Archives for August 2006

1) GiBee at Kisses of Sunshine has started a great new way for all of us to recognize excellence in blogging. If you’ve ever read a post and thought, “Gosh, that was dead on,” or “Oh. I fear I just wet my pants,” or “Hmmmm…that was flat-out excellent,” then you need to let GiBee know about it. She will periodically be handing out Awards of Excellence, and I think it’s a wonderful idea because 1) it’s encouraging, just as GiBee is and 2) it can spotlight some lesser-known blogs that have great content.

So the next time you run across an outstanding post or a great blog in general, let GiBee know about it. The guidelines for the awards are on her blog.

And even if you don’t have a nomination, stop by GiBee’s anyway – she’s a hoot. :-)

2) Because it’s never too early to start planning for Christmas, and because it’s so burning up hot that it does me some good to think about cold weather, I want to let y’all know that the BooMama Holiday Tour of Homes will be Friday, December 15, 2006. I still have to do a sidebar button (I don’t think that it’s necessary to have one yet since it’s, you know, AUGUST and all), but I know that we women like to plan ahead and get things penciled in on our calendars and allot plenty of time for the task at hand. So you have a little over four months to get ready. I think that should be fair warning. :-)

Also, if you have any suggestions for what pictures we can feature this time, please let me know…I think the tree is pretty much a given, but I’m open to whatever suggestions you might have.

And I’ll go ahead and put this bit-o-information out there: please pretty please don’t use my humble little blog to generate traffic to yours unless you’re a person who sincerely wants to participate by sharing your home with us.

3) It occurred to me today that we are getting very, very close to football season. And that I’ve never blogged during football season before. And that I may drive you crazy with all my talk of football because I. LOVE. IT. Are any of you college football fans, perchance? And if you are, what’s your favorite team?

Me? My favorite team?

Go ‘Dogs. :-)

Now I’m sure that based on some of my previous posts about food, y’all probably think that I get up every morning and immediately begin the process of deep frying biscuits for my family.

That assumption really couldn’t be farther from the truth, because deep frying is a labor-intensive process, and what I really do is saute’ the biscuit dough in a stick of butter and then roll it around in some cheese before I begin the actual frying. I find that the fat content of cheese remains completely intact when it’s surrounded by a layer of butter and then sealed with peanut oil.

Try it and see! And tell your cardiologist that BooMama sent you!

Seriously, despite the fact that my cooking does have a strong Southern bent (potatoes with cream cheese, cheddar cheese AND sour cream, anyone?), I do enjoy some foods that are, you know, healthy. Like berries. And vegetables. And, in the surprising-for-a-Southern-girl category, granola.

I know! Can you believe it? And I don’t even put it in a cobbler or anything!

Anyway, last night I was clicking through some recipes, trying to find something breakfast-y to make because tomorrow is my Sunday to cook for our praise team and band (use the words “chancel choir” and “orchestra” if the thought of DRUMS IN CHURCH makes you twitch), and I always like to do something on the lighter side for them. Since they have to sing in front of the congregation, I try to fix foods that will result in the least amount of, um, gastric disturbance possible, because there’s nothing quite like a monster belch straight into a microphone to bring the worship party to a screeching halt, now is there?

Can I get an amen?*

And much to my surprise, on my quest for light but hearty breakfast foods, I found a recipe for granola, which I had no idea you could make at home. No idea.

I don’t know why it never occurred to me that I could combine oats and fruit and nuts and seeds and bind them together with honey and wheat germ in the confines of my own kitchen, but it didn’t. Somehow I always pictured little hippie elves harvesting the granola from some magical granola tree (in California, of course), and in my limited imagination the elves would be wearing Birkenstocks and saying things like “DUDE. These dried cranberries are righteous!” and then they’d load their Volkswagen van with their granola goodness and make deliveries to grocery stores (albeit small mom and pop ones – and most definitely the ones with an organic bent) nationwide while the “Hair” soundtrack played in the background.

Because that’s practical. And realistic. And all.

So today I’m venturing into unchartered food territory. I’m making granola. This event may not be noteworthy to most of y’all, but I have lived in the South all of my life, and we typically don’t fool with grains unless we first boil the life out of them and then slather them with butter or sugar. That’s our heritage, y’all.

By the way, when I get to the grocery store in a few minutes, I plan to announce to any passersby in my aisle that I’M BUYING WHEAT GERM. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Dude.

