Elvis night.

And we’re down to four: Chris, Elliott, Katharine and Taylor.

Hey – as a quick aside – David told me that Monday he was listening to one of his favorite local talk radio shows, and apparently word got out on the interweb that Taylor Hicks is sometimes a topic of discussion. I mean, it makes sense…this is, after all, his hometown. David got very tickled listening to callers from all parts of the US call in and “talk Taylor” – apparently he has a pretty loyal following. Whether or not his following can pull him through for another week remains to be seen.

Anyway, two songs a piece – and bonus points, at least from me, to whomever sings “A Little Less Conversation.” Best. Elvis. Song. Evir.

Taylor Hicks –
“Jailhouse Rock” – I think this song is probably an obvious choice for Taylor. TOTALLY in his element. And I ADORED that ending. It’s a genre that suits him, don’t you think?

“In The Ghetto” – Before he even sings a note, I’m going to say this: EXCELLENT choice. And now that I’ve heard it – I love that Taylor gave a calm, controlled performance, and I thought the message of the song really came across. Loved it.

Chris Daughtry –
For what it’s worth, I’m always a little bit goobed out when reality TV people talk about “their fans.” But that’s neither here nor there, I guess.

“Suspicious Minds” – What’s up with the glasses? Okay. I was just a little goobed out when he was talking about his fans. But the glasses have sent me straight over the goobed out edge. On top of that, this performance was sort of boring to me. It felt like a warm-up.

“A Little Less Conversation” – BONUS POINTS! BONUS POINTS! I wish I could’ve seen Elvis perform this song live. That being said, I like how Chris sounded, but I feel like he missed the fun part of this song – because anyone from the South knows that this is a VERY fun song. I detect that maybe Chris was taking himself a little seriously this week. Am I the only one who feels that way? Here’s what I think it is. Elvis was a great singer AND a strong personality. Chris is a great singer – but he’s weak on the personality end, and that was painfully obvious in this song especially.

Elliott Yamin –
“I Can Dream” – A little bit of a rough start, but I think he found his groove about 30 seconds in. I know that he’s probably the favorite to be voted off this week, but I think he did an awesome job. He made it sound like a contemporary song, and on top of that he’s such a likeable guy (i.e., he doesn’t talk about his “fans” and doesn’t go all Bono on us with the sunglasses).

“Trouble” – Did anybody see how much fun the band and the back-up singers were having? My favorite Elliott performance yet. He is really, really growing on David and me. I think the underdog just may make it to the final three.

Katharine McPhee –
“Hound Dog” / “All Shook Up” – I’m a Katharine fan – but this performance was a little hyper. It seemed like she was trying so hard to be fun! We’re having fun! Everybody! Fun! Look what a fun! performer! I am! Hoping for better things in song #2.

“Can’t Help Falling In Love” – I’m afeared that this is going to be boring. Now I’ve listened. Yep, boring.

Once again, the judges seemed mystified as to why the performances were so good. Here’s the answer: THE SONGS WERE BETTER BACK THEN. It’s so clear that the musicians have more to work with, the singers have more to work with – because these songs are more than just a clever hook. There’s some meat to them, you know?

Best of the night: Elliott
Should go: Chris
Will go: Katharine

Tracey emailed me this video – it’s called The Evolution of Dance. I thought y’all might get a kick out of it, too.

Crazy Blogger problems this AM.

For a little while I thought all my files were gone, that I was left with nothing but a bright green background and a swirly border, and I was. not. happy.

I’m still waiting for my blood pressure to get back to normal, but in the meantime, I’ll tell you this.

Last night I had a dream that I was playing around with Photoshop (hubby actually gave me a short tutorial a couple of days ago in real life), and I found a hidden window in my little corner of Photoshop dreamworld that was filled with all kinds of blog banner templates in bright, vibrant colors. And they were 3-D and I could make them spin around and joy – deep, abiding joy – filled my soul.

I should probably be embarrassed to even tell y’all that.

When I was re-hashing my dream this morning as I drank my coffee, I determined that I may need one of you to approach me ever-so-gently and help me back off of this interweb precipice. Because clearly I am a woman obsessed.

I HAD A DREAM ABOUT A BLOG TEMPLATE.

I mean, y’all. Seriously.

I am obviously in danger of falling into some geeky technological abyss.

I haven’t told David about my dream yet (would you tell YOUR husband about such a dream?), but I know exactly what he will say when I do:

“NERRRRRRRRRRRD!”

I so am.

Last night my mama called and asked if I’d help her with the wording for an invitation. She explained that she and Daddy were hosting a neighborhood dinner for someone who’s moving away, and in true Southern fashion Mama wants to do a printed invite.

She can do a formal dinner for 30, you see, but the whole potluck thing throws her off completely.

Here is a re-cap of our conversation:

Mama: “I start off with ‘Please join us for a Potluck Dinner’…”

Me: “Okay.”

Mama: “…honoring Neighbor Lady” [in case you didn’t catch it – that’s not her real name]

Me: “Okay.”

Mama: “In celebration of her retirement from” [then reads name of Large Government Entity where Neighbor Lady works]

Me: [starting to get puzzled] “O. Kay.”

Mama: “On May 21st, at 6 o’clock, in our home.”

Me: [feeling better now] “All right.”

Mama: “Please bring your favorite Southern dish…”

Me: [puzzled all over again] “Mmm-hmm.”

