D. has decided that he needs a new cell phone. I feel this is a reasonable request since his current phone is only slightly more reliable and effective than the two empty soup cans I connected with string so that Laura and I could “talk” when I was about five years old. Since BIL is here as well, a trip to a store filled with electronic devices seemed to be a near-perfect Saturday morning excursion for the guys. It could only be more perfect if they could play videogames on the way to the phone store, purchase The Coolest Phones Imaginable, then walk straight out of the store into a skybox at an SEC football game. And kill aliens afterwards. While eating fried chicken.

I’m always a little concerned when D. goes shopping for electronics, because he gets a slightly glazed-over gleam in his eye that’s reserved only for things that beep and ring, and my fear is that he left the house planning to buy a small phone but will return to the house with a large television set or new video game system or, you know, a car.

I, on the other hand, am almost completely unaffected by things with plugs. I love my computer because it’s cute, not because of any features that it has. Truth be told, I don’t even KNOW what features it has. I do know it has an apple on the top of it, and when my computer is on the apple glows, and that makes me happy.

D., however, speaks a different electronic language. He knows all about tubes and resolutions and giga/mega/eleventy bytes; he knows that he needs this cable or that wire to achieve maximum sound in a space that measures 12 feet wide by 15.4987 feet long. And while I might say, oh, just round down to 15 feet, he would say, NO, you can’t do that, NO, don’t you know that the cable requirements are completely different for a room of that size?

A little over a year ago we finished out part of our basement and moved D.’s office down there. His office had previously been in the bonus room upstairs, but it was increasingly hard for him to find peace and quiet up there once A. came along (and let me tell you: after this last week of non-stop toddler talking, I wouldn’t mind finishing out an office for me so that I could have a little peace and quiet my OWN self – but that’s another story for another day). ANYWAY, when the sheetrock finally went up downstairs, D. spent hours figuring out exactly where the speakers should go in the walls.

All that to say: do you know where I would have put the speakers? Inside the television set. Where they belong.

So I’m curious to see what my husband brings back from the phone store. It could be nothing. It could be just a phone. But my guess – and this is based on knowing him for almost 30 years and being married to him for 9 – is that at the VERY least there will be a phone and some form of phone accessory. Because a gadget-y husband is one thing…but a gadget-y husband accompanied by a gadget-y brother-in-law is a recipe for an electronics shopping spree.

And the garage door is opening right now. Via remote control, of course.

More later.

Updated to add:

Oh, I SO know him. Looks like I have a new phone, too.
:-)

Okay. I was trying to register my blog with Christian Women Online, and I got to the part where I had to write a description of my blog.

And, um, well.

I had no idea what to say.

I mean, I keep reading posts where people say that a blog should have a mission statement, and I’m beginning to think that I have no bloggy purpose. At least as far as an “official statement” goes.

Because “Read by tens of people…” is not exactly a description. Neither is the stuff from the “About Me” section of the sidebar.

So I tried. I really did. I got as far as “A Southern wife and mama who loves the Lord, loves to write, and loves to laugh” – but I think that’s sort of, well, lame. There’s no personality in that…I was SO hoping to use the phrase “wacky shenanigans.” :-)

And I know that the people at CWO aren’t going to be judging my blurb and ranking it on a scale of 1-10. But I’m OCD, you know, and I want whatever I write down to be accurate, and true, and a real reflection of what goes on in this little corner of the interweb.

So.

I’m curious.

If you blog, do you have a mission statement? Or a purpose statement? Or even a clear description in your head?

‘Cause I’m clueless. And feeling sort of stupid.

Because I don’t know if you know it or not, but I actually write this thing.

And if you want to write my blog description for me, I’ll be eternally grateful.

Is that cheating?

Okay – I had to do a bit of post re-structuring because there was too much linky goodness buried in a post that was way too long. So, I now give you all the linkage in a more condensed format.

Heather has a couple of great ideas for a new Bible study and a book club, too. Click on over and check it out. For the Bible study they’re reading Stasi Eldridge’s Captivating, which I actually picked up yesterday. Last summer I read her hubby’s book, Wild At Heart, in ONE DAY. Good stuff. If you’re married to a man or the mother of a man or have only seen a man from a distance, it’s a must-read. I can’t tell you how much it helped me understand and appreciate my husband. I’m hoping that time-wise I can handle joining Heather’s group…I think it’ll be a great study.

This post at Lori’s blog really made me think. If you’re intentional about having some real “teachable moments” as you discipline and encourage your kids, you’ll appreciate Lori’s list of great, easy-to-remember verses that address many of the heart issues we face with little ones.

This post by Judith (Sarah‘s grandmother; Bev and Barb‘s mother – it really is a Blogging Dynasty) demands that there be a part 2, and a part 3, and a part 14. :-) If you get a chance, encourage Judith to keep telling the tale…it reads like a movie script. Can’t wait to read more.

You have to read this post of Sarah’s, too. It’s beautiful.

I feel much better now. Link away, internets. :-)

Today was one of those perfect summer days – about 82 degrees outside, a little bit of a breeze, not a cloud in the sky – and the little man and I spent most of the morning with my friend NK and her two girls. Alex and NK’s older daughter played and ran and chased while NK and I sat on her patio, in the shade, entertaining her baby and talking about some Life Junk we’ve both been dealing with lately.

