All Played Out from a Picnic at the Park

A little something for the folks at home

If you have only one smile in you, give it to the people you love. Don’t be surly at home, then go out in the street and start grinning "Good Morning" at total strangers.

Maya Angelou

Me, recently

Something to fallback on

"You can't pursue music without something to fall back on."

I've heard it all my life.

Then my dear friend Gil sent me this.

Greatest Fan

Jackson watches from the sidelines at a Southwood Cowboys baseball game while Mommy and Daddy take pictures.

Airman Justin Blacklidge, Rest in Peace

Today, Charlie was informed that an airman recruited through his office died in a tragic accident last weekend. Airman Justin Blacklidge was serving his first duty assignment at Shaw Air Force Base in Sumter, SC. An avid motorcyclist, Justin was on his bike when struck by a car driver who apparently failed to yield the right of way while making a left turn.

Justin's parents, MSgt. Keith and Angela Blacklidge, are stationed at Barksdale AFB here in Bossier City. They live in Shreveport.

I pray that peace will rest on the hearts of all those affected by Justin's passing and that his memory will be a source of comfort and healing to those that will miss him most.

The Giving Pocket

I do not remember how I came across this website, but I am so glad I did. This guy not only tells a compelling story; he IS a compelling story. I've subscribed to him through Google reader and shared accordingly, but this post merits special attention. It resonates with a truth eternal. I can't get the image of the hungry little boy out of my head, and there's not even a picture of him. That is how you know you've witnessed compelling story-telling. I'll be talking with my husband about our own giving pocket when he gets home from work tonight.

In the same way your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be lost--Matthew 10.14

February 19, 2009 @ 2:00 pm - Written by Trent

When I was about twenty years old, I was walking near the edge of a rough part of Des Moines, Iowa and I saw something that’s stuck with me ever since.

There was a young boy there, about six years old, and he was climbing out of a dumpster behind an apartment building. He was dressed in a dirty tank top and shorts and was barefooted. In his hand, he had a wadded-up fast food bag. When he hit the ground, he ran around to the far side of the dumpster, opened up the bag, and pulled out a handful of french fries, which he stuffed in his mouth as though he were starving.

I have never in my life felt so compelled to help someone out, but I didn’t know what to do. I looked around and spied a McDonald’s about a block away and so I walked over near the child and said hello to him. He looked scared and started to run away.

I told him loudly that I wanted to buy him some food. He stopped and looked back at me for a minute. I told him that I was going to go down to the McDonalds down the street and buy him some food and that I would come back and leave it by the dumpster. He could come and get it if he wanted.

I decided to do it this way because I figured the kid wouldn’t follow me there and I also didn’t want to create the appearance that I was abducting him. He seemed to understand the arrangement, so I walked down to an ATM, withdrew $20, went to McDonalds, bought about $15 worth of food (thinking he could perhaps share some with his mother or any siblings or friends he might have), and put the change from my twenty dollar bill in the bag - four ones and some coins.

I came back to the dumpster and the boy was gone - which I kind of expected. I put the bag on the ground by the dumpster, looked around, and walked away. I watched for a little while, but I never saw the boy come back. I ended up just leaving the food there in hopes that the boy would eventually come back and find it, but to this day I don’t know if he did or not. I like to think that he came back, found the bag, took it to his mother and his little sister, and they were able to at least get some calories in their system to sustain them for a little while.

This experience has stuck with me for more than a decade now. I’ve seen some situations where desperate need was quite obvious, but never again has anything stuck with me quite like that barefooted boy squatting on the ground beside the dumpster eating rotten french fries.

There are so many situations that we come across in our lives where people could be helped out with just a little help at the right moment. I’ve seen a single mother (with two kids beside her) offering to sell the wedding ring on her finger outside of a grocery store. I know an elderly couple who have been very close to having their electricity cut off this winter. A close friend told me about a food pantry that simply ran out of food and had to turn people away at the door recently.

Lately, I’ve started carrying more cash in my wallet than I ever have before. Each week, I put a couple twenty dollar bills in the back pocket of my wallet and rarely do I spend them. Instead, I just let this cash accumulate over time until I find a reason to spend it.

I call this my “giving pocket,” and it’s already begun to make a difference in how I see these kinds of situations.

It’s pretty simple. All I do is keep cash in that pocket and wait until the right moment comes. Inevitably, every few months, I come across a situation where someone is in desperate need - and instead of feeling helpless in the moment, I give them what they need to help with the problem.

I’ve written so often on this site about how I’ve been able to pull myself back from the financial brink and put myself and my family in a better financial place. Today, we’re stable and safe - but there are so many people who don’t share that safety and security, through no fault of their own.

The giving pocket allows me to seize the moment when I see someone that really needs help, and my financial success gives me the ability to keep the giving pocket full.

Perhaps, just once, I’ll be there at the right time to help someone who really needs it - and that one moment of human compassion and help will put them on a better path in life. If I can do that, then the giving pocket is worth far more than what I will have ever put in it.

