Today I was on the phone with Emma Kate while A. and I were running some errands (two-for-one big foil pans at Party City! FIFTY CENTS A PIECE! I will sleep the sleep of angels tonight.), and suddenly she said, “OH! MISSY! I checked your blog earlier. And you’re falling behind! There’s no post for Friday!”

So apparently I have deadlines now. Per my editor Emma Kate. :-)

But the truth is that it’s just been one of those days where I started writing posts 2 or 3 times and sort of lost the will. I’ve had a hard time finding my bloggity flow, which is in fact an Official Blogging Term. You can find it in BooMama’s Blogging Dictionary.

Or at least you could if BooMama’s Blogging Dictionary actually, you know, existed.

Anyhoo.

I have a story to tell.

But you know how when God does something really big, it’s almost intimidating to tell what He’s done because you don’t think you can do it justice?

I actually started writing a post about it all on June 28 – before there was any clear ending in sight – and here I sit, two months later, astonished by how everything has played out, but I still can’t GIT IT LIKE I LIKE IT. :-)

So I’m going to bed. And hopefully sleeping late. Because I’m tired. And tomorrow, I will start afresh.

Because the story? It’s a good ‘un. :-) And it really has nothing to do with me…I’ve just been privileged to watch from the sidelines.

And speaking of sidelines, only one week until college football.

Which is totally unrelated.

But important to me nonetheless.

See? I told you I was tired. :-)

Thirteen Things That Have Brightened My Week
1. Alex waking up from his nap, looking at me, grabbing my face with both of his little hands and saying, “HEY SWEET THING. I MISSED YOU.”

2. “Project Runway” – it’s the fastest moving 60 minutes on television, and watching creative people in action makes me happy.

3. Keeping secrets. I love keeping secrets. However, there is one VERY exciting secret that I won’t have to keep for much longer. Well, actually, I don’t have to keep it a secret right now, or else I wouldn’t have given you that hint, but I DO want to have just the right words for it when I finally tell the tale(and don’t even ask me if I’m pregnant. I couldn’t be less pregnant if I tried).

4. This post of Lori’s – which made me laugh out loud.

5. This post of Big Mama’s – which also made me laugh out loud.

6. Tonight I’m going to a recipe swap. With a bunch of girls. And we’ll get to eat samples of the recipes. And talk a whole bunch with no kids around. Can you tell I’m excited?

7. The new camera came in today…and I am like a kid at Christmas. I didn’t get the SLR – it just seemed like more than I could handle. So here’s the winner.

8. Emails from Sarah. Always late at night, always funny, and always encouraging.

9. Alex was coming up the basement stairs a few nights ago, and he fell and busted his lip. Once we got all the blood cleaned up and he calmed down, he looked at me with those big blue eyes and said, “Mama. I ate my lip.” And then he threw his head on my shoulder and cried while my heart exploded into millions of tiny pieces.

10. A friend of ours started a blog. It has something to do with #3. Soon – very soon – there will be much linkage for you to enjoy.

11. In the mornings, if you tilt your head just right, you can sense a hint of fall in the air. Just a hint. And only for a second. But it’s there.

12. HolyMama! posted a link to this video a couple of weeks ago – and it cracks me up so much that I can’t quit watching it. I’ve tried, but I can’t. Intervention, anyone?

13. Philippians 2:1-7 and Philippians 3:7-11 – seems like I can’t read these two verses enough lately. As our pastor likes to say: “The Word is gooood.” :-)

Yesterday I mentioned a “long and pointless” dream about my friend Elise that I shared via email with a couple of my college friends. Without going into all the details, I’ll just point out that Elise, in my dream, was dressed in some for-real 80’s finery, all the way down to a spiffy pair of red Connie flats. Oh yes ma’am she was.

My friend Melanie immediately responded to my email and said, “You do know that the 80’s ARE BACK. This might not have been a dream but a premonition of things to come. If we are supposed to do skinny jeans and leggings (which I’m not happy about) then why not cuffed walking shorts and red flats. I bet I could find some red plastic earrings to match.”

I thought long and hard about Melanie’s email. Then I pondered Big Mama’s post that she wrote a few weeks ago about this very issue. And my conclusion?

We have a problem, y’all.

