It is nasty here this morning in South Carolina as I understand it is across most of the U.S. I'm thinking about my friends who have skedaddled down to New Orleans for some relief work and are staying in tents. TENTS! I hope they are okay and not freezing their hineys off.
Nice Guy works 3rd shift and went into work early last night, anticipating he'd be home by 2:00 a.m. or so. I woke at 5:00 with a start. He was not in bed with me, nor was he watching TV or reading the paper, or in fact, anywhere in the whole house. (Finally, duh!, I check the garage to see if the car is there. Nope.) I let my puppers out to go potty and it is icy on the deck. I panic and try to call his cell phone. No answer.
I keep thinking he surely would not have stayed at work. After one too many bad weather accidents we are very skittish when it ices like this. Finally, I turn on the news and hear the weather lady explain, yes, there is ice on certain surfaces like this car window here, but the roads are clear. She demonstrates by smacking the car window with a gloved hand and the road she's on with her boot. Back to you, Bob.
He must still be at work.....I'm assuming. I guess I should I mention right now that when he enters the security gate at work, it takes an act of Congress for me to get in touch with him. When my sister called me at 2:00 in the morning on September 28th and said, hurry, dad has taken a turn for the worse and we're not sure he's gonna make it. I had to beg a security guard to go find him because he didn't answer his cell. He actually took my NAME and NUMBER FOR HIS RECORDS while I'm crying on the phone begging him to please go to B Bay and get my husband.....My DAD is DYING! Looking back now I'm sure I was talking to a robot who only sounded human.
So now, this morning, I'm pacing, trying to pray, but why is that almost impossible when you're a nervous wreck? I continue to watch the news where they continue to assure me the roads are safe. I see livecams of roads near his place of employment and watch cars whizzing by. I start to relax a little. Finally, he calls at 7:00 to tell me he's on his way home. I have to yell at him a bit for not letting me know anything because that's what wives do. He promises to take it slow coming home and when I hear the garage door open I rush outside and see him at the bottom of the drive, barely able to get through the two crepe myrtles on either side because they are bent double under the ice. Once he's safe in the garage, I marvel at how beautiful it is outside and take a deep breath. He's home! Whew.
Now I'm sitting here thankful we have underground power lines. I'm sure if we still lived downtown we'd have no power right now. I hear limbs crashing outside and keep my fingers crossed that the 1/2" of ice will take down the pear trees I hate. The ones that are casting shade on the best spot in the yard to have a nice garden in the spring.
The kids are still sleeping....my fingers are cold. I think French toast and hot chocolate would be a good breakfast. And, definitely, it should be Pajama Day.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Ya-Ya!
I am a pledge carrying, hat wearing, oath sworn, blood pricked member of the Ya-Ya's. I am a sustah. A sustah of the Divine Ya-Ya's.
And today, praise the Lord!, was our monthly girlfest where the 7 of us, all homeschooling moms, get together (17 children between us), eat (mostly desserts, today there were about 5), drink coffee and run our mouths for as long as possible. Normally we get together between 10 and 11 in the morning and leave at a respectable time - like when the husbands start coming home from work.
Some of our husbands have asked what the heck we do all day. Well....we don't know. Do we have to "do" something? Can't we just talk? One Ya-Ya husband, unfortunate man that he was, came home during one of our fests and later told his wife we sounded like a brood of cackling hens. We understand that they don't understand and we don't care. We talk until we are winded, laugh until our cheeks ache and eat until we're about to burst.
So here's to the sustahs! Sustah Dremi! Sustah C.! Sustah T1 and Sustah T2! Sustah Leesha! Sustah Beckster! Love you gals....thanks for the laughs....thanks for the love. Can't wait 'til next month.
And today, praise the Lord!, was our monthly girlfest where the 7 of us, all homeschooling moms, get together (17 children between us), eat (mostly desserts, today there were about 5), drink coffee and run our mouths for as long as possible. Normally we get together between 10 and 11 in the morning and leave at a respectable time - like when the husbands start coming home from work.
Some of our husbands have asked what the heck we do all day. Well....we don't know. Do we have to "do" something? Can't we just talk? One Ya-Ya husband, unfortunate man that he was, came home during one of our fests and later told his wife we sounded like a brood of cackling hens. We understand that they don't understand and we don't care. We talk until we are winded, laugh until our cheeks ache and eat until we're about to burst.