Happy Birthday, Momma!

Grammys

U2’s opener—Boots on. Raring to go. The Dubliners bring it once again. Always a good time, U2’s “Get on Your Boots” introduces a fresh twist to their signature sound, and Bono’s look is all kinds of “Who’s your Daddy.” Nice!


It was inspiring to see Whitney looking so good fresh out of _________ …and then she opened her mouth. I couldn’t quite put my finger on the culprit of her awkward syntax and delivery, but something just wasn’t quite right. I’m pulling for Whitney, though. And Britney. Whitney and Britney. Now there’s a pop collaboration for you. I’d pay money to see that drama play out. Wonder where Britney was tonight? Did I miss her red carpet appearance? The similarities between these two iconic women is hitting me all of a sudden…

Jennifer Hudson. Touching acceptance speech and then the song. UH! She did it proud, though she was clearly having trouble keeping the tears from taking over. For people who don’t sing, it’s almost easier to sing with laryngitis than to push a tone through suppressed tears. Jennifer was just precious, and an honor, I’m sure, to her present and departed family.


Mmm, speaking of Britney, how ‘bout it, Mister Timberlake? The man is liquid smooth. That voice—I gotta say it, Justin Timberlake was hot all over the Grammys. The best part was he made the Reverend Al Green look and sound like a million bucks, very becoming for a junior in the industry to pay respect to a historically influential music legend like Al Green. It was a proud moment. Al’s still got it, especially when you consider that he was filling in with about 1 hour’s notice for Rihanna. A class act that keeps his cool. Nice to see you again, Reverend.

In other news, it's shaping up like Chris Brown played Ike to Rihanna's Tina (alleged only at this point), and then turned himself in to the police for the assault charge. Both were scheduled to perform and backed out very late in the afternoon, mere hours before showtime. Rihanna reportedly suffered facial bruising, but Chris managed to suffer no injuries. Well, good for him. His mama must be so proud.

Back to the show.

Coldplay. I make no apologies for my firm belief that the addition of a rap from Jay Z in the midst of Coldplay’s medley was an interruption, not an asset. It didn’t flow, and did nothing for neither Chris Martin’s piano solo segment or for Jay Z. This collaboration seemed forced, and I was relieved to see it come to a quick end.

Carrie Underwood. Kicked ass. Featured a shredding female lead guitarist. Double whammy. It was good. Very good. She is the only country artist that performed solo tonight and actually raised the bar. We all know her last name.

The Swift-Cyrus duo hurt my ears and eyes. I believe they should have been seated at the kids table, in the other room. I will, however, admit that Taylor’s SNL performance recently was impressive. Would that she could have gone it alone tonight.


Stevie Wonder is a kind and gracious man.





Katy “Nobody-told-me-there’d-be-choreography” Perry. Bless her heart. I’ve seen looser women in seminary than she was dancing that number tonight. Thank God for her cleavage.

Kenny Chesney was a big yawn, which was weird because he was introduced as an amazing entertainer. He is an amazing entertainer, record-breaking even, but his song choice was a double shot of Nyquil. Disappointing, and the levels were all off—you could barely hear his voice over the music and he kept fading the ends of his phrases by pulling too far from the mike at the end of each line. Kenny Chesney has a beautiful voice. Maybe a Grammy audience will get to hear it sometime.


Natalie Cole looked ten feet tall, no?

I can’t think of a thing I want to say about John Mayer. Oh, he performed as a part of the Bo Diddley tribute. There, that should do it.


MIA scared me. I couldn’t get past the outfit, and felt the urge to shadow her with out-stretched arms to prevent an accidental fall. Thankfully, Kanye stepped in with his reliable smooth stylings. He brought Jay-Z, TI and Lil Wayne with him. Eh, it was alright.











Sir Paul with the luckiest drummer alive Dave Grohl. Not that Dave is not a talent in his own right, but let’s face it—it musta been a dream gig for him. Paul McCartney is a presence, and—as usual—gave a spot-on performance. He doesn’t disappoint, ever, and we are lucky to still have him and have him still making music. I do miss John, though. Half of a whole.











Adele redeemed a pop collaboration with Sugarland. I’ll be downloading Adele tomorrow. What a voice. These soulful British chicks—what gives? It’s like they have a direct link to yesteryear Motown, like nothing’s changed in British pop since Lennon and McCartney were fawning over spinning 45s. Lucky us. More, please.

Welcome, Radiohead. I’ve missed you. The performance was flawless, a real pleasure. I’ll be downloading you tomorrow as well.

JT and TI delivered the goods. I’m really impressed with TI. He showed talent and entertainment tonight, the spark that I felt was missing from Jay-Z and even Kanye compared to his usual delivery. JT has a beautiful voice and the soul of a performer, a crowd-pleasing combination that gets you on your feet. Finally.