Mama: “…to accompany fried chicken.”

Me: [now totally puzzled] “Keep going.”

Mama: “Bobby and I will supply all the ice, drinks, paper goods and desserts.”

Me: “Hold on, Mama. You’re giving too much information. This is turning into a paragraph, not an invitation.”

Mama: “Well, how will they know if we don’t tell them?”

Me: “How about if you just say, ‘Please bring your favorite Southern side dish’?”

Mama: “Okay.”

[long pause]

Me: “What?”

Mama: “You don’t think I need to mention the fried chicken?”

Me: “No. No, I don’t think you need to mention the fried chicken.”

Mama: “Well, what about the paper goods? Don’t I need to mention that your daddy and I will have all the paper goods?”

Me: “Mama, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that if you and Daddy are having a group of people over for a cookout, they are going to assume that you’ll have some plates and forks and cups so that they can, you know, eat. They are not going to arrive with a pack of Hefty plates and some Solo cups.”

Mama: “So you think it’s okay?”

Me: “I think it’s okay.”

And by the way, the irony of my mama having a dinner with paper plates is not lost on me.

The OCD apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree, does it?

I’ve been thinking lately about the fact that Alex may be an only child. Because I was not a girl who sat around dreaming of her 4.5 children with alliterative names, it was not my life’s mission to have kids as soon as I got married. And because David and I married a little later than most and then waited five years to start our family, we were running a little behind the baby train from the get-go.

Now Alex is three, and I’d love for him to have a little brother or a little sister, but, well, he may not. I’m a little older, the odds aren’t as much in our favor, and he very well may be the only one.

But let me be perfectly clear: if he is the only child we have, we will have been blessed beyond any measure of what we could’ve ever asked for or dreamed.

The little man is, as they say, the bomb.

It does make me a little sad, though, to think that Alex may never have a brother or sister. I tell D. all the time that I have honestly ENJOYED my sister and my brother (not to mention the people they married)…and because they’re 14 and 10 years older, respectively, I’ve never had much of that sibling rivalry thing with them. More than anything, they’ve been my friends, and I don’t want Alex to miss all the good stuff that goes hand-in-hand with a sibling relationship. I hope he doesn’t have to.

But the other morning, as I was getting dressed, feeling a little conflicted about the possibility of no more children, I remembered what a huge – HUGE – role my friends have played in my life. Because Sister and Brother were out of the house, basically, from the time I was seven, it was just Mama, Daddy and me for my elementary / junior high / high school years. I never felt like an only child – far from it – but I was never a part of a house full of kids. And my friends totally filled that void for me.

As I started to absorb that thought, standing in my bathroom with dripping wet hair, I found myself praying for Alex. Because if he is an only child – which is certainly not my “perfect” scenario but definitely one that’s increasingly realistic – I pray that he has friends who will be like family to him. Just like mine have been.

I pray that he has a Laura to walk with him, laughing, through every stage of life.

I pray he has an Emma Kate to hold him accountable and to encourage him in his faith (I was going to say, “and to swap shoes with him,” but that might be a little strange if two guys, you know, swapped shoes. However, Emma Kate and I swapped shoes just yesterday, and we agreed that mine were definitely the more comfortable even if hers were cuter).

I pray he has a Merritt who will always listen, who will always find the humor in a situation, regardless of the circumstances. And who will, when all else fails, do a goofy dance that makes him wet his pants.

I pray he has a Daphne who will listen to his weird theories and philosophies, who will encourage him to read and write and think – and who will always laugh at his jokes.

I pray he has an Elise who will keep him honest, a Tracey who will hug his neck when he’s blue.

I pray he has a Liz who will never, ever judge him; a Wendi who has loyalty that knows no bounds; a Lea Margaret who reminds him of the beauty of heritage, and family, and place.

I pray he has a Bubba, a friend who loves him so unconditionally and so fiercely that it humbles him more with every passing year. I pray he has a NK, someone who will reach out to him when he moves to a strange place – and help him feel at home.

I pray he has neighbors – just like we do – who share the same faith and who can be trusted with everything, from a drill bit to a house key to a three year old child.

I pray he has a spouse who is absolutely devoted to him. I pray that when he’s with her, when all else fails, he’ll be able to sit next to her, in the complete quiet of his home, and know that he’s in the presence of his very best friend. And that they’ll laugh together. I pray her family loves him like he’s one of their own.

I pray that whether siblings are or are not a part of his life, he will feel so totally blessed, so completely loved, that he’ll long for the day when he’ll be able to extend that love to and through a family of his own.

I pray he’ll see God’s hand so clearly and so personally in his life that he’ll never question His faithfulness.

And I pray that his life will be very full, and very rich, indeed.

Even if he’s the only one.

I got a little tickled when I saw the Blessed Beyond Measure sidebar:

Do y’all see that?

Do you see?

It’s me. Right next to Blair Warner.

BLAIR WARNER!!!

I mean, she was the coolest.

Well, technically Jo was the coolest, but the girly-girl in me was always drawn to Blair…with her perfectly coiffed hair and ever-present strand of pearls. Natalie was funny and all, but she never could deliver a punchline without laughing a little bit herself.

But Blair – well, she had it all.

The only thing that could be cooler?

Sitting on a blogroll next to Tootie.

But I don’t think she blogs.