This morning I woke up before my alarm went off, and since I felt pretty rested – and since I knew it was probably just a matter of minutes before the alarm started to blare at me – I made the uncharacteristic decision to get out of bed a little early and make some coffee. Granted, my eyes are almost always half-closed for the first ten or fifteen minutes after I wake up (the phrase “bright eyed” rarely applies to me before 7 AM), but after years of practice I am able to make a fine pot of coffee while squinting and bleary-eyed. I like to think it’s one of my more marketable skills.

(And yes, I know I could get the coffee pot ready before I go to bed at night.)

(But there’s something about water sitting in the coffee pot all night that gives me the heebie-jeebies.)

(Remember: I am a person with many annoying quirks and hang-ups.)

Anyway, after I got the coffee going and was walking back through our room so I could get in the shower, D rolled over and said, “Are you okay? You can’t sleep?”

And I just sort of grunted that I was fine because that, that is what I do in the mornings, I SPREAD CHARM AND GOODWILL TO ALL WHO KNOW ME. But after a few seconds D’s questions started to sink in and I thought, Wait. What time is it? I haven’t even looked at a clock. What time is it?

I grabbed one of D’s watches off the dresser in the closet and looked at the time, but then I realized that I was holding the watch upside down. So I flipped it around and tried to remember if he’d set the watch since the time changed and sure enough I figured it out and OH MY SWEET MERCY IT WAS 4:45 IN THE A.M.

FOUR FORTY-FIVE.

Now I’m guessing that many of you would bask in the blessing of being awake at such an early hour, that you would relish the chance to have an extra-long quiet time or just sit and read in peace until everybody else in your house got out of bed. BUT NOT I. I hopped back under those covers quicker than you could say ‘WATCHES ARE HANDY” and slept the sleep of angels for the next hour and a half. It felt like bonus sleep even though really it was just regular ole sleep. But I’ll tell you what: it was a COZY GIFT.

Which reminds me.

This past Saturday D and I had a conversation about the snooze button. He contends that the snooze button is a waste of time, that you should just hop out of bed as soon as the alarm goes off because the sleep you get after that isn’t quality sleep. And since it isn’t quality sleep, he says, it’s better to just get up and face the day.

Personally I could not disagree with him more. Love him though I do.

I think that post-snooze button sleep is meant to be savored. It’s dreamy. It helps me ease into my day as opposed to jumping out of bed the first time I hear THAT RUDE ALARM. Post-snooze button sleep helps me adjust to the idea of facing the day, and every single time I hit that button for ten more minutes of dreamtime, I feel like I’ve given myself a little present. A sweet little drowsy present. Wrapped up in a turquoise bow.

On an average morning I hit the snooze button twice, by the way, so that’s twenty minutes a day of extra sleep. As far as I’m concerned it’s kind of like having a hobby.

So what about you? Are you an up-and-at-’em person? Or are you a snooze button person?

And if you don’t need an alarm to wake up early in the morning, then please accept our collective congratulations and feel free to share your sleep secrets with the rest of us.

Thank you and amen.

Earlier this afternoon on Facebook, my sweet friend Amanda posted a link to an article called “Why Do We Let Girls Dress Like That?” – and I can’t stop thinking about it.

Honestly, I can get riled up and soapbox-y pretty easily about the things I see young (and not-so-young) girls wearing. Last week at Disneyland, for example, we saw teenage girl after teenage girl after teenage girl wearing shorts so short that my husband finally looked at me and said, “Did any parents see what these girls were wearing when they left their houses this morning? Because those little shorts they have on don’t really qualify as clothing.”

And he was right.

But here’s the thing. It’s pointless for me to just stand on my soapbox and point fingers where this particular issue (or any issue, really) is concerned. Because the fact of the matter is that many girls who dress immodestly (and, you could argue, the authority figures who allow it) make that choice because they don’t know their worth. If they knew their worth, they wouldn’t be looking for unhealthy forms of validation. If they knew their worth, they wouldn’t confuse the absence of appropriate boundaries with freedom.

And the thought of a nation – oh sweet mercy, a world – filled with young girls who don’t know their worth? Who don’t know that they were made with great, loving intention by the God of the universe, by the One who can clothe them with strength and dignity?

It breaks my heart. And it scares me.

But on the up side, it also renews my admiration and appreciation for all you mamas and daddies who refuse to bow down to the culture, who consistently do an incredible job parenting and leading and discipling your young girls. I know it’s not easy. It can’t be.

So here’s to fighting the good fight (IN LOVE), y’all. It’s worth it. The girls (and boys) in our families, schools, churches and communities are worth it.

Especially when they don’t know it.

But let’s pray that one day they will.

Hello, people of the internet!

We’ve been out of town for the last few days, and I thought I’d be home tonight in time to watch American Idol, write a post about it, and then sit back and read all about your favorite and least favorite AI moments. Good times, right?

However.

Our travel plans went a little cuckoo-kachoo this afternoon, and we just got home about thirty minutes ago, which was about four hours later than we expected, and really it’s not a big deal because we’re safe and we’re happy and we’re good, but clearly: no Idol for me tonight.