The Four Tops tribute was a sing-along free-for-all. Who doesn’t know the words to these songs, and what more fitting tribute to this iconic group of a generation?

Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” took me way back. This guy—is it me, or does he just get better and better with age?

Coldplay had a good night but were denied album of the year. That honor went to Robert Plant and Allison Krauss for Raising Sand, produced by T-Bone Burnette. They performed “Rich Woman” and “Gone Gone Gone!” beautifully earlier in the evening, but I have “best album” doubts. Of course, I love Coldplay, so I’m partial.

I did come away with a great list for downloads for tomorrow to broaden my music collection. Here are a few I’ll be googling later.

Jennifer Hudson
See what Whitney’s working on
Justin Timberlake (last song I have is “Cry Me a River”—ouch!)
Al Green classics
Kid Rock’s Rock ‘n Roll Jesus (I have a weakness for Southern rock)
Radiohead (going to get reacquainted with this old friend of my youth)
Adele—leading to Dido, Joss Stone, and Colbie Caillat (keep forgetting to look for these)
John Coltrane (U2 always reminds me to look for him)
Maybe the Plant/Krauss stuff, once I’m over the Coldplay loss

Off to bed. Night, y’all.

Econ. Recovery House Meeting--It's not too late.

Meeting tonight at 8 for 1 hour. Charlie is in the kitchen baking his famous homemade chocolate chip cookies. Details and RSVP here.

Grassroots, Baby

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29069515/

Economic Recovery House Meeting, this Saturday night, at our house

For all you locals, get more details here.

Us Airways Flt 1549 Hudson River Ditching--Best Audio/Video Synopsis

Watch more YouTube videos on AOL Video

I can still hear my TWA safety instructor Jon Modrcin's mantra--"Open seatbelts! Come this way! Jump and slide! Jump and slide!"

Can't Get Over This

Watch more YouTube videos on AOL Video

I'm not sure I ever will. I applied to be a flight attendant in 1996 with now-defunct Trans World Airlines. After training, I flew from June 1996 until January 31, 1997, when I like hundreds of others was furloughed. I never went back.

OMG, I Found It!

I have been looking for this video for about a year now. The thing is, I didn't know the name of it, and all I could remember was these puppet babies. Unreal. I can't get enough of this vintage stuff!

My Number One Most Favorite Song from The Electric Company

Eat up, Kids.

Remembrance from my youth.
Thank God for YouTube.

Don't panic.

So your girlfriend
got you a skydiving class
for Christmas.
You're stoked.
You strap on your gear
and head out
on your first session
with your flight instructor
strapped to your back.
You make your jump annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd
Your instructor has a heart attack
While strapped to your back
On your FIRST dive
EVER.

What would YOU do?

Twinsies

Supper

Some of my most favorite people on this earth are seated at this table. And some are not.

My Husband

"F-ing" Unbelievable

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28894427/

Iceland

...has collapsed.

S-S-Satellite

A Bird’s Eye View Of The Inauguration
(First Satellite Image)
Posted at techcrunch.com
by Erick Schonfeld
January 20, 2009

My Beautiful, High-School Best Friend

Rae Pearson, talking with her momma via cell phone the night Barack Obama was elected President of the United States. Salem High School, Virginia Beach, VA, Class of 1991.

Love you, Girl!

Hometown Newspaper

The Virginian-Pilot

Citizen Accountability 101

Your homework assignment

With thanks to my brother, Rob

President Obama's Inaugural Address

Inaugural Address

By President Barack Hussein Obama

"My fellow citizens: I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you've bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors.

I thank President Bush for his service to our nation as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.

Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often, the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because we, the people, have remained faithful to the ideals of our forebears and true to our founding documents.

So it has been; so it must be with this generation of Americans.

That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost, jobs shed, businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly, our schools fail too many -- and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.

These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable, but no less profound, is a sapping of confidence across our land; a nagging fear that America's decline is inevitable, that the next generation must lower its sights.

Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this America: They will be met.

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord. On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas that for far too long have strangled our politics. We remain a young nation. But in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.

In reaffirming the greatness of our nation we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of short-cuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the faint-hearted, for those that prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things -- some celebrated, but more often men and women obscure in their labor -- who have carried us up the long rugged path towards prosperity and freedom.

For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life. For us, they toiled in sweatshops, and settled the West, endured the lash of the whip, and plowed the hard earth. For us, they fought and died in places like Concord and Gettysburg, Normandy and Khe Sahn.

Time and again these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions, greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.

This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week, or last month, or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions -- that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of our economy calls for action, bold and swift. And we will act, not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We'll restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. All this we will do.

Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions, who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short, for they have forgotten what this country has already done, what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage. What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them, that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply.

The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works -- whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. And those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account, to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day, because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.

Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched. But this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control. The nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our gross domestic product, but on the reach of our prosperity, on the ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart -- not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.

As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils that we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man -- a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience sake.

