You’ll all be happy to know that David is taking this opportunity to fine-tune our TiVo settings, not that I’m, you know, ANXIOUS or anything about tonight’s Idol, not that I haven’t been looking forward to this all day, not that I didn’t FLY down the stairs when I finally got Alex to bed so that I could WATCH MY SHOW. :-)

Ah, all done now…and it looks like it’s going to be three songs per contestant tonight: one chosen by Clive Davis (Whitney Houston’s producer before she had the meltdown), one chosen by the judges, and one chosen by the contestants.

Elliott Yamin –
“Open Arms” – A Journey song? Really? Yes, really. And while this song does remind me of every awkward social experience I had in junior high, it was pretty good. Could’ve been really cheesy – and it’s certainly nothing I would want to buy – but Elliott did pretty well with it.

“What You Don’t Do For Love” – I do love this song that Paula chose for him. It seemed like he was dragging, though – and screaming, too. But I love to hear Elliott sing some of the older R & B songs – they really suit his style and his voice.

“I Believe To My Soul” – Funky and fun and everything good right here. If I could download his version of this song right now (legally, of course), I would listen to it over and over and over. Great arrangement, great vocal. Loved it.

Katharine McPhee –
“I Believe I Can Fly” – I cannot STAND this song. But somehow she made it sound like the big finale for a Disney heroine. And y’all, the more I hear Katharine, the more I wonder if she’s going to be a great leading lady on Broadway instead of a best-selling recording artist. David says that she pushes too hard – and I think he’s right. It seems like she’s trying to do all kinds of fancy stuff – but she sounds better when she’s understated and subtle.

“Somewhere Over The Rainbow” – Perfect. Perfect song. Perfect arrangement. Perfect performance. Perfectly beautiful. And did she remind anyone else of Sarah MacLachan? So subtle and elegant and perfect. LOVED IT.

“I Ain’t Got Nothin’ But The Blues” – I love this song choice. It was FUN FUN FUN. I think Miss McPhee may have secured her ticket to the finals.

Taylor Hicks –
“Dancing In The Dark” – I am SO not a Springsteen fan (I know, it’s un-American). And this song is, well, okay. When you consider that the song bored me to tears when it was a hit, it’s probably not much of a shock to discover I didn’t love it tonight. Would’ve been better if he had pulled Courteney Cox on the stage to dance with him. ;-)

“You Are So Beautiful” – I thought this was a really romantic and sweet version of this song. I didn’t expect to like it, but it came across as so sincere, so genuine, that it actually brought a little tear to mine eye.

“Try A Little Tenderness” – Hallelujah and Amen. I will be listening to this performance LOUDLY in mere minutes – and dancing spastically throughout my house. David actually didn’t like it at all, but he’s not a Taylor fan like I am. I, on the other hand, ADORED IT.

By the way, the judges were out of control tonight and totally on my nerves. And Paula? Paula, Paula, Paula.

Should go: Elliott
Will go: Elliott
Best of the night: Katharine’s “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” – but Taylor’s last song was mighty fun indeed.

All this talk of Mamaw’s chocolate pudding and apple tarts has really made me think about 1) food (but what else is new?) and 2) how childhood memories – at least in the South, though I assume it’s universal – have a way of getting tied up with food. I have tons of memories of being outside and riding bikes and exploring the chicken coops in Papaw’s barn – but those memories are linked to walking back inside, wandering into Mamaw’s kitchen, and finding a snack of fresh lemonade and leftover toast with a little homemade plum jelly on it.

When I was a little girl, being at Mamaw and Papaw Davis’ house meant chocolate pudding, homemade apple tarts, fried chicken, fresh vegetables, and a loaf of white bread on the table at every meal. Mamaw Davis died when I was 12, so I haven’t had her food in over 20 years, but I can taste her fried corn right now, not to mention her sweet tea that had so much sugar it actually made you pucker a little bit when you swallowed it.

Being at Mamaw and Papaw Sims’ house meant sixteen kinds of ice cream in the deep freeze, boiled peanuts, and basically all the treats Mama and Daddy would never let us have. Mamaw Sims died when I was five, so I don’t remember her cooking, but I do remember that Papaw Sims would LOAD US UP on candy and popcorn and peanuts and ice cream when we visited. To this very day, if Sister and I are together and have to stop at a convenience store, one of us will buy diet Mountain Dews (it would’ve been Sundrop back in the day), peanuts, bubble gum, Red Hots, etc. – and then imitate Papaw Sims when we distribute the goodies.

