodies, that is their only thing to take.

Husbands that pack for long trips ten minutes before they leave which happens to correspond to getting the children out the door for school.

Children that forget to eat breakfast even when they've been told to "go eat breakfast" seven times.

Babies that eat food out of the trash can that they turned their noses up at when it was on the dinner table.

The party line of an unidentified national party which shall go unnamed.

The transparency of journalists when covering either party line.

Why I talk about politics when I promised myself I wouldn't get into it.

Why spell check suddenly doesn't recognize contractions as legitimate words.

Facebook.

How dishes magically wash themselves for everyone in my family except me.

How you can be having a conversation with your toddler about where poop goes and he will pee all over you.

Why toddlers have to fight over the same dumb piece of plastic if one of them picks it up. Even if the other big brute of a bully who shall also remain nameless, but we'll call him The Frog that Hasn't Yet Been Kissed, hasn't played with the piece of plastic since the last time his friend was over.

Where Things Stand

I still am not sleeping well. It isn't that I don't sleep. It is that when I wake I am wide awake. And I wake a lot.

I still feel like I could burst into tears at any moment.

I still don't really know why.

When you make a song, a popular song, your heart's cry, and you sing it all day, God answers that cry. And it hurts. Even if it is for your good.

I'd itemize the financial damage that we've endured this last 6 weeks, but that is pathetic. Suffice it to say, we are bumping at the edge of $10K. Over and above the normal budget expenditures.

Thank God, and I mean that literally, that Hubs has this "second job." And even if it does seem like we are spinning our wheels, we are staying afloat. Albeit barely.

I offered to go to work as a barrista or something. Hubs nixed it.

As Hubs keeps saying, "At least it's just financial."

Beach Dreams by Trish Perry

I thought of something nice I could say that has absolutely nothing to do with my personal life which...nope, not going there.

Soooooooo.........

Read any good books lately?

I have.

I loved Trish Perry's Beach Dreams. Finally we get to read the story of Tiff and Jeremy. Though I don't think it is being sold as a sequel to The Guy I'm Not Dating and Too Good to Be True, you get a little flavor of those anyway. Actually, I think it is being sold as part of the Beach House Series (?) of which I've only read this one. So obviously don't need to read the first two of THAT series either.

Anyway, couldn't put it down. Plan to freely pass it around. You should check it out, too.

Not that I encourage anyone to go to the beach today. At least the Atlantic or Gulf coast.

Sheesh.

In the Words of Thumper

"If you can't say anything niiiiiiiice.....

(deep sigh)

don't say nuthin' at alllllllll."

Too Tired to Think

Too tired to type.

But I'll say this much: This refining process Hoovers.

Wild Goose Chase by Mark Batterson

Here's a challenging book for ya.

I keep telling Hubs: I think you should read this. I think you would really like this. I think this would be appropriate for you in this time of our lives.

He keeps saying: Really? Ya think? That good, huh? and my favorite: Why?

Well, you know, only if you are happy Not Dying, rather than Living. Or Getting By. Or Making a Living rather than Making a Life. And any of several other catch phrases. (And some of those may be mine and not his, so don't shoot me if you don't see one in there.)

But catch phrases aside, he makes a lot of solid points.

Here's part of the intro:

Most of us have no idea where we’re going most of the time. Perfect.

“Celtic Christians had a name for the Holy Spirit–An Geadh-Glas, or ‘the Wild Goose.’ The name hints at mystery. Much like a wild goose, the Spirit of God cannot be tracked or tamed. An element of danger, an air of unpredictability surround Him. And while the name may sound a little sacrilegious, I cannot think of a better description of what it’s like to follow the Spirit through life. I think the Celtic Christians were on to something….

Most of us will have no idea where we are going most of the time. And I know that is unsettling. But circumstantial uncertainty also goes by another name: Adventure.”

This book has made me change the way I look at life and the way I pray. It has also made me very uncomfortable in my routine. And is part of the reason I'm losing sleep. But I think it is all for the better. So I encourage you to check it out.

And if you comment, you may just get a copy for free.

