A Different Kind of Giving...

Give the gift of life this Christmas

Hands of Hope, a charity of Women Helping Women A World Away, is

announcing that their Holiday Gift Cards are available for purchase. These cards provide food,

income and water for impoverished women and children in Zambia, Uganda, and

Southern Sudan. They can be purchased on the Hands of Hope website

www.handsofhopeonline.org for $15.00, $30.00 and $50.00. Purchasing these cards will provide

goats, chickens or wells to help change lives. What could be a more meaningful gift for holiday

giving for family, friends, and customer appreciation?

Hands of Hope helps mobilize communities to respond to the needs of women and children

around the world. With an ever-expanding support base in the Chicago area, Hands of Hope

works to raise community awareness regarding poverty and HIV/AIDS in Africa and its relevance

globally. We are confident in the integrity of the channels we have established so that

contributions provide the highest possible impact for the most critical needs.

A Chicken Card will purchase a gift of twelve chicks and be given to an impoverished family in

Africa. As the flock multiplies, a struggling family will be given the hope to survive. Your gift will

help those in need for generations to come.

A Goat Card represents an actual goat being purchased for a needy family. Beyond providing

much needed milk, a few goats can quickly become a herd, providing sustenance and additional

income that can make the difference between whether a child goes to school or not.

A Well Card will go toward funding a well in the Western Province of Zambia. Statistics show that

nearly half of all people in developing countries suffer from health related problems caused by

unsafe water. In addition, African women and children spend several hours every day collecting water.

Don't Answer That!

When your baby uses the same word for "nurse" as he does for "pop" or, more specifically, "Pepsi," what does that say about the contents of your breast milk?

Incidentally, his word for "cat" and "dog" is also the same: Nonny.

Whatever.

Crap Bathrooms

I have a new thing to be thankful for:

Crap Bathrooms.

Two days ago I was commiserating with a friend on facebook about crap bathrooms. Ugly. Outdated. Embarassing. Gross. These are the words we used. Poor us. We don't have beautiful bathrooms to which we can escape (on, oh, so many levels).

I have a word for her and myself.

Crap bathrooms with crap lighting are the bomb.

You know what you get when you have lovely bathrooms with lovely lighting and big, lovely mirrirs?

Cellulite magnifiers.

A girl can't climb into or out of the shower without determining in her heart to fast the Thanksgiving meal and any meal that should forthwith follow for however long it should take to remove the saggy, baggy elephant that has taken over her stomach or the hail damage that affects her thighs and butt.

My bathroom may have mildew that won't die. It may have cabinetry from the 70s or no cabinetry at all (save the wire over-the-toilet-shelve), but the mirrors are all either too little, too high, or simply absent.

Father God in Heaven, my psyche thanks you for choosing for me a home that keeps it in the dark about what is really going on south of the noggin.

Wal-Mart re-Visited

So there I was in MacPhearson, Kansas, at Wal-Mart, at 2:45 in the afternoon, on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving.

The place was vacant. Like my Wal-Mart at seven AM on a Tuesday in July.

ON THE WEDNESDAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING!

Maybe it isn't Wal-Mart I hate so much as it is the Wal-Mart in my city.

I'm still in awe. The Wednesday before Thanksgiving. The day I avoid all retail at all costs. (Unless, for example, I'm on an emergency Pepsi and Creme Brulee CoffeeMate run. A girl has her caffeinated needs, crowds be-durned.)

A Special Note to Kohl's

Hey! If you are going to advertise a fabulous red dress accompanied by a catchy tune (not Christmas, I noticed), you should, in fact, SELL a fabulous red dress in your store.

Sure, you could be selling the CAR (the other item in that section of the commercial) with CHAPS on the windshield, but I don't really think so. I think you are selling the fabulous red dress.

It takes a LOT for me to give myself permission to buy a fabulous red dress. Especially by CHAPS, seeing as how they aren't known for being economical. So when I give myself permission to buy a fabulous red dress that you supposedly sell, it is highly disconcerting to find that you don't sell it. It isn't in the Chaps section. It isn't in Apt, 9. It isn't Simply Vera Wang (shocker, I know). It isn't Sonoma. It ISN'T in the store. It isn't on the web. It DOES NOT EXIST.

You know where I found that fabulous red dress?

JC Penney.

Guess who's getting my fabulous red dress money this year? (I certainly hope it is still there in my size now that I've said that.)

Come on, Kohl's! I love you, but you gotta carry what you offer or I get disillusioned and spend elsewhere because I have already convinced myself that I MUST HAVE THAT FABULOUS RED DRESS!

You have exactly one day to produce evidence that you carry said dress, or I'm heading to the mall. The other mall.

Sincerely,
Chaos

Edited to add: I am willing to consent that ON THE WEB there is a red dress that could be considered fabulous. However, said dress is cap sleeved. While cap sleeves are lovely in their own right, I live where it is cold at Christmas. The dress on the Ad has at least 3/4 length sleeves. There is also a red dress with longer sleeves, but I don't consider it fabulous on the web. It looks more clingy and not at all flowy like the ad. I will be watching tv tonight and will watch closely. I still think my first reaction is accurate but I MAY be wrong. (They still should carry dresses in the stores!)

How the Apple Falls

Tonight Hubs and I took Princess out for a special evening (read: all about her) while her brothers went for a sleepover (pray for Mr. and Mrs. Nurse Boy).

After dinner at the Rainforest Cafe we trolled the mall for a bit. She wanted to go over to Libby Lu for "wish sprinkles."

Libby Lu is having an "everything must go!" "Blowout sale!" (Apparently they will be closing, though nothing actually said "store closing.")

Princess and I walked around for a bit while the sprinkle lady pierced a baby's ears. We checked prices, looked, checked prices, looked, checked prices when princess finally pipes up and says:

"For a Blowout Sale, they sure do cost a lot."

Dry. Totally dry. Just like her mama. Cracked. Me. Up.

We went over to Disney store.

Then rode the double decker carousel.

Then got a soft pretzel.

Then came home and watched "Cars."

Again.

While she ate two ice cream cones.

She is so much fun when she isn't competing for attention. She ate calamari because her daddy and I wanted to. She ate Brave New World Pizza (it don't taste much like pizza, folks) because her daddy and I wanted to. She was amazed by the gigantic soft pretzel. She's a trier, that one. And she knows a pitiful deal when she sees one.

That apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.

You know it's time to wean the baby when he hikes your shirt up to your neck when you are defenseless to prevent it in the optometrist's office.

I told the assistant that when she told all her friends about me, to please not use my name.

There I am, staring into the machine (which is what made him freak out, I'm sure), waiting for the puff of air to blast me in the eye and he's climbed onto my lap, hiked my sweater to my neck and is yanking at my bra. I finally gave up, yanked the sweater over the top of the whole package and let him nurse away. He clung on like a leech.

It was humiliating.

My problem is that I have no clue how to wean a baby that doesn't want to wean. All my others weaned by their own choosing...well before this. At this age, my ears can't take the protest.

Oh, help.

Here's hoping that Thanksgiving will produce the necessary distraction.

Speed Dating

Yesterday I got paid big moolah for speed dating.