And so, to all the other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born, know that America is a friend of each nation, and every man, woman and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity. And we are ready to lead once more.

Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with the sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.

We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort, even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we'll work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet.

We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense. And for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken -- you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus, and non-believers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West, know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy.

To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history, but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to the suffering outside our borders, nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

As we consider the role that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who at this very hour patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages.

We honor them not only because they are the guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service -- a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves.

And yet at this moment, a moment that will define a generation, it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all. For as much as government can do, and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child that finally decides our fate.

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends -- honesty and hard work, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism -- these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history.

What is demanded, then, is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility -- a recognition on the part of every American that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world; duties that we do not grudgingly accept, but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship. This is the source of our confidence -- the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny. This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed, why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent mall; and why a man whose father less than 60 years ago might not have been served in a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.

So let us mark this day with remembrance of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At the moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words to be read to the people:

'Let it be told to the future world...that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive... that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet it.'

America: In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.

Thank you. God bless you. And God bless the United States of America."

Right on, Bloggy Todd

My friend Todd nails it with his post today in follow up to yesterday's inaugural festivities. I'd like to share it with you here.

"I, for one, am ready and expect for the new prez to take us in the right direction. I am done with Republican/Democrat, conservative/liberal crap. I'm ready for Americans. Let's band together and get the things we need. A better economy, healthcare, etc.

Congrats to yours, mine and our new President . I pray that 2009 will be good to us all."

Well said, Todd. Readin' my mind. I swear I was just thinking about this while pouring my coffee this morning.

I was reflecting on our times, the crises at hand (plural intended, with Iraq, Afghanistan, the Economy in mind). You know, the reports about what it was like in those stairwells in the crumbling WTC towers revealed a camaraderie and synergy that was born in adversity for the purpose of the task at hand: live through this or at least die trying. Americans summoned the best of themselves to render aid, pour out compassion, and strive together for the common good.

I spent yesterday in tears—sadness for the years paid in the waiting, years that deferred the dream of people like the Reverend King and President Johnson and Bobby Kennedy; joy for the blessing of bearing witness to its fruition and of being a citizen of the state of Freedom and Democracy with the power to effect peaceful change as one person and one of millions; anticipation for the hope that somehow has come bubbling up into a beautiful crescendo of affirmation.

Old labels and divisive ideology are the yoke of yesterday. Today is a new day, a time for courage, a time for involvement, a time for responsibility, a time for accountability.

We may be broke. We may be limping. We may even be fearful. But we are something else as well. We are Americans, and it feels good to be proud of it again.

Bedtime

Water-ditching

I got serious reservations regarding air travel. I can't believe I ever worked in an airplane.

I'm genuinely...

speechless.

"I love Jesus, but I drink a little."

Gladys Hardy, of Austin, Texas, talks with Ellen Degeneres.

Jackson plays with his cousin Bailey

Jackson is visiting his Austin family for the New Year with his momma and daddy. Jackson loves his cousin Bailey. Here's a video of the two of them playing at breakfast this morning.

Workin' Santa

Turns out Santa needs a little help from his friends, too. Here's Charlie lending a hand to the Man in Red. Ain't he cute?

Hope Jackson doesn't catch mommy kissing Santa Claus...

Just Me

How about a photo update, sans cosmetics?

That's me, Baby.

More on Continental flight #1404

Mike Wilson, a passenger, described the chaos on messages posted to the internet site Twitter.com on his cell phone.

"By the time the plane stopped we were burning pretty well and I think I could feel the heat even through the bulkhead and window," he wrote.

"I made for the exit door as quickly as I could, fearing the right wing might explode from the fire. Once out, I scrambled down the wing."

Gabriel Trejos told KUSA-TV in Denver that the plane buckled toward its middle and that the seats felt like they were closing in on him, his pregnant wife and his 13-month-old son, who was on his lap. His knees were bruised from the seat in front of him.

Maria Trejos told KUSA that there was an explosion and that the right side of the plane, where they were sitting, became engulfed in flames. The family used an emergency exit and slid down the wing of the jet to the ground.

It's almost here...

Miss Pansy just wanted to wish everybody a Merry Christmas--Meow!

Miracle

"The LORD bless you, and keep you;
The LORD make His face shine on you,
And be gracious to you;
The LORD lift up His countenance on you,
And give you peace."

--Numbers 6.24-26




'A Sudden, Terrible Stillness'
A passenger on Continental flight 1404 describes the crash.

Jeb Tilly
Newsweek Web Exclusive
Dec 21, 2008 | Updated: 5:16 p.m. ET Dec 21, 2008

This will forever be my memory of Christmas 2008: huge flames streaking past the windows. Snow and dirt flying past as we augered into the ground. The inside of the plane so orange with firelight that I could see the destruction—the overhead baggage compartments destroyed and pieces of plastic hanging down, wires everywhere and the acrid smell of burning plastic and jet fuel suddenly thick in the cabin.