I’m going to try my best to play catch-up tomorrow morning (granted, I know that there are approximately six or maybe even eight of you who even care), but before I tend to Idol business I need to fill out my NCAA bracket or I’m going to be disqualified from my own Tournament Challenge group and that, THAT WOULD BE TERRIBLE.

Anyway. That’s what’s going on here. And now I’m going to sleep IN MY OWN BED and I’m just as tickled as I can be about that.

See y’all tomorrow!

– The $100 Walgreens gift card giveaway (courtesy of BlogHer) is still up and running.

– The winner of the Nations Outfitters $50 gift certificate giveaway is comment 309.

Linda has already responded to my email notification and claimed her sassy prize.

– Right now it doesn’t look like my Bulldogs are going to make it to the post-season this year (unless we win the SEC Tournament this weekend, which, hello, COULD TOTALLY HAPPEN), but I’m still planning to set up a group for ESPN’s NCAA Tournament Challenge. It’ll be open to anyone who wants to participate and purely for fun (apparently I never, ever tire of watching my bracket BURST INTO FLAMES sometime around the Sweet 16). All you’ll have to do is sign up with our group once I set it up and then make your picks after Selection Sunday. Anyway, I’ll post more details as soon as I have them. I’ll provide a little prize (or a “happy,” as we like to say in the Deep South) for the winner. MAYBE EVEN A CROWN.

For the last couple of days I’ve been seeing stuff all over the interweb about people being deeply, unabashedly, completely captivated by the banana pudding milkshake at Chick-fil-A. And honestly, at first I didn’t pay the recommendations much mind because I am not typically a fan of banana-flavored frozen treats. I chalk up my aversion to lingering disappointments from the fake-tasting banana popsicles and bananas Icees I tried as a child, not to mention an unfortunate banana Laffy Taffy incident that we need not mention ever again.

But tonight, around 8:30, I read a Facebook update about the banana pudding milkshake that considerably upped the curiosity ante for me, so I closed the computer and marched in the den and asked my husband if he’d heard anything about this whole banana pudding milkshake craze.

He considered my question for a second and then said, “It’s a banana pudding milkshake? Not just banana?”

“Yes. Banana pudding.”

“But how would that be? What would make it more like banana pudding?”

“I have no idea,” I said. “BUT FOR SOME REASON I’M STARTING TO THINK THAT IT SOUNDS DELICIOUS.”

“Well, let’s try one!” he answered. “But let’s get a chocolate milkshake, too – because we may need a back-up if we don’t like the banana pudding one.”

“Roger that,” I replied.

And really, is it any wonder that two people who think of things like BACK-UP DESSERT OPTIONS found each other and decided to spend their lives together?

It explains so much, doesn’t it?

So I threw on some shoes and grabbed my purse and hopped in the car and headed to Chick-fil-A. I called Melanie before I pulled out of my driveway to see if she had any thoughts about what might make it different than a plain ole banana milkshake, and she speculated that there might be some vanilla wafers incorporated into the shake.

Quite frankly the possibility of vanilla wafers had not occurred to me, but if there were in fact vanilla wafers mixed in? Well, clearly that would change everything. THAT WOULD JUST CHANGE EVERYTHING.

I pulled up to the drive-thru menu a few minutes later and scrutinized the picture of the banana pudding milkshake while I waited for someone to take my order. Sure enough, Mel was right. The vanilla wafers were mixed into the shake. It was a hopeful sign. But still, I wondered: would the banana flavor taste too fake? Would I have banana Laffy Taffy flashbacks? Was I prepared for the possibility that it could turn out like that time I tried a peppermint milkshake and had to throw it away because it was so sweet that it made my toes curl?

After I placed my order, I drove up to the window, paid for the shakes and had a frighteningly close call when the top came off the banana pudding milkshake and I almost spilled the whole thing into the console between the front seats. I think you can agree that that would have LITERALLY BEEN A TRAGEDY.

(I miss Rachel Zoe.)

(Life without her show is LITERALLY A NIGHTMARE.)

When I got home D met me in the kitchen, and we settled in for a taste test. Despite the fact that I was prepared for the worst, I have to say: MY WORD Y’ALL THAT IS A TASTY SHAKE RIGHT THERE.

It does taste slightly more banana-y than regular banana pudding, but it totally works. The vanilla wafers are critical to the shake’s success, I think, because they change the texture in a host of wonderful ways. And by the third or fourth bite – once you’ve adjusted to the fact that it tastes like banana pudding but it’s way colder than banana pudding and how can I be enjoying this delicious banana pudding through a straw? – you will be a believer.

Provided that you like bananas. Because if you don’t like bananas, I’m gonna wager a guess that this particular shake isn’t for you.

So there you have it. Another Monday night of LIVING ON THE EDGE in our house.

Have any of y’all tried it? What did you think?

p.s. Nobody at Chick-fil-A asked me to write this post. Mainly because they have no idea who I am.

p.p.s. Your sweet comments on the last post humbled and encouraged me more than you know. THANK YOU.

p.p.p.s. I don’t know that the banana pudding shake is better than a Zaxby’s shake – they’re just so different – but please know that I’ll be giving that matter the careful consideration it deserves in the days and weeks to come. Oh yes ma’am I will.