No, not people, products. I had five minutes to decide whether or not I liked a product and why.

What keeps coming to mind is the term "fair" in regard to price. I'm sure the price is fair. But whether or not I'd buy it when the price is fair is disconcerting for me. It is a cool product? Yes. Would the kids love the product? Yes. Would I lay money down for it? Yes. Would I lay down as much money for it as you would consider fair? Ah, there's the rub.

The truth is, I'm a cheapskate. What I consider a fair price is a durn lot lower than the average Joe. Think garage sale. And even then sometimes I think people are a little insane. "But it's cashmere" isn't an excuse. Do you want it, or don't you? This is a garage sale. That is a used sweater. If you want $100 take it to a consignment store. Garage salers, though we sometimes carry that kind of cash, usually intend to spend their $100 on more than one item. Unless we are looking for a sofa. And sometimes even then.

I buy my clothes off the 75% off rack. The last party supplies I bought were from a garage sale for a quarter a theme. The last washable markers I bought were a quarter a pack in the after school started clearance section. (I bought five dollars worth.) That's what I consider a fair price. Actually, I suppose that's what I consider an exceptional price. But I don't often buy at a fair price.

Anything.

Hmmmm.

So, in hindsight, I'm thinking I might have answered some questions dishonestly.

Regretting that a little.

You Say Potato, I Say Po-ta-toe

Back in the day, approximately (exactly, to be exact) nine years ago, those of us in the biz sold brown diamonds to those people too cheap to buy the white ones.

Women came in the day after Christmas to exchange the diamond earrings that their boyfriend bought for some without "all those spots." (yeah.......um, that will take a few more hundreds.....)

Couples came in, took one look at a yellow diamond, and declared it unworthy.

Fast forward. 2004. People are paying more for yellow diamonds. The celebs are buying them for great amounts of money.

Fast forward again. 2008. They are selling brown diamonds. Marketing them. I'd like to have sat in that board room:

How do we get rid of these brown diamonds? Hey, I know! Call it chocolate! No woman can refuse chocolate! And we can charge MORE! Or how about champagne! Chocolate and Champagne! Genius!

Are we living in the twilight zone, or what?

Is it just me?

Rhapsody in Red by Donn Taylor

"That Wednesday, two weeks before Thanksgiving, was a bad day to find a corpse on campus."

Preston Barclay is a self-made recluse (and he likes it that way). Teaching college history allows him time to grieve the loss of his pianist wife and find relief from the musical hallucinations that have been playing in his head since her death. But when he and a headstrong colleague, Mara Thorn, discover the body of another instructor on campus, Press's monotonous solitude is destroyed.

When the preliminary evidence singles out Press and Mara, they must take some chances (including trusting each other) to build their own defense--by bending the rules just a little bit.

They choose to form an unlikely alliance to stay ahead of the police, the college's wary and incompetent administration, and whoever is trying to get away with murder. Otherwise, they both might end up unemployed, behind bars, or worse... (from back cover copy)

OK, HILARIOUS book. It shouldn't be. It is a murder mystery/suspense/boogyman-around-every-corner-can't-figure-out-who-dunnit...but this book cracked me up. Press has a sense of humor like you wouldn't believe.

I love that he constantly has an ongoing musical score that clashes with his mood. (Except for the bassoon, snort.) Maybe it is because I often seem to have the same problem.

I'm not so much into reading people breaking the law to save the law because I just KNOW that they will get caught and pay even if it is fiction and they won't because the book is about them and you just don't end books where the end stinks because the wrong guy got it and publish two. Not in the real world (unless you are named Piccout and have an uncanny ability to make the unhappy ending work).

Any-hoo, if you like the cozy mystery/light suspense type books, and like to laugh to boot, I suggest you grab this one up. Maybe a little Christmas shopping for yourself?

And, hey, if you are in to this type of thing, you can read an interview of Donn Taylor here. They do regular reviews of Christian Suspense and often give away books so you might even want to sign up for their newsletter.

Lookin' Back Texas by Leanna Ellis

When Suzanne Mullins gets a frantic call to come back home to Texas because her mother has gone off the deep end, she knows it will mean more than having to confront the crumbling foundations of her parents' marriage. Life with her husband and son is also cracking under the strain of its own unspoken history, and the past is waiting for them in Luckenbach. Will Suzanne go along with her mother's outrageous scheme in order to keep her family in one piece--even if it does mean watching her father give the eulogy at his own funeral? (from back cover copy)

This was one of those books that makes you wonder how the hey they will pull THIS one out. I was not, however, cringing the whole time wondering why they don't just TALK instead of digging these huge holes, which is a very good thing. All in all I think it was a very well rounded plot line with far more involved than just a whacko mom. I really enjoyed the many layers of this book and the absolute necessity of Suzanne's trip "home."

But can I tell you what I liked most about this book? It felt like going home for me. A little mini-vacation without spending money on gas. I knew those crazy people. I've lived the small town, everyone's up in your business, someone is always a witness, life. (Sometimes I still long for it.) I think Leanna Ellis wrote small town true to life--at least the small town that I know and love.

Methinks I shall check out more of her titles. I'm thinking Elvis Takes a Back Seat.

What I Really Want to Do

Is take a long hot bath in a jacuzzi tub.

What I'm gonna do is take a long hot shower in a moldy shower stall.

You can't have everything.

But I'm going to attempt to be grateful for what I've got.

My legs ache like a 33 year old mother that spent the afternoon playing powder puff football on AstroTurf against girls half her age.

Here's hoping I can walk tomorrow.

Hormones?

How can I go from positively bubbling over with optimism one day to completely wasted in despondency the next?

I honestly don't know. The calendar doesn't suggest any imminent excuse. But I woke Wednesday morning in a state of panic and haven't quite been able to rid myself of it since. Hubs asks why and I can't come up with anything.

Check that. I can come up with any number of things that in and of themselves I can point to and say, "yeah, that's it." Except those 17 issues were there Tuesday also and not causing me to kick my legs in frustration (I've noticed that I have symptoms of restless leg syndrome....but only when I'm totally freaking out about something).

Mercy, mercy, mercy.

Sometimes I just want to pack my bags and start all over. Not from my immediate family, I'd take them with me, but from this life that I've made for myself. I confessed as much to Hubs who agreed with me. He's going through something similar.

Life is hard. And instead of muscling through it, I seem to prefer to whine. On top of that, I know that I should be grateful, but all I can see are the issues. And I should be loving, but I'd rather lick my own wounds than tend to some one else's.

To quote, I think, Rex: Great, now I have guilt.

Sometimes I wonder why I've been hardwired this way and whether I can overcome it. Surely, SURELY, the world isn't conspiring to make me miserable, lonely, guilty, and a crappy housekeeper and mom.

I'm just so overwhelmed with it all, ya know? And instead of staying thoughtful and organized I'm half a step ahead, if that, and more often than not, late and behind.

O, Happy Day.

So, now I'm going to go try to do something in this rare moment of peace. Peace as in quiet. Not peace as in peaceful inner life. But who knows? Charming has radar for "mom accomplishing something."

Let's see....spiritual application...