Giddy

Do you all think it will ever get old for me to sell my writing? I guess not old, per se, but a non-event? I am still delighted when I get an assignment and then again when I get the email that says they approve with no edits and again when I get the contract, and again when I get the check. I even hang the check on my fridge for a few weeks before I deposit it because it makes me happy to see it. I can be having the worst day and get an assignment and be giddy for the rest of the day and maybe week. And I HATE getting assignments because then I’m immediately at a loss for words and everything I write stinks and I have butterflies in my stomach until I get the email saying “contract is on its way.”

Do you think my behavior is bizarre? It isn’t like I’m selling the Great American Novel. I sold a piece about fighting with my husband, basically. Other people have dirty laundry and I sell mine for the whole world to see. And this makes me happy?

But I got my contract in the mail today, and I bet you won't be able to get me out of the clouds.

Apparently I Have A Cat

My kids spotted a cat in my lilies late last week. I assured them that it was one of the neighbors dumb cats and would go home soon. They assured me that it was living under our porch and had adopted us. I assured them that they were quite mistaken. Daddy would never let us feed it and it would move on. Besides, someone was probably missing it. They assured me that there was not collar on the cat and it needed us.

Enter Hub's mom who cannot let a cat go hungry, eldest son's protests be darned. Next thing we know, she's feeding the cat my leftover roast.

In-laws go home, kids take up cat feeding duties.

There goes my roast, my crackers and my homemade cookies.

I asked Hubs what I was supposed to do now. I can't have all my groceries going down the gullet of the cat. He humphed.

I bought cat food.

I take no blame. And he would never blame his mother.

The kids are elated.

I Think I Need Paxil

Hubs says I need sleep.

Since his idea is cheaper and comes with far less stigma, I'll try it.

But if I lie awake all night tonight and worry about Every Little Thing again, I might hang it up.

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

Because I don't dare say what I really think.

'Course part of the reason for that is that I'm too sleepy to bother typing it.

Hey, When You've Got Fodder, You've Got Fodder

Eldest is obsessed with bugs.

Ever since his homework on Monday (bring a bug to school on Tuesday), he's been catching bugs. Anything he can find. He found a nearly microscopic caterpillar. He's caught bugs I couldn't see before he showed them. He's cleared out my entire recycling bin for bug jars.

So today.

He comes and declares he's found a spider, but he needs my help opening the window so that he can get to it. (What does that say about my housekeeping?) I attend to his whim. We discuss the spider, which appears to be a female that has wrapped the smaller male (?) in a web and was feasting upon him. In the facing corner is a spider of same species that looks to be spinning an egg sac. Next window over (it's a three opening picture-esque window) is a third spider of same species that looks to be guarding an egg sac.

We concoct a plan. I'm to vacuum the spider and eldest will capture the sac so they can watch for the baby spiders in school. I eye the sac. It has buds on it. I try to determine if the buds are baby spiders and finally decide they are not. They don't move. They must be a different type of web to hold the sac in the web. We proceed with our plan.

First, don't plan when dealing with spiders. Smash 'em and be done.

Second, don't underestimate mama spiders' desire to protect their young.

Third, if you must plan, plan better than I.

On second thought, just keep your window closed. It isn't worth it.

We popped open the window which is nearly cemented closed with this web's seventy billion strands in 360 degrees direction around the sac...in every direction which has to be more degrees than 360. Mama spider freaks, scrambles, eventually sprints for the sac and yells to her babies, "Incoming! Run for your lives!" At which time all those little buds each take one of the seventy billion strands and obey their mother.

Of course my attic fan is on. So of course, they flew into my home.

I don't even want to know what kind of infestation I now have. I eventually got the sac and maybe 25 babies trapped in a ziploc. Of course those are all the learning challenged, or at least disobedient, children. Because all sixty-nine billion 999 million 999 thousand, 975 well behaved ones are now loose in my home.

I took a photo, but microscopic spiders don't photograph well when one uses a $125 camera.

And I won't be buying a new camera any time soon, because I'll be spending that cash on the exterminator.

I know, my skin is crawling, too.

Truth in Advertising?

