This time of year is normally when I’m ready for summer to just STOP IT, ALREADY, but I have to say that right now I am feeling unusually patient with August. We have had a whole bunch of rain in the last month, so everything is still so green and pretty – nothing has that dried up, peaked look that typically shows up around the end of July. This weekend we even had a little bit of a break in the heat, and Saturday was downright pleasant. I could even be so bold as to say that I felt the slightest hint of fall in the air, but I think we all know that saying anything along those lines in mid-August means that I’d be inviting in six weeks of 95-plus degree temperatures with nary a breeze on the horizon.

So let’s just say that the cooler weather was enjoyable and refreshing. And we’ll leave it at that.

Fall seems to be on my mind a lot lately – I’ve been trying to get our calendar squared away and whathaveyou – and I am just as tickled as I can be that football season is right around the corner. I haven’t hit the point of obsession yet, but it does make me a smidge giddy to think about Saturday mornings with ESPN Gameday and a big ole pot of coffee and the SEC Game of the Week kicking off at 11:30. Other people seem to be feeling the same way. Saturday night we went to a cook-out at our next door neighbors’ house, and it cracked me up that everybody (including me) was already talking about football and tailgating and what food they might fix for the games. Neveryoumind that it’ll be 106 the first weekend of the season and everybody will be doing their level best to fight off a heat stroke. The point is that FOOTBALL, IT IS A-COMIN’, and in this part of the country, we can hardly wait.

In what turned out to be an official highlight of the weekend, one of our neighbors brought a dip to the cook-out that I immediately recognized as one I had never tried. I believe that my affinity for dips has been well-established and well-documented, so it took me every bit of four seconds to ask what the dip was called, what was in it, etc. And when I tasted it – OH MY WORD AT THE DELICIOUSNESS. No kidding: it was the best dip I’ve had since Melanie introduced me to Southwestern Tossed Salad. In fact, it was so good that I had a bite or two of it instead of dessert. FANTASTIC.

This afternoon I was about to go to the grocery store when I decided that I’d add the ingredients for the dip to my grocery list. I haven’t gotten the exact recipe from my neighbor yet, but I think that the Google helped me find a pretty close approximation to what we had Saturday night. I couldn’t wait to share it with y’all because, well, college football starts in a little less than three weeks, and it’s important for all of us to have time to plan for our dip-related needs, amen.

Swiss Almond Dip

(I was going to copy and paste the dip recipe here.)

(But then I was afeared that I’d be in violation of all sorts of copyright shenanigans.)

(So I figured the link would do.)

Anyway, I just wanted to keep y’all posted about the exciting dip developments in our neck of the woods.

And now I guess I’ll just go sit in front of the TV and stare since the Olympics are over. Or maybe I can consult the Google again and find me one of those sassy leotards that Jessie J wore in the closing ceremonies. It was so funny to see her wearing that one with all the appliqués because I totally almost wore the exact same thing to Publix this afternoon.

But I wore my hot pink leotard instead.

It was about three weeks ago, I think, when Melanie texted to tell me about a new game called SongPop. Normally I’m slow to warm up to new games (I like to stay a solid six to twelve months behind the trends), but since I was unloading the dishwasher at the time, I was totally in the mood for a diversion. I found the app, downloaded it – and almost immediately began playing rounds of a 21st century Name That Tune-type game with Melanie (who almost always wins), Travis (who almost always wins), and my husband (who almost always wins). Every so often I squeak out a victory, but for the most part I lose by thousands of points. My only sliver of SongPop-related pride is that one time I beat a certain worship leader in the Christian / Gospel music category, and I’m sure you understand that my victory left me no choice but to engage in some lively post-game trash talking and no small degree of gloating.

It just seemed like the right thing to do.

I even considered making myself some sort of commemorative plaque.

By and large, though, I’m terrible at the game. Mainly I just enjoy playing against my friends, and I recognize that our obsession will probably be a short-term deal. Last week, in fact, Melanie hit the nail on the head when she predicted that we’ll all play the game with great intensity for a little while and then never play it again, but that is okay. Even short-term obsessions can bear some fruit. After all, I’ll never forget how Melanie used her gift at Pathwords for the Lord’s great glory back in late-2008 and early-2009.

Some of you probably have similar gifts at Words with Friends or Typing Maniac. Maybe even Angry Birds or Where’s My Water.

Don’t hide your game-playing light in a bushel, y’all.

The world needs to see you shine.