Meaningless, meaningless. Everything is meaningless. (Ecclesiastes)

That was full of hope, not?

What to do When Your Wireless Goes Kaput and Your Computer Isn't Plug-In Capable...

Um, yeah.

One might not quite realize how addicted one is to one's internet unless this tragedy befall them.

Hopefully I will be up and running again soon.

Found

I was driving home tonight after a decompression time with a couple friends going through a similar trial and I was thinking about blogging topics and all I could think to say is this:

I feel found.

I'm found.

I don't know how to describe it. And even typing it makes me rethink it. It doesn't make sense. Not exactly.

Maybe I'm coming into myself. Or I know that even though I get disgusted with my self, I am comfortable with myself. Which is a joke because I'm so not. And I'm still a bit discouraged and I have bad days. Today being one of them. But I can't help but feel as if I'm struggling FOR something.

I'm found.

I was so lukewarm for so long that I forgot what hot felt like. There were times when I prayed to just be cold so as to feel SOMETHING. And it was a long, dark time.

And now I feel found.

Tomorrow I may be lukewarm and lost again, but tonight I'm going to consider myself that one sheep out of a hundred.

Found.

Those Little Shiny Sunrays

Over the course of one extraordinarily sucky month half of my home group that almost never really was left the church.

A girl could start to take something like that personally.

I'm not going to go into that tonight. Not so much anyway. But I was in a funk so dang low I'm not sure a cockroach could have scraped me off the floor with chewing gum and one of those pampered chef scrapers.

I just wanted to report that today I walked into church not hoping for much and was just overwhelmed with love for the people around me.

Just diagonal to the right was LT where she always is. Faithful and shining. And in front of her is the couple I almost never talk to and their teenagers and mother. Just like always. To my direct right is the couple with their adult daughters who always have a smile and encouraging word for me. Behind me is the drummer's wife and her son. And behind her is the usher ready to hold the door when I get tired of wrestling Charming through the announcements.

These people are constants. They aren't necessarily those that I've chosen to spend much time with outside the church's walls for one reason or another. I don't really know why. Not in the same life stage probably. But they are always there. In their places. We know when there is someone there that isn't usually. And we know when someone is gone.

I love these people. This is home. THEY are there.

I've been acting as if the whole church emptied when my friends left. A gaping void. A black hole. I wondered who was planning to fall into it next. Would I be the last one standing? If I stepped into the hole myself, would I stop the bleed?

It sucked.

But today I saw a glimmer of hope. And I spent a bit more time greeting those faithful ones that sit around me. These people are my family.

It turns out the pew isn't quite as empty as I imagined it to be.

Me Myself & I AM

Here's a fun book for gifting. It's kinda like a time capsule with a cover. A slice of "me, now" to be read by me, later. I'm having fun with it.

A new experience of God comes one question at a time in this fun and provocative journal. Made up entirely of insightful, profound, and occasionally ridiculous questions, Me, Myself, and I AM invites you to open to any page, open yourself to God, and be the author of your own story.

Questions range from spiritually intriguing—

You overhear God talking about you. What do hear him saying?

to thought-provoking—

You are on a long car trip with a close friend who is not a Christian and the conversation turns to faith. What is your biggest fear about what your friend will ask or say?

to challenging—

Do you believe that all of Jesus’ followers have a responsibility to tell others about him?

to just plain fun—

If your life before you became a Christian were a movie, its title would be:

Animal House

As Good as It Gets

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

It’s a Wonderful Life

Me, Myself, and I AM will entertain, inspire, and get you thinking about your spiritual life from brand new angles. Whether you use Me, Myself, and I AM as a reflective tool, a way to start conversations with friends and family, or as a spiritual time capsule to look back on years later, their own words will create a powerful journey of self-discovery.

Some Thoughts on the Election

My gut reaction is that America deserves everything that's coming to her. My children, however, do not, which makes me sick. On the flip side, maybe I will be pleasantly surprised and the new tax codes, etc. won't impact me.

Maybe I'll find that I like socialism.

I'm not holding out much hope.

Though I consider myself a "have not" as far as the "middle class" goes, I'm not delusional enough to believe that my taxes really won't go up just because I don't make $250K...because HELLO it's gotta come from somewhere and the people that do have the money are smart enough to hide it before January.

Having said that (and that was more than I intended to say--I apologize to all three Obama supporters that read this blog for talking politics yet again), I offer you this little ditty:

(bomp, bomp, bomp) God is bigger than the president
He's bigger than Obama and the anchors on TV
Oh, God is bigger than the president
And he's watching out for you and me!

Are you frightened?
No not really
Are you worried?
no, not a bit
I know what ever's gonna happen
that God can handle it
(I'm sorry that I scared you when you saw me on TV)
Oh, that's ok, cause now I know, that God is takin; care of meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

(bomp, bomp, bomp) God is bigger than the president
He's bigger than Obama and the anchors on TV
Oh, God is bigger than the president
And he's watching out for you and me!

He's watchin, watchin, watchiiiiiinnnnnnnnn
out for you and meeeeeeeeeee
Yeah.

(Complements Junior, additions mine.)

Ruby Slippers

So.....I awoke yesterday morn and told my dear Hubs that what I really needed was a great pair of red shoes.

So buy some, he said.

Problem there dear is that you can't get a great pair of red shoes. Not like I want. And not for less than $50. (Yeah, I know, some of you out there wouldn't consider a pair of shoes under $100, but I'm a cheapo, clearance rack shopping lover of shoes and I don't often pay for them what you are "supposed" to pay for great shoes. More than $10 and they better be darned fantastic AND have a name on there that you would read about in a Kristin Billerbeck novel.) I suppose I'll just have to wear the other dress to church instead. (Poor me. And I got loads of complements on it, too.)

Ah, but while coat shopping for Princess, we detoured to the shoes. And there they were. My ruby slippers. Hummina-hummina. Come to mama, baby girls.

And I'd show you a picture, except I'm too darned lazy to first find the camera, then take the picture, then upload the picture. So you'll have to take my word for it.

Entre New Book Tuesday: Ruby Slippers: How the Soul of a Woman Brings Her Home by Jonalyn Grace Fincher. (Nice segue, eh? And yet TOTALLY and ABSOLUTELY TRUE!)

Oh, man. I started this book and thought, "My, my it's my long lost twin. Her heart is (or was) just as dark as mine is!" (She uses the word "eyes" but I think we mean the same thing.) The whole judgy woman admitting that we are always comparing ourselves to every other woman in the room. (Did I just type that?) Not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. And after we've sized the other woman up, turn the criticism upon ourselves.

This is why I hate to pool. If I'm not envying someone else's abs, I'm envying their parenting skills.

ANY-way I found myself thinking I needed to buy this book for every woman I know. If there are two of us willing to admit to these problems and a publisher willing to print the problems right out there in black and white, it can't just be ME.

As an aside: There were a couple sections in the middle where she almost lost me with the gender equality stuff, but by the end I could see where she was going. Should you pick up the book, hear her out. You might not agree with every word, but the premise is sound. I'm not even sure I don't agree with her, but I've been shoving my self and my thoughts into a certain box (or corset) for so long it might take a while for my thoughts to settle enough to say whether I am fully in her boat.