* That was for you, Addie. :-)

Here is what you would see me do if the activity on my computer screen was broadcast to people in the US (and parts of Canada) and you could view my internet surfing habits while sitting in the comfort of your living room:

Check email

Check Site Meter

Check blog for comments

Check Bloglines and read what’s been posted

Make comments on posts

Repeat

Repeat

Repeat

Repeat, ad nauseum

I mean, y’all. I know we’re creatures of habit, and heaven knows I like me a routine – but I am in a rut. An interrut, if you will. There’s a whole “wide world interweb” (as my friend Buddy calls it) out there, and I’ve reduced it to five steps. With an occasional viewing of people.com thrown in.

And it occurred to me, as I was going through my internet routine for the fifth time the other night after A. went to bed, that I don’t even surf the ‘net anymore. I just surf blogs. I don’t even know what’s “out there.”

So, I’m curious. Am I alone in this tendency? Do you find that your time on the internet is primarily dedicated to blog reading and blog writing these days? Or are you still surfing with abandon?

And if you ARE surfing, what in the world are you reading? What one site (family friendly, of course) would you recommend? What are the rest of us missing?

Just trying to broaden my webby horizons. In the interest of personal growth and development, of course. :-)

Given y’all’s response to my post about a thought-provoking conversation I had a few weeks ago, I thought you might be interested in clicking over and taking part in a couple of discussions at other blogs.

Leslie at Into Australia has a great post about whether or not God is in control, and Linda at Middle-Years, a fairly new blog, asks some questions about prayer that are natural off-shoots of your comments here earlier in the week.

Grace and peace, y’all.

Update – 1:11 pm: Lori weighs in with her own questions here – y’all have fun!

Because I’m a list-maker, I’m also a person who typically stays caught up on errands. I try to get to one or two places a day, and doing that over the course of a week means that I rarely find myself out of anything. I would go so far to say that I even ANTICIPATE being out of something like baby wash or shampoo or dishwasher detergent four or five days away from actual “outage,” so we’re usually pretty well-stocked with the daily necessities.

But this last month? Eh. Not so much.

So today I found myself with a mighty big to-do list – stuff that couldn’t wait one more day. We enjoy having things like, you know, coffee filters and soap to make our life easier, and I also enjoy an up-to-date cosmetics supply so that I don’t scare small children. Because wearing make-up is, for me, more of a public service than anything else.

With our list in hand, A. and I left the house this morning, and our first stop on the Tour of Errands was Family Christian. While I was picking out what I needed, A. was making a point to sort through every single Veggie Tales DVD in the history of all time ever, and he became SO consumed with his video sorting that he neglected to heed nature’s call and as a result tee tee’d all over himself while standing on a small chair he had pulled over to the movie shelves.

I was prepared, however – I was armed with an extra pair of underwear and shorts – but A. had to change clothes in Family Christian’s restroom. All I can say about that experience is that I do not feel that Jesus would be pleased with the cleanliness and / or orderliness of their women’s facilities. Oh I can’t even type about it anymore because, well, EWWWWWW.

Next stop: we went to Jason’s Deli to meet my friend NK and her children for lunch. It was fairly uneventful unless you consider that A. tried to swat away anyone who even made eye contact with me and that you don’t really get to talk to a grown-up much when there are two three year olds and a six month old at the table. What you DO get to do is FETCH lots of things – lids for drinks, straws, napkins, ice cream, muffins, dropped bottles, etc.

So I guess instead of saying that I met NK for lunch, I should actually say that we met to fetch some stuff. It’s what all the cool mamas are doing these days.

And then, the mall.

Trips to the mall always make me feel like we’re The Clampetts Come To Town, because A.’s reaction to escalators is similar in scope of emotion and duration of enthusiasm to Jethro in “The Beverly Hillbillies” when he first spies his brand new CE-ment pond. A. reacts normally as we go up the escalator, but as soon as he “disembarks,” he starts to jump and then SCREAMS (I don’t mean “says” – I mean “screams”), “HEY! EVERYBODY! WE DID IT! WE DID IT! ALL RIGHT! GOOD JOB!”

I guess I should be grateful that he doesn’t say “WOO, DOGGIE! THEM THAR METAL STAIRS GOT A MOTOR IN ‘EM, MOMMA!”

