Archives for December 2006

Please Permit Me To Inundate You With Pictures

I have two words to describe Alex on Christmas Eve:


I’ve never seen him in such a state, but he looked a little bit like this:



All. night. long.

At one point I expected that he would just crash completely through a wall, but I tried not to let it upset me because I hear that Santa’s elves do some really excellent sheetrock work on the side.

He finally went to bed around 10 o’clock, and we weren’t too much worse for the wear other than being utterly exhausted. I did take the time to make sure that this little note found its way to a prominent spot.


Fingers crossed that when Alex saw it Christmas morning he wasn’t puzzled by the girlish slant to Santa’s handwriting.

And don’t think for a second that my mama wasn’t secretly horrified that I left Santa’s cookies on a paper plate and put his milk in a Solo cup. She didn’t say anything, but trust me: she was mortified to her very core. Because, I mean, Santa was company, after all, and I could’ve at least gotten out a piece of china and a real glass.

Christmas morning was a blast, and Alex was (and continues to be) pretty carried away with his “big” toy, Criss Cross Crash.

What the commercials for Criss Cross Crash do not reveal is that it’s a very loud toy, one which prohibits conversation in anything resembling a normal “inside” voice.” So there was lots of yell-talking on Christmas morn, which really adds a certain special something to the day.

And, I might add, gives you a bit of a headache.

Did I mention that Criss Cross Crash is a very loud toy?

Also: there are few things cuter than a little boy in a red and white striped turtleneck shirt on Christmas afternoon:



Well, actually there is something cuter, because look what Santa brought us!


A baby!

Oh I’m kidding.

But my cousin Paige did bring her baby to our house last night, whereby we celebrated Baby J.’s first Christmas and his first road trip. He was a complete angel – and he even made his first (brief) trip to Steinmart(s) today, which is always a bit of a milestone for the children in our family. Y’all don’t even want to know how many times I nursed Alex in a Steinmart(s) dressing room, but let’s just say that I would not be surprised to see a commemorative plaque with a tasteful etching of what Jeana would call my “baby feeders” beside the dressing rooms at the back of the store. I’m just sayin’.

Tomorrow will find us on the road to Mississippi, where we’ll be celebrating Christmas with Martha and Sissie, and Martha will no doubt regale us with stories about how you just can’t find cute church dresses anymore, how she found a perfectly darling pantsuit at the Dillards in Hattiesburg but they didn’t have it in her size at the Hattiesburg store or at any of Dillards’ other 374 locations throughout the continental US, and how the Blue Bell ice cream hasn’t been on sale for weeks at the Winn Dixie, because you know she loves to buy peaches and chop them up and fold them into the Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla because it tastes just like homemade peach ice cream, and don’t tell anybody but one time she did just that for a United Methodist Women ice cream supper, and do you know that she got RAVES for that ice cream? She did! She got raves!

Last thing.

Remember the Christmas Card Tree?


I’ve enjoyed it so much that I may not take it down until April.

If I even take it down at all.

Grace, Again

Several of you have emailed me and asked about my sweet friend Elise and her boys, so I thought you might want to read this article about their family.

It’s a great reminder that even in the midst of tragedy, there are some gifts that keep on giving.

Love you, E.

And Merry Christmas, everybody.





Grace and peace, sweet friends – from our family to yours. 

Merry Christmas!

“But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.’Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.'” – Luke 2:10-14

– Luke 2:10-14

It Would Be Fabulous If I Could Channel My OCD Into Something Involving Fitness

I postponed yesterday’s Walmart trip because I just didn’t have the strength. The thought of all the Grocery Amateurs overwhelmed me and ultimately convinced me to stay and home and do productive things.

Like, for instance, napping.

But today I hit the ground running (not really. I actually hit the ground staggering, seeing as how Alex had a bit of a screaming fit in the middle of the night last night, and when I finally got to his room he looked at me, all wide-eyed and angelic, and said, “Hey, Mama. You wanna snuggle up with me?” I had a difficult time going back to sleep after that because I was haunted, frankly, by the memory of the high-pitched shrieking).

Anyway, we were fully ensconced in the Walmart Zoo by 9:30-ish this morning. I hadn’t showered at that point and was sporting a lovely long-sleeved black t-shirt with some khakis that may or may not have a hole in them, so of course I saw several people that I know from church who no doubt went home hoping that maybe Santa would give me an Extreme Makeover for Christmas, because shhhh! don’t tell anyone! but she really needs it!

When I got to the dairy section of the store I immediately looked for the cream cheese, because one of you nice people told me in the comments of my previous grocery-centric post that your Walmart had Philadelphia Cream Cheese for 94 cents. And even though I was fully stocked on the cream cheese end of things, I had to know – HAD TO – what the price was at my Walmart. As it turns out the price was 98 cents, a full penny cheaper than what I spent at Publix last week, and despite the fact that I technically didn’t need any I still bought two blocks of it because it was 98 cents and please don’t judge me it’s a sickness.