HOWEVER, there are also gorgeous chapters about finding and feeding our feminine soul, whether or not that soul is quiet and gentle--(once you get past the psycho-babble of why our feminine soul needs finding and feeding...and I use the term psycho-babble in its most loving sense. It's like Bringing Up Boys. I know I need to let my boys be boys...quit telling me why and tell me how! Many, many people need to know why before they can understand how. I know I have a problem. FIX ME!)--and as most of you know, quiet and gentle are words that decidedly do NOT fit me.

And oh, does she end it well.

So I'm back to believing that I need to give a copy to every woman I know. Maybe you don't have dark eyes. And maybe you do. Maybe you love soft dresses and high heels and maybe you are more comfortable on the sofa in sweats watching football. And maybe you like to do both. And maybe you are a powerful working woman and maybe you are a wimpy mom that can't stand up to her raving 20 month old when he decides he NEEDS YOUR SHIRT ALL THE WAY OFF SO THAT HE CAN STAND AND WATCH TV WHILE NURSING (not that I know anyone with that particular problem). But I'll muster a guess that something in this book will call out to you and cause you to crave redeemed femininity like you've never understood it before.

By the way, Jonalyn, I so love and envy your hair as only a chick with fine, limp, do-nothing hair can. I'm so sure you wanted to hear that.

Seriously, go check out her blog and hair. She hated it growing up. It plays a big role in her book. And the very first thing I thought when I saw her photo was, "wow, that is some great hair" long before I read the book. And now I feel petty mentioning it. But, darn it, it is fabulous and someone needs to say it.

November is National Adoption Month

I am unfamiliar with this group, but their message is moving.

UN-be-LIEV-able

I went over to an advance voting station and voted yesterday.

I've been thwarted by the lines for a week now. I thought, sure, there are lines today, it's the first (second, Friday, getting close to the election) day of voting. I've run out of excuses. People are just ready and willing to vote. And willing to stand in lines that stretch down the block to do it.

I was floored.

Seriously. Election day isn't until next Tuesday and people are standing in two hour lines to vote TODAY.

I can't even imagine what the lines will be like Tuesday.

I do have to admit that at the station at which I voted, the lines moved swiftly. (I didn't mistype. Lines.) There was a line to fill out the advance voting form. There was a line to check in to the computer system. There was a line to get the card for the machine. A line for the machine. A line to get the sticker (and turn in the card) after you vote. But There were something like 30 machines. As opposed to the 8 machines they will have at each station next week.

The lines flat moved. I was in out and on my way in 15-20 minutes. They were very efficient.

I know there are people that don't approve of advance voting because something could happen that would change the vote in these last days. I've thought about that. But since I have not been on the fence about ONE SINGLE PERSON since the beginning of this election season (and have only sort of been on the fence about various taxes/electing judges) I can't imagine that anything anyone says will change my vote.

Well, I suppose of someone came out and said they plan to sacrifice a child this Halloween, I would regret that vote, but who wants to commit that kind of election suicide? (I can think of a few yahoos that might be that stupid, but I didn't vote for them anyway.)

Surely I Have Something to Say

Gut instincts are interesting things.

This morning Charming woke "warm." I was sure he was "warm."

Wednesday isn't a good day for him to be "warm."

He popped out of bed and started to play. I assumed him well because of this, but grabbed a thermometer anyway.

98.3

Readied children and self for school. Dropped kids at school, dropped Charming in the nursery, dropped self at CBS.

Fast forward two hours. Pick hysterical Charming up from nursery. Charming is "warm." As Charming is having fit, wonder if heat is fit related. Charming falls asleep instantly in van. Arrive home. Deep sleeping Charming is awake. And 100.3 degrees.

Yes, after he shared a nursery with 15 kids.

I KNEW he was "warm." Even though the thermometer didn't agree.

That's what we call "mother's intuition."

Would the Commercials Stop Already!?

I'm planning to go in early to vote. There's a site only a few blocks away. And the closer we get to elections the more irritated I've been getting at both sides. I figure I better vote before I decide I don't want to elect anyone. But this is as good a time as any to remind people to vote your conscience. Not just your party line. Not just because you heard a TV ad that made the other guy look like an idiot, but because you know where they stand and that they represent your ideals, whatever they are.

Mine begin and end with Jesus. And the dudes that get the closest to what the Bible says He said. Though some days I wonder about them all. How Would Jesus Vote?

The 2008 election is shaping up to be one of the most important political contests in American history. In fact, Dr. D. James Kennedy believes it will be a watershed moment that could impact our very survival as a nation under God.

Values voters—people whose political views and votes are based on their faith in God—are being targeted as never before. As the campaign season moves forward, the significant players will debate terrorism, radical Islam, nuclear threats, global warming, social issues, gay marriage, immigration, education, health care, and many other essential issues that can create sharp ideological divisions.

Into this overwhelmingly complex political situation, Dr. Kennedy and Jerry Newcombe bring a clear, compelling, and nonpartisan exploration of what God’s Word has to say on these critical matters. How Would Jesus Vote? isn’t intended to tell readers which candidates to support; rather it offers a Christ-centered understanding of the world to help readers draw their own political conclusions.

Jerry Newcombe is senior producer for Coral Ridge Ministries television and has produced or coproduced more than fifty documentaries. The host of two weekly radio shows, he has also been a guest on numerous television and radio talk shows. He is the author or coauthor of more than fifteen books.

Dr. D. James Kennedy is one of the most trusted and recognized Christian leaders of our time. The senior minister of Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, he is the featured preacher on television’s “The Coral Ridge Hour” and radio’s “Truths That Transform”, syndicated on over one thousand stations throughout the U.S. The founder and president of Evangelism Explosion International and chancellor of Knox Theological Seminary, he is the author of more than sixty books, including the bestselling What If Jesus Had Never Been Born?

Bad Blogger. Bad, Bad Blogger.

I know I haven't been posting much lately. And I have an excuse. Not a good one, but an excuse nonetheless.

I'm stressed.

And snarky.

And in a funk.

I don't feel well and I don't know why.

I'm having migraines again for the first time (consistently) since college.

I'm angry.

I'm lonely.

I'm needy.

I'm frustrated.

I'm angry. Wait, I said that.

I can't be all things to all people and I hate myself for it.

We lost people I care about from the church in what looks like it could be another mass exodus and I feel like the failure is mine alone.

I don't even know if it has anything to do with me AT ALL.

But I'm going to take on the guilt whether it is or isn't.

Charming has been very needy and I have so much to do that I can only do during naps and night (which is when I blog, coincidentally).

Guess who just woke up?

So, that's my excuse. I don't want to come on and complain, so I'm not really coming on at all. And that's if I can find the time to come on.

So, I hope you will forgive me. And keep coming back.

I hope I also come back with my silly, slightly snarky posts again really soon.

Meanwhile, you could be praying.

Bon Appetit by Sandra Byrd

This book is delish! I couldn't put it down no matter how hungry I got, and boy did I get hungry. Not that I can ever enjoy a preservative laced muffin again...thanks a lot Sandra. 8P (does that look like crossed eyes?) At least it isn't laced with preservatifs, right? (you'll get it when you read it)

With plenty of yummy recipes and and even yummier plot, you won't miss with this one...if you like girlie books. :)

Gimme more Lexi!