I think I prefer ignorance.

In addition to McDonald's Homemade tasting Biscuits we now have Bud Light's BL with 100% Natural Lime Flavor.

What, I ask, is more natural than lime JUICE?

Crude oil, dung beetles, poison ivy: all 100% natural. Doesn't mean I want any of them in my beer.

OK, you got me, I don't want the beer either. But you get my point, right?

Who do they think they are fooling?

A Breakthrough

Celebrate with me here! I had a breakthrough!

What looks like, smells like, sounds like, tastes like, spits like, and makes-my-hackles-rise like rebellion...isn't always.

It took four children and eight years, but I think I've reached wise(er) mom status.

Note to moms: If you plan to pick your kids up from school and surprise them by going directly to the park because the day is lovely, bring snacks. Yes, most of you knew that. Work with me here. I've never been a big snack mom. I packed them snacks for school and assumed they had recently had one and could wait another 30-45 minutes for another.

So we come home from the park and children wish to watch movie. Mom says "No, but now is the time to have a snack." Child, having a meltdown, doesn't heed mom's advice. Children play a bit outside. Child asks for ice cream. Mom says, "No, but you can have popcorn." Child, mad about the no, doesn't heed mom's advice. Fast forward 20 more minutes, clearly creeping up on the dinner hour. Mom tells children to pick up. Child has meltdown.

drum roll please.

Mom (not freaking out, not yelling, not sending child to room, not threatening all types of evening torture like no dessert or going to bed early, not spanking) calmly tells child:

Get your rear into the kitchen now and eat a banana before you get into trouble. You are clearly hungry and need some food in your system.

Child eats, picks up and is helpful the rest of the evening.

Thank you, thank you very much.

There was a day, not so long ago, that I would have had an hour long (or longer) battle with said child. We would have had great weeping and gnashing of teeth. I would have wielded my right to be obeyed and he would have wielded his great lungs, but in the end, I would have won. Neither of us would have felt good about our day and daddy would have come home to a very unpleasant home.

But I've learned. Blood sugar hits a low that is too low for child to obey. So what looks, smells, and definitely sounds like rebellion is sometimes just hunger.

An Essence of Rot

Usually when something's rotten in the State of Chaos it is the trash and someone's (not naming any names) stinky diapers. Or at the very least last night's dinner.

And when it continues after I've scrubbed the trash can, the culprit is the potatoes.

Shew, those are nasty when they rot.

But no. My house reeks of rot. I've checked in most of the crevices. Not all, I know because I have yet to find the rot. The potatoes are all clear. The trash can is only typically stinky. I've bleached all the towels and the sink and the garbage disposal.

I just know I'm going to find a moldy watermelon rind here any moment.

It would help if I could zero in on exactly where the stench is coming from.

E-gad, I'm sorry.

Pregnant people avoid my house at all costs.

Eerie

Wow.

My house is really quiet.

The possibilities are endless.

I've already cleaned out under my kitchen sink. The dishes are next. Maybe a load of laundry.

Maybe a nap???

This is the first series of moments that I've had Charming down for a nap that I didn't have something urgent to attend to.

It is liberating.

Is this my life?

Maybe I will write that second novel, after all.

Children's Book Extravaganza!

You all know how much I love children's books and I was sent a pack of sweet ones a couple weeks ago.

Little Cub awakens one morning with some important questions on her mind: What is heaven like? How do we get there? Will we eat in heaven? Will we be angels?

During a delightful day spent wandering their arctic world, Papa gently answers each question, assuring Little Cub that heaven is a wonderful place, “a million times better” than she can imagine. He explains how God has made a way for those who love him to enter their heavenly home forever after their lives on earth are over.

Reuniting the best-selling author-illustrator team from God Gave Us You, this gentle story provides satisfying answers for a young child’s most difficult questions about heaven. Parents, grandparents, childcare professionals, librarians, Sunday school teachers, and others will appreciate the gentle approach to a topic that’s on the minds of so many “little cubs.”

Through captivating, full-color illustrations and tender, biblically sound storytelling, young readers and those who love them will find reasons to rejoice in knowing that God Gave Us Heaven.