Even at three, Alex knows that going to my mama and daddy’s house means donuts, Coke, and Cheetos, and going to David’s mother’s means biscuits, Goldfish, and chocolate. It makes me smile.

Now I know I’m from the South, where we talk about what’s for lunch while we’re eating breakfast, where we bemoan how stuffed we are while we ask somebody to pass us that coconut cake, but my guess is that just about everybody has two or three (or nine or eleven) foods that remind them of childhood, and comfort, and family.

Mine are fried okra, mashed potatoes, chocolate pie and sweet tea.

What are yours?

I reserve the right to ask for recipes.

1. I’m not as up-to-date with celebrity news as I used to be, what with giving up my InTouch / Us / People habit this year (yes, I fell off the wagon when I had a night alone…every once in awhile you just need some big colorful pictures with mindless captions).

But I have decided that I have a distinct pet peeve in the land of celebrity reportage.

(Is “reportage” even a word? Well, it should be.)

Why do magazines, newspapers, etc. always distinguish between biological children and adopted children? Why is everyone in a big hip-hip-hoo about this Brangelina baby, yet when reporters mention their other two children, they refer to them as “adopted”? Why are Tom Cruise’s kids with Nicole Kidman always referred to as “adopted,” while his newest child is just “Tom and Katie’s [excuse me. Kate. Tom’s very insistent that we call her Kate.] kid”? Aren’t the other two children “just his kids,” too?

Because I’ll tell you this (she says, as she creeps up to the stairs that lead to her soapbox): my love for my child is in no way, shape, form or fashion based on the fact that I gave birth to him. I love him because he IS, not because of where he came from. And I don’t see why the media relegate children who are LOVINGLY CHOSEN to some sort of second-tier status.

Should I start a letter writing campaign? How do you even do that?

Dear Us Magazine,

I’ve noticed that you distinguish between adopted and non-adopted children.

Stop it.

Fondly,
BooMama

It really does make me crazy – doesn’t make sense at ALL.

2. I don’t know if you’ve seen Sarah’s good news or not – but it’s cause for praise. Click on over to see a mighty sweet baby girl.

3. Here is the Slap Yo Mama Chocolate Pudding recipe that I mentioned earlier today (though that’s not the pudding’s official name – I can’t really hear my grandmother saying that, and I think that the official name is, surprisingly, “Chocolate Pudding”).

You need to know that my Mamaw Davis was the best cook in six counties – three hot meals a day, everything homemade or homegrown – and this is one of the few recipes anyone bothered to write down. So I’m sharing a little of my cooking heritage with you…it’s one of the strongest sensory memories of my childhood. It is SO. DADGUM. GOOD.

3/4 cup sugar
3 heaping tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 heaping tablespoons cocoa powder (I like Hershey’s)
2 eggs
2 egg yolks (that is not a typo – that would be 4 egg yolks total, or two days’ worth of your recommended cholesterol intake) :-)
2 cups milk
2 tablespoons butter
2 teaspoons good vanilla extract

In a medium-sized saucepan (no heat yet), stir together first three ingredients until there are no lumps. I actually run mine through a sifter, but hey, I’m OCD.

In a separate bowl, beat your eggs.

Fold eggs into dry mixture.

Once eggs are fully incorporated, add milk, stir until combined, and then turn on stove to a medium-high heat. You do not want to boil this custard…so be careful you don’t have too much heat going or the pudding will curdle.

Stir or whisk mixture constantly until it starts to thicken – about 10 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in butter and vanilla.

Makes 4-6 servings, which I pour immediately into individual dessert bowls (cools quicker that way).

And please, whatever you do, no matter how delicious it may be, please, during the making or eating of this pudding, do not, under any circumstances, slap your mama.

Even though you’ll want to. :-)

Saturday night David and I were talking about our plans for Sunday. We’re not usually ones to make a big deal over the greeting card companies’ holidays, so Sunday promised to be a pretty low-key event: church, lunch, rest, play. The usual. But as we ran through all the possible options, David, in a fit of inspiration, looked at me and said, “Hey – do you want for me to take Alex to church tomorrow and you can stay here?”

And I promise you that before he even finished his sentence, I screamed, “OKAY!”

Y’all know that I love my church. I love GOING to church with my family. But getting to stay home by myself? Unexpectedly?

That’s a SERIOUS reason to praise the Lord. :-)

So my day started with some coffee, and some sweet presents, and then the little man and David headed out for breakfast and church.