In this second book in the French Twist series, readers join Lexi Stuart in a crème de la crème adventure!

Deciding to leave her familiar home in Seattle and her could-be boyfriend Dan, Lexi moves to a quaint village in France to pursue her dream of becoming a pastry chef. Life among the French initially proves to be less than easy as Lexi is challenged by her coworkers, missing her friends, and failing to master the perfect baguette.

Determined to find her place, Lexi settles into the culture and life becomes la perfection. She finds a church, meets a new friend, and makes the acquaintance of a child named Celine—as well as Celine’s attractive, widowed father, Philippe. Even Patricia, the gruff pastry cook, shows a softer side as she mentors Lexi in the art of baking.

Fast, fun, and packed with French culture, foodie appeal, and unique recipes readers will love accompanying Lexi on her journey in Bon Appetit as she tries to choose between two countries, two men and the faith to lean on God while savoring the surprises life brings!

Princess-isms

Mom, are you singing?

Yes....

I thought so. I could feel someone else's real voice vibrating in the van. (we had the radio blasting)

##

I have the gift of reading.

People don't think I should be able to read the books I do. I just can.

##

(I can't set this one up. I know we were in the kitchen and she did a really brainless thing, like ask for the milk while she was holding it.)

I'm just a blondie!

When Migraines Strike

Being unemployed and "less stressed" (which is highly questionable) I haven't suffered many migraines in my thirties. I think much of it is manageability. First, I can feel the onset and cut them off early by medicating. Second I can feel them coming on and consciously relax my shoulders and jaw and stave them off until I can get to aforementioned medication.

And then I have an idiot moment and whamo!

I fought a headache all day yesterday. Instead of taking something I kept rubbing my shoulders and head as if that's all that should be required until bedtime. I didn't account for the stress I'm under.

I got dinner almost made and took off for bed about 5:20.

I still have the sucker. Less so, but still.

I got up and immediately took two generic excedrin migraine (which, interestingly enough, are the same formula as excedrin (not migraine), explain that one. Same formula, more cost.). I have to consciously relax every 30 seconds.

I think this is a day for velour pants and a sweatshirt.

Take that Stacy and Clinton.

What I'm marveling about this morning is that I used to cheer through those.

Idiot.

The things teens do.

Daytime Television

Watching A Baby Story on TLC. Don't usually do that, but my squirt wouldn't let me do anything else. I just watched a Midwife tell a mother she would have to have a c section, call the doctor and when the doctor showed up, he said something like "let's try this."

She ended up with a vaginal birth. A highly invasive one, but out the proper opening anyway.

Don't see that every day, a midwife giving up and a doctor stepping in and encouraging the more natural choice. If I lived there, that would be the doctor I would look up.

That, and some stuff going on with people I know reminds me that I am SOooooooo thankful that I have been so blessed to have three babies at home.

Charming is asleep now so I'm going to go do something! Yippee!

How to turn a crappy morning into a better afternoon

have your child that hasn't wanted to be anywhere near a potty in several days, ask to sit and then

GO!

Don't know how to take this:

If your baby comes up to you and says "Uh-oh" and points to his heinie,

And you say, "Did you poop?"

And he says, "Yeah."

And you say, "Let's go change you."

And he runs to the place to be changed and lies down,

And you discover there is no poo in the diaper,

And say, "do you need to poop?"

And he says, "yeah,"

And sits on the potty for 10 seconds,

And then gets up to play,

And you put a diaper back on him,

Which he proceeds to poo in ten seconds later,

SHOULD YOU BE HOPEFUL?

And if you like chick-lit AND historical...

Lauren Durough is a college student longing to break free of family expectations when she stumbles into a project for eighty year old Abigail Boyles—transcribing the journals of Mercy Hayworth, a seventeenth-century victim of the Massachusetts witch trials. Almost immediately, Lauren finds herself drawn to this girl who lived and died four centuries ago. The strength of her affinity with Mercy forces Lauren to take a startling new look at her own life, including her relationships with the mysterious Abigail, her college roommate, and a young man named Raul. But on the way to discovering the candid truth, Lauren must earnestly ask if she is playing the role of helpless defendant or the misguided judge? Can she break free from her own perceptions and recognize who she really is?

In our high-pressure, success-oriented culture, readers will identify with Lauren’s struggle to forge her own identity separate from the plan her family designed for her. Offering intrigue, romance, and heartbreaking drama, this contemporary novel with a historical twist conveys the intense beauty that emerges when we see how our stories affect the lives of others.

From early school-day projects to becoming editor of a local newspaper in Minnesota, Susan Meissner’s love for writing has been apparent her entire life. The Shape of Mercy is her latest novel in a string of books that delve into the deeper issues of life. She is the author of nine novels and lives with her family in San Diego, California. Find out more about her at www.susanmeissner.com.

Okay, so I don't think the author would bill this as chick-lit in any way, shape or form, HOWEVER, it has a chickie feel with first person narrative and a twenty-year old single girl trying to find her way in the world.

This was a wonderful, haunting read (no pun intended). It frustrated me when my sister wanted to sleep and I wanted to know what was up with Mercy. It mocked me from the seat pocket when Charming wanted to play and eat and I wanted to know how Raul would respond. And it kept me up nights when I was exhausted and should have been sleeping. It tiptoed through my dreams (together with Heroes) and made them disturbing. All those qualities combine to make me highly recommend this book as a you-can't-put-it-down-even-when-you-have-to.

And, my apologies for posting little but book reviews this week. Between travel and debilitating discouragement (that I think is now passed) I have chosen the "don't say anything at all" route of the "if you can't say anything nice" phrase. I shall soon remedy that.

Much love, bloggies.

I needed this and thought I'd share

Responding to Troubled Times

By Dennis Rainey

Are any of you a little weary of bad news right now?

For the last month, and especially during the past few weeks, negative news about our economy has battered us unrelentingly. The October 10, 2008 edition of the Wall Street Journal, for example, began with a huge headline: “Market’s 7-Day Rout Leaves U.S. Reeling.” Other headlines last week included, “Crisis Threatens Defense Programs,” “Economists Expect Crisis to Deepen” and “Searching for a Silver Lining: Prices Drop, Taking Spirits With Them.”

That last one is truly an understatement.

How much bad news can you take? Have any of you turned off your television or pitched the newspaper to the side and said, “Enough”?

It’s natural for us to be worried. Many of us are counting on our investments for helping our children with college and for living expenses in our later years.

At times like this, we need some perspective. Last week I received an email from Stephens, Inc., an investment firm in Little Rock, that included a memo written by W.R. “Witt” Stephens after the stock markets fell on “Black Friday” in October 1987. Witt Stephens has since passed away, but the firm thought it was appropriate to revive his memo, saying, “His wisdom and good advice lives on.”

Through the 200 years of American history, this country has been constantly besieged by bad news. If the early settlers had believed things were as bad as they sounded they would have given up the fight to settle the new world and sailed back to England, and the dream of freedom would have perished.

