The Company We Keep

Yesterday when I was making lasagna during Alex’s nap, the phone rang, and it was our friend Benji, who said hey, what were we doing this weekend, because he and his family were thinking about packing up the car and heading to our house, you know, within the hour. And just so you know: they live about 400 miles away. In Louisiana.

After a little juggling of our weekend schedule, D. called him back and said, “COME ON.” So Benji, Brandie and their little boy left their house around 7 last night and got to our house about 1 o’clock this morning. They’re staying until Sunday. And we are tickled to death.

We are so happy to have them here, mainly because they’re some of our favorite people in the whole wide world. They’re the kind of friends who require no extensive cleaning-up, no putting on of make-up or “real” clothes until long after breakfast, no planning, no organizing, no adjusting.

But being with them does require talking, laughing, guffawing, kidding, needling, and XBox playing. And now that Alex is old enough to really play with P. – who refers to A. as “my cousin” – being together requires watching our boys have big fun together. So all in all, time with their family is just EASY. Laid-back. Fun.

You know, when I was younger and pictured my life in my 30’s, I thought that I’d be a person who did lots of “entertaining.” I thought I’d have dinner parties and use all my fine china on at least a weekly basis. I thought I’d invite over an eclectic cross-section of people to sample a creative array of appetizers. I pictured that I’d be able to chat with my guests about a wide range of topics, from theatre to photography to literature. That I’d know the difference between a pinot noir and a cabernet and a merlot. And that I’d care about those things.

But what I’ve realized, after marriage, and a kid, and a few years of being 30-something, is that while all that stuff is okay, and while for some folks it has its place, those things just aren’t meaningful to me. I can’t do life without genuine community and fellowship with other people. And the older I get, the more I want some substance behind the conversations, some intention behind the relationships, and some REAL beneath the surface.

I’m grateful that this weekend, without a doubt, will be the real deal: cooking out on the grill, chasing kids in the backyard, cleaning up the kitchen, watching some HGTV, laughing until our sides hurt, listening to each other’s stories, promising we’ll never tell some of them, staying up way too late for our own good, worshipping together on Sunday morning, and vowing – when it’s time for them to go home – that it won’t be so long before we get together again.

So I’m about to shut down the computer and hang out with our friends. I’ll cook dinner and “entertain” them – just as I imagined doing so many years ago – but we’ll be using the everyday dishes for the grown-ups and the Exclusive Elmo Collection (Plastic Edition) plates for the kids. And yes, we’ll have appetizers – a little sliced cheese, a few potato chips, some “party dip” that comes in a tub from the grocery store. Fancy. And we’ll cover a wide array of topics, all right: faith, marriage, parenting, TiVo, movies, and more. And though I still don’t know a thing about wine, I’ll be able to speak with authority on the differences between diet Coke, diet Pepsi and diet Dr. Pepper.

And I DO care. Deeply.

Because conversation trumps small talk. Because substance trumps flash. And because real life trumps dream world.

Every single time.

Thursday Thirteen

Banner by Kelly
Thirteen (More) Things You’ll Never Hear Me Say
1. “No butter for me, thanks.”

2. “This oppressive humidity is so refreshing.”

3. “I got so busy that I totally forgot to eat.”

4. “No, really. I’d LOVE to go to the repair shop and explain to the mechanic EXACTLY what’s wrong with the car.”

5. “Let’s watch ALL THREE X-Men movies on DVD tonight! Movies based on comic books ROCK!”

6. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to the phone. I was watching a “Murder, She Wrote” marathon.”

7. “I saw the trailer for that new Will Ferrell movie, but I didn’t laugh at all.”

8. “I’d be glad to serve on those four committees. There’s nothing I enjoy more than a good meeting!”

9. “What’s a blog?”

10. “Alex, just remember: your life is all about YOU.”

11. “You know what we need? Hamsters.”

12. “I love prunes.”

13. “If you can wait just a minute, I want to change into my thong before we go down to the beach.”

If you’re participating in TT this week, leave a comment and make sure to provide a link to your blog in the “URL” field.
Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

I’m Posting This, Running From The Computer, And Never Looking Back

You should be warned that the following topic is a bit, er, delicate for Christian blogging circles, and I have pondered whether or not I should actually post this story. But I finally decided that y’all probably aren’t too sensitive about this kind of thing, because most of you are currently married or have been married, and a lot of you have kids, so you, um, have a pretty solid understanding of the, you know, privileges that go along with marriage.

Ahem.

AHEHEHEHEHEHEM.

So.

Over the last nine years, D. and I have had several discussions about what works and doesn’t work in terms of laying the groundwork for romance.

For example.

For many women, here’s what works:

1) Kind, sincere, encouraging words
2) Consistent, tender affection, with no end game in mind (yeah – like that happens)
3) Random acts of thoughtfulness – giving the kids their baths, planning a date night, writing a sweet note, etc.

And for many men, here’s what works:

1) Everything

So, you know, there’s a bit of a learning curve with the whole “love language” deal.

