Archives for March 2006

Right before David’s birthday this year, we found ourselves immersed in the diagnosis and treatment of his upper rib fat cancer.

Tonight, in keeping with our family birthday tradition of illness or injury right before That Special Day, Alex sliced his foot open on a piece of broken plate. And no, it wasn’t because we had a Zorba moment and started slinging china around the kitchen while we performed Greek dances and prepared hummus. Unbeknownst to us, a shard was partially sticking out of a garbage bag that was by the back door but had not yet been taken to the garbage can. Alex’s foot hit the garbage bag at the wrong angle, and, well, there was some cuttage.

I managed to get Alex out of the kitchen and into the den as I somehow simultaneously ripped off some paper towels to soak up the blood. I got him on the couch, elevated his foot, and tried to apply pressure, although how I knew to elevate and apply pressure I’m not sure, unless I picked it up on an episode of ER (see? television IS so very handy). David was trying to pull out the First Aid kit and get me a wet bathcloth so I could clean the cut, and the following is my best recollection of Alex’s words, and I am actually quite confident in the accuracy of said recollection:

“NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO DON’T TOUCH FOOT NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO WANNA GET DOWN NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO DON’T WANT DADDY NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO DON’T WANT STICKER NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO DON’T TOUCH FOOT NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO LET GO FOOT MAMA NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO.”

And that was just until we got the Band-Aids on.

After offering Veggie Tales fruit snacks (refused), Coke (refused), and a chance to sit in my lap (refused), I finally remembered that the birthday present Alex’s godfather sent him was on the dining room table.

Never, ever underestimate the power of a Blue’s Clues book and the Golden Book Bible for Children. Nearly instantaneous relief from the screaming.

So we spent the next hour and half, David and I, sitting on the couch with Mr. Man and pretending to be excited when Alex found Blue or Magenta or Side-Table Drawer under a flap in the Blue’s Clues book. And we looked at Baby Moses and Noah and all the animals on the ark, though in keeping with his strong Jewish heritage Alex lost all interest when we got to the part about Jesus.

Oh, I’m kidding. KIDDING. We love Jesus around here.

Anyway, he hobbled around for the rest of the night, and right before we went upstairs for his bedtime, I said, “Alex, how’s that foot?”

His reply: “It’s better, Mama. I’m SO proud.”

Mama here is proud, too – proud that he’s okay, proud that he’s not screaming anymore, and proud that he’s sleeping peacefully…snug as an injured bug in a rug. Bless him.

When I was trying to come up with a title, I was thinking “State of Affairs” or “Making a Statement” or somesuch oh-no-she-didn’t-now-I-have-to-roll-my-eyes nonsense. Which reminds me. Have y’all seen Fred Smoot when he introduces himself on Monday Night Football and says, “Fred Smoot, cornerback, THE Mississippi State University”? I don’t know why I just thought of that, but I did, so there.

Okay. Moving on.

Many of the forties of you who visit here went to State. Some of you went to Ole Miss, but we really don’t hold it against you, because State folks are, as a rule, very welcoming, accepting and gracious. But we do pray for you.

Seriously, I’ve had a couple of moments lately – and I think it’s due in large part to the time of year – where I have had vivid memories of Starkville. Now I know that sportscasters and sportswriters like to make fun of Starkville and say things like “the name says it all” or use the word “rural” five times in one paragraph or question why any sane person would choose to attend college in such a small town, but y’all, I just thought it was perfect. It was a wonderful place to spend four five six years. I have such happy memories…and I imagine most of you do, too.

So, here’s the question. What are the three things that, for you, stand out from your time in Starkville or Oxford or wherever you went to college? What are the places or experiences that “sum up” that time of your life?

By the way, I think all of us have moved on – and I’m certainly not advocating that we wade neck-high into the river of “remember when” – but it’s fun to think back on that time and appreciate it.

My three? Just for the record? Why thank you so much for asking.