So when we got off of the escalator in front of Macy’s (I had to go. free gift time at the Lancome counter. you understand.), A. started proclaiming his escalatory accomplishments (one good thing about having your own blog? you get to make up words like “escalatory”) to everyone around us, and while they were very polite and they smiled and they nodded, I wanted to explain that I did not in fact hook the boy up to a Mountain Dew and coffee IV earlier in the day, and we have in fact ventured into public several – lo, many – times in his life.

I won’t even go into the part where he climbed up shelves stocked with make-up while I was paying for my purchases and then fell and cut his knee and created an entirely different sort of scene.

So finally, Walmart.

And you’re thinking, “A bookstore and a restaurant and a mall and a Walmart? All in the same day? WOMAN? ARE YOU INSANE?”

To which I answer: why yes! I am! Nice to meet you!

It really wasn’t so bad, because at that point A. was so tired that he sort of lazily chewed on a donut and whined, but I was in their restrooms twice, and while they are much, much nicer than Family Christian’s, someone really needs to get down at a three year old’s eye-level and check out the toilets when they’re cleaning. Because, well, EWWWWWW.

And just for the record? The temperature in the Walmart parking lot this afternoon? 492 degrees. An egg would have fried before it ever made contact with the pavement. And when it did make contact with the pavement, it would have exploded into a fiery mass of protein. With smoke.

But you know what? All in all? It was oddly fun. Really.

So what did you do today? :-)

Banner by Kelly
Thirteen Vacation Experiences I Don’t Necessarily Have To Repeat
1. Camping on a beach during a torrential downpour. OH SWEET MERCY, the sand. OH SWEET MERCY, the sticky, wet sand.

2. Camping at a state park. Okay, technically that was a cabin and not a tent. But, you know, there was lots of nature there, and while I may not have told you this before, nature makes me itch.

3. A pesky little case of sun poisoning (remember, I have no melanin to speak of – the sun is not my friend) that caused me to throw up FOURTEEN TIMES on the van ride back home from the beach, and my youth group leader wouldn’t pull over, so I had to get sick in Ziploc bags and paper cups. Which my friend Beverly then threw out the window as we traveled down the interstate at a high rate of speed.

OH YEAH. Put THAT in a brochure and watch the people flock to your advertised destination.

4. Seven college girls in a car designed to seat five (four comfortably). In New Orleans. In August. It was the hottest (and as a direct result, angriest) I’ve ever been in my life.

5. Sleeping two girls to a TWIN bed on that same trip. We were in college, had no money, and got the cheapest rooms possible. I slept for approximately 44 minutes that night (in all fairness, we still had fun – but my grown-up self doesn’t know how my younger self did it).

6. Sleeping on a pull-out couch with a wafer-thin mattress and springs that were constructed from, as best I could determine, barbed wire.

7. A fourteen hour van ride with an unreliable air conditioner, an AM radio and a gaggle of junior high students.

8. A hotel room that was apparently rented by tobacco companies to test how many cigarettes it might take to make the smell of smoke linger FOREVER.

9. Y’all aren’t going to believe this, but one time I got really sick from sun poisoning in Panama City, and my youth group leader would not stop the van for me to throw up! Have you ever heard of such?

10. Being spanked by my daddy on the front steps of the Oklahoma State Capitol. Don’t worry – it wasn’t recently. I was three. And we actually have pictures of me pouting afterwards.

11. Staying in a hotel room in Chattanooga with my parents and having to SLEEP IN THE TUB because Daddy was snoring so loudly that the tub was the only possible place to escape. And I still had to put a pillow over my ear. And shut the bathroom door.

Good times.

12. A sleepless night in a hotel in NYC with Sister and Paige. We had some foul-mouthed revelers next door – and in addition to screaming every cuss word known to man (as well as some original constructions that, while nonsensical, were equally as offensive), they seemed to believe that alternately beating on the wall and slamming the door were excellent outlets for drunken expression.

13. Did I mention the time my youth group leader wouldn’t stop the van when I had sun poisoning and was throwing up many times consecutively in a row back-to-back without stopping?

By the way, fun side note: in betwixt my episodes of violent wretching, I could hear this guy in the back of the van say stuff like, “THAT IT SO GROSS” and “CAN’T SOMEBODY MAKE HER STOP?”

You will be delighted to know that Mr. Sensitivity is now my husband. Oh, the stories we’ll have for our grandchildren.