Then I had church right here in my own house. I cranked up my music, started making my way through my to-do list, and I thanked Him and praised Him all morning long. I really did, y’all. You may not have known that laundry could be an act of worship, but I’m telling you that yesterday, in my house, it was. This is a crazy time of year for me, and it blessed my soul to be able to do a little “freestyle” worship in solitude. Totally energizing.

And if that weren’t enough joy for one day, yesterday afternoon something happened to me that has never happened before.

When I was a little girl and would watch Miss America, I would wonder why the winner always cried. I didn’t understand that. I mean, if you’re happy, IF SOMEONE PUTS A LARGE CROWN ON YOUR HEAD, why in the world would you cry? And how could the emotions come on that fast? I wondered if they secretly practiced their “pageant cry” in the mirror – if they worked for hours to get the whole crying-laughing-streaming tears routine just like they liked it.

I did experience “the joyful cry” when we had the ultrasound that showed us we were having a boy, but the crying wasn’t unexpected because I was an emotional wreck heading into my doctor’s appointment that day. So it didn’t come at me from out of nowhere…I sort of expected to bawl my eyes out, truth be told.

Well, yesterday afternoon the phone rang, and my aunt was on the other end. She said, “Guess what I got for Mother’s Day?”

And I’m thinking, well, it’s a pretty wide open field – I honestly have no idea.

So I played along and said, “I don’t know. What?”

She said, “I got a yellow fleece snuggly, and a yellow bib that says, ‘I love my grandma.’”

Which means.

My cousin Paige.

Is.

Pregnant.

Her first baby.

14 weeks along.

Y’all, I don’t know what emotional reservoir that news tapped into, but I have never cried tears of pure joy so spontaneously in my life. To know how badly Paige has wanted this baby, to know that she is the most tenderhearted person in the free world and will be the BEST. MAMA. EVIR., to know that Alex will have another cousin, but more than anything to know the joy that is in front of her and how it will absolutely knock her socks off…well, I had a moment.

All I needed to complete said moment was a crown, a scepter, and a large bouquet of roses, because I am telling you, I had that whole Miss America cry DOWN. I perfected it in mere minutes.

So for the rest of the day, no matter what Alex did, I would think about Paige, and everything she has to look forward to. I guess I was talking about the big news a lot, because Alex kept saying, “What’s tomorrow, Mama? PAIGE’S! BABY!”

After supper I made homemade chocolate pudding – it’s my Mamaw Davis’ recipe, and it is slap-yo-mama good (appropriate, isn’t it, for Mother’s Day?) – and apparently the pudding made such an impression on Alex that he thanked God for it twice last night when he said his prayers.

And as I listened to Alex say his prayers – as he thanked God for the chocolate pudding, and the chocolate pudding that got on his shirt, and for outside, and for colors, and for Paige, and Paige’s baby, and for carseat (yeah, I know – but he thanked Him for it), and for family, and for playing trains, and for tub, and bed, and pajamas, and Cheetos, and about 20 other things – I had church, in my own house, for the second time on Mother’s Day.

Sweet, sweet Paige. And that sweet little baby. The two of them have absolutely no idea what they’re going to mean to each other. So many blessings, so much joy – just right around the corner for their family.

It was a really, really good day.

I know it’s Mother’s Day, but it is ALL DADDY, ALL THE TIME around our house these days.

I believe this phase is what the childrearing experts refer to as “modeling.”

I personally refer to it as “Oh blessed sweet relief.”

The little man does still like to snuggle with his mama. But he wants to do EVERYTHING his daddy does, whether it’s checking the phone lines, or reading a magazine, or going to Best Buy (what is it with guys and Best Buy?), or mowing the grass.

We’ve tried to be cautious about Alex getting near equipment with, you know, SHARP SPINNING BLADES, but now he’s getting old enough to understand that he has to keep a respectful distance from the machines that make loud noises. And when David got out the mower, Alex was more than happy to follow behind with a somewhat less sophisticated model.

First Alex made his way to the end of the driveway to show his daddy his cool new equipment.

Note the careful attention to detail as he worked his way around the mailbox shrubbery.

Unfortunately, Alex inherited my ability to fall down for no discernible reason. So the yardwork was interrupted for just a minute while he sought comfort from Mama. I love the fact that David is smiling in the background. Almost as much as I love the fact that I made time to take a picture when my child was crying. PARENTS OF THE YEAR!

And they were both back to the task at hand in no time at all.

Aren’t they the sweetest, y’all?

Happy Mother’s Day.

