Archives for May 2006

It’s A Sickness, That’s What It Is

I’m pretty private about my blog. I have only told my close friends and family, I don’t put my real name on here, I haven’t told our friends at church about it – and you can ask me why all you want to, but the bottom line is that it’s hard for me to explain. It may have something to do with the fact that I don’t like to talk about what I’ve written – I write it down, and I read the comments, and I move on. The few times that I have been around people who were talking about what I’ve written, I was so uncomfortable that I can’t even articulate it. I wanted to crawl under the floor and stay there until The Blog Talk stopped (so yes, Emma Kate, THANK YOU for bringing it up in front of our friends who didn’t know the other night. That was a lot of fun for me).

Another aspect of my blog secrecy is that I’m a little afraid that I’ll tell somebody – maybe someone from church – and they’d read it and I’d run into them later and ask if they read it and they’d say, “Um. I. Uh. Yeah. I read it.” And then the deafening silent disapproval would consume me.

ANYWAY, a couple of days ago a friend of ours mentioned that a former staff member at our church has a blog. D. found it, bookmarked it, and when I finally got around to reading it, there were links to eight or nine people from church who also blog. None of the people are close friends of mine – just people I chat with on Sundays, or speak to when we’re getting our kids from the nursery, or work with on a project from time to time.

So you can probably imagine what I’ve been doing all afternoon…it’s like there’s a whole new planet in my blogging universe. And I kind of want to comment on their sites – because now I feel free to tell them about mine – but is that invading their privacy somehow? Why do I feel like I need to be invited? Why is this so much weirder when dealing with people you know than it is when dealing with people you don’t know?

Could I possibly be more paranoid?

We Hope To Have Our Hearing Back By Tuesday

Lots of fun at the concert last night. We were, as I told D., “disconcertingly close” to The Talent (thanks to Sister, who hooked us up with incredible seats).

When the show started, Faith was on the opposite end of the stage, and D. leaned over to me and said, “Hey, I bet Tim enters the stage right here.”

And just as he said it, like magic, Tim (who from this day forward will be known, at least for the purposes of this blog, as Mr. Hottie McHotterson) appeared before us.

I screamed. Just a little bit.

And then Faith (Mrs. Hottie McHotterson, for the record) made her way to our side of the stage.

Here’s one thing I appreciated about Faith. She was thin, but she wasn’t skinny. The last time we saw them in concert she was rail-thin, but this time she had curves and toned arms and really looked healthy. She also looked like a regular person – no fancy outfits, no over-the-top hair or make-up – she just seemed real and approachable and like someone I could’ve grown up with.

And she sounded great, to boot. D. and I were both impressed with how strong and full her voice was – way better than when we heard her live six years ago. She did a version of “There Will Come A Day” – one of my all-time favorite Faith songs – and it was like listening to great gospel music (in fact, she even said, “Praise Him, Praise His Name” at the end of it, and all I could think about was that Emma Kate would have said, “Did you hear that? Did you hear her? She said, ‘Praise His Name!’Oh, I think I love her now!”).

The second part of the concert was Tim’s solo set.

He was wearing blue jeans.

AHEM. A-HEM. And just so you know, D. listened with amusement to all of my kind comments about Tim’s blue jeans, and I listened with amusement to all of his kind comments about Faith’s appearance, and we still love EACH OTHER very much. We’re also quite confident that Tim and Faith love each other, too.

At the end of the show, our pretend celebrity couple BFF did a few numbers together, and I LOVED the dress that Faith wore. It looked so much like something Liz would wear that I wanted to call her, describe it, and then see if she could find it on the internet. ADORABLE.

All in all – it was a great show. Aside from the drunken revelers who kept working their way down to our seats, hardly able to keep their balance, sloshing their drinks all over the steps, it was a fun crowd. And the police eventually gave the drunken revelers some gentle encouragement to return to their assigned seating. And seriously – Tim McGraw is a great live performer. He has the personality, the vocals, the blue jeans :-) – he is just a ton of fun to see live. So if you get the chance….

In other bloggity news, I haven’t forgotten about my LBY post for this week. But after working on it yesterday, I decided that it might be a wee bit personal to post on the interweb…the topic (gentleness) definitely hit home with me, especially the part about having a teachable spirit, which is an area where I’ve been struggling lately. But since I don’t want to say anything that could be construed as divisive, and since I don’t want to be SO vague that people would read it and say, “HUH?” – I’m contemplating keeping this one to myself. If I have time today, though, I may try to re-write it altogether. Just so you know.

Young’Uns: They Teach You Stuff

Last Saturday morning David spent several hours on the front porch – cleaning everything with Clorox, clearing out cobwebs, making sure all the surfaces were ready for the coat of white paint that’s coming their way.

Alex was inside with me since children and large amounts of bleach don’t mix, and about once a minute he’d run to the front door, look outside, jump up and down and say, “I wanna see MY daddy. I wanna see MY daddy, Mama.”

I’ve talked several times about A.’s ever-growing allegiance to and obsession with his daddy, but the whole “MY daddy” thing was new to me. There’s OWNERSHIP in that pronoun, POSSESSION implied, and I got the message – loud and clear – that in Alex’s mind, lest I harbor any notions to the contrary, David belongs to Alex and Alex alone.