This afternoon I realized that I now have a refrigerator full of cream cheese with no place to go, so being a good Southern girl and all I made cheese logs. And since you have endured way too much talk of cream cheese on this blog over the last few days, I thought I’d share the recipe with you because, well, I owe you at least that much.

3 blocks Philadelphia cream cheese, softened
4 green onions, chopped fine (use tops only)
1 large jar dried beef, chopped fine
1 tablespoon Accent
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

Mix well with your hands. Then form mixture into 2 or 3 cheese logs and cover with chopped pecans. Chill until ready to serve.

In news unrelated to cream cheese (IS THERE EVEN SUCH A THING ANYMORE?), I finished up some Christmas shopping for Mama today (HEY MAMA! YOU READING? HAVE YOU FIGURED OUT HOW TO TURN ON THE BLOG?). On my side of the family we set a spending limit, draw names and shop for one person (well, one grown-up person…the kids get gifts from everybody). This year I drew Mama’s name, and today I bought her a gift so sassy that I cannot wait for her to open it so that I can take pictures and show y’all.

Finally: did I mention that my parents are arriving tomorrow? And that I haven’t started cleaning yet? And that I haven’t vacuumed since Saturday? And that my mama not only sees dust from a mile away, she also seems to have an uncanny ability to smell it? To sense it, even?

Needless to say, Hazel here better get out the Endust.

Later, internets.

Merry, merry to y’all.

Clearly The Earth Has Altered Its Rotation

It’s no secret that I’ve gotten lots of material out of the fact that my mama doesn’t go anywhere near a computer, and I’ve quoted her saying “I can’t even turn on the email” so many times that y’all probably know that expression as well as you know the story about the fish camp. Those things are part of my bloggy heritage, plain and simple.

Well, Mama and Daddy have spent the last few days in Memphis visiting my brother’s family. And I don’t know if it was Janie or Emma Kate (who stopped by Brother and Janie’s yesterday) who brought up the subject of “the blawg” while Mama was in Memphis, but I do know that tonight, when I was talking to her on the phone, Mama said, “Hey. What do I click on the computer to get to your blog?”

Two thoughts immediately flashed through my mind:
1) Mama is talking about clicking something on the computer.
2) Mama just used the word “blog.” Correctly. In a sentence.

I was so overcome with the strangeness of it all that it took me a few minutes to compose myself.

So I’ve emailed Daddy with the blog address. For the third or forty-ninth time.

And I’ve instructed him to take pictures if Mama actually gets on the computer. And clicks things.

In the meantime, feel free to leave Mama a comment and welcome her to The Incredible Wide World Interweb.

I’ll keep you posted as these startling new developments unfold.


Thanks, Jules!

The Good Thing About A Bloggy Tour Is That My Presence Here Becomes Almost Inconsequential

The only excuse I have for not blogging more over the last few days is that I’ve been in the mode where what D calls “the personality” takes over. “The personality” is really just a kind way of re-naming “the OCD,” otherwise known as “OH SWEET MERCY, WOMAN, it’s one o’clock in the morning, so would you please quit moving the furniture?!?!”

“The personality” has been obsessed precoccupied with rearranging our bedroom, getting everything placed on the shelves in Alex’s bedroom, and trying to figure out what to do with a supersized configuration of crown molding that served as the previous homeowners’ headboard in the master bedroom.


Sister has determined that we’re going to tear ‘er down the next time she’s here, but in the meantime, I’ve tried to work around it. Like I told Sister: when life gives you excessive molding, make a collage. Here’s what I’ve come up with so far:


It’s on the opposite end of the bedroom from this:


It’s not finished, but it is a huge improvement from this:


Which is pretty much what we were dealing with before “the personality” kicked in.

So now I’m off to Walmart (MAY THE LORD HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL) to deal with what I call the Grocery Amateurs. Grocery Amateurs are typically men (though they can be women – I certainly don’t discriminate) who have been sent to the store by wives who are growing ever-closer to complete exhaustion in the midst of the holiday shopping / cooking / baking / giftwrapping / decorating.

The GA’s enter the store armed with a list, but they have no idea where anything is located, which means that they tend to stop their carts at the end of every single aisle, then crane their necks to see if aisle four is in fact the place where he can get the six cans of Campbell’s cream of mushroom that the wife has specifically requested, and of course the wife would specifically request Campbell’s, because y’all know that most men will come home with Low-End Soup-Type Product if you don’t give them a brand name.

Finally: if there’s anything sweeter than a three year old who wakes up in the morning and runs to the nativity scene to check on baby Jesus, I don’t know what it is.

Hope these last few days of pre-Christmas madness are full of happiness and excitement for you and your family.

Grocery Amateurs and all.