And, in two new books from best-selling children’s author Dandi Daley Mackall, clever rhymes and delightful illustrations help young children, ages three and up, understand God’s huge love for them and his joy in creating them. These enchanting picture books from the writer-illustrator team of Dandi Mackall and David Hohn will instill awe in young children as they revel in each page. Parents alike will appreciate the engaging stories that communicate God’s perfect plan and his divine purpose for little hearts.

In When God Made My Toes, kids are drawn into the wonder of their creation by God. Their masterful artist who fashioned them just right for amazing and delightful adventures, such as roller skating, finger-painting, doing flips, and drinking cocoa. Children will come to an understanding that God shaped each part of their amazing bodies with joy, delight, and humor.

In God Loves Me More Than That, children learn that God loves them deeper than a wishing well, wider than a semi-truck, louder than thunder, and softer than a kitten’s sneeze. Each question, presented with charming child-like faith will help young ones grasp the great love of God through comparisons and descriptions they can easily understand. In short, they’ll discover that His love is bigger, wider, higher, and deeper than anything they could imagine!


And I have a set to give away! Leave a comment. You never know if they will soon belong to you!

Separation Anxiety

Thank goodness the first day of school is always way better than the days leading up to it. Yes, I bawled all over everything this morning. I tried really hard to keep Frodo from seeing it, but I did lose it a time or two.

And then I left.

Now I want to skip through the aisles at Staples. (Many thanks to Meg for finding and posting because I still can't seem to do so.)

The Ugly Cry

I'm just sick tonight. My babies start school tomorrow.

I thought I was looking forward to sending them off. Let someone else listen to them fight all day. Except at school they are each other's best friend and have each other's back 99.3% of the time. They do most everything the teacher asks. They work hard. They are attentive. They are compassionate. They compete to be the best behaved.

It drives me crazy.

They save all their bad behavior for me. My mom says it is because they know I'll love them no matter what and they aren't sure about the rest of the world. I don't know.

Hubs says I'll be really pathetic when Charming starts school if I'm freaking out about Frodo. Except is isn't just Frodo that is getting to me. It is the teddy bear that Eldest earned in Kindergarten that is choking me up from the living room floor. And he's growing up so fast and is such a great helper with Charming. It is that all three can now tie their shoes (we did that Friday when I decided seven is old enough to be ridiculous and Frodo just learned along with them).It's those big puppy paws of his. When he came out, we thought he'd weigh more than he did, because his hands and feet were huge. He was 24 inches long, that 9lb 4oz boy. And now he can tie shoes onto his big feet.

And there's Princess that I'm sending back into that den of boys. She likes me. She wants to spend time with me. She isn't embarrassed by me. That's gonna last, what, couple more years. And she is missing her two front teeth as of Friday.

Oh, how she made me laugh today. Several times. We were singing this song in church this morning that was "worthy, worthy, worthy" and she turns to me and whispers, "it sounds like she's saying whirly, twirly, swirly." She was right. And this afternoon, on a 20 minute ride, she memorized her 3 times table.

So my stomach is flipping around like I'm about to give a speech in front of the HHS student body for Stuco elections. And I think I might collapse into the ugly cry any minute.

The Miracle of New Birth

I had the great privilege to welcome my niece into the world this morning.

Despite my doula training (which I've never really used), I'm usually stuck behind a video camera, quiet, in the corner of the room (so as to not get kicked out during transition).

Today things went a little haywire and I ended up in the thick of the action. Goo and all.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I witnessed a miracle. A series of them really. And I feel so honored.

It was an amazing experience.

Welcome little one. We're glad you are here.

A Whole New Level of Game

My kids play "don't touch the floor" just like I did as as kid. That has to be a game that kids just come up with because I'm sure I didn't tell them about it.

They leapt from couch to couch until their daddy told them to cut it out.

Then they walked on books until their daddy told them to cut it out.

Then they walked on trash, etc.

And then Eldest came up with this:

Which eventually morphed into this:

You've got to appreciate the creativity that shows up when you turn off the TV.

