Listen. I feel like I owe y’all a little bit of an explanation.

I know that I mention “work” from time to time, but I never get too specific about it because, well, about seven years ago when I went to my boss about transitioning to part-time (I transitioned back to full-time when Alex started going to school for a full day), I very awkwardly uttered one of the most awkward sentences there is.

“I feel like I need to tell you that I have this, um, BLOG where I write some stuff sometimes.”

My boss was super supportive and enthusiastic and whatnot, and then he gave me some wise and sage advice that I think about every single day of my life:

“I don’t think you’ll ever regret having firm boundaries in terms of writing about work on your blog.”

Those words have stuck with me. In fact, when I was talking to Emma Kate this past weekend, she said, “You know, you really are very protective of your work stuff.” And I am. It’s a huge part of my life, it’s a huge part of my heart, and it’s also a huge part of my day-to-day right now. But it’s off-limits as far as the blog goes (sometimes I wish that it weren’t off-limits, because OH SWEET MERCY, THE STORIES).

SO. That’s why I’ve been a little scarce around here lately. Work has kept me hoppin’. What I know for sure, though – because it’s proven true year after year after year – is that things will start to settle down in the next month or so, and there will eventually be a morning when I wake up and don’t feel like my to-do list is screaming at me. And when that happens, the blogging switch will flip to “on” again and angels will sing (not really) and my hair will suddenly look fantastic (not really – but oh, a girl can dream).

And in truly important news, COLLEGE FOOTBALL STARTS TONIGHT. We are giddy with anticipation in our house – and equally excited about waking up Saturday morning and being able to turn on College GameDay. I don’t have any idea what kind of season Mississippi State will have, but I can’t wait to see the boys in maroon and white hit the field. I also can’t wait to hear the fight song and maybe bear witness to a little good-natured pre-game swagger (all in the spirit of competitiveness and sportsmanship, of course). It’s the very best time of year.

Plus, you know, DIPS.

I didn’t get a chance to pull together a DipTacular like we’ve done in the past (not that it requires a whole lot of organization, but it does require some forethought), but all day long I’ve felt compelled to share the tailgate foods that we’ll be having for supper tonight. I’ve never really been one for the full-fledged execution of a theme, but there’s something about the beginning of college football season that makes me crave the stuff we’d enjoy at my friend Daph’s family tailgate (fried meats, various cheese-laden delights, lots of chocolate, etc.). So it seems only fitting (at least to me) that I’d share our 2013 Kick-off Menu.

(That sounded very official, didn’t it?)

(Please keep in mind that I am feeding upwards of three whole people.)

So here’s what we’re having:

Bacon and Blue Cheeseburger Potato Skins (only I’m using cheddar instead of blue cheese, primarily because that’s what I have in the refrigerator)

Best Pasta Salad Ever (I know it’s another starch, but it’s leftover from last night, so we’re running with it)
1 pound rotini pasta
1 cup sun dried tomatoes
2 cups sliced cucumbers
1/2 cup red onion
2 small cans of sliced ripe olives
1 8 oz. bottle of Kraft Caesar salad dressing
1/2 cup of shredded Parmesan cheese
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Cover tomatoes with water and boil for about 12 minutes or until tender. Drain, chop into small pieces, and set aside.
Cook rotini according to package directions, then drain and let cool.
Mix all ingredients together (GENTLY!), then chill in refrigerator overnight. This is even more yummy the second and third days – if you can keep it around that long.

Southwestern Tossed Salad

Symphony Brownies

It promises to be a delightful evening.

What’s on your menus, college football fans?

If you had spent any significant time at my house this summer, here’s what you would’ve heard me say approximately 4,822 times:

“I’m hot.”

“Oh my word I’m burning up.”

“Hold on – I’m gonna have to turn down the air down.”

“I’m hot.”

“OH SWEET MERCY THIS HOUSE IS ON FIRE.”

But here’s the thing: our house really isn’t hot. We’re surrounded by lots of very tall trees, and thanks to the way the sun moves across our roofline, we rarely have direct sunlight pouring in through the windows. Most people could put our thermostat on 75 and be more than comfortable all summer long.

But.