So here's to the sustahs! Sustah Dremi! Sustah C.! Sustah T1 and Sustah T2! Sustah Leesha! Sustah Beckster! Love you gals....thanks for the laughs....thanks for the love. Can't wait 'til next month.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Well, I think it's obvious these pictures should be down there with my Keeping Big Momma post, but I'm still figuring out how to post pix on this thing. Anywho! Check us out! Even Nice Guy got in on the action with me. A little Sly and the Family Stone. Notice how WHITE my hand is. It had yet to receive the Dermablend treatment.
What Smells?
I'm currently testing this hypothesis: "The older girls get, the smellier they become."
Forget poopy diapers and spit up. Forget dried, mashed yams on their sweet little faces. You are from yesteryear. And you are nothing a little Lysol and soap can't fix.
Instead, let's take some very cherry shower gel, vanilla body lotion, freesia body splash, strawberry lip gloss, apple shampoo, pear conditioner, fresh ocean deodorant and combine it with hair gel, hair straightener, hair spray and hair serum. Apply to one tall, but tiny 14 year-old. Needless to say, I cope with this on a daily basis by staying a wee bit at a distance.
I have a dilemma when there's a spend-the-night party here, though, because we now have 7 or 8 other girls with similar combinations. Instead of just vanilla body lotion, we could also have cucumber melon, plumeria or juniper breeze. Instead of a simple pear splash, we might also have warm vanilla, black raspberry, or brown sugar. Multiple that by 7 (or 8). And then mutiply again by all the shampoos, lotions, hair tonics, splashes and conditioners one teenage girl has on her self at one time. It's an equation beyond my mathematical abilities but will help you see why a gas mask would be a good Christmas present for me. Currently I handle the situation by taking a deep breath, running into the playroom and throwing sodas and popcorn at them before I turn blue and pass out.
Thank you Bath and Body Works, at least I always know where she is. Even if we are in the middle of a crowded store weeks before Christmas and I've lost sight of her, I can tell she's close by. And although I can't get real close to her anymore, no boy will either. And, while I used to think you were an instrument of Satan, I'm starting to wonder if an enterprising mother created you in her kitchen just in time to unleash it on her adolescent child.
Forget poopy diapers and spit up. Forget dried, mashed yams on their sweet little faces. You are from yesteryear. And you are nothing a little Lysol and soap can't fix.
Instead, let's take some very cherry shower gel, vanilla body lotion, freesia body splash, strawberry lip gloss, apple shampoo, pear conditioner, fresh ocean deodorant and combine it with hair gel, hair straightener, hair spray and hair serum. Apply to one tall, but tiny 14 year-old. Needless to say, I cope with this on a daily basis by staying a wee bit at a distance.
I have a dilemma when there's a spend-the-night party here, though, because we now have 7 or 8 other girls with similar combinations. Instead of just vanilla body lotion, we could also have cucumber melon, plumeria or juniper breeze. Instead of a simple pear splash, we might also have warm vanilla, black raspberry, or brown sugar. Multiple that by 7 (or 8). And then mutiply again by all the shampoos, lotions, hair tonics, splashes and conditioners one teenage girl has on her self at one time. It's an equation beyond my mathematical abilities but will help you see why a gas mask would be a good Christmas present for me. Currently I handle the situation by taking a deep breath, running into the playroom and throwing sodas and popcorn at them before I turn blue and pass out.
Thank you Bath and Body Works, at least I always know where she is. Even if we are in the middle of a crowded store weeks before Christmas and I've lost sight of her, I can tell she's close by. And although I can't get real close to her anymore, no boy will either. And, while I used to think you were an instrument of Satan, I'm starting to wonder if an enterprising mother created you in her kitchen just in time to unleash it on her adolescent child.
I'm Keeping Big Momma
Only a jealous, catty woman keeps her beauty secrets to herself, so that is why I'm proud to share with you, right here, right now, my latest beauty product discoveries.
I would never have found these items unless I was trying to become a black woman. As fate would have it, this is exactly what I was doing this past weekend for our church Christmas play. Officially, I was an angel. A black angel. Without wings. (A 4 year-old pointed this out to me when the play was over.) In real-time I am a laid-back, pale, blonde woman, so it was going to take quite a bit to turn me into a dark-skinned sistah.