From that day to the present the people of this nation have listened to the bad news for a while, then they turned their backs on that which was bad, placed their faith in God and faced toward that which was good.

Down through the years, through a tragic Civil War, two worldwide wars, a series of small conflicts, recession and the great depression of the 1930’s, we have heard again and again the words of citizen Tom Paine, “These are times that try men’s souls.” In every case the people rejected the bad news and overcame whatever obstacle was facing them at that time.

Once again, we are put to the test. Everything we hear is bad. We are smothered with a never-ending succession of newspaper, radio and television reports on ... drug abuse, crime in the streets, decadent morals and lack of honest and competent leadership. If citizen Tom Paine were alive today, he could well utter again his famous quotation.

It is impossible to lock your door against the invasion of the news media into every nook of your home and office. They don’t make the news, they merely report it. Tell it as it is. We have the option of acceptance or rejection. We can bemoan what is happening in our world, wring our hands and cover our heads, or we can reject the bad and look about us to the good.

When I was a boy on a small farm in Grant County, news wasn’t as quickly available as it is today and reached us mainly by word of mouth. A “drummer” would come by or one of our neighbors returned from a trip to Little Rock or Memphis and we saw the news through their eyes. Mostly it was about what was bad in big cities or throughout the country.

After listening a while, my father would say, “That’s enough bad news for one day. Let’s go to work.” America has heard enough bad news for a while. Now is the time to go to work. Turn your back on the bad news and look around you at what is good. You don’t need to look far. Your family, your children, your friends and neighbors, they are good.

We live today in the greatest country the world has ever known, filled with opportunities which never existed before. The highest standards of living, more leisure time, better health services, better schools, more jobs, finer homes and freedom to enjoy these wonders.

This is indeed the time to turn our backs on the bad news and face the future with thankfulness.

W.R. “Witt” Stephens

This email made an impact in many lives in 1987 and again last week because at times like these we need to hear godly wisdom from our leaders. But have you heard much from the Christian community? I haven’t. How are we to respond at a time of crisis like this?

Responding like grasshoppers

Last week my mind flashed back 40 years to the first time I walked into the office of Dr. Bill Bright, who founded Campus Crusade for Christ. As I looked on his desk and walls, I was fascinated to see what he valued. Of course, there were pictures of his wife and family, awards he'd received, and mementos from around the world. But on his desk there was an engraved brass plate with the most unusual phrase I've ever seen in an executive office:

“I'm no grasshopper.”

I asked what it meant. Bill chuckled and started telling me the Old Testament story about the Israelites returning to their homeland after centuries of slavery in Egypt. Their leader, Moses, sent a dozen spies into the land of Canaan. This land was inhabited by others but God said He would give it to the Israelites.

Ten of the twelve came back reporting that it was impossible for the Israelites to conquer the land. “We are not able to go up against the people, for they are too strong for us,” they said. “We became like grasshoppers in our own sight, and so we were in their sight” (Numbers 13:31, 33).

Only two of the spies, Caleb and Joshua, said the land could be taken. Joshua said there would be nothing to fear because his trust was in the Lord. But the people would not listen. As a result, the Israelites did not attempt to conquer the land God said He was giving them, and they spent 40 years wandering around in the wilderness because of unbelief.

After recounting this story, Bill turned to me and said, “Dennis, when I arrive in heaven, I don't want my life here on earth to have been characterized by viewing myself as a grasshopper. My God is so big, I want to expect and believe Him for great things.”

This financial crisis leaves us with the same choice. Will we respond to bad news like grasshoppers, or will we respond with trust in our God, who is in control of our fate today just as He was in the days of Moses and Joshua?

Timeless truths

We need to remember that God is still in control, even in times of uncertainty and chaos. Romans 8:28 is still in force: “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” So is 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, which tells us, “Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; in everything give thanks; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

I am also reminded of what Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount. “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal,” He said. “But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matthew 6:19-20).

And then Jesus goes on to say (in Matthew 6:25-33):

For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?... But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.

These are the timeless truths we need to focus on—the words we should read together as husband and wife, and the words we should be reading to our children. They tell us that God will provide for our needs. His provision may come in different forms than we expect, but His promise to meet our needs has not expired in the 21st century.

Jesus’ words also remind us that there is more to life than meeting our daily material needs. When we seek God’s kingdom and His righteousness, we operate according to His priorities—we’re concerned about building our family relationships, and connecting the hearts of our children to God’s heart, and impacting future generations by proclaiming Christ. That’s what life is really about.

What is God up to?

In recent days I’ve been saying to our staff here in Little Rock and to friends of this ministry that America as a nation can survive a financial crisis, even a Depression. It’s already done that. But you know what America cannot survive? It cannot survive the spiritual demise and the destruction of its most basic unit, the family.

It’s time to return to the basics, embracing what we believe and those who matter most—our spouses and family.

It’s time for men to take their wives hands and pray together and for one another. Not just today, but every day.

It’s time for parents to rally their families together around the dinner table and read how Jesus said we are to respond to fear and then take one another’s hands and pray. Every day.

It’s time for families to huddle up, tell each other we love one another and hug one another. Every day.

It’s time to be a man or woman of faith and not a grasshopper.

For years many of us have said that it may take a financial crisis like the Depression to get our nation’s spiritual attention. Well, my friend, what if we are on our way right now? What is God up to right now in your life? What’s He up to in your marriage? And in your family?

Don’t be a family of spiritual grasshoppers.

Love Starts With Elle by Rachel Hauck

I'll just keep mixing it up on ya. Just when you think you know what to expect. First a little chick-lit, then a little literary fiction, next some romance (which is the only thing my mother thinks I read).

Here's a book that really struck a chord with me spiritually. I'm not sure if it was just a matter of the "right thing at the right time" or if it would do it again and again on many a reading, but boy could I relate to Elle. Not in the single-chick-whose-life-is-falling-apart way, but in the how-far-have-I-strayed-from-who-I-really-am-and-what-God-wants-from-me? way.

I hope it resonates with you as well.

Here's a bit about the book:

Elle's living the dream-but is it her dream or his?

Elle loves life in Beaufort, South Carolina-lazy summer days on the sand bar, coastal bonfires, and dinners with friends sharing a lifetime of memories. And she's found her niche as the owner of a successful art gallery too. Life is good.

Then the dynamic pastor of her small town church sweeps her off her feet. She's never known a man like Jeremiah-one who breathes in confidence and exhales all doubt. When he proposes in the setting sunlight, Elle hands him her heart on a silver platter.

But Jeremiah's just accepted a large pastorate in a different state. If she's serious about their relationship, Elle will take "the call," too, leaving behind the people and place she loves so dearly. Elle's friendship with her new tenant, widower Heath McCord, and his young daughter make things even more complicated.

Is love transferrable across the miles? And can you take it with you when you go?

Rachel Hauck is the author of ten, going on eleven novels, and has recently become an "acclaimed" author. (Yeah, funny how that happened. Some dude found her lottery stub stuck to the bottom of his shoe and tried to "acclaim" her. But her husband refused to pay out.)

Since then, she's gone on to become a best selling author of Sweet Caroline.