I feel that I can speak with a certain degree of authority on this topic because I am a child of the 80’s. I watched the premiere of “Thriller” on MTV, I saw every movie that Molly Ringwald ever made, and I used so much Paul Mitchell Freeze N Shine on my bangs in 1988 that a specific portion of the ozone layer boasts a plaque bearing my name. In addition, I memorized the entire sountrack of “St. Elmo’s Fire,” I recorded every single episode of “Moonlighting,” and I arrived at college wearing a pair of acid washed jeans.

Oh yes I did.

So I feel pretty qualified to say that this whole resurgence of 80’s fashion? It makes no sense at all. Because DID NOBODY NOTICE HOW UGLY THE CLOTHES WERE THE FIRST TIME AROUND?

I mean, I know we thought we were all cute and girls-just-wanna-have-fun-ish at the time, what with our leggings under our short skirts and our oversized v-neck sweaters from The Limited (oh, ‘fess up. you know you wore one with your neon stirrup pants back in 1989. you know you did). But in retrospect? We were all guilty parties in what can only be described as a fashion tragedy.

And wearing skinny jeans was a first degree offense.

Because while I can see the humor in lots of my 80’s antics, I just can’t, under any circumstances, find the humor (or value) in a pair of skinny jeans. They’re the most hateful of all the 80’s trends, in my opinion. The only thing worse is acid washed skinny jeans, which as far as I’m concerned is proof that the devil is real and at work and intent on stealing our joy.

(WHICH REMINDS ME. Some of my male college buddies who regularly read this blog-o-mine under the cover of secret SO used to tightroll their jeans. Out of respect for the offenders’ wives and children, as well as for the sake of their careers within your various and sundry Corridors of Power, I will not disclose their identities. But they know who they are.)

So I am resolved: I will cling to the boot cut jean with everything in me. I will stand firm against the possibility of denim hugging my admittedly substantial calves and then TAPERING DOWN toward my ankles. I will rebuke anything that even remotely resembles “tightrolling.”

And in conclusion, I’m not wearing red Connie flats and you can’t make me.

Because if the 80’s are in, I guess I’ll have to be out. I just can’t walk down the acid washed road again.

Since several people enjoyed the recipes for the shrimp casserole and the salad, here’s my favorite appetizer.

Be forewarned that this dish contains the Southern Triumverate of butter, mayonnaise, and sharp cheddar cheese, and also be forewarned that if you’re going to try to make it less of a threat to your arteries by using low-fat mayonnaise and whatnot, the result will most likely be, as my mama would say, “not fittin’ to eat.”

Go big or go home. That’s all I’m sayin’. :-)

Vidalia Onion Dipmodified from Come On In
3 or 4 large Vidalia onions (any sweet onion will do)
2 Tbs. butter
1 tsp. Tabasco sauce or 1/4 tsp. ground red pepper
1/4 tsp. garlic powder
1 cup mayonnaise
2 cups sharp cheddar cheese, grated

Saute’ onions in butter until they cry uncle (in other words, until they’re completely soft). Add Tabasco and garlic powder as onions are cooking. Once the onions are transparent, combine them with remaining ingredients and bake in a buttered casserole dish at 375 for 25 minutes.

Serve with tortilla chips or crackers.

And here’s another tip: salt and pepper your favorite fresh fish filet. Put about 3 tablespoons of this dip on top of each piece of fish. Squeeze lemon juice over all. Bake as you normally would – and the dip will make the fish so moist and tender that you won’t believe it. The dip will also rob the fish of any redeeming nutritional value, so it’s a win / win for all!

Enjoy, everybody.

And for more great Works For Me Wednesday ideas, visit Shannon at Rocks In My Dryer. She’s a good Southern girl, and I bet she likes mayonnaise, too. :-)

So I haven’t written much about Elise the last couple of weeks because since a lot of y’all know what happened, I almost feel like if I mention her at all on the blawg I have to be all solemn-like and refer to her as Elise-one-of-my-best-friends-whose-husband-just-died.

Which practically rolls off of the tongue. And CERTAINLY is what she prefers to be called.

But the truth of the matter is that this morning I had a delightful exchange of emails with Elise-one-of-my-best-friends-whose-husband-just-died and several other friends. The whole thing started because Melanie wanted to know if anyone was planning to be in Baton Rouge for the MSU / LSU game in September, and well, yes I am, but as Melanie pointed out, the game is at 11 in the morning in THE HOTTEST PLACE ON EARTH, and quite frankly I’m not sure my delicate constitution (ahem) can handle that kind of heat, not to mention the scorching power of a thousand fiery suns.