Having been in my share of mixed congregation Pentecostal churches, I already had the voice and attitude. Just to make sure, I watched Juanita Bynum on the internet Friday afternoon and added a last minute prop: a white hankie. The woman is loud, anointed AND beautiful. Her make-up is flawless, her nails perfect, her hair silky, her skin creamy. Inspired, I decided to scope out some appropriate beauty products. Products, I being a stay-at-home mom don't normally wear, but a jazzy black woman would.
As background information, you should know I had already purchased my wig: a black beehive. (For Halloween next year, I'm thinking I might be a Shirelle, as my wig looked just like the one pictured here, 2nd from the left.) I had also purchased a small jar of Dermablend make-up, chroma 6. So, I had the skin and the hair, but I needed darker make-up to show up on this new skin. Some dragon nails and false eyelashes would be a hoot too, I reasoned.
So, I happened to be at Target and decided to check out the cosmetics section. Well, looky there. Target has a line of make-up for black women called Milani. Gazing at me from the eyeshadow slot was a compact of Panther-colored eyeshadow called Atlantis. "Haa!" I yell in victory. I grab it like there's a mob of make-up hungry women behind me and shove it in my buggy. Before we progress, didya take a second to click on that Panther link right there? Because you have to grasp the color. It is bright, royal blue. BRIGHT! The sistahs are doing it now, I think.
Next, we come to eyelashes. Gosh. These look nice. 100% sterilized human hair. Hmmm...when did this happen? My memory of false eyelashes is playing with these plastic spider looking thingys my grandma had in her bathroom when I was little. I might could actually use these later. So I look for a pair that would be wearable in the future and snag some.
Nails. Dragon Nails. I know they make them, but I don't see any. Instead, on sale for a very good price, are some respectably long ones painted the exact same color as my toenails. In the buggy they go (this is how you can tell I'm from the South....not cart, buggy.)
So I get home and pull everything out. On goes the Dermablend. I try to make myself even darker than dress rehearsal night. Alright. Looking good. I pencil in BLACK eyebrows. Nice. A swath of frosty blue on each eyelid and then I pop open Atlantis. I begin painting my crease with this and step back. Hunh....that's......gosh.....that's pretty! What a pretty color! It looks nothing like it does sitting alone in the compact. I add more to make it darker. There. Hmm....will have to check that out later.
On go the lashes. Ouch. Okay, how do I get these to not stick to my tear duct? Not easy to get them on. Glue, press, wrong, peel off, restick....my hand is cramping, but finally, they are in place and at a level of irritation I can live with for the next few hours. I bat my eyes at myself. Nice Guy walks in and I bat my eyes at him. He chuckles. "You're darker than you were last night," he notices, "lookin' good!" Banana walks in, "Ohmigosh!! You do NOT look good as a black person!" I do a Juanita on her and she laughs. "That's pretty good," she says, "Ohmigosh, mom, you're going to be SO funny!" Lastly I stick on my nails. Glue, stick. Glue, stick. Easy and sooo pretty! Looks like I just had a manicure.
So....I look good. I go to church and do the play. Success. People don't know it's me. My pastor gushes that we need to do it again! Everyone was funny, not just me. It was a humorous look at the birth of Jesus, shall we say. The littlest kids are kind of in awe. I'm kissing them all on the cheek with my bright red lips and telling them not to wash off their "angel kisses." The older boys are running by and laughing and calling me Big Momma. I'm not insulted. I'm flattered.
And then it's over and I go home to my beauty products.
Next day, I try a little, bitty bit of the eyeshadow and it's gorgeous! Brings out my blue-green eyes. Normally, I wear eyeliner and mascara so this is a big improvement. And my beautiful long red nails are still stuck in place. It's been 3 days now and I've only had to reglue 2 of them. I think I'm gonna keep them. Yesterday I had to run by Walgreens and decided to take notice of what else is available. I'm thinking I'm going to try a shorter, French manicure next.
As for the eyelashes, well, they are still sitting there in the case. I'll probably use them when Nice Guy and I have our next date. I can bat my blue-painted, long-lashed eyes at him and run my fake nails lovingly and meaningfully up his arm.
So, who woulda thunk it? Fake nails, fake lashes and screamin' blue eyeshadow. Next time you feel like your beauty routine is stagnant, think ethnic....think Juanita!