ANYWAY, D. is great about trying to speak my language. He really is. If he knows that this, this, and this will help fulfill my emotional needs, he tries to do those things. I think that’s sweet.

But every once in awhile, well, it just gets comical.

As it did yesterday, when my husband, fresh from a testosterone-fueled rampage against evil marionettes and a clown-faced spider (a video game…not my worst nightmare come to life), walked upstairs, and said the following with a gleam in his eye:

“Happy 4th of July.”

And I just grinned, because yeah, it was the 4th.

And then:

“Wanna make some fireworks later?”

Y’all.

I couldn’t help it. I giggled. Then snorted a little. And D. started laughing, too. Because the whole thing just reeked of effort.

But that’s not the best part.

Later, when we were eating lunch, as we were talking about our plans for the afternoon, D. apparently started thinking of all the Southern-ish summer chores he remembered seeing Mama do when she and Daddy lived in their old house. They always had a huge garden, and Mama spent many summer afternoons cutting corn off the cob, shelling peas, snapping beans, etc. and then going through the process of putting that stuff away for the winter, either by freezing it or preserving it in a big ole mason jar.

So I guess D. was thinking about what would be the most old fashioned thing I could possibly do on July 4th, what would most closely resemble my parents’ all-American summer activities, because here is what he said to me in an attempt at down-home humor, with absolutely no regard for getting me up-to-speed with the train of thought he’d been following for the last several minutes:

“Well, what are you gonna do this afternoon? Put up some pickle?”

And y’all. I thought. He meant. You know.

The fireworks thing.

I was MORTIFIED.

Because I’ll just go ahead and tell you, that was SO not my love language. And SO not something I would ever expect him to say.

But then he continued talking about Mama and all the vegetables she used to put up in the summertime, and I realized that there was nary a trace of irony or innuendo in his previous question. That he really was talking about combining vinegar and sugar and spices with cucumbers.

I practically collapsed with relief. I mean, I just couldn’t imagine him saying something so tacky, especially at the dinner table in front of our child, but after the whole fireworks comment, I guess my brain was sort of frazzled.

Anyway, when I told him what I thought he meant, he just about choked on his potato salad. He fell out laughing. We’re STILL laughing about it. And yes, he gave me his blessing to share our little “misunderstanding” with y’all.

So, whatever you did (she says, uncomfortably), I hope your 4th was very happy indeed.

And I will never share this much personal information ever again.

Works For Me Wednesday – Modifying A Blogger Template

Admittedly this is sort of a weird Works For Me Wednesday, because it all starts with the pattern on these pants:

See, I was cleaning out my closet yesterday, and when I saw these pants, I thought, “You know, that’s sort of the look I’ve wanted to have on my blog.”

Oh but you think I’m kidding.

Seriously, I’ve wanted to change the look for awhile, but I didn’t have any inspiration. But when I saw the browns and the pinks and the greens, I knew I had found a starting point. And since Addie helped me so much the first time I tried to to swap out my banner, change my background, etc., I had a pretty good idea of what I needed to do…and it’s really not as hard as you might think.

So, in the spirit of WFMW, here’s how I changed my template just enough to make a big difference. Keep in mind that I’m talking specifically about Blogger, so if you use TypePad or WordPress or whatever, this explanation may not work for you.

First, I set up a new blog – a test blog – really simple if you’re using something free like Blogger. This is a great place to save the info in your current template and start to work with it. The best thing is that I can tinker with the test blog to my heart’s content and not one letter gets changed on my “real” blog. When I get the test blog like I want it, I copy and paste any code that has changed back over here.

Second, I made sure that I knew what I was after design-wise. Find your inspiration, whether it’s in a photograph, a piece of clip art, or even a pair of pants.

After I figured out what kind of look I wanted, I looked at some of the free or REALLY low-cost stock photography sites. I found my new pants-inspired background illustration on iStockPhoto, and I paid a WHOLE DOLLAR for it. Once I downloaded the file, I was able to start working with it (you can use Photoshop, Illustrator, etc.). You do have to have a little knowledge about how to do text boxes and that kind of thing – but you can easily find that out online. Or, if you’re me, yell “HUSBAND!” and let your computer-savvy hubby help.

Next, I looked at my template code to see how many pixels my banner (the place with your blog name and tagline) needed to be. See where it says 692? That means my banner needs to be at least that many pixels wide. The height is pretty flexible. You can do all the editing – inserting type, playing around with fonts, tweaking the colors – after you have the correct size set up. And as for the background image – the stuff along the sides – I just make that about 300 pixels wider than my banner. It’s a separate file from the banner, and I just sort of figured out how to make it work through trial and error.

The last step in the “design” process is to save everything as JPEG files, and I use PhotoBucket to host my images. Once you’ve uploaded to your photo host, the bulk of your work is done.

So on to to the template. The fun part. :-) And if you try this, remember: don’t even THINK about messing with your template until you have made a back-up copy of your code. That’s where all your links, sidebar stuff, and any modifications are, and you don’t want to lose ANY of that. So select it all, copy, and paste it in a .txt file – then SAVE IT.