Long story long, I ended up emailing the girls a tale of a long and pointless – though somewhat entertaining – dream I had about Elise last night, and suffice it to say that the dream reveals a great deal about the state of my (admittedly disturbed) mind, the history of our friendship, not to mention the deep and lasting emotional scars that are, I feel, a direct result of prolonged exposure to and experimentation with the fashions of the late 1980’s.

And the dream made E. laugh. That’s a mighty good thing.

So anyway. Our email exchange was a great way to start the day, and right before lunchtime I got another email from E., one I assumed had something to do with All The Wackiness of the morning. But instead, it was a story that will get forwarded and FW: and Fwd: until it’s just worn out, bless its heart. But because it came from Elise-one-of-my-best-friends-whose-husband-just-died, and because she hasn’t been emailing very much lately, I paid attention. I read the story.

And after I finished it, I knew exactly why she sent it:

“Tomorrow morning,” the surgeon began, “I’ll open up your heart…”

“You’ll find Jesus there,” the boy interrupted.

The surgeon looked up, annoyed. “I’ll cut your heart open,” he continued, “to see how much damage has been done…”

“But when you open up my heart, you’ll find Jesus in there,” said the boy.

The surgeon looked to the parents, who sat quietly. “When I see how much damage has been done, I’ll sew your heart and chest back up, and I’ll plan what to do next.”

“But you’ll find Jesus in my heart. The Bible says He lives there. The hymns all say He lives there. You’ll find Him in my heart.”

The surgeon had had enough. “I’ll tell you what I’ll find in your heart. I’ll find damaged muscle, low blood supply, and weakened vessels. And I’ll find out if I can make you well.”

“You’ll find Jesus there too. He lives there.”

The surgeon left.

The surgeon sat in his office, recording his notes from the surgery: “…damaged aorta, damaged pulmonary vein, widespread muscle degeneration. No hope for transplant, no hope for cure. Therapy: painkillers and bed rest. Prognosis…” – and here he paused – “…death within one year.”

He stopped the recorder, but there was more to be said.

“Why?” he asked aloud. “Why did You do this? You’ve put him here; You’ve put him in this pain; and You’ve cursed him to an early death. Why?”

The Lord answered and said, “The boy, My lamb, was not meant for your flock for long, for he is a part of My flock, and will forever be. Here, in My flock, he will feel no pain, and will be comforted as you cannot imagine. His parents will one day join him here, and they will know peace, and My flock will continue to grow.”

The surgeon’s tears were hot, but his anger was hotter. “You created that boy. He’ll be dead in months. Why?”

The Lord answered, “The boy, My lamb, shall return to My flock, for He has done his duty: I did not put My lamb with your flock to lose him, but to retrieve another lost lamb.”

The surgeon wept.

Later, the surgeon sat beside the boy’s bed; the boy’s parents sat across from him. The boy awoke and whispered, “Did you cut open my heart?”

“Yes,” said the surgeon.

“What did you find?” asked the boy.

“I found Jesus there,” said the surgeon.

I cried a whole bunch when I read that.

I think it’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever read.

And E., I love you very much.

Okay. I’m trying to pick out a digital camera.

I know nothing – NOTHING – about fstops or apertures or whatnot. In fact, I’m only somewhat certain that those are actual photography terms, in which case the usage of those possibly pretend terms would be an enormous step out on my part.

Anyhoo.

I need to be able to point and shoot, but I want enough megapixels so that I can print 8 x 10’s or bigger and they’ll still look crystal clear and not all pixellated-y. Which I believe is an official photography term. (Faith, back me up.) :-)

And no need to tell me that I can’t live without some form of EOS blah de blah blah, because you know all those little things on a lens you have to move around in order to make good pictures? I don’t have any idea what they’re for. All they enable me to do, really, is to look like I know what I’m doing when I take pictures. But then I see the actual pictures and remember oh yeah, I’m not really a photographer after all, or else I wouldn’t have all these blurry shots of people’s feet.

In short, I want a digital camera that will enable me to take pictures real purty-like and then make real purty-like prints. In the past I’ve enjoyed a brand that rhymes with SHANNON, but I’m not terribly brand loyal.

Suggestions? Do you have a camera you love? Or one that you DON’T love so that I know what to avoid?