I would never have found these items unless I was trying to become a black woman. As fate would have it, this is exactly what I was doing this past weekend for our church Christmas play. Officially, I was an angel. A black angel. Without wings. (A 4 year-old pointed this out to me when the play was over.) In real-time I am a laid-back, pale, blonde woman, so it was going to take quite a bit to turn me into a dark-skinned sistah.
Having been in my share of mixed congregation Pentecostal churches, I already had the voice and attitude. Just to make sure, I watched Juanita Bynum on the internet Friday afternoon and added a last minute prop: a white hankie. The woman is loud, anointed AND beautiful. Her make-up is flawless, her nails perfect, her hair silky, her skin creamy. Inspired, I decided to scope out some appropriate beauty products. Products, I being a stay-at-home mom don't normally wear, but a jazzy black woman would.
As background information, you should know I had already purchased my wig: a black beehive. (For Halloween next year, I'm thinking I might be a Shirelle, as my wig looked just like the one pictured here, 2nd from the left.) I had also purchased a small jar of Dermablend make-up, chroma 6. So, I had the skin and the hair, but I needed darker make-up to show up on this new skin. Some dragon nails and false eyelashes would be a hoot too, I reasoned.
So, I happened to be at Target and decided to check out the cosmetics section. Well, looky there. Target has a line of make-up for black women called Milani. Gazing at me from the eyeshadow slot was a compact of Panther-colored eyeshadow called Atlantis. "Haa!" I yell in victory. I grab it like there's a mob of make-up hungry women behind me and shove it in my buggy. Before we progress, didya take a second to click on that Panther link right there? Because you have to grasp the color. It is bright, royal blue. BRIGHT! The sistahs are doing it now, I think.
Next, we come to eyelashes. Gosh. These look nice. 100% sterilized human hair. Hmmm...when did this happen? My memory of false eyelashes is playing with these plastic spider looking thingys my grandma had in her bathroom when I was little. I might could actually use these later. So I look for a pair that would be wearable in the future and snag some.
Nails. Dragon Nails. I know they make them, but I don't see any. Instead, on sale for a very good price, are some respectably long ones painted the exact same color as my toenails. In the buggy they go (this is how you can tell I'm from the South....not cart, buggy.)
So I get home and pull everything out. On goes the Dermablend. I try to make myself even darker than dress rehearsal night. Alright. Looking good. I pencil in BLACK eyebrows. Nice. A swath of frosty blue on each eyelid and then I pop open Atlantis. I begin painting my crease with this and step back. Hunh....that's......gosh.....that's pretty! What a pretty color! It looks nothing like it does sitting alone in the compact. I add more to make it darker. There. Hmm....will have to check that out later.
On go the lashes. Ouch. Okay, how do I get these to not stick to my tear duct? Not easy to get them on. Glue, press, wrong, peel off, restick....my hand is cramping, but finally, they are in place and at a level of irritation I can live with for the next few hours. I bat my eyes at myself. Nice Guy walks in and I bat my eyes at him. He chuckles. "You're darker than you were last night," he notices, "lookin' good!" Banana walks in, "Ohmigosh!! You do NOT look good as a black person!" I do a Juanita on her and she laughs. "That's pretty good," she says, "Ohmigosh, mom, you're going to be SO funny!" Lastly I stick on my nails. Glue, stick. Glue, stick. Easy and sooo pretty! Looks like I just had a manicure.
So....I look good. I go to church and do the play. Success. People don't know it's me. My pastor gushes that we need to do it again! Everyone was funny, not just me. It was a humorous look at the birth of Jesus, shall we say. The littlest kids are kind of in awe. I'm kissing them all on the cheek with my bright red lips and telling them not to wash off their "angel kisses." The older boys are running by and laughing and calling me Big Momma. I'm not insulted. I'm flattered.
And then it's over and I go home to my beauty products.
Next day, I try a little, bitty bit of the eyeshadow and it's gorgeous! Brings out my blue-green eyes. Normally, I wear eyeliner and mascara so this is a big improvement. And my beautiful long red nails are still stuck in place. It's been 3 days now and I've only had to reglue 2 of them. I think I'm gonna keep them. Yesterday I had to run by Walgreens and decided to take notice of what else is available. I'm thinking I'm going to try a shorter, French manicure next.