Once all the code was saved and sound, I just copied and pasted the URL of where my banner image is stored into my template (you’ll see that info underneath your pics in Photobucket). That place in your template will look something like this, and all you have to change is the part between the quotation marks on the “img src” line.

Finally, I put the URL for my new background image in the place that looks like this, and again, all I had to change was what’s in between the quotation marks on the “background” line. (And you don’t have to change the background at all if you don’t want to – I just happened to like a washed out version of my banner running down the sides.)

Here’s the most important thing I’ve learned as a VERY amateur-ish template tinkerer: stick with the horse that brung ya. I’m still using my very first Blogger template – Son of Moto, I think it’s called – all I’ve changed are two pieces of code (the banner and the background). But doing those things will give you a whole new look. Plus, I don’t have to transfer all my link and sidebar info into another template. That works for me!

Now if all this talk of downloading and editing and template changing just exhausts you, try out one of the many free Blogger templates available. I found some adorable free ones at Zoot’s Designs, and I came very close to using one of those…all the code is right there on her site (remember, if you set it up on a test blog first, you can copy and paste in your links from your real blog, then, when you’re finished, copy and paste all your edited code back over to the place we normally visit).

Also, there are so many talented designers / bloggers who can create custom designs for a reasonable fee, like Jules, Susie, Karin and Becky, just to name a few.

And again, PLEASE remember: ALWAYS make a copy of the code you’re currently using – NEVER start to manipulate the HTML in your current template without having a back-up.

I know this is an unusually long WFMW, but I figured I’d better write down this info while it’s fresh on my mind – and hopefully it will help some of you, too. That ALWAYS works for me. :-)

Happy Blogging, everybody!

For more great WFMW ideas, visit Rocks In My Dryer.

“Thank You For The Green Fireworks In The Sky”

I Really Won’t Look In Your Medicine Cabinet. Promise.

I’ve written before about my strange obsession with “House Hunters” on HGTV. And I’ve mentioned that within the first full minute of an episode – if it’s a re-run – I can call it: “That’s the couple that ended up in a Craftsman cottage,” or “That’s the guy whose grandmother was his realtor and on the way into the first house he looked at, she tripped on a stepping stone and said, ‘HELP ME! I’ll kill myself!'”

So I’ve seen an episode or nine, is all I’m sayin’.

Well, when I read this post at Melanie’s blog, I knew
exactly which episode of “HH” she was talking about. Down to the couple’s outfits. And then I wondered: why don’t I quit watching? I’ve seen all of them. I know which house they’re going to choose. Why can’t I quit my “House Hunters” habit?

Part of it has to do with what I mentioned in the post from February. I’m Southern. Southern people like seeing people’s houses. We like sitting on people’s porches. We like being invited into people’s living rooms and finding big glasses of sweet tea waiting on the coffee table. We can’t help it. It’s like saying “y’all” or eating grits – it’s part of who we are.

But the bigger part, I think, is that for me, the inside of a house – and whether it’s 700 or 7,000 square feet is totally irrelevant – is a reflection of a person’s personality. So I’ll just go ahead and tell you – though this may scare you and send you fleeing from this little corner of the interweb so quickly that your monitor will have tread marks – I find it impossible to talk to someone or read her blog without forming a picture in my head of where she lives.

You may need a moment to process the deeply disturbing nature of that last sentence.

Yes, even though I’ve never, you know, visited their homes, I have a mental image (completely fabricated, of course) of where Sarah lives, where Addie lives, where Robin lives, where fill-in-the-blank lives – and it’s based on absolutely nothing other than my perception of their personalities.

Please don’t leave.

I mean, that’s weird. Right? It’s weird. I know it is.

Allow me to continue to humiliate myself.

In my head, everybody lives somewhere perfectly lovely. I rarely meet someone in real life or read someone’s blog and picture them living in a less-than-desirable conditions. I do picture various degrees of home decor – some plain, some minimal, some contemporary, some traditional, some eclectic – but in my mind everybody lives in a safe, secure home that’s a perfect reflection of their personality and values.

So I’ll get even more specific and REALLY scare you.

– I imagine that Diane has lots of beautiful old quilts scattered around. She loves hearth and home, loves her family, and she strikes me as a person who would see a quilt as a treasure – something to be handed down from generation to generation.
– I imagine that Lauren has a place for everything and everything in its place. Her blog is so pretty and functional and orderly that I can’t help but think that her house is, too.
– I imagine that Brenda doesn’t like a lot of frou-frou stuff in her house. There’s no lace there (at least in my head). And because she always has gorgeous photography on her blog, I picture her house as being tastefully minimal so that the pictures are showcased.

Oh, I could go on. And on. And on. But then you might notify some sort of mental health agency that there’s this woman? In Alabama? With some SERIOUS issues. In need of some SERIOUS help.

But I’m thinking that there has to be at least one of you who does this, too.

Please?

And Happy 4th of July, by the way.

You may now judge me in the comments. Freely.