The baby was a little fussy, so I offered to take Alex and C. to lunch – just a little jaunt up the road to ChickFilA – and the three of us sat, and ate, and talked. I grabbed a couple of balloons – green for A., yellow for C. – as we left the restaurant, and then we dropped C. of at her house on the way back to ours.

I expected that Alex wouldn’t make it home awake, but instead he balked at his nap this afternoon – he pretty much sat in his room and played and talked during the two hours he’d normally be sleeping – and finally around 4 I pulled him out of isolation so we could eat popsicles on the front steps and run around the yard for a little while. About an hour later we came inside, fixed something to drink, and I started working on supper: making hamburger patties, chopping stuff for a salad, shucking corn and getting it ready for the grill. Alex handled all the “shakey shake” duties – meaning that he sprinkled seasoning wherever it needed to go – and we talked on and off while he watched “Blue’s Clues.”

D. finished up his work around 6, and he and Alex headed outside for grill duty while I checked email, read some blogs, and vacuumed up the corn silks that had scattered across the rug in my kitchen. We sat down for supper, the three of us, and Alex said his Official Blessing: “Dear God, thank you for today. Thank you for our food. In Jesus’ Name. Amen.” The hamburgers were great, the corn was okay – Alex went a little heavy on the dill when he did the shakey-shake – and the salad was fresh in a way that only happens in summertime.

By the time I ran Alex’s bath, he looked slightly like Pigpen. His feet and legs were filthy from all his outside activity; his mouth was surrounded by a ring of peanut butter coated with a couple of layers of Cheese-Its and Cheetos crumbs. I thought to myself that he looked and smelled like little boys should once the weather turns warm – dirty, for sure, legs covered with little cuts and bruises, the official battle scars of his summer adventures.

Once he was clean and pajama-clad, Alex and his daddy played trains, then came downstairs for a little TV time, neither of them doing a very good job of keeping their eyes open. So Alex went up to bed, said his prayers, and was out like a light in no time at all.

It seems like, with my personality, I’m always on the lookout for “the funny.” I see the world around me at sort of a skewed angle, so I tend to go through my days being entertained by the oddest little occurrences: the way a clerk at a grocery store pronounces “celery,” or the way a political candidate announces that she is “for education. Absolutely for education” (I’m sure the anti-education lobby, powerful as it is, was shaking in its boots at that bold proclamation), or the way a little boy at Walmart dodges behind a rack of clothes just as his mama’s hand is about to make contact with his behind. I am, as a general rule, pretty easily entertained.

What I am not, at least not often enough, is easily grateful. There was absolutely nothing spectacular or special about our day, but what bowls me over as I think back on it is that it was absolutely everything that I never thought I wanted. I never dreamed of marriage or of children. I never pictured myself living in suburbia, shuttling kids to fast-food restaurants, playgrounds, and zoos. I certainly never thought that I’d belong to a church where there is no stained glass, no kneelers behind the pews, and instruments that require electricity. So while I don’t know exactly what I thought my life would be, I do know that I had some vague notion of living in a big city in a fabulous apartment and walking to a job where I edited what other people wrote. And I’m certain that I never thought my life would be this one that I have.

In light of all that, I just want to write it down and make it official: I’m so thankful, as I look back over this very ordinary day in our very ordinary life, that God has blessed me with all the things I never wanted.

Because there’s absolutely nowhere else that I’d rather be.

First, the boy. I love this picture – mainly because Alex looks like a man on a mission. You know, he’s walking down a hill, very busy, got some stuff to do, very busy.

Okay. On to the aforementioned dog.

At this point Alex was still trying to convince Maggie to play. Maggie, however, was far more enticed by whatever she saw on her paw. She had little interest in the toddler who was barking orders at her (the PUN never stops around here, oh no it doesn’t).

Yeah. I have no idea. Some calisthenics, maybe? A little light stretching before they begin their backyard workout?

There were lots of pictures between the last one and this one – too blurry to post because of All The Running. Never underestimate the potential for fun when you have a three year old and a 100 pound lab together in a large grassy area.

They’re a pretty cute pair.

I was making my way through my excruciatingly boring line-up of summer TiVo programs Saturday night, and I decided to settle in for a new episode of “Paula’s Home Cooking.” Y’all know I love Paula, and I’m constantly amazed by the ways she can take a perfectly healthy vegetable and transform it into a fat-laden, buttery delight. And after what I saw Saturday night, I think she may have outdone herself in the cholesterol-spiking department.

Here’s what she did. She took some perfectly lovely fresh ears of corn, slathered them with mayonnaise, rolled them in parmesan cheese, added chili powder and salt, wrapped them in foil, and then cooked them on the grill. The finished product looked delicious, though it didn’t resemble corn so much as some county-fair delicacy that had been battered and deep fried.

And I of course cannot wait to try it.

We have a propensity in the South for taking healthy foods and rendering them void of any redeeming nutritional value (see fried cheese, fried mushrooms, etc.), and I’m a little curious: do y’all have a favorite “healthy”-food-gone-wrong? I mean, yeah, you like broccoli on its own…but do you like it more when it’s covered in butter and cheese? Personally, I’m partial to a squash casserole where the squash, cooked down to the point that all those pesky vitamins are eliminated, is mixed with sour cream, cheese, onion, and topped with buttered cracker crumbs.

I’m not completely hopeless, just so you know. I love steamed asparagus with just a little salt and lemon juice on it.

But if you want to melt some cheese on top, you’ll get no complaints from me. :-)