As for the eyelashes, well, they are still sitting there in the case. I'll probably use them when Nice Guy and I have our next date. I can bat my blue-painted, long-lashed eyes at him and run my fake nails lovingly and meaningfully up his arm.
So, who woulda thunk it? Fake nails, fake lashes and screamin' blue eyeshadow. Next time you feel like your beauty routine is stagnant, think ethnic....think Juanita!
Friday, December 09, 2005
Feeding Teenagers
This is a good example of why our grocery bill went from less than $400 a month several years ago to about $600 now. I'm trying to cut it back down, but, well, I'll let you witness why this is difficult to do when my children eat several planned meals in one sitting.
Care Bare (who will be 13 in a matter of weeks and is probably about to hit her growth spurt as her older sister is now almost 6 feet tall): Moommmm.....can I make some eggs and bacon for breakfast?
Me (on the computer ignoring the fact that today is Muffin Day and would require my being downstairs and actually making said muffins): sure, sure.......but make sure you make some for everybody!
Daniel (whining): Ewwww....I don't like eggs!
Me: It's okay, you can have some cereal. We'll have bacon and eggs and cereal for breakfast.
Daniel: okay
Later on Caris, having finished her eggs, comes into the kitchen and starts pulling a bowl out of the cabinet.
Me: What are you doing?
Caris: Getting some cereal.
Me (exasperated): But you just had eggs and bacon!
Care: But you said we could have eggs and bacon and cereal for breakfast.
Me: Yeah, but I meant.....oh never mind.
I've learned to just shut up and feed them.
Care Bare (who will be 13 in a matter of weeks and is probably about to hit her growth spurt as her older sister is now almost 6 feet tall): Moommmm.....can I make some eggs and bacon for breakfast?
Me (on the computer ignoring the fact that today is Muffin Day and would require my being downstairs and actually making said muffins): sure, sure.......but make sure you make some for everybody!
Daniel (whining): Ewwww....I don't like eggs!
Me: It's okay, you can have some cereal. We'll have bacon and eggs and cereal for breakfast.
Daniel: okay
Later on Caris, having finished her eggs, comes into the kitchen and starts pulling a bowl out of the cabinet.
Me: What are you doing?
Caris: Getting some cereal.
Me (exasperated): But you just had eggs and bacon!
Care: But you said we could have eggs and bacon and cereal for breakfast.
Me: Yeah, but I meant.....oh never mind.
I've learned to just shut up and feed them.
I'm an 80's Child
Valley Girl
She's a Valley Girl
Valley Girl
She's a Valley Girl
Okay, fine
Fer sure, fer sure
She's a Valley Girl
In a clothing store
Okay, fine...Fer sure, fer sure
She's a Valley Girl
In a clothing store
Like, OH MY GOD! (Valley Girl)
Like - TOTALLY (Valley Girl)
Encino is like SO BITCHEN (Valley Girl)
There's like the Galleria (Valley Girl)
And like all these like really great shoe stores
I love going into like clothing stores and stuff
I like buy the neatest mini-skirts and stuff
It s like so BITCHEN cuz like everybody's like
Super-super nice
Hi Moon Unit. You were like totally my hero when I was in high school. I knew all the words to your song, but now I can barely remember the tune. Even living in South Carolina, I soooo totally, wanted to be a Valley Girl. It was much more fun than my prep phase. I wore headbands and leg warmers with my mini-skirts. I wore ruffles and lace and strange color combinations. It's the only time in my life I've ever worn flourescent pink. But now I'm 38 years-old and I have three children in a one-income family and so I shop at Goodwill. But thank you, Moon Unit for being a part of my childhood and teaching me Valspeak. My ability to interject non-sensical words into the middle of my speech and turn narrative sentences into questions was greatly increased because of you. It's unfortunate that I still like totally overuse the word like when I'm talking, though.
So, last night I watched Clueless - that Alicia Silverstone is such a Betty! Did you know that movie is from like 10 years ago? Ohmigod! Time flies.
So anyway, don't ask why I was actually watching that movie. I'll just say my daughter got it from the library and I'd had a long day and it was like 10:00 and I like wanted to watch some fluff before I went to bed.