Assuming, of course, that you survive the "I'm bored"s and the "there's nothing to do"s and whining and wheedling and complaining that comes first.

Of Steel Rods and Toothpicks

You might wonder what steel rods and toothpicks have in common. Well I intend to tell you.

They've both been jammed into my foot in the last 24 hours.

The steel rod is 9/10 buried in my side yard and the color of dirt. I came down on it full force on the arch of my left foot.

I groaned and gasped and whimpered and have since hobbled.

Until today. I unexpectedly walked around the corner, into my kitchen and somehow jammed a toothpick a centimeter into the ball of my right foot.

Broke the toothpick.

Couldn't get the other half out of my foot.

Really freaked out my kids.

I think Frodo is having nightmares about it. All day long, he shuddered at the mention of "toothpicks."

Me to. My whole foot aches. My toes ache. Makes the bruise on my left foot seem trivial.

Currently glad I had that tetanus shot last year.

===

An hour ago, my neighbor that I've not met came over looking for her son. The last time he went missing he was in my back yard. I wondered about the woman who would let her kid play somewhere she didn't know the adults. I know WE did it when we were kids, but that was then and this is now, right? Too many weirdos. Turned out she didn't know he was over and was frantically searching for him. Oops. Now when he shows up, he has to play in the front yard. On the flip side of that, she did come to our house today when he disappeared. Maybe she does know where he is when I don't know if she knows.

I freaked out. We've had LOTS of strangers around lately with all the new roofs going up. Lots of utility vans. A kid could go missing. Eventually even Hubs got concerned enough to go looking.

Turns out he was hiding.

For more than an HOUR.

If one of my kids pulled that gig, oh man...

In the words of Wot (Walt??) of A Night's Tale: Pain! Lots of pain!

No sugar! No TV! No fun! No friends!I don't think they'd be allowed out of my line of sight for months. Pain! Lots of Pain!

Kinda like my feet.

Who Do They Think They Are Fooling?

The worst thing about the Olympics is the commercials (also a great part of the Olympics, I admit, when VISA is on).

Okay, but what's with McDonald's "buttery tasting bun" and "homemade tasting biscuits?" Do they really think they're fooling anyone? It annoys me every time.


Speaking of buttery tasting buns, I made a wicked grilled ham with pepper cheddar on sourdough for supper tonight. I have skilz. And I didn't use butter. I used I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. Although I can believe it. But since I buy it for a certain overnight guest who hasn't been overnight in a while, I have been using it occasionally.

Would have been better to have butter, but it was pretty stinkin' good anyway.

And has anyone else noticed that both Obama and McCain use the same video clip of the windmills in their ads? Me either, but Hubs tells me they do.

You Noticed What?

This morning I woke resolving to take back my home. I would recover my kitchen. I would. I would take it back from the overwhelming disarray that composes it.

I didn't.

I stayed home all morning and worked on it. I worked all of Charming's nap. Yes, the dishes were all done...for about three seconds...until someone asked for food. And, ok, part of taking back my kitchen was taking back my pantry so I made a big pot of spaghetti sauce to use up a pile of tomatoes on my counter. Which means my counter was covered in tomato sauce all afternoon. I worked on the paper that finds itself a home on my "ledge" over the stove. But I did not take down the mountain.

Then I took the kids to the pool. Hey, it's the last week of summer. And we are supposed to have storms all week. And I didn't want to waste what may be the last nice afternoon.

I forgot to mention that my day started at 5 AM. And not the kind of start that includes a quiet time while the rest of my family slept. No, more like the kind that I fight and fight and finally give up around 6:15.

When Hubs got home, I expressed frustration that I had ONE goal today and that was to take back my home (beginning with the kitchen). You know what he said?

"You did a nice job on the bedroom."

Yeah. That. Eldest made my bed and threw the dirty clothes in the hamper while I took a shower this morning. To surprise me.

Shhhh, don't tell.

Don't Ya Just Hate It

When someone you love points out a flaw in you that you know you have but thought (hoped) you were masking from the rest of society?

Now I'm going to have to face facts and try to rid myself of my inner ugliness.

