The other night I was on the Twitter, and Veronica mentioned that she was enjoying some music by Indelible Grace. The name rang a bell – I think a few of y’all have also recommended their CDs – so I made a beeline for the iTunes. I ended up buying their album called The Hymn Sing.

Well.

I’m sure the whole CD is excellent, but I really wouldn’t know yet because I cannot quit listening to the very first song.

As my friend Elise always says: If that don’t light your fire, your wood’s wet.

Amen.

I know. I normally do the whole favorites thing on Friday. But when I was doing some writing at Starbucks earlier tonight (1,000 words to go, oh hallelujah), I looked on the Twitter and found out that I’d better GIDDY UP, GUSSY – STORM’S-A-COMIN’. So now I’m home and hanging out in the guest room with all my people until said storm passes.

You know, I think I can speak for Alabama and say that we would love to have a pass on severe weather for a while. The rain is fantastic, but the straight line winds and tornados can be a little pesky.

Anyway. Favorites. Here we go.

– I made this tilapia recipe for supper tonight, and it was absolutely delicious. Everybody loved it. And it’s super-simple, too, which is always a plus. Yay, Pinterest, for the find.

– Speaking of Pinterest, this made me laugh.

– My friend Shaun has written an e-book called In The Sky – And Other Big Lessons From Little People.

Shaun has a way of seeing the sacred in the ordinary – and communicating it in an absolutely beautiful way. It’s exciting to see him step out and share his words in a different format.

– Summer reading is in full force around here, and Justin Case: School, Drool, & Other Daily Disasters has been an early favorite with the little man. So has Wonkenstein (The Creature from My Closet) and The Name of This Book Is Secret.

– Last week I ordered some earrings from Noonday Collection, and today, when the package arrived in the mail, I opened it and swooned.

I love a purchase with a greater good.

– About a week ago Melanie and I had our first conference call with the LifeWay team about this year’s dotMOM Conference, and oh, we cannot wait. Mel and I will be emceeing / wearing those sassy microphones that go over the ear / trying to appear composed again this year, and we would love to see you there!

All righty. The bad weather has passed, and the boy is in bed. So I am now free and clear to watch The Bachelorette and listen to Emily say “Thank yewwwww” two or forty-five times. It makes me so happy.

Happy Monday, everybody!

Okay. I really am working on deadline-y things. It’s been a good week in that regard (now I just have 6,000-ish words left), and I’ll be right back at it tomorrow morning. Or, if you’re feeling particularly punny, I’ll be write back at it.

I know. That was terrible. I do apologize.

Anyway, I hopped on here really quick tonight because I’ve been thinking about something all day (well, ever since I picked up the little man from VBS), and it’s one of those things where I’m dying to know how this situation goes in other parts of the country / world / etc. and so on and so forth.

Today, when I walked in the church for pick-up, I was on the way to A’s room when I saw a few of his friends from school. The first one said, “Hey, Sophie Hudson!” – and it made me laugh because oh, I do enjoy an outgoing child. The second friend said, “Hey, Miss Sophie,” which is probably the greeting that I expect more than any other because it’s pretty traditional here in the South (and most people say “Miss” in front of the name regardless of marital status). The third friend said, “Hi, Mrs. Hudson,” very sweet and official-like.

By the way, let’s hear it for children who look grown-ups in the eye and say hello. I AM A FAN.

I always introduce my friends to Alex as Miss First Name, but I’ve noticed that some of my friends introduce other moms to their kids as Mrs. Last Name. Since I grew up in a town where we weren’t very formal in terms of how we greeted adults, I’m most accustomed to Miss First Name (or even just First Name) – it feels homey and comfortable to me.

SO – here’s my question. What’s your preferred way for kids to address grown-ups? What’s the norm where you live? Do you have a preference one way or another?

Love,
Miss Mamaw

Last night I told David that I felt like I was just a couple of chapters away from being finished with the first draft of the book. Over the weekend I finally wrapped up a chapter that has taken me a sweet forever to write, not because it covers some deep emotional issue, mind you – it took forever because it’s about Martha getting a Kindle for Christmas, and any time Martha and technology meet face-to-face, it is an epic, life-altering event. When I pasted that chapter into my big ole master document, the word count jumped up to 41,909. Since the book is supposed to come in somewhere around 50,000 words, it was a glorious moment. I’m fairly certain I heard several harps in the background and maybe even a couple of lyres.

Anyway, I don’t know what they call that in book-writing circles, but in Deep South circles we call it HOLD ON, MYRTLE, WE’RE HITTING THE HOME STRETCH.

So this week? I’m gonna hunker down and get ‘er done. I don’t know if I can write a little over 8,000 words in a week, but I think I can get pretty close. And since the little guy is in VBS right now, that means that I have some really nice stretches-o-time when I can pop in my headphones and block out the world (well, to an extent – I will never stop being fascinated by the people who walk into Panera or Starbucks) and crank out some sentences.

Hopefully I’ll be able to say, “LO, IT IS FINISHED” the next time I post. And then maybe I’ll perform a heartfelt dance number.

Hope y’all have a great week!

– Wright Thompson is one of my favorite sportswriters. He’s so good, in fact, that I can’t read too much of his stuff at once or I start to think that I have absolutely no business writing a blog or a book or anything that involves arranging words into sentences. Lately, though, I’ve read a couple of his pieces that are so beautifully written that they beg to be shared: a behind-the-scenes look at the family life of LSU head coach Les Miles and a profile of Bear Bryant’s driver, Billy Varner, and his struggles to remember a boss that he knew and loved.