I woke up wondering: is the Valley Girl still alive and shopping? Or has our current world situation finally knocked some sense into her silicone stuffed head? I decided to do some research. I'm happy to say my generation spawned THE original Vals. (Ohmigod! There's a Nicolas Cage movie from 1982 called Valley Girl. The chick is Deborah Foreman, don't know who she is. I've never seen that. What a riot! I might have to find that. Maybe watch it with my sister. Listen to some Valspeak and New Wave music again.) At any rate, when the famous Galleria Mall opened in the San Fernando Valley it was teen girl nirvana. Pac-man games! Boutiques! And the girls hanging out there somehow were bestowed with the name Valley Girl. And like any trend that comes and goes, it seems the Valley Girl has passed with time. So I don't know how, only 10 years ago, Alicia Silverstone ended up making a movie mocking this stereo-typical shallow gal that lives in the Valley. I'm sure teenage girls still live there. I guess they just shop somewhere else.
She's a Valley Girl
Valley Girl
She's a Valley Girl
Okay, fine
Fer sure, fer sure
She's a Valley Girl
In a clothing store
Okay, fine...Fer sure, fer sure
She's a Valley Girl
In a clothing store
Like, OH MY GOD! (Valley Girl)
Like - TOTALLY (Valley Girl)
Encino is like SO BITCHEN (Valley Girl)
There's like the Galleria (Valley Girl)
And like all these like really great shoe stores
I love going into like clothing stores and stuff
I like buy the neatest mini-skirts and stuff
It s like so BITCHEN cuz like everybody's like
Super-super nice
Hi Moon Unit. You were like totally my hero when I was in high school. I knew all the words to your song, but now I can barely remember the tune. Even living in South Carolina, I soooo totally, wanted to be a Valley Girl. It was much more fun than my prep phase. I wore headbands and leg warmers with my mini-skirts. I wore ruffles and lace and strange color combinations. It's the only time in my life I've ever worn flourescent pink. But now I'm 38 years-old and I have three children in a one-income family and so I shop at Goodwill. But thank you, Moon Unit for being a part of my childhood and teaching me Valspeak. My ability to interject non-sensical words into the middle of my speech and turn narrative sentences into questions was greatly increased because of you. It's unfortunate that I still like totally overuse the word like when I'm talking, though.
So, last night I watched Clueless - that Alicia Silverstone is such a Betty! Did you know that movie is from like 10 years ago? Ohmigod! Time flies.
So anyway, don't ask why I was actually watching that movie. I'll just say my daughter got it from the library and I'd had a long day and it was like 10:00 and I like wanted to watch some fluff before I went to bed.
I woke up wondering: is the Valley Girl still alive and shopping? Or has our current world situation finally knocked some sense into her silicone stuffed head? I decided to do some research. I'm happy to say my generation spawned THE original Vals. (Ohmigod! There's a Nicolas Cage movie from 1982 called Valley Girl. The chick is Deborah Foreman, don't know who she is. I've never seen that. What a riot! I might have to find that. Maybe watch it with my sister. Listen to some Valspeak and New Wave music again.) At any rate, when the famous Galleria Mall opened in the San Fernando Valley it was teen girl nirvana. Pac-man games! Boutiques! And the girls hanging out there somehow were bestowed with the name Valley Girl. And like any trend that comes and goes, it seems the Valley Girl has passed with time. So I don't know how, only 10 years ago, Alicia Silverstone ended up making a movie mocking this stereo-typical shallow gal that lives in the Valley. I'm sure teenage girls still live there. I guess they just shop somewhere else.
Pancake Breakfast
Nothing promotes me to Super Mom status (see my picture) more than making my kids pancakes for breakfast. It is the only breakfast item left in our house that everyone likes. For some reason Banana has decided she hates cold cereal now (not that cold cereal fills anyone up for more than 30 minutes), Party Man thinks eggs are gross and Care Bear doesn't like toast. Wah, wah, wah....I get sick of listening to it. But pancakes! You should see the attention I get around here when I mention that magic word!
Now, from Mom's point of view.....who wants to make pancakes for breakfast? Even as a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom, this breakfast is a pain to make. You have to measure ingredients! And pull all the baking stuff out! And it makes a mess! Eggs, milk, baking powder, did I forget anything? My mom only made pancakes for dinner - smart. So anyway, I was so happy when I discovered this recipe for pancake mix! (You'll need to scroll down a bit to find it.) Leanne Ely you rock, girlfriend! AND biggest bonus of all, it contains several different types of grains other than white flour. It makes a very nice tasting pancake if I do say so myself.