We'd been on the way to Houston from Denver to visit my wife's family for Christmas. My own parents had flown in earlier in the day. We'd given ourselves plenty of time to get to the airport, an extra half hour so we wouldn't have to go too fast on the icy Colorado roads. Check-in was a breeze by most standards. We sped through security, enjoyed a glass of Chianti and a Cobb salad. My wife noticed a woman boarding with her two children, one of them a toddler, and remarked to me how difficult it would be to manage kids during Christmas air travel. The tarmac was icy near the gates, but the as we taxied onto the runway, I was relieved to see that it was dry.

Things went horribly wrong shortly after we began takeoff. At first, we gained speed just like any flight, then it got a little bumpy, and then a little too bumpy. Then we made a hard, arcing left turn off the runway. That's when what was happening hit home: We'd clearly left the tarmac and gone off-road. Every bump and dip slammed me into my seat, the walls and the bulkhead behind me. People erupted into cries and prayers. I was sure it would stop soon, but we just kept going. What I recall most is the incredible violence of it, like the roughest roller coaster you've ever ridden but with a desperate, roaring engine noise that seemed to get louder as we bounced more and more.

Things were flying around the cabin—books, newspapers, bags. After an especially hard bounce, the lights went out, and there was a sudden, terrible stillness. We saw later what had happened: The runway we were on is about 60 feet higher than the plains below, and we had sped over the edge at what one passenger who has military flight experience later estimated to be 150 miles per hour. The plane must have floated somewhat, or we'd have gone down nose-first; instead we belly-flopped onto a runway below. That's when the right engine burst into flames and the fuselage cracked in half. My wife, Ashley, in the seat beside me, screamed over and over, "I love you, Jeb!" I pulled her head into my lap, away from the debris I was sure would slam into us.

Amazingly, it never did. It took a minute for us to realize we weren't moving anymore, that the engine noise and the wrenching, roaring destruction had stopped. Voices screamed, "Get out! Get out! The plane's going to blow up!" The right wing was entirely engulfed in flame, but thankfully, the fire was still outside the plane. There was a crush at the tail as everyone tried to push through. Ashley and I were out quickly because we'd been in the last row of seats. We clambered over the spongy rubber emergency slides and out into a dark, snowy, windy field. Everyone was running as fast as they could away from the fire, and against the flames we saw surreal silhouettes of people scattering in all directions.

I'd managed to grab my bag, which had a phone, sweater and jacket, and I took Ashley's hand and the two of us ran slipping through the snow toward lights and buildings we saw above us on a hill. Eventually, all the passengers ended up there. It was a runway firehouse, and emergency teams were already taking care of the most seriously injured—the pilots—who were on backboards in the kitchen, one moaning and bloody and the other talking on a cell phone. We waited there for hours, absorbing what had happened. The mother with her child and toddler were there. She was ashen, her baby sleeping so deeply that she couldn't wake him up. All three were loaded into an ambulance and hurried away.

Continental eventually bused us and the other passengers back to the terminal, and then to a hotel in Denver. People around us were rehashing their stories and trying to guess what had happened. A failed left engine? A gust of wind? We booed at the hotel bar when news reports described us as having "exited the runway"—a little disaster-management euphemism that didn't do justice to our ordeal. This morning, we awoke stiff and sore and trudged to breakfast, where we saw the woman with her child and toddler, the baby bright-eyed and smiling. "We're going to get on another plane and go to Houston," she told the older boy. "But no fires this time?" he asked. "No fires this time," she said. "No fires this time."

URL: http://www.newsweek.com/id/176611

Another Crazy With No Business Raising Kids

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/28269290/

Iconic Saga of the 80s Child Comes to Sad and Unsatisfying Close

http://mobile.nytimes.com/article?a=269797&f=21

"Some just want to watch the world burn."

Alfred was right. I know people like this. Or, better said, I thought I knew them.

My Two Boys

The man I chose to marry is the love of my life, being made for me every day we choose to carve out life together. We made a beautiful baby boy who gives us air to breathe just by smiling at us. I have everything I will ever need.

Merry Christmas, Y'all

With gratitude to our neighbor and friend, Ray, who hung his own icycle lights for us on our house. What a guy.

Jackson learned a new trick from Grandaddy...

Takin' Daddy to Work

Well, hello there. Glad to see you. Sorry we've been away so long. Here's a quick shot of our morning to get this blog rollin' again.

Living History

I am proud of Barack Obama, the American people, and the grace and dignity of John McCain's concession speech. It was also my privilege to share tonight's historic election experience with my husband in our humble little living room and with my brother, Rob, listening with us via cell phone. I've never been more proud to be an American.

"All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing."--E. Burke

When I worked for the chamber of commerce in my home state, I met a woman who introduced me to the possibility that email forwards are suspect. Recently, at a neighborhood dinner gathering, a good friend of ours referenced a moment captured on film in which Barak Obama refused to place his hand over his heart for the pledge of allegiance to the flag of the United States of America.