Thanks, thanks a lot, hon.

A "Little Bit" Addicted

Princess wanted Golden Grahams for snack this afternoon.

She's catching on that I think of it as a snack and NOT as a healthy breakfast.

She ate a bowl and asked for a second. When I teased her about it, she giggled and said, "Yeah, I'm a little bit addicted."

Guess who Hubs blames for that one?

You're reading her.

I didn't even realize I said it, but I'm certain I do...about twelve times a day regarding caffeine and sugar.

It sounds really sweet coming out of a seven year old's mouth. Much better than "Shut up."

Radar

Children are like vultures. They have inherent radar telling them when an animal is going down and they swarm in for the feast.

To my fellow patrons of Hy-Vee, I apologize profusely that your shopping trip was polluted by my child's fit. However, I do not apologize for not giving in to his fit and your indications that I should possibly do something to SHUT HIM UP weren't helpful AT ALL.

See, the liberals among us have taken away my rights to spank my child in public. I believe they are the same people that are so annoyed by children that they won't have any and leave the future of this planet to "breeders" like me. You won't let me discipline my child, you don't have any of your own, and yet you dare judge me.

Yes, I'm certain that you "crying" at my child helped exceedingly. You are a very impressive human. Thank you.

Kids are not perfect and parents can not make every decision for them. If a child decides that he is not embarrassed to make a scene in the store, the child will make the scene. When you react to the scene, it shows them that they are in control. If I had given in to the scene, he would have made another one the next time he wanted to do his will rather than mine. And yes, I could have left my cart, gone home with my screaming child and come back later, but I don't have time for that nonsense. If I was at the beginning of my shopping list, yes, since all I had to do was check out, I think you will survive.

So there.

And to the nice gentleman and lady who checked me out and bagged my groceries, thank you. You were very pleasant. You may talk about me all day, but you were nice to my face and you deserve an award for courtesy. I may have to call you manager and let him know.

Because I'm Still Tecno-Incompetant

I'm sending you to YouTube to see this. However, the last time I tried to upload this one, it sent people to one with a lot of swearing. That's not where I'm trying to go. I'll double check this, but if you get there before I do (because there are oh, so many of you hitting my site ever second) I apologize.

Mama's On A Rampage

I'd say that my kids are driving me to distraction this morning, except the poor dears never had a chance.

They are doing all the "right" things. Eldest got up uber-early, but played "quietly" in his room with the door shut. That being the problem as every stinkin' time he went in or out we all had to hear scrrrr-clunK because our foundation settled and none of out doors close quietly.

A moment of appreciation for those who own a new home.

The thing is, as long as Charming is going to believe he needs to be touching me in order to sleep well, preferably sucking on his living pacifier, no one will win.

And what kind of mother buys her kids sugared cereal and then snaps at them for only wanting to eat that until it is gone?

This is why I don't buy the stuff!

I blame the box top bureaucracy for my moment of insanity at the grocery store.

Frodo is doing dishes. Why is this annoying? I don't know. Except he's washing the dishes that could go in the washer and is "tired of washing dishes" once he's down to the nasty ones I have to do by hand.

I will be nice, I will be nice, I will be nice.

I know they learn by doing, but for once I'd like "help" to actually mean "help."

BUT, since I began this post, I've had coffee, a nice morning walk, caught caterpillars and enjoyed my kids. So I suppose even surly mornings can be recovered to make for good days. And I'm going to post this anyway to remind myself and hopefully encourage someone else.

Whole Lotta Nothin'

I know I should have something funny, silly, crazy, gripey, whiny, spendy, trashy, or otherwise blog-foddery to say, but I'm coming up with nothing.

Probably because what I want to say, I know I shouldn't.

And you can only gripe about taking your kids to the store once a week at most.

And point out the idiocy behind some practices by people who should know better.

Hey! I know! My car only cost $223. Which, yes, is terrible, but everything else that has gone wrong lately has cost me at least a grand. $223 sounds like a steal. (NO comments from the "my husband can fix my car for free" gallery. My husband can fix a combine with baling wire. And fortunately my husband doesn't make me drive a combine but once or twice a year.)