Now, from Mom's point of view.....who wants to make pancakes for breakfast? Even as a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom, this breakfast is a pain to make. You have to measure ingredients! And pull all the baking stuff out! And it makes a mess! Eggs, milk, baking powder, did I forget anything? My mom only made pancakes for dinner - smart. So anyway, I was so happy when I discovered this recipe for pancake mix! (You'll need to scroll down a bit to find it.) Leanne Ely you rock, girlfriend! AND biggest bonus of all, it contains several different types of grains other than white flour. It makes a very nice tasting pancake if I do say so myself.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
A Blog Birth
First thought upon awakening, "I have a blog!" I was giddy - even after 4 hours of sleep. Sort of like childbirth. And then I started questioning THE NAME. Sway....what was I thinking? It's was 3:00 am when I thought of that. Surely there are better names for my baby. I am, as I will explain in a minute, all into names. Naming this blog is like naming a child. The pressure to get it right! This kid will have this name forever. You want to sum up their true essence - decipher who they will be - cast their future. Titles are popping around in my head like rice crispies.
Snippets. Cute. Setting a tone for my fondness towards the sarcastic turn of phrase and the rantings of a woman who homeschools three children and lists junking as a hobby.
Maniacal Prophet. Oooohhh, how interesting! Lotso fun there. This would be in honor of my kooky, deeply spiritual husband who inspires me daily.
Ricochet. A little nod to my growing hormone imbalance as I inch closer to 40.
My fondness for titles stems from my once upon a time life when I was a writer. People paid me to write catchy headings for their ads. You call that being a copywriter. People don't know what a copywriter is unless they are in "the business" (advertising). When people find out I write they invariably ask, "What have you published?"
I answer, "Well, I started as a journalist at a newspaper, but mostly I've worked as a copywriter."
"Oh?" they say, "What's that?"
"You know," I answer, "if you've ever gotten a catalog in the mail or an advertisement for say, toothpaste? The wording in that is called copy."
"You mean the junk mail I throw away?"
"Ummm....yeah." I say.
That's why Homeschool Mom is my profession of choice now, but I digress. The title I chose last night: Sway. I like that because it sums up the influence and force of God in my life. It also perfectly describes how I'd like to daily walk with God. Under the Holy Spirit's influence and sovereign power and, most importantly, swayed by His passion and love. So I think I'll keep that. But expect many Snippets along the way, the voice of the Maniacal Prophet and Ricocheting thoughts. Sometimes one name is not enough.
Snippets. Cute. Setting a tone for my fondness towards the sarcastic turn of phrase and the rantings of a woman who homeschools three children and lists junking as a hobby.
Maniacal Prophet. Oooohhh, how interesting! Lotso fun there. This would be in honor of my kooky, deeply spiritual husband who inspires me daily.
Ricochet. A little nod to my growing hormone imbalance as I inch closer to 40.
My fondness for titles stems from my once upon a time life when I was a writer. People paid me to write catchy headings for their ads. You call that being a copywriter. People don't know what a copywriter is unless they are in "the business" (advertising). When people find out I write they invariably ask, "What have you published?"
I answer, "Well, I started as a journalist at a newspaper, but mostly I've worked as a copywriter."
"Oh?" they say, "What's that?"
"You know," I answer, "if you've ever gotten a catalog in the mail or an advertisement for say, toothpaste? The wording in that is called copy."
"You mean the junk mail I throw away?"
"Ummm....yeah." I say.
That's why Homeschool Mom is my profession of choice now, but I digress. The title I chose last night: Sway. I like that because it sums up the influence and force of God in my life. It also perfectly describes how I'd like to daily walk with God. Under the Holy Spirit's influence and sovereign power and, most importantly, swayed by His passion and love. So I think I'll keep that. But expect many Snippets along the way, the voice of the Maniacal Prophet and Ricocheting thoughts. Sometimes one name is not enough.
I'm here!
I made it!!! I have a blog!!! It's like I scrapbooked my journal or something!!! It's so pretty and organized!!! Do you see how all the exclamation points are conveying my excitement at 3:00 in the morning? My friend Allison said it was easy to blog and she was right about the computer part....click, click, click, here we go. But my gosh, the pressure to find the right title for the page! To pick the right template! What about my web-address? My profile? What, oh what, will I say to convey the true essence of ME?
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