I said nothing.

I didn't believe it, suspected it was an incendiary email designed to denigrate a good man and motivate well-meaning Americans to vote their fears rather than their conscience. I learned to investigate everything, to do my research when I smell a hoax.

I was right. I was also wrong. I wish I had said something.

John McCain and Barack Obama are good men. They each deserve respect for their public service, not to mention for waging one hell of a campaign in what will be remembered as unprecedented times. Unlike some I know well and love dearly, I believe that America can survive fours years of administration from either of them--albeit a low expectation, I freely concede. We've got bigger problems than "my guy" winning or losing.

I voted weeks ago, absentee, because I live a long way from my home. These remarks won't matter in today's proceedings. Hopefully, the "undecideds" have finally made up their minds (or just didn't want to admit their choice aloud, as is their right not to). I post them, frankly, to try and assuage my conscience, but also to lend a voice to reason in a time when those with whom one agrees are "good" and those with whom one disagrees are "evil." This kind of rhetoric is indicative of a corrosive mindset that divides compatriots and infects democracy with illusory fear that erodes freedom. Out of fear, already we have given so much away.

I hope that my fellow Americans, friends, neighbors, and family will be thoughtful and respectful today as we all participate in the crowning achievement of democracy--free election.

Jackson spent some time with his BFFs Hunter and Jordan at a Pumpkin Patch and the Duck Pond in Shreveport last weekend.

We Three Corbetts

Eat at Joes

Indeed!

Oh, the humanity

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/27478070/

It is difficult to restrain myself from open weeping...

These are exciting times.

I can hardly wait to hear which corporate entity will step up next to claim its multi-billion dollar bailout, courtesy of John Q. Taxpayer (aka me).

That’s entertainment. Who needs cable?

I think I will take up learning the Chinese language for my next pet project. I should probably be conversational by the time it becomes the official language. It will be the least we can do in gratitude for China allowing us to borrow money.

Or maybe we could borrow from Iraq. I understand they have a budget surplus currently.

She just gets me

Daddy's Day Off

One of my favorite things...

...is to sit back and watch as Jackson plays. I love to play with him, but I am fascinated by the way he plays independently. He has an intense focus, and he's so close to walking that he has a new set of skills to practice during his play. He spends a lot of time up tall on his knees. It's strange and wonderful for me to see him this way. His little body looks so grown up all stretched out to his full height. I am losing the baby and gaining a little boy. I'm delighted and a little sad all at once.

I Enjoy Just Hanging Around

Mardel said...

"I love the act of hanging clothes on a clothesline. I love seeing them there. I love folding them and taking them down. It doesn't really take that long, but the act itself seems to slow down the perception of time, at least for me, making life a little calmer"...

and I couldn't agree more.

19 Cent Bath Tissue at Kroger

These babies are $1.19 on the shelf. My Kroger automatically doubles coupons up to and including 50 cents, so I applied 6 50-cent coupons from a recent Sunday paper insert (we buy 6 newspapers on Sundays), bringing the total per pack down to 19 cents.

That's about 5 cents per roll, people.

Couponing. Look into it.

CVS-ing on Monday

Look at this haul. Not bad for 79 cents. We're planning a yard sale for October 18th. Dude, I am gonna score so much cash for thesegoodies. Check out the receipts, you unbelievers!

No refills, No Helping

The Little Prince eats all by himself today.

Oh, I feel ya, Maxine...

Pure Genius

CVS-ing, Defined

I was first introduced to what I call "Extreme Couponing" by my good friend Christina. Click the title of this post for an excellent place to start, if you want to become a Couponing CVSer yourself.

Recentme

Posted for a friend.

CVS-ing

CVS Card #1

Using:
• $13 in Extra Care Bucks from previous transaction
• a gift card with $35.47 remaining balance on it















Transaction #1
1 Suave Shampoo 1.79
1 Suave Conditioner 1.79
1 Suave Shampoo 1.79
1 Suave Conditioner 1.79
1 Johnsons Buddies Easy Grip Soap bar 1.19
1 Johnsons Buddies Easy Grip Soap bar 1.19
1 Ped Egg Refill Cartridge 3-pack 9.99

Coupons
$2 off $10 CVS coupon printable
50 cent off 1 Suave Mfr.
$2 off 3 Suave Mfr.
2 - $1.50 off 1 Johnsons Buddies printable

Used $13 Extra Care Bucks (1 $5 and 1 $8)

Total OOP: $.03 + tax
Earned $2 Extra Care Bucks














Transaction #2...This one I screwed up royally…watch and learn from my mistake!
1 CVS tampon 10 count 1.99
6 Trial size Dove shampoos@.99/ea 5.94
5 trial size Gold Bond powders@.99/ea 4.95