Sometimes I have moments of insanity where I fancy that I can actually reason with Alex, that I can put my three key points into some form of multi-media presentation, explain them objectively while using my laser pointer, and at the end of the lesson Alex will look at me and say, “Oh yes, Mother. I understand now. The three critical components of playing nicely with others are 1) no pushing 2) no hitting and 3) sharing toys. Thank you for teaching me today!”

So when Alex started up with the “MY daddy” chorus Saturday morning, I tried to be fairly rational: “Yep, he’s a great daddy…the best daddy in the world – but you need to come away from the door – there’s no point in standing there all morning waiting for your daddy to come inside.””

Somehow Alex got the idea that I was trying to claim David as my own father, and he got very defensive: “NO, MAMA! He’s not YOUR daddy! He’s MY daddy! He’s NOT! YOUR! DADDY!”

I explained that yes, I was aware of that, and perhaps after Alex finished with time out for ALL! THE! SCREAMING!, we could change the subject to something like Veggie Tales or “Finding Nemo.” There’s much less emotion involved with those two things.

But I couldn’t get his insistence about “MY daddy” out of my head.

The older I get, the more I realize that every single struggle I have with God is a struggle I also have had with my earthly father. That father / child thing is huge, isn’t it? I don’t think we can overestimate how our relationships with daddies impact the way we interact with our Heavenly Father.

So I decided, as I re-played the scene from that morning in my mind, that if Alex wants to cry out to his daddy, claiming him as his very own, if he wants to stand at the door and wait for the second that his daddy comes back inside, I will let him. Because every single time that David returns to him, every single time that he comforts him, every single time that he throws his arms around our little boy and responds to him with patience and love, Alex is forming a frame of reference that His Heavenly Father will respond exactly the same way.

It was a total a-ha moment: I need to encourage Alex to seek his father so that one day he will seek his Father, knowing that he can trust him and Him, knowing that they both will answer.

And I just had to write that down.

Temporarily Interrupting Frantic Housecleaning For A Brief Message

I’m not sure what sort of direct line you people have to God, but right after I posted about Emma Kate’s church situation yesterday, things started moving into high gear. Over the last couple of months EK has said to me, “Oh, wouldn’t it be neat if THIS THING could happen,” and then yesterday it all started to fall in place. Their small group made some major decisions last night, but since I don’t have the next four hours to devote to typing, I’ll probably tell the story in increments somewhere down the road.

All that to say – EK and her hubby are coming for supper tonight. And their three kids. And some other friends of ours. And their kids. Without going into all the details (what else is new, Mrs. McVaguery?), but I think the biggest “God is at work here” moment was when I asked EK what time they’d be here (keep in mind she’s 2 1/2 hours away from me), and she told me that they were flying because a plane – YES, I said a PLANE – had been made available to them…someone flying to Atlanta agreed to drop them off here on the way over and stop and pick them up on the way back home.

In the midst of everything else (sorry, Sarah – I stole your first three words), :-) EK and I both had the kind of mornings you have when God is trying to work and the devil just gets all up in your business. Emma Kate actually rebuked the devil in an email to me, and I got so tickled because it seemed oh-so-very 21st century of her. I’m pretty sure it was the first time I’ve opened an email and seen the phrase “Satan, get thee behind me” in the opening line…but it worked!

Anyway – they’ll be here any minute, so I better finish my “chores.” And Mama and Daddy are coming in tonight, too, because tomorrow night David and I will be with the lovely Ms. Faith Hill and the handsome Mr. Tim McGraw. We’ll be on row nine, which I believe is the closest security will let me get to Faith (given my obsession with her and my pronouncement that she’s my BFF) without alerting the authorities and filing a restraining order.

So tonight, I’ll be with my real-life best friend, and tomorrow night, I’ll be with my pretend-celebrity best friend (but at a safe distance, so that I don’t, you know, SCARE HER).

As Alex would say, “THAT’S SO EXCITING!”

Soul Patrol!

I’m just sayin’.

So yay Taylor and all that, but y’all, that was the weirdest two hours of television I’ve ever seen.

Meatloaf? Mary J. Blige? Burt Bacarach? Dionne Warwick? Toni Braxton? Al Jarreau? The most random line-up of artists ever.

The weirdest was the whole Clay Aiken thing – so weird in fact that I found it difficult to watch, primarily because Clay’s hair was flat-ironed within an inch of its life and dyed auburn to boot, but those things didn’t seem to bother the young man who sat on the stool and hollered while Clay sang. BI-ZARRE.

The highlights? Carrie Underwood was great, and I thought Prince was delightful.

David pointed out that all the Idols’ “routines” remind him of The Brady Bunch – and I feel that’s an excellent call.

So Idol ’06 is officially over – no more Tuesday night “live blogging” – I’m sure you’re all crushed and will be waiting on the edge of your monitors for next season. Regardless, I think we can all agree on at least one thing: I spent far too much time thinking and writing about a reality singing competition considering that I’m, you know, GROWN. But as Alan Jackson says, “Too much of a good thing – is a good thing.” :-)

BooMama OUT.

The Only Drawback Is That His Cholesterol Is Now 794

I just read a thoroughly entertaining article on fast food by NY Times food critic Frank Bruni. It’s odd to see such beautifully constructed sentences dedicated to Whataburger and Chick Fil A, but it’s a fun read.

Plus, I’m hungry. Glowing words about Blizzards speak to me right now.

Link via Throwing Things.