Ever since I turned 40, I am not what you would refer to as “most people” as far as air conditioning needs are concerned (well, truth be told, I have always been a little high maintenance in this area). And this summer, I’ve taken my AC neediness to staggering new heights. It was so bad in July that I made an appointment with my doctor and informed him that SOMETHING WAS TERRIBLY WRONG, but he checked some levels and numbers and whatnot and assured me that everything is perfectly normal and fine and good. I’m just dealing with hormones combined with some first-book stress (book stuff has been oh-so-fun, but my nerves have been cuckoo). And I’m sure my doctor said some other very wise and important things, but I was so busy fanning myself that I couldn’t really hear him.

David has been a good sport about my CAN WE PLEASE TURN DOWN THE AIR flare-ups, even when his teeth are starting to chatter and he’s bundled up in a blanket. He’s even been sympathetic to the fact that I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and feel completely certain that flames are in fact shooting out of the back of my head. However, I do think that there’s a little bit of fear and trepidation when I remind him that all of this hormone-related summertime fun is just beginning. We could have YEARS of it ahead of us, and I guess the only up side of that is that when the area around his chair freezes completely and encases him in an indoor igloo, I will be able to stand anywhere within a five-foot radius of him and melt all of that ice in less than forty seconds.

Seriously. If I touched that hypothetical igloo, it would sizzle.

Late this afternoon I was cooking supper, doing my best to stand near a vent while I chopped broccoli and sliced a couple of onions. I realized that David was home from work when I heard him shut the door of his truck, and right about the time that I looked down the hall toward the front door, he walked inside – holding a very tall box.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Well, I got you a surprise,” he said.

And as I made my way down the hallway and slowly realized what was inside that box, I grinned like crazy.

Because.

PLEASE LET ME TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT.

(I’m not really going to tell you all about it.)

(But look! It has features!)

BEST SURPRISE EVER.

I mean, I know that I loved it when we were in our 20s and 30s and D would occasionally send me a big ole floral arrangement, but honestly, who needs flowers (or even chocolate) when you can have A TOWER FAN WITH A REMOTE CONTROL?

That is some 40-something romance, people.

And my hormones and I have never been happier.

Amen.

Well, all I can say is that I LEARNED SOME THINGS reading your comments on college football traditions at your respective schools. I must have said, “Well, I had no idea” at least 25 times. Honestly, I’m so taken with all this new college football info that I’ve considered preparing a study guide and then giving myself a quiz. KNOWLEDGE IS POWER, Y’ALL.

Besides reading all of your comments, I spent a good portion of the weekend trying to take care of my inner introvert a little bit. I’ve mentioned before that I’m an INFP on the Myers-Briggs, but I am borderline on the E (extrovert) and I (introvert) part. I’ve heard a couple of friends say that this means that I’m a social introvert, but all it means to me that is that when I am with a group of people I will have big laughs and big fun and all manner of enthusiasm about how we need to get together more often, but when I get home and shut the door and take a few minutes to settle down, I start to long for a cold, dark room where I can be alone and be quiet and think way more than I talk.

And do you know what’s weird? I have a vivid memory of the first time that I was aware of the “I” side of my personality. I spent the first 17 years of my life thinking that I was an extrovert because, well, I loved nothing more than hanging out with my friends. But one fall weekend I went to Ole Miss (I know – we’ll process ALL THE IRONY later) with my friends Merritt, Elizabeth, and Melissa, and after the football game, we changed clothes (because of course we were dressed to the late-80s nines for the game) (I remember that I was wearing a long, red, v-neck sweater over gray pants) (only I turned the sweater around so that the V would be in the back because SASSY) and headed to fraternity row to visit a few of our hometown friends at their respective post-game parties.

Here’s the part I will never forget: I made it 30 minutes – THIRTY MINUTES – before I knew that I couldn’t take even one more second of all the noise and the people and the revelry. So I told my friends I was tired, walked back to the dorm where we were staying, put on my pajamas, and fell sound asleep by 10:30.

I can’t really explain it, but I was acutely aware of my inner introvert rising up and saying, “NO MORE.” It’s happened hundreds of times since then, and now I know that if I ignore it, my mood and my energy level and my general attempts at pleasantness will suffer. So this past Friday, when I finally got to the end of a week that had demanded an unusual amount of extroversion – and when I realized that we didn’t have anything on the calendar – I started to wonder if there was some way that I could stay at home all day Saturday. You can imagine my delight when I realized that YES, YES I COULD.

And oh, did I ever make the most of it.

I drank coffee until 10, I wrote, I hung out with my people, I watched some TV, I read, I cooked, and I woke up Sunday morning feeling like a new woman.