Coupons
$2 off $10 CVS coupon printable
6 - .75 off 1 Dove hair Mfr.
5 - $1 off Gold Bond Powder Mfr. (couldn’t use because item cost less that $1)*

Used $2 Extra Care Bucks (from transaction #1 above)

Total OOP: $5.87 + tax
Earned no Extra Care Bucks**

*I will be returning these powders for a refund of ~$5.40. I should have asked for a void, but the line was backed up and I planned on doing another 5 or 6 transactions while I was there. Sometimes you just suck it up and do the nice thing because you want a good working relationship with your CVS pros. The return will bring my OOP down to ~$1.27

**I wanted to break even with Extra Care Bucks here because I had remaining Extra Care Bucks associated with another CVS card. Otherwise I would have tried to keep the Extra Care Bucks coming as long as possible.


CVS Card #2

Using:
• $5.99 in Extra Care Bucks from previous transaction
• a gift card with $28.31 remaining balance on it














Transaction #1
3 Ambi Facial Bar Soaps@1.99/ea 5.97
1 Purex laundry detergent 2.99 on sale from 5.99
1 Plastic bat/ball set 1.49 on sale from 2.99

Coupons
$2 off $10 CVS coupon printable
35 cent off Purex Mfr.
2 - $3 off Ambi Mfr. Printable (adjusted down .03 by register)

Total OOP: $2.13 + tax
Earned $10 Extra Care Bucks (1 $9 and 1 $1)
CRT $4 off $20 CVS Coupon (printed after Extra Care Bucks)

Transaction #2
1 Bucket of sidewalk chalk 2.49 on sale from 4.99
4 Purex laundry detergents 11.96
2 Schick Quattro disposables 7.99 on sale Buy 1 get 1 free

Coupons
$4 off $20 CVS coupon CRT
4 - .35 off 1 Purex Mfr.
2 - $4 off Schick Quattro Mfr.

Used $9 Extra Care Bucks (from transaction #1 above)

Total OOP: $.04 + tax
Earned $4 Extra Care Bucks




















Transaction #3
1 Roll-a-Bag 4.99 on sale from 9.99
1 Loreal Age Perfect Cleanser 5.99 on sale from 6.99

Coupons
$2 off $10 CVS coupon
$1 off Loreal Age Perfect Cleanser Mfr.

Used $6.99 Extra Care Bucks (1 $1 and 1 $5.99)

Total OOP: $.99 + tax
Earned 5.99 Extra Care Bucks














Transaction #4
2 Kotex tampons, 18-ct, 2 for $6 6.00
1 - 6 oz Chex Mix 1.00 on sale from 1.99
2 Colgate toothpaste, 6 oz 4.18 on sale from 2.79 each

Coupons
$2 off $10 CVS coupon
2 - $1 off Kotex printable
2 - $1.50 off Colgate printable

Used $4 Extra Care Bucks

Total OOP: .18 + tax
Earned no Extra Care Bucks














Transaction #5
3 2L Diet Coke 4.00 on sale 3 for $4
2 12.5 oz bags, mini Butterfingers 2.99 on sale B1G1
2 packs of hair clips , 2.99 ea 5.98

Coupons
$2 off $10 CVS coupon
2 – $.50 off Butterfinger Mfr.

Used $5.99 Extra Care Bucks

Total OOP: 3.98 + tax
Earned no Extra Care Bucks

TOTAL OOP for the day at CVS = $13.22

for…

2 Shampoos
2 Conditioners
2 baby bath bars
3 refill plates for Ped Egg
10-ct tampons
6 shampoos for travel
6 powders for travel
3 facial bar soaps
5 bottles of our favorite laundry detergent
A plastic baseball bat/ball set
Large bucket of sidewalk chalk
2 packs of disposable Schick Quattro women’s razors
1 rolling, collapsible shopping bag
Loreal Age Perfect Cleanser
2 boxes of Kotex
Cheddar-flavored Chex Mix
2 full-size Colgate toothpastes
3 - 2L Diet Coke
2 bags, mini Butterfingers
2 packs of hair clips

Check out one of my favorite CVS-ing blogs over at the Centsible Sawyer for more great CVS deals!

Lunchtime

Clean Towels?

Why it's hard for me to stay on top of the laundry...

NORMAN AND PANSY ARE ALREADY THERE!

Benjamin Sargent

If I live to be 100, I will never forget the story my friend Devon told to me one Friday night not too long ago about a little baby boy named Benjamin Sargent, just five months old. I wish I hadn't read this. Do so only with the knowledge that you've been warned. This isn't gore. It's worse. I don't know how else to warn you.

The details of the neglect and abuse he encountered in his tiny little life--I cannot bring myself to type them into this space. I am trying to think of a good reason for posting his picture. The truth is, I wish I didn't know about Benjamin. The night I heard about him, I called my brother and tried to unburden my mind by telling it to him. It didn't work. We both wept easily and violently. I told Rob then, "I think I know what it must have felt like, that first human glimpse into the knowledge of good and evil. There I stood, at a Friday night cookout, the Garden's newest Adam, stumbling naked and nauseous.

