Oh sweet mercy this post by Big Mama made me laugh. But I probably should say “laught,” and you’ll understand why after you read her post.

Also, happy birthday to Diane!

Finally, I just ran across this video over at Tess’ blog, and all I can say is that I pray that I sit next to the groom one day in church. Or – even better – that I get to stand beside him in choir.

You know you’re in for a rough night when it’s 2:30 AM and you’re standing on your front porch in your pajamas, trying to get a barking dog to be quiet while a disturbed bird who has chosen to build a nest in the eaves of your porch flaps around your head like something out of a Hitchcock movie.

So last night wasn’t what I’d call restful. That’s all I’m saying.

However, the sight of me trying to stave off a confused bird in the middle of the night was probably pretty comical.

Just not to me at the time. Because I don’t know if I mentioned it, but it was 2:30 IN THE MORNING.

Anyway.

This past Saturday after Paige’s baby shower I went to see D’s mother and grandmother. Sissie fell asleep in her chair about five minutes after I got there, and Martha talked for the next hour and a half about how “Mother’s just doing remarkably well, it’s really remarkable, but I just can’t, you know I can’t, I mean I just can’t lift her up so I’ve gotten some help to come in the mornings and the evenings, well, you met Carol, she is just delightful and comes very highly recommended and do you know that she used to work at my beauty parlor? She did! She worked at my beauty parlor! And of course Mother can’t get to the beauty parlor right now but we are trying to keep her hair fixed, and somebody told me about this foam, this foam that you just squirt into your hair and then rub it with a towel? And it’s like washing your hair only you don’t have to use water because of course we can’t get Mother in the tub right now? Well I went to the Walmarts to find it, and I told the little girl who was working what I was looking for, but right when she started to look someone dropped this huge bottle of something and they had to have a clean up, the little girl who was working had to call for a clean up and I said, ‘Well, I’m really in a bit of a hurry, sugar – my time is limited,’ but she didn’t even hear me so I just left and I mean I’d love to find that foam but I just can’t run all over town from one drugstore to another drugstore to another looking for this shampoo that’s not really shampoo, and did I tell you that I’m thinking about getting my hardwood floors refinished?”

And that’s only five minutes’ worth. I would transcribe the rest, but then my fingers would fall off from All The Typing.

My absolute favorite moment of my visit was when Martha was talking about how Alex has such an enthusiastic personality and how some of her friends had suggested that he might have inherited her “social” gene. Martha went on to say that she found that hard to believe because “I mean, people tell me that I like to talk a lot, but you know me – I’m shy!”

Yes. Um, of course. Because shy people often, you know, introduce themselves to others in the middle of the Steinmart petites section to tell their fellow shoppers about the woes of shopping for jackets when one has very narrow shoulders. Shy people do that ALL THE TIME.

Yes ma’am.

We really did have a lovely visit. It made me wish y’all could meet her.

And in conclusion, I would like to say that if Martha is shy, then I am skinny.

As a rail.

This morning around 4 I was awakened by Much Screaming And Wailing On The Part Of The Child, so I jumped out of bed and ran to the stairs. Before I could get past the landing, Alex started walking down the stairs to me, arms outstretched, breath ragged, tears flowing, and all he could manage to say was, “Mama? I’m wet.”

Which is officially the World’s Greatest Understatement. I know because in between all the clothes changing and sheet changing I logged on to the interweb and typed in those very words and won the 2006 World’s Greatest Understatement Contest.

Okay. Maybe not.

But the child wasn’t kidding about the wet thing.

He was soaked from his neck to his toes, and I have no idea how so much fluid could come out of One So Small, but if measurements had been available, I feel quite certain it would have been a gallon’s worth. Plus or minus a quart.

So I pulled his clothes off of him, found some clean underwear and pajamas in the dryer, and then had to venture back upstairs to get his Froggy and Monkey who gratefully were spared the middle of the night baptism. Well, I guess technically they WERE baptized if they’re Methodist or Episcopalian, because they had definitely been sprinkled.

But the Baptists would never count that.

OH I kid because I’m exhausted. I know that stuffed animals can’t be baptized.

Especially not with tee-tee.