What about y’all? When you need to recharge, are you more likely to look for some way to get some (relative) peace and quiet – or do you set out in search of adventure / time with friends / a fun weekend trip? I have sort of an over-the-top interest in this kind of stuff, so I can assure you that if you have habits that you think or quirky or maybe even a little eccentric, I will find them UTTERLY FASCINATING. So feel free to share.

Love,
Your INFP Friend
(whose “I” is now feeling so much better)

This week is a crazy one for us. I’m back in work mode, Alex is back at school, and the laundry is back in a big pile on the guest room bed. I did manage to put a roast in the crockpot before we left the house yesterday morning, so when we got home yesterday afternoon, I felt like the roast beef angels had smiled upon me. With carrots. And I was grateful.

I can tell that the pace of our week has put my brain into overdrive, and I say that because I’m stammering a lot, struggling to finish sentences, and longing – LONGING – for some quiet. But A had a great first day (his teacher this year was his 1st and 2nd grade Sunday School teacher, so that’s pretty much THE AWESOME), I actually provided some hot food for supper (thanks to the aforementioned crockpot), and I’m not even resentful that I woke up twice last night feeling like I had been sleeping underneath wool sheets in a 95 degree house. HORMONES, WHY DO YOU HATE ME?

And speaking of sleeping – I had a dream last night that I was speaking to a group of people but had totally forgotten to plan what I was going to say. So I did the only reasonable thing: I panicked and made up an impromptu talk entitled – and I quote – Three Reasons Why I Am Grateful That Jesus Called Me To Himself.

Obviously there was some reformed language rolling around my subconscious when I went to bed last night.

And here were my three reasons that I very awkwardly talked about in front of the group.

1. Jesus. (Because of course.) (I have always been a fan of the obvious.)

2. The Body of Christ.

And last but not least:

3. Pay it forward.

I realize that point #3 has nothing to do with anything, but please remember that I was unprepared in my dream, and that phrase popped in my head, so I ran with it. I promise that I really do try to be way more prepared when I talk to people in real life, but in my dream I was feeling very stressed and overcommitted.

By the way, you’re welcome for the dream story. Everybody loves those, you know.

I’m rolling my eyes right now.

Okay. Here are a few things I’ve been meaning to tell you.

– Follow Me simulcast with David Platt – I know this is short notice, but tonight LifeWay is hosting a FREE simulcast with David Platt, and you can watch from the comfort of your home or car or favorite coffee shop. It’s at 6pm eastern time, and I’m confident that the content will be challenging and convicting.

– dotMOM Chattanooga – Registration is still open for dotMOM Chattanooga on September 20-21. Remember, this is a conference for moms of all ages with kids at all stages – not just tech-y moms or blogging moms or moms who love social media. It’s for ALL THE MOMS (I explain more about that here). And we would love to see you there. Melanie and I are emceeing, and the line-up of teachers is outstanding. See?

– Sheaffer at Pinterest Told Me To is celebrating her blogiversary this week, and she’s giving away a $365 Nordstrom gift card.

– I love this post of Angie’s – such a good, timely word.

– A few of you asked if I’d share the salad dressing recipe that I mentioned on the most recent podcast, so here you go. This is my friend Angela’s recipe, so I can’t take one iota of credit. I can, however, assure you that it is DELICIOUS. Here it is:

1/2 cup canola oil
1/4 cup sugar
1/8 cup honey
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
1 teaspoon grated onion or 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/4 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

Blend first 7 ingredients in a food processor or blender. Then add seeds and pulse for a few seconds. Serve over mixed greens, strawberries, toasted sliced almonds, red onion – whatever you like. I added a can of drained mandarin oranges, and I think some fresh broccoli would be great, too.

Hope y’all are having a happy Wednesday!

And please, by all means, PAY IT FORWARD.

Well, I ordered two more pairs of shoes today after reading y’all’s comments, so obviously you people are very persuasive. I don’t intend to keep both pairs of shoes, mind you, but I figured they were definitely worth trying on, especially in the event that they change my life forever in the area of arch support. And while I promise that I won’t start calling y’all “Ethel” and complaining about my bursitis (well, okay. I might. but I’m not planning on it.), it was oddly comforting to read that some of you also deal with nerve / foot / arch challenges. I will think of you fondly the next time I can’t fit the ball of my foot into the bottom of a boot. And also the next time I do manage to wedge my foot into a boot and then hobble around and try to pretend like it’s comfortable.