Living in central Florida with her husband of sixteen and a half years, one sweet little dog and one ornery cat, Rachel is a graduate of Ohio State University and a huge Buckeye football fan. One day she hopes to stand on the sidelines next to Coach Tressel as a famed, acclaimed best selling OSU alumni, beloved for her work in literature and letters. (She's written at least a couple hundred letters in her life time.)

Her current release, Love Starts With Elle (July 2008, Thomas Nelson) is set in the South Carolina lowcountry, and earned 4.5 Stars and Top Pick from Romantic Times Book Club.

Look for her next release next spring, The Sweet By and By, the first book in the Born To Fly series with award winning country artist, Sara Evans.

Of the writing journey, Rachel says, "I'm humbled by the amazing things God is doing in my life. I love what I do, and am so privileged to work with Thomas Nelson fiction and am excited to see what God has in store for all of His authors and writers. Just keep praying and writing!"

Visit her blog and website at http://www.rachelhauck.com

And if you go here, you have a chance at a free copy!

If the tongue is loosed, you won't like what you hear

I could come on here and tell you how discouraged I am, and how I hate the person I become when I'm with certain people. I could tell you how I have seem to lost interest in doing the things I typically enjoy, and how I no longer feel like striving for anything.

I could tell you that I'm sick of not only being the butter on sliced bread, but the scum on the bottom of the shoe for the exact same person / people.

I could tell you about my weekend. But I'm tired and things come out pretty negative when I'm tired. And Hubs tells me that when I'm this down it can only mean one thing: that I need to go to sleep. He might say something else at a different point in the month, but considering I can't blame that 31 out of 31 days, he would be incorrect, if he dared speak. And why would he bother speaking to me when he has a computer to watch with headphones attached to his ears?

Did you know you can put off doing taxes until October 15th? Have I mentioned that we do just that every year?

Did you know that when you put off doing your taxes until October 15th, no matter how organized you are (and I'm decidedly NOT), you lose stuff? Did you know that when you put off doing your taxes until October 15th, you don't have every radio and tv ad reminding you to do said taxes and you might come to October 13th thinking everything is just fine and then realize you don't have all your paper and the person who can get it for you is "out sick" and you just might be screwed?

Not that any of that could possibly apply to a house named "Chaos."

So, my grandma turned 90 yesterday and she and my grandpa will have their 71st anniversary on Wednesday. And since those things happen only once in any lifetime, I spent the weekend in a decidedly more southern clime. (felicitishiousness and all that--it IS a big deal)

I'm glad to be home where the air isn't sticky and I can EAT. Sheesh.

Don't get me started.

The Flowers of Grass by James E Robinson

And, to keep things balanced around here, for those of you that DON'T like chick-lit...

I was interested in this book because, frankly, I'm a sucker for the high school sweetheart story. Nothing makes me go all ooey-goey with my honey like a good high school sweetheart story, I tell ya. And though this isn't necessarily the way I want one to go (she married someone else--the nerve! BTW, that happened before the book opening, it isn't the final chapter) it still did my marriage good while thanking my Loving Heavenly Father that my boyfriend took me with him while seeking his fortune (not that we've found it yet).

Here's back cover copy:

"John Allen returns to his home town after the death of his alcoholic, abusive father. He has been gone 16 years and has become a successful writer, but with major addiction problems of his own. Now he struggles to make amends with his careworn sister and dropout younger brother--and , perhapse, tovpick up the pieces of his teen age love affair with Jessie.

But Jessie has grown tired of waiting for letters that ceased to come, and has married. At what cost might their love be rekindled?

An exquisitely written, passionate and thoughtful novel, this is a classic love story framing deeper themes of morality and passing time, the true nature of faith, and the delicate balance of human relationships."

So, for you non-chick-litty, literary types (of which I am also one), this is a small town, kinda southern-y feel book filled with poetic phrases and characters you are pretty sure you know. "Gentle readers" be warned that there is a bit of language, spoken by people who would speak that way, that is one of the reasons I'm pretty sure I know one of the characters. He was our best man. (The best man, however, to the best of my knowledge isn't drowning his sorrows in a bottle.)

So, this is a book of the prodigal son, come back too late. A book of lost love. A book about potentially regaining love. A book about alcoholism. A book about unforgiveness. And forgiveness. A book about fidelity and infidelity. A book about giving up yourself. And a book about finding yourself.

And I did keep flipping the book over to recheck that this was indeed an Christian Fiction book because I wasn't sure I liked where it was going, but I assure you, the ending was very satisfactory.

You can read more about The Flowers of Grass and the author, as well as find a place to buy it here. Oh, and while you are there, watch the book trailor. It is set against a song written by the author (who was/is a songwriter first). I LOVE THIS SONG.

The Problem With Improvement

I started with new make-up. An updated look, you could say.

Got a pedicure because apparently toes aren't supposed to be uncovered without one (that and I had a friend steal me for a girls night).

I added the new 'do. With the cute wedge thingie when I wear it down and don't tuck it over my ears.

Then, after holding a burning hot baby for three days while a What Not To Wear marathon was on, and happening upon a JC Penney sale, the likes of which I have not seen before, and deciding to use my birthday cash to improve my look...well, I have a new look.

The problem with dressing for success, and having a haircut meant to style, and eye make-up that is "smoky" and in is this (aside from the added length of time it takes me to ready myself in the morning): I look all washed out.

When I get up and put on my glasses and sweats and ponytail, no one notices that I have no makeup on. Slap on a little eyeliner and I'm good to go.

Get up and put on a mock wrap shirt with fitted jeans, style the hair, put on the smoky eye makeup (once the contacts are in) and what do you see? Not a put together mommy dropping her kids at school on her way to Bible study. No, you see that she didn't put on foundation to color up her sallow skin and cover the outbreak that her 33 year old face decided to spring on her all of a sudden.

The battle is never ending. At least when you don't try, you know where you stand. Try to fit in, and you'll never be enough. Have enough. Do enough. Look it. Live it. Measure up. Or be accepted for who you really are.

And on that bitter note at the end of what was supposed to be lighthearted banter...

"W" Magazine

Anyone have any idea why I'm suddenly getting "W" magazine?

I thought it was a mistake, but my name is inscribed right there on the label.

Bizarre. I'm pretty sure I'm not their demographic.

The Singing Potty

Upon hearty recommendation, and out of desperation, I bought the Fisher Price singing potty. I don't remember what it's really called. I think they call the pink one "Sound and Lights Potty," but since I bought the blue one, which doesn't have lights (and why DON'T boys deserve lights, I ask? Who is more likely to pee facing the lights, anyway?) and I can't imagine they call it "Sound Potty" I will henceforth call it the singing potty, because that's what we call it here.

According to the hearty recommendation, "it made all the difference."

Yeah, it does make all the difference. Especially when it works for about three days, long enough to train the child that the potty sings when he pees, and then, after three days, let's have the potty sing just for having the kid sit on it. (Yes, I've changed the batteries. That isn't the solution.)

Oh, and make sure it DOESN'T sing when he does actually pee.

To recap: potty sings when child sits, or shifts, but NOT when he pees (can't comment on whether it sings when he poops because that ain't happening because it sings when he sits down and he therefore must jump up because he's done his duty by making the potty sing).