It's been well over a month now, but I can't forget. God, I wish I could forget.

This is the house where Benjamin died, now for sale.

The filth masquerading as the human biological variables that brought Benjamin into existence are awaiting trial in November in Peoria. I have such poetic imaginings for their wait. God forgive me and help me to want the forgiving. A searing, white-hot pulse of vengeance radiates from the center of my brain, hurting me with its intensity.

My Latest Published Article

Let's face it; I'm a glorified marketing copy writer, but damn, I love seeing these things in print!

Stay-At-Home Mom: "An Extremely Dangerous Choice" (?!)

I am a 35-year-old master's degree-holding, stay-at-home mother to a 15-month-old little boy named Jackson. I pay the bills and manage our long-term family finances. I make it my business to engage in financial research and work hard with my husband to find creative ways to ensure our family's healthy financial future. I welcome financial advice; however, I was offended—like so many—by Ms. Bennetts’ pithy, disrespectful remarks regarding being home for the loss of a tooth. Despite Ms. Vigeland's best interviewing efforts to steer her toward respectful concessions of the dignity of choosing “to stay home and work with their children,” Ms. Bennetts was unrelenting. This could have been a fantastic opportunity to educate, equip, and foster solidarity among women with children in and outside of the workplace. Ms. Bennetts chose to be divisive by taking pot shots at the reasons why women choose to stay home with their children in the first place. Disappointing and rather cliché.

Husbands and Wives

The intimacy and connection here are almost too much, too private, but I can't look away from it. It's the hottest video I've seen about the love shared between a husband and a wife. It makes me melt. Charlie will like this very much, so I post it for him especially.

In case you thought sarcasm...

is a relatively modern phenomenon, check this out (1895).

"And now for something completely different..."

I know everybody's seen this but...

I don't care. I could watch it over and over.

To Keats

We are approaching my favorite time of year, but I am domiciled in a region of the country where seasons can pass unnoticed. I've joked before that Louisiana has but two seasons--hot and hotter. Still, even I must confess there has been a subtle shift in the way the air smells in the morning, long before it is sullied by blistering noon day sun. It has a smoky, aged tinge, and I sense it each morning now, heading early out the door with mug in hand and babe in arm, moving with raw feeling toward the idling truck to take the Tech Sergeant to work.

If I turn down the air conditioner and and wear a sweater, I can almost feel it coming. Till it does, I've got Keats.

And so do you.

My Thighs Are On Fire

Yes. En Fuego. Seriously.

On a Tuesday morning, I awoke sixish, dressed for exercise, and prepared to mount up with my iPod and go for a run.

Are you finished?

(Ahem) So as I am reaching for the door knob, Hubster stumbles out and says, "Where're ya goin'?," groggily.

"Thought I might try a run."

"Hold on."

Okay, so, you know, I wasn't really thinking I wanted a witness, I mean, company.

Nevertheless, away we went.

I'm not sure which part I liked best--the sound of my own beleaguered breathing pattern (much akin to the sound of the Hoover Wind Tunnel 2 as it sucks dirt from our living room carpet) or the quaint observation that our run time coincided with the bus stop rendezvous of a dozen or so pre-pubes patiently waiting for the big yellow taxi and something to ridicule and thereby shift focus away from their fragile self-awareness.

Beautiful.

I figured my best bet was to avoid eye contact. I wouldn't hear anything over the noise of my tortured breathing anyway. I could pretend they didn't even exist. 35 years old and I still give a crap what a sixth grader thinks. Hilarious.

I survived. Ran for a whopping total of seven minutes, forty-seven seconds. Walked the rest. Ambulant for a total of twenty. This, my friends, is progress.

But, MAN, do my thighs burn!

Does this look funny to you?

A photo slideshow...

...I have posted on a website for my alma mater, Emmanuel College

Miracle Drug

Close to Home

I long to see you.

First Thing This Morning

Precious Two



(Pssst! This picture comes with a song.
You should play it now, courtesy of YouTube.)

Wait, what's different?

I'll tell ya what's different...BIRTHDAYS!

Birthday Mardi Gras used to be a week-long affair dedicated entirely to personal indulgence. Pedicure. Massage. Shopping. Cake. Did I mention cake?

Birthday Mardi Gras, post marriage and delivery, is now shorter.

And more like Festivus. For the rest of us.

First, there are the "Feats of Strength." These happen mainly when rising from slumber or bending at the waist for any reason.

Then there is the "Airing of Grievances." This happens mainly in front of the bathroom mirror or while riding side-saddle with the hubster in dense traffic.

Then there is the dinner, a full sprint through drinks, hors d' oeuvres, salad, entree, dessert, and Andes mint before the battery on the portable DVD player dies, signaling a scant 35 seconds before Caesar (or Jackson, our 15-month-old son