And just in case you’re wondering, it occurred to me this morning that I neglected to tell y’all what I did with those flip flops that caused my feet so much grief earlier this week. I threw them away. It was time. And I have another pair that are headed for the garbage bag just as soon as I identify what my substitute “around the house” shoe will be. My barely-worn Olukai flip-flops are currently the front-runner. I just need to make sure. It’s a big decision.

Other than that, there’s not much going on around here. Alex has had to tag along with me a lot this week – it’s just sort of the way our schedule worked out – and he has been such a good sport about it all. So this afternoon I told him that, as a thank you for his patience, I’d make anything he wanted for supper. He picked patty melts, twice-baked potatoes, and roasted broccoli. His menu made me smile, mainly because I can remember when he was four and we had some epic stand-offs at the supper table over something that seemed super-important, like his refusal to eat blackeyed peas or his angry reaction to chicken pie. But now he eats just about anything (except meatloaf) and pretty much loves all the vegetables. I’d have never believed it was possible six years ago when my blood pressure was 470/290 after 45 minutes of standing on my principles about the consumption of six peas.

Anyway, since there’s not much going on around here, this seems like an excellent time to say something that’s been at the forefront of my head and my heart the last couple of months. I don’t even know how to say it, really, so I’m just going to take a stab at it and go with the first draft. It’s not gonna be eloquent, but I can promise you that it’s sincere.

At the end of May – right before my book came out – I was as terrified as I’ve ever been in my life. I couldn’t sleep. I was worried sick about how people would react to what I’d written, scared that I was going to unintentionally offend somebody, certain that folks were going to be annoyed by my Egg Bowl analysis, and completely convinced that I’d forgotten to change a name or detail that might be too personal to share.

I mean, I guess I could sit here and pretend like I was totally calm about the whole first-book thing and act like I was filled with a supernatural peace as the release date got closer, but I was a hot mess, y’all.

HOT. MESS.

And it wasn’t that I was trying to manage my expectations about how well the book would or wouldn’t do, because to me it was a foregone conclusion that the whole thing was going to be a train wreck. In fact, the texts that I sent to Melanie at the end of May / beginning of June are all the proof you would ever need to know that I am not what you would call a confident person.

But y’all, in the middle of all my feelings of CERTAIN, LOOMING LITERARY DOOM, the neatest thing happened: people were awesome. And they weren’t just a little awesome. They were great big, wide open awesome. They were supportive and encouraging and enthusiastic. And that didn’t have anything to do with the book – oh my word no. People just made a choice to be kind. And loving. And wonderful.

Seeing that kindness in action was such a privilege, y’all. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.

So to all you awesome people, thank you – from way deep down in the bottom of my heart. You will never know how much your emails (that I’m still trying to answer, by the way) and tweets and comments have meant to me. This summer has been the busiest of my life – but it has also been the sweetest. The stories you’ve shared have ministered to me like crazy, and in the strangest, most unexpected ways, you’ve helped me conquer a few of my fears.

(I wasn’t expecting that at all.)

(But I still can’t call myself a writer.)

(Baby steps, I reckon.)

Y’all are the best. And I am so grateful.

Love,
Ethel

As a general rule, I don’t like shopping for shoes. I realize that my ambivalence about a sassy new pair of heels is practically sacrilege to scores of women, but my feet are way too peculiar to lend themselves to marathon shoe-shopping sessions. I don’t like anything strappy since my arches are freakishly high; plus, I’m annoyed by lots of little pieces of leather running across the tops of my feet. I don’t like anything super-flat because I am a stickler for arch support (Toms are the only flats that meet my needs in this area). And since I inherited a fun little nerve condition that runs rampant on Mama’s side of the family and makes the bottom of my feet tingle and ache (giddy up, mamaw), I tend to like shoes that err on the side of cushion-y.

So. In summary. Nothing strappy. Arch support. Lots of cushion.

Add it all together and you wind up with UGGs.

Every once in awhile, however, I’ll jump on board with a trend and buy a pair of shoes just because they’re cute. I’m extra fond of my Volatile clogs, my Toms, and my Toms wedges – but they’re all too hot for the summertime, not to mention that the wedges aren’t really an all-day shoe for me. So for the last few summers, I’ve fallen into what I call the flip-flop rut. This means that I wear flip-flops pretty much all the time, and somewhere along the way I’ve sort of convinced myself that it’s a real shoe. And while I used to really make an effort to buy flip-flops with platform wedge so that I could at least get a little height out of the deal, I really haven’t even fooled with a heel for the last year or so. I just rotate through my collection of flat (but mostly cushion-y) flip-flops, and I pretend like I haven’t given up completely on footwear fashion.