Yesterday I found out that a younger relative of mine is also playing SongPop, so I immediately texted him my username and made some promises to challenge him in 80s music since HE WASN’T EVEN ALIVE THEN AND CLEARLY I AM ANCIENT. He promised that he, in turn, would challenge me in Modern Rap, and we had a good laugh because I don’t think I’ve ever listened to more than a 30-second snippet of a rap song (other than something by the Sugar Hill Gang, of course). It’s a generational thing as much as anything else; I was out of college when rap went mainstream, so I’ve never paid much attention to it. Plus, the language makes me a little (lot) uncomfortable and blah blah blah blah blah.

So last night B and I played a few rounds, and most of our games were utterly predictable. I’d win 80s, 90s, and Love Songs; he’d win Modern Rap, Modern Country, and Today’s Hits. This morning I saw that he’d started another game, but it was early in the afternoon before I had a chance to sit down and play. When I saw that he’d challenged me AGAIN in Modern Rap, I grinned, because I knew that I was toast. No way I would win. What with never really listening to rap music and all.

But.

Lo and behold.

Listen. I have no idea what happened. I don’t know if I’ve committed SongPop clips to memory during other rounds. I don’t know if I was just unusually accurate in my guesses. Either way, there’s no question that the win is a fluke. And sort of hilarious. And mildly perplexing considering my age, not to mention my general ignorance regarding rap music.

But we’ll just pretend that I’m very hip and with it and now. Totally in touch with what the kids are listening to.

Sure thing.

You betcha.

Some of y’all may have been around for The Mentholatum Crisis of 2010, an absolutely harrowing time when our Walgreens and our Walmart stopped carrying my beloved Mentholatum, a product that I’ve depended on to soothe chapped lips and treat various other ailments since I was a child. Mentholatum is a tradition on my mama’s side of the family, and by my best estimation it has been used WITH ENTHUSIASM by at least four generations of Davises. In fact, the last time I saw my cousin Paige – who is Mama’s sister’s daughter – there was a jar of Mentholatum on her nightstand. Sister adheres to the same code. IT’S THE DAVIS WOMEN’S WAY.

And just in case you’re reading this and thinking, Yeah, right. No way is she that attached to some Vicks VapoRub-type product, let me just assure you that oh yes I most certainly am. Last year I was at .MOM, I think, when a bloggy friend saw me dig a jar of Mentholatum out of my purse, and she responded by saying, “Oh my goodness – you really do use it!” It made me laugh, because listen: if I were going to make up some details about my life, I’d come up with a mighty tall tale about how I’d actually gotten used to wearing size 4 blue jeans but now they’re all just entirely too big. I don’t really think that “borderline addiction to an over-the-counter vaporized ointment favored by nursing home residents” would necessarily be the story I would choose to invent.

(And also, just to be clear, MENTHOLATUM IS VERY DIFFERENT FROM VICKS. I’ll refrain from boring you with all the subtle nuances of Mentholatum, but if Vicks is a menthol train that barrels down the tracks, then Mentholatum is more of a lightly vapor-scented Volkswagen Bug that rarely speeds but honks occasionally just to say hey. It’s much milder. And friendlier.)

Fortunately, I guess, the 2010 Mentholatum shortage occurred a few weeks before my birthday, and as a result some of my friends and family members visited their various drugstores in their various towns and wrapped up boxes of Mentholatum as birthday presents. I don’t know when I’ve been more delighted, and by the middle of that October I had an impressive Mentholatum stockpile. I felt a little bit like those people who are fully prepared to go totally off the grid at any given moment, only instead of having hundreds of cases of water or a lifetime supply of canned goods, I was equipped to handle any lip care (or chest cold!) emergency that might come my way.

It’s not necessarily a recognized strategy for dealing with unexpected civil unrest, but I feel that it’s an important one.

That stockpile of Mentholatum lasted almost two years, and a couple of months ago, when I was at the Walgreens looking for something or other, I was pleasantly surprised to see that they were carrying Mentholatum again. I bought a box of it, mainly just to celebrate its reappearance, and for most of the summer I’ve held unswervingly to the promise of a fall and winter with a full-to-the-brim inventory of Mentholatum at our Walgreens.

But.

Today I ran in Walgeens to look for some mascara, and as I made my way over to the cashew / pistachio / smoked almonds portion of the store, I saw this sale tag. I was not even a little bit happy. I may have even trembled in my flip-flops.

WHAT IN THE WORLD DOES AMERICA’S COLD CARE INDUSTRY HAVE AGAINST ME?

WHAT IF I AM NOT EMOTIONALLY EQUIPPED TO HANDLE MY “LAST CHANCE” WITH THE MENTHOLATUM?