And then there’s that pesky business about how they don’t have a soul and all, so they’re not so big on the repentance thing.

Anyhoo.

I need to straighten up the house a bit before I hit the road and head to my cousin’s baby shower.

And, you know, get dressed.

Have a lovely Saturday.

These are THE BEST.

Delta Red Beans and Rice
from Southern Living

1 pound dried red beans
6 cups water
1 1/2 pounds smoked sausage, sliced (I use turkey Polska Keilbasa)
1/2 pound cooked ham, cubed
1 large sweet onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, pressed
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 bunch green onions, chopped
1 cup chopped fresh parsley
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
1/8 teaspoon ground red pepper
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1/4 teaspoon hot sauce
Hot cooked rice

Place beans in a large Dutch oven. Cover with water 2 inches above beans; soak 8 hours. Drain.

Bring beans, 6 cups water, sausage, and ham to a boil in a Dutch oven. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 3 hours.

Sauté onion and garlic in hot oil in a large skillet until tender. Add to bean mixture. Stir in green onions and next 9 ingredients. Cover and chill 8 hours.

Bring bean mixture to a simmer; cover and cook, stirring often, 1 hour. Serve over rice.

Makes 8 to 10 servings

Life has been a little on the crazy side lately. Good, but crazy. I may have mentioned that a time or nine.

To help combat the craziness, I’ve been listening to a certain song – the first one on Chris Tomlin’s new CD – every single morning this week, and it provides some much-needed perspective.

I was ever-so-delighted when I found video of CT singing the song on YouTube – mainly because now I can share it with y’all. He starts singing at about the 1:38 mark. And if you can play one of them thar gee-tars, Chris even teaches you how to play the song after he sings it.

There is an endless song
Echoes in my soul
I hear the music ring
And though the storms may come
I am holding on
To the rock I cling

How can I keep from singing Your praise
How can I ever say enough
How amazing is Your love
How can I keep from shouting Your name
I know I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart want to sing.

Several of y’all have emailed me and said, “Hey, I thought y’all had a contract on another house, but your posts make it sound like you’re looking for a house, and you’re being sort of cryptic, and I find myself perplexed and confused.”

As well you should be, given the vagueness of my vaguery.

So I will now attempt to clarify.

Yes, we had (HAD) a contract on another house. It was very groovy and 70’s and even still had the original shag carpet (bright yellow in the master bedroom, followed bright red, bright green, and rust in the other bedrooms. My brother vowed that if I looked around enough in the closets, I would find a rake). We were planning to replace the carpet, of course, but walking through those bedrooms was like stepping back into 1974, right down to the Honeywell alarm system that looked like something from the episode of Columbo where Ruth Gordon locked her nephew in the safe and spent the next two hours trying to outsmart the good detective.

Now granted, I’ve never pretended to be normal, but it is a little strange to me that while lots of people dream of large, open floor plans and granite countertops and keeping rooms off of the kitchen, I have an almost unexplainable attraction (bordering on obsession, no doubt) to houses that look like Mike, Carole, Greg, Marsha, and the rest of the kids are sitting inside, just waiting for me to walk in so that they can serenade me with “It’s A Sunshine Day.” And the house that we had (HAD) the contract on totally had that vibe.

But alas, it was not meant to be ours. Another couple put in a contract. We had 48 hours to decide whether we wanted to roll the dice and set a closing date, not having any guarantee that our house would have sold by that date – or walk away.

We walked.

So the search continues.

Right now we’re looking at two Brady Bunch houses…one that is way overpriced and needs tons of work and smells really, really bad (sounds charming, doesn’t it? you MUST come for a visit) – but it could be a great house when it’s all said and done IF we can get a good deal. The other one is so groovy that I won’t even describe it because I think y’all would be certain that I’ve lost my mind to even consider it, so I’ll just say this: it looks like Austin Powers may have lived there at some point.

Or Maude. Maude might have lived there, too.

So if our house sells and we end up buying the Maude house, I’ve already warned D that I’m going to need some lounging pajamas and geometric-patterned headscarves (think Suzanne Pleshette circa 1976) in order to fit in with the new surroundings.

He is understandably thrilled.