Well. For the last couple of days I’ve been trying to get back into the swing of a work schedule, and I’ve been on my feet a lot. Yesterday afternoon I noticed that my feet just felt tired, for lack of a better word, and today was no different. It dawned on me that maybe the flip-flops were the problem, especially since the ones I’ve worn the last couple of days have pretty much zero support. They were oh-so-comfortable when I bought them a year and a half ago, but considering that, as Sister would say, I have worn the D-O-G out of them, they’re now pretty much the equivalent of those little pieces of foam they stick on your feet after a pedicure.

Yes, I know. Klassy.

Earlier today I came to grips with the fact that some shoe shopping was clearly inevitable, so I went to DSW in the hopes that I would find a couple of pairs of shoes that would carry me through fall and winter. I was serious about the search; in fact, before I went in the store I made a pledge way down deep in my heart that I would not buy anything that even resembled a flip-flop. I even felt a little excited about the possibilities.

However comma I am sad to say that the excitement was short-lived.

Because, well, for starters…

JELLIES. I just can’t, y’all. I mean, I know that everything old is new again, and I’ll be the first to admit that 1984 holds some precious memories for me. But the jellies are not one of them. Lace collars, though – well, that’s a completely different story.

And then there were these.

I’m pretty sure that I wore these booties to a Mississippi State football game in the late 80s. Oh, my version might not have had, you know, THE FLAG, but other than that they were almost identical. They also looked super cute with the floor-length prairie skirt and flannel shirt that I wore to the first game of the year. Which was at the end of August. It’s a small wonder that I didn’t have a heat stroke.

I wish I could say that the shoe selections improved, but things sort of went from bad to worse.

Granted, they’d be perfect if I had plans to perform a modern jazz routine in front of an audience, but sadly, I do not. Not before spring, at least.

And these?

Well, it’s all fun and games until somebody stumbles and winds up in the ER.

I did see a couple of pairs of shoes that appealed to me, but I don’t know that they’re necessarily the best choice for the workplace.

Make no mistake, though. I could wear those slippers non-stop from October until February. They’d be heaven with a pair of Thorlo socks, a long-sleeve t-shirt, and some broken-in yoga pants.

Hallelujah and amen.

I ended up leaving DSW empty-handed (though I may have to go back for those New Balance – I am such a fan of the bright colors), and I decided to run in Belk since their shoe department is gigantor. But I felt like everything I saw was too strappy / too summer-y / too winter-y / too bulky / too flat / too old for me / too young for me, and I walked back to the parking lot feeling a little sorry for my freakishly high arches and me. I mean, I know that I don’t really like to shop for shoes, but it would be fun to find something when I do shop. And it would be even better if what I found happened to also be, you know, cute.

When I was driving home, I spent some time thinking about Shoes I Have Loved, and out of nowhere I remembered how much I adored my Birkenstocks in the mid-90s. I read somewhere that they’re in the throes of a comeback, so I decided to stop by one of our favorite local stores that happens to carry them. I got such a kick (punny) out of trying them on, and I was just about ready to buy a pair when I realized that while they were great for all sorts of nostalgia, they weren’t necessarily providing the level of cushion that I was looking for. So I tried on a few more things, and I ended up leaving with two VERY cushion-y pairs of shoes that will hopefully meet all of my very specific footwear requirements. They may not be the prettiest options, but they’re dependable and comfortable and perfect for work.

(I had to pull pictures from the web because I couldn’t convince my phone to talk to my computer after I took pictures here at the house.)

I will be wearing these Dr. Scholl’s to a meeting tomorrow morning. Because while yes, they look like a futuristic clog, they’re actually delightful little clouds that hug your arches and support your heels.

And since I couldn’t commit to the Birkenstocks, I committed to a pair of Wallabees instead (a throwback is a throwback, I reckon). I’ve seen some of my younger friends wearing them, but even still, I was not prepared for the depth their comfort. MY WORD, PEOPLE. They’re so comfortable that I actually giggled when I tried them on. GIGGLED, I tell you. And since I struggle with boots (aye, and mightily) thanks to the aforementioned freakishly high arches, I can’t wait to wear these with corduroys and jeans this fall.

So there you have it. I bought two pairs of shoes.

Needless to say, I am completely exhausted.

Are there any shoes that you’re loving these days?

(And thanks so much for all the great recipe ideas in the last post – y’all are the best.)