There were only three boxes on the shelf (not counting that one over to the right, which, just between us, was BROKE DOWN), so I had no choice but to start another stockpile.

I’m not normally so excessive with my sale purchases, but desperate times, etc. I just don’t have any way of knowing if they’ll ever start carrying the Mentholatum again, and when it comes to maintaining your lip care standards, there’s no such thing as being too prepared.

Amen.

And amen.

We were at the beach from last Friday until Thursday, so for the last couple of days I’ve been trying to work my way through the post-beach haze. Today I woke up with a to-do list on my brain – there are details-a-plenty that I need to tend to over the next couple of weeks – and in the midst of trying to play catch-up this morning and going to two grocery stores this afternoon and cooking supper tonight, I’ve been missing this view a little bit.

I know. Seriously.

Tonight, though, I clicked over to Facebook in between some heated rounds of SongPop, and I saw that my friend Joanna had posted a video. I was tempted to jump back to my SongPop game, but I clicked on the video instead, and I laughed until I cried.

When D heard me laughing, he wanted to know what was so funny, so I played it for him.

And then we both laughed until we cried. We laughed until we were quiet, in fact. Laughed so hard that we couldn’t make a sound.

So of course we had to watch it again.

Happy Weekend, y’all.

We have had the best time watching the Olympics tonight, even though I’m convinced that the scoring system for Olympic gymnastics is loosely based on Bamboozled. In fact, now that I think about it, I’m also pretty sure that Joey Tribbiani would have done a bang-up job as a commentator during the women’s gymnastics team competition.

And as far as swimming is concerned, I also think that Joey Tribbiani would have known better than to imply that Michael Phelps’ relay team members were merely there to hold his cloak while he ascended to his Olympic medal-winning throne. Granted, it is a huge accomplishment and so worthy of recognition, but surely it wouldn’t have killed the post-race interviewer to give the other three guys a little more credit for swimming their hearts out and WINNING A GOLD MEDAL FOR THEIR COUNTRY, MY WORD.

(I know that it’s way more difficult to be an interviewer than I can even imagine.)

(And I would probably wind up saying something profound like, “So. Did you have fun? What did you eat for breakfast today?”)

(But it bothered me that the emphasis was on one person instead of the team since it was a team event and all.)

Anyway, it has been so fun to watch and cheer and shed a few tears, and watching the floor routines tonight reminded me of one of my all-time favorite sports memories. I recorded this routine on a VHS tape back in 1991, and I bet I watched it 300 times.

That’s a conservative estimate, by the way. But it’s so fun to see an athlete at the top of her game – and to hear a crowd that is totally invested in the athlete’s performance. I don’t know what the decibel reading was in that arena that day, but I’m guessing that it was off the charts.

It still gives me chill bumps. Over twenty years later.

And I’m betting that what the Fab 5 did tonight will do the same.

Go USA!

Well, we have been watching the Olympics pretty much non-stop for the last three nights, and I am here to tell you that there is nothing to make you realize how much time you’ve wasted over the course of your life like watching world-class athletes in action. Right now the American women’s gymnastics team is competing, and thinking about how young they are and how many years they’ve spent in the gym makes me hyper-aware that I have spent WAY too many hours watching reality television and eating bacon. At the very least I should have been perfecting my cartwheel or maybe doing some light stretching on a semi-regular basis. Shoot, maybe I should just tape a four-inch strip down the center of our hallway and try to skip down it without falling.

That last thing, by the way? Would take YEARS of training.

However, I recognize that the Lord gifts all of us in different ways, and I trust that even though I lack any significant athletic skills, He has filled my gaps. And that is why, after careful consideration and no small degree of prayer, I do think that there are several areas where I could possibly compete on an Olympic level.

I hope that you know my heart well enough to know that I offer this list in all humility.

1. Real Housewives of New York trivia (related: Bethenny Getting Married and Bethenny Ever After trivia)

2. cowbell ringing

3. bacon frying

4. Top 40 duets of the late-80s / early 90s (lyric memorization, not singing)

5. Steinmart shopping

6. DVR’ing (all facets: searching, recording, watching, erasing)

7. fried chicken sampling and analysis

To be clear, I have not in fact consulted with any professionals, but I am certainly willing to consider more rigorous training under the supervision of a coach and/or mentor.

What about you? What are the areas where you feel qualified to compete on an Olympic level? Carpooling? Baby wrangling? Plant killing? Home hair coloring?

Please feel free to share your own gifts and talents.

This is a safe place.

I can assure you that you will be encouraged.