1. The Hump
2. Driving through Five Points on Friday afternoons in the fall and being surrounded by RV’s and campers
3. Fried cheese from The Grill. Or Harvey’s. But definitely fried cheese because really, when you take a fat-laden product, batter it, and deep fry it, you multiply its delicious goodness.

Honorable mention: sweet tea at Bulldog Deli, Oby’s, riding out to The Refuge on a spring day, and watching Broadcast News 4,279 times. Just an estimation.

Yours?

Chief among those privileges, posting random pictures of your child just because you can.

Alex watched The Lion King for the first time last night, and I initially got out the camera to take pictures of how engrossed he was, but then he turned into a ham (where DID he get such a tendency?), and here you have it.

And somebody is turning three tomorrow….

I’m folding clothes and watching HGTV, and this show called “Pet Pads” just came on. I’ve seen it once before, when it featured a couple in Texas with two adorable Westies, and the couple had built all sorts of dog-friendly features into their home. I enjoyed the show very much.

But today I’m, um, struggling. This epsiode features a woman in Washington who has 17 PIGS living in her home. Not dogs. Not cats. PIGS. And the woman calls herself “the pig whisperer.”

Ahem.

So I would like to document several of her quotes and let you, the reader, come to your own conclusions.

“We built three different areas for our pigs to sleep in in the living room.”
“I have, probably, pretty close to 4500 pig items in this house.”
“This section [of pig cubbies] is [modeled after] a hacienda.”
“We bought this house because it was one level and we don’t have to worry about the pigs going up and down steps or anything.”
“The pigs can’t walk on tile. They slip. So we had all the carpet installed for the pigs.”
“There isn’t a room in this house that isn’t decorated with pigs.”
“This is a pig-only bath.”
“Anything we do is pig-related.”

And her pigs have names like Hog-N-Das, Cinnabon, and Pigstachio.

And she sings them to sleep.

And I’m trying really, really hard to be open-minded. I promise I am.

Do y’all think she eats bacon?

I took this picture when we were outside yesterday…and I promise that while it goes against everything in me to post song lyrics because it just makes me feel like I’m in graduate school all over again and reading too much into EV-E-RY-THING, I have not been able to get this song out of my head for the last two days. So I’m “releasing” it into the interweb. Fare thee well, song-that-repeateth-through-my-brain. Be well. Godspeed.

Plus, in light of our recent discussions about the Indigo Girls, it somehow seems appropriate.

Therefore, I give you “Southland in the Springtime,” stanza two:

In georgia nights are softer than a whisper
Beneath a quilt somebody’s mother made by hand
With the farmland like a tapestry
Passed down through generations
And the peach trees stitched across the land…
…And there’s something bout the southland in the springtime
Where the waters flow with confidence and reason
Though I miss her when I’m gone
It won’t ever be too long
Till I’m home again to spend my favorite season
When God made me born a yankee he was teasin’
There’s no place like home and none more pleasin’
Than the southland in the springtime.

There’s just nowhere on earth as pretty at this time of year. Nowhere.

And I get that this is sort of a cheat post – since I’m not really having to “say” anything – but we just got home from a meeting at church, and I have an embarrassing amount of laundry that demands my attention.

Wanna see a picture? Okay!

So there you have it. I have gone to church, attended a meeting, and confessed all my dirty laundry, just as Jesus wouldst have me to doeth. Now I’m gonna take my “Holy Ghost power” to the laundry room and immerse, cleanse, and make thine towels new again.

Hallelujah.

So Alex just walked up to me with something kind of yellow and gelatinous on his finger, said, “Here, Mama,” and waited for me to remove the mystery object from his person.

And without thinking one thing about it, I looked the object THAT I ASSUMED WAS FROM HIS NOSE, transferred it to my own finger, examined it some more, SNIFFED IT, and said, OUT LOUD: “Hmmm. It’s fruity. Guess it’s gummy bears.”

In the interest of clarity, I should point out that it was in fact gummy bears, and not in fact something from his nose.

But still, y’all. Still.