– A few weeks ago my friend Elise pinned an illustration on Pinterest that I just loved. So I ordered it.

Isn’t that so fun? The artist, Molly Mattin, has illustrations available for lots of different states. It just dawned on me that I should’ve ordered prints for Louisiana and Alabama, too – a grouping of the states where we’ve lived would be a neat way to document our little family’s history, you know?

– The South’s preoccupation with the best barbecue fascinates me. When I was growing up in Mississippi, folks talked about fried catfish way more than they talked about barbecue, but in Alabama, people have some strong opinions about their BBQ preferences. In the June issue of Southern Living, they’ve compiled a list of the South’s 20 best barbecue sandwiches, and now I officially want to go on a barbecue-tasting road trip (there’s also a list of the South’s best pitmasters, so I guess that’ll provide the stops for a second road trip, OH MY GOODNESS).

– I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned this before, but just in case I haven’t: John Mayer’s new CD, Born and Raised, is phenomenal. We’ve listened to it like crazy for the last couple of weeks, and it’s going to wind up being one of those albums that I associate with the summer of 2012. Gorgeous music with thoughtful lyrics – tough to beat.

Have a great weekend, y’all!

Edited to add one more: Think Hard, Stay Humble: The Life of the Mind and the Peril of Pride – an excellent sermon by Francis Chan. So convicting.

Monday night I didn’t get to watch The Bachelorette until late, so I figured I’d get up Tuesday morning and write a recap. I had so many thoughts, after all, what with Ryan telling Emily that she’d better not gain weight after they get married and Kalon essentially saying “SHUT IT” when Emily was trying to ask him a question, not to mention the interviews with Emily’s friends and DOLLY PARTON SANG A SONG, MY WORD.

Yesterday morning got away from me, though, mainly because our puppy girl (who is 14, by the way, but she’s still a puppy to us) had a vet appointment. She’s been little not-quite-herself lately, but we sort of figured that was to be expected since she’s, oh, pushing the century mark in people years. After about five minutes with the vet, though, I started to pick up on the fact that All Was Not Well. The doctor did some blood work and x-rays, and no kidding: within an hour they had her in surgery to remove a softball-sized tumor on her spleen.

Bless her heart. No wonder she hadn’t been herself lately.

Anyway, she did great after the surgery, and the vet feels really good about her recovery, but once she gets home she has to take it super-easy. I say that like she’s normally a wild woman, staying out until all hours of the night and setting a bad example for the other neighborhood dogs by smoking cigarettes and defying her authority figures. That’s not exactly the case considering that her life consists of alternating between the dog bed in our bedroom and the dog bed in the living room, with a little sunshine time in the driveway for good measure. But the vet said that Miss Ally needs to be a total couch potato for the next week, pampered even more than usual, and it was all I could do not to stand up and say, “Doctor, that is not a problem. I may have majored in English, but I minored in couch potato, and I will happily spend the next week introducing Ally to all the Real Housewives in all their respective cities.”

But I didn’t want to alarm him. So I just nodded and said, “Yes, sir.” That seemed like the path of least resistance.

Then.

After supper last night I decided that I really needed to get started on my Bachelorette recap, but not until I checked the Mississippi State message boards to see if there was any new information about the NCAA baseball regionals. Because, well, as a middle-aged wife and mama, it’s of the utmost importance that I keep my finger on the pulse of State’s pitching decisions for their round 1 game against Samford. Forget figuring out what I’m going to cook my family for supper and the shameful condition of my refrigerator and the fact that I have a huge deadline on July 1. The most pressing issue, CLEARLY, is if we’re planning to pitch Stratton or Graveman.

(Really, I am just an organizational wonder. I would offer to lead some seminars on my crackerjack efficiency strategies, only I’d forget to show up for the seminars the second that I got caught up in some captivating online discussion about SEC quarterbacks or I started pinning encouraging sayings (with cute graphics!) on Pinterest or (true story) I discovered a website that analyzes the wardrobe choices on each episode of Mad Men.)

SO, since baseball monopolized my attention last night, I went to bed thinking, TOMORROW. I will write about The Bachelorette tomorrow. Unfortunately, I had no way of knowing that our power was going to go out a little before midnight – and it’s still out. I don’t know what happened, but I do know that there are about five Alabama Power trucks in our neighborhood, along with a brand new hole that’s approximately the size of the Grand Canyon. I’m hopeful that the power / DVR / electrical everything will be fully operational soon, but in the meantime the little man and I are hanging out at our favorite Starbucks while I charge my computer.

And listen. If I could bottle the air conditioning at this Starbucks? I WOULD TAKE EVERY BIT OF IT HOME WITH ME.

So there you have it: my litany of excuses for not posting about The Bachelorette. My intentions were good, but our dog’s spleen / my adult-onset ADD / a late-night thunderstorm conspired against me. Even still, I’d love to know what y’all thought about the episode. Plus, reading your comments on my phone will give me a way to pass the late afternoon hours when I’m waiting for D to get home and trying to not think about how my house is a burning hot inferno of stuffiness.

(Something tells me that I’m going to have a whole new appreciation for Caroline Ingalls before the day is over.)

(I’ll let you know if I decide to cook supper in the fireplace.)

(But I can assure you that I will not be wearing any sort of bonnet.)