And to add insult to injury make sure it sings at other random points in time. Like when you walk past in the hall. Or are eating dinner together. Or when your entire family is sleeping. It is especially helpful for the potty to play its little tune every two minutes at 2:30 in the morning. The approximate amount of time for the mom to reassure herself she is just dreaming the potty song and return to sleep. About four times. Before she leaps from the bed and casts the potty bowl from the diode below which makes it sing.

I have no idea.

Nor have I heard anyone else complain.

But I am bummed. Because Charming sits, makes the potty sing, and stands up, touchdown style and cheers, "Yay!" And then expects his M&M. Without doing the deed. And I feel guilty. And like I'm torturing him by making him sit while the potty sings again and again.

I think I'll go see if I can dismantle the thing and manually set off the music when I KNOW he's gone. Which makes the singing potty moot for letting me know when he's gone.

Oh well, I suppose changing diapers forever will build my character.

L.I.B.

Gas is $2.97 per gallon.

Sounds durn cheap considering where we've been.

Single Sashimi by Camy Tang

If you're looking for some new chick-lit to read (I know you are, Nurse Boy) look no further than to Camy Tang's Single Sashimi. Though I believe she calls it "romance with a kick of wasabi." Sure reads chick-litty to me.

(And what is up with the people who say chick-lit is dead? Did they bother to consult us lovers of chick-lit? No. So chick-lit authors have to go all subversive and pretend they are writing something else and we readers have to go all stealth and read a few pages of every book on the shelves to find it because the covers are no longer pink.)

Ahem.

I believe this is billed as "FICTION / Christian /General" unless you knew Camy when and you tend to think of it as "Asian Chick-Lit." So going from there let me say that it isn't so much as Asian Chick-Lit as Chick-Lit with a lead Asian chick. Who is pretty durned American, if you ask me. And since I'm as Caucasian as white bread (that eats whole wheat) and I LOVED the book, I know for a fact that you don't have to be Asian in any way, shape or form to love it also. That is if you like Chick-Lit, also known as "romance" or "fiction/Christian/general" (as I know you do, Nurse Boy).

By the way, I don't think Nurse Boy has been to the blog since he started back to school. Not that I blame him as who would want the abuse?

So, a bit about the book. And who better to tell you than the back cover, I ask?

"Venus Chau is determined to start her own game development company and launch the next Super Mario-sized phenomenon. However, she needs an investor to back her idea. When Drake Yu, an old nemesis, approaches Venus with a contracting opportunity at his sister's startup, the offer tempts Venus to think the unthinkable.

Venus would rather throw away her PS3 than work for Drake again...but then Grandma bribes Venus to do this favor for Drake's wealthy family. With the encouragement of her three cousins, Lex, Trish, and Jennifer, Venus discovers that even a wounded heart can undergo a beautiful transformation."

If you love chick-lit, you've gotta check it out. As well as the two other books in the series, Sushi for One? and Only Uni. (Not that they are needed to enjoy this one, but if you are discovering a new author, might as well discover her fully, eh?)

Oh, and on another topic, my spell checker doesn't recognize contractions as words anymore, but won't point out an obviously mangled word. If I screwed something up in the book description, it is wholly my fault. As are the misspelled words everywhere else.

What do you expect? I was in the 49th percentile in spelling in middle school and I fear I've only gotten worse.

Random Musings

I realized that I probably went a little overboard with my verbal correction of a certain child when he said, "I wish I wasn't alive." Why? "Because then I wouldn't have broken the TV."

Yes, I explained that I'd rather have him than the TV. I would just like for him to act a bit more responsibly. Like quit using the Swiffer stick to change channels.

++

I HATE giving announcements in church.

++

A beautiful baby girl in the nursery today made me almost want to petition Hubs for "just one more."

Almost.

And from another womb.

++

Oh, I had so many one liners to put up here tonight, and I knew I should write them all down, and I didn't, and my brain is fried.

Nothin', I've got nothin'.

(Yawn)

Charming is fevering.

He won't let me put him down.

Typing is out of the question.

As is sleep.

One of THOSE Mothers

It is official, I have become one of THOSE mothers.

I let my child forget his library books because I don't want to keep track of them, library day, or due dates.

I even forbid some children to bring them home because we have too many books here anyway and the ones at school tend to be crummy and they lose the crummy ones and then we get a note politely suggesting we find the crummy book and since we can't find the crummy book, we give the school another dozen of ours off our shelves because they don't fit there anyway and are better than most of the crummy books at the school. But, by the way, we find the crummy book on the school library shelve that we dig through in search because in the floor to ceiling scouring of the home, car and van turns up nothing. (OK, that hasn't happened since Eldest was in Kindergarten, but Eldest and Princess still don't bring their books home.)

I let my child go to school without the correct folder because I'm tired of remembering twelve dozen things in the morning.

I let my child forget show and tell.

I might or might not supervise homework.

I will drag my feverish baby to the bank...which is in Target...because I HAVE to deposit money TODAY...and stay and pick up a few needed items also...since I'm there anyway.

I don't force my children to study their spelling words.

I might not even suggest it until Friday morning.

I buy prepackaged, unhealthy snacks for school because I'm tired of throwing away the prefectly good, healthy food that rotted in the bottom of the backpack that they can't eat because one of their friends makes fun if they ever pull out anything remotely healthy to eat...and I can't buy character or self-confidence.

I don't cook a hot breakfast.

I actually expect my kids to find their own breakfast. (I do provide the means.)

I don't tell them what to wear resulting in some crazy clothing combinations.

If my kids run out of socks and don't bother to warn me that their socks are almost out, I make them wear dirty socks...or my socks...or their sister's socks.

I take the baby to the store covered in the chocolate bar he snagged and I didn't take from him...because it keeps him quiet.

Three hours later, once I've wiped the chocolate from his face, his clothes still harbor evidence of his chocolate binge.

I don't scrub grass stains out of knees. They are only going to put new ones there tomorrow.

I let the boys wear holey socks. Because they are the ones that chose to run around in them outside all summer without shoes. Everyone gets a new pack of socks at Christmas and beginning of school. That they only have three socks between the two of them that aren't holey should not be my problem.

What else, what else, what else? I suppose that is enough of my failures for the day. I just tend towards the camp that prefers to have responsible kids and if they can't be bothered to care, I can't be bothered to care. I didn't know it would be quite this humiliating, nor that the school of hard knocks would be so slow to "take." I do know that on the judgmental scale, I've slidden (I've slidden, there's one for the grammar books) down a rung or two. I know that has to be a good thing. But my days of scrounging all over for lost library books and taking extra trips to school for insane irresponsibility are over. (Barring the lunch left at home of field trip day--no teacher deserves that.)

I do want the best for my kids, but is doing everything for them helping them or hurting them? And if I'm too tired to fall asleep anymore, something's gotta give.

Even if I look like one of THOSE mothers.

However, I do take my kids to the park, read to them, and keep their clothes clean, if not stain free. I feed them (or provide the means) three meals a day most of which we eat together. I love them madly. They just might not look like I do.

I guess that's what pains me most.