Currently reading:

The Big Picture

This summer I've gotten to do a lot of fun reading and one series I've especially enjoyed is Jenny B. Jones' Katie Parker series. I got hold of the third book in the series, The Big Picture, a couple weeks ago and I have to say it is probably the best one yet. (You never know with series, ya know?)

This series is YA which probably says a little too much about my mentality, but I love to get into the heads of teens. Jenny really seems to have the pulse of teens, too. This is Christian YA, but she still drops topics in that are often taboo. But what to teen girls think about? The size of their chest. Guys. Kissing. Girl rivalries. Underwear. Or if you are Katie, your druggie mom that just reclaimed custody. Poor Katie. Made me want to do foster care. And though Katie makes her share of mistakes, she also has her share of repentance.

If you have a teen, or if you, like me enjoy YA, I encourage you to get hold of a copy. If not at Amazon, at your local library.

I Don't Dare Ask

"What else could go wrong?"

Famous last words that I refuse to ask.

I nearly made it to my dentist's office when I heard the "vrrr-eeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEE!!!!!" and said, "That can't be good."

I limped my van the four blocks to his office and went in for my cleaning.

I came out to a pool (not puddle, pool) of green running out of my van. Yes, my coolant was, unfortunately, empty. I imposed upon my FIL's relationship with my dentist to get him to play dad for me while Hubs called the shop. Step-FIL filled my radiator with water which immediately began to run out of my van. I hopped in and tried to drive away.

Didn't get far because by then my van was also saying, "grrrrrr-squeeeeeeEEEEE!!!!!-bwompbwomp!"

But in "All things work together for good" fashion, the tow guy came quickly and took me to the auto shop which is seven to ten blocks from my sister's house where my children were staying. I had a cooler in the back that is on wheels with a pull thingy so I strapped the car seat to that and walked to her house in 100 degree heat and didn't have to wait for the train which was blessedly short and she was able to bring us all home.

Yes, I'm exasperated, but what do you do?

I also discovered I don't mind walking in heat a bit if I don't have to push a stroller or hear that incessant whining about how hot the kids are. Must come from all of those years when I didn't have cable and played outside all summer.

Seventeen Months was a Good Run

It is now a certainty that I am not growing a human, contrary to the nausea that still plagues me most of the time.

I can now quit telling the doctor, "June...2006."

And I can now blame hormones for my bad attitude, whether or not that is true.

But seventeen months (or better, 25) was a pretty good run, don't you agree?

We should all be so lucky.

Margarita or Kudos, whatever works

After a decent start, my day went downhill fast. My kids have been home, oh, three days.

My house is trashed.

My kids have entitlement issues.

My kids aren't fixed contrary to promises made by a certain Popin.

So when I suggested that if they need money so badly (because they need toys so badly (because they need one more thing to NOT take care of)) that maybe they could help out around the house.

(We have an hourly rate to do whatever mom says to do.)

They didn't agree that this is a good proposition.

So I made another. How about Mommy lectures said children about gratefulness, VERY. LOUD.

Mama needed a margarita. Or a pitcher of them. Or some midol, maybe.

Or some words of affirmation. Which lifted my mood back up to the "bubbly" point on the scale.

Who needs a clean house when you've got someone out there in the ether of the internet to send you good news?

That and Eldest decided that maybe I had a point and helped restore one floor of my house to the status quo.

He even did a few windows.

A Girl's Gotta Try

Someone's gonna win this contest, after all.

Giddy

It's just a little thing.

Nothing I should brag about.

Except I'm so dang giddy about it, I can't resist.

I GOT COVER!!!

Something I wrote is worthy of being the cover story of not the main Focus on the Family Magazine, but of the couples edition which ain't too shabby.

I nearly bubbled over yesterday when I got my copies.

I'm honored. And Hubs is, well, joking that he made cover too....albeit his "failures" are what made the cover story. And as much as he's mentioned it, I'm not sure his pride isn't wounded a little bit (even though he approved the final draft). He's even talking about giving his next Toastmasters speech about having your dirty laundry aired on the cover of a magazine.