G.V. “Sonny” Montgomery – 1920-2006
I know that if you didn’t grow up in Mississippi, this post might be a little puzzling to you. I even hesitated to write it at all, until I got an email from Lea Margaret this morning that said, basically, “You HAVE to write it; this is what heritage and place are all about. Alex needs to know.”

And she’s right. He does.

Yesterday, we lost one of Mississippi’s most beloved sons, Sonny Montgomery.

Sonny was a member of the US House of Representatives for thirty years (1967-1997), and he was from my hometown. He was an old-school Southern democrat, committed to fighting for our farmers, and our soldiers, and our families. A soldier himself, he very literally dedicated his life to his country, and as I thought today about what he meant to the small Mississippi town where I grew up, I cried.

When I was a little girl, I used to walk with my daddy from the courthouse to the main post office in Meridian. Sonny’s office was on the 2nd or 3rd floor, and I can remember running into him on the courthouse steps, listening to him and daddy shoot the breeze in the way that only Southern men can do. It never occurred to me that Sonny was “important” – he was just the nice man who always wore a suit and tie and traveled to Washington a bunch.

When I was around 13 or 14, I remember going up to Sonny’s office with my cousin Paige and picking up boxes of Congressional cookbooks so that we could pass them out at the Neshoba County Fair. It was about 114 in the shade that day, but Paige and I were as proud as could be…we were on a mission “for Sonny,” and that felt like a mighty big honor indeed.

I was probably in high school before I understood that Sonny was one of the most powerful men in Washington, before I realized that his closest friend was a man named George Herbert Walker Bush. Sonny was very close to my friend Liz’s family, and many nights when we were hanging out at Liz’s house, Sonny would come through her front door – in a suit and tie, as always – and make time for conversation with a bunch of silly teenagers. He was a Southern gentleman in every sense of the word.

When I was in college I would sometimes get home on Fridays in time to eat lunch at Weidmann’s with my mama, and many Fridays I would see Sonny at a table with five or six other men, holding court and philosophizing about whatever the topic of the day might be. And his behavior was no different with dignitaries. I’ll never forget Liz’s mama telling us about eating dinner with Sonny and President and Mrs. Bush. Sonny and the President got into a lively discussion about running and weight, and at one point in the conversation, the President looked at Liz’s mom, who is a dedicated runner, and said, “So, J., what do YOU weigh?” He and Sonny obviously had a pretty down-to-earth relationship. :-)

What strikes me now – in an age where career politicians are often immersed in scandal or consumed by furthering their own agenda – is how normal Sonny was. He genuinely cared for the people he served. To this day I’ve never heard anyone say a negative thing about him. Let that sink in for just a second…he was a politician…and I’ve never heard a negative word.

Sid Salter, an editor at The Clarion-Ledger in Jackson, says that “It was Mongomery’s life as a soldier that shaped his political career. He became the very best friend that veterans of American military service ever had. Through the Montgomery GI Bill, Sonny did more to help middle and lower income Americans get a college education than perhaps any other American.” You can read the details of his accomplishments here, if you’re interested.

About two and a half years ago, David and I were at Mississippi State one Saturday for a football game. We were wandering around campus, and I remembered that Montgomery Hall – named for Sonny – had been renovated and was being dedicated that day. We managed to get there right at the end of the ribbon-cutting ceremony, and when I saw Sonny from a distance, I did a bit of a double-take. Sitting in a chair, he looked frail – not at all like I remembered him. For just a second I was sad, because I, like so many, remember a man with a spring in his step, a purpose in his stride.

But when it was time for pictures on the steps of Montgomery Hall, Sonny stood up. He had on a maroon blazer with a perfectly coordinated tie – ever the loyal Bulldog, even in his 80’s – and as he gazed out at the crowd that had gathered to honor him, he looked like the same man I’d seen outside the courthouse in Meridian 25 years before…dignified, charming and humble.

It’s no secret that Mississippi isn’t always portrayed in a positive light by the media or by people in other parts of the country. Never mind that my home state has produced John C. Stennis, John Grisham, William Faulkner, Tennesee Williams, Morgan Freeman, Eudora Welty, Leontyne Price, B.B. King, and countless other pioneers in government, in literature, in music, in the arts, in science, and in industry.

Sonny Montgomery belongs on that list of pioneers. He went to Washington during one of the most turbulent times in Mississippi’s history, and he gained the respect of the men and women who worked with him. More than that, he earned the admiration of the men and women who elected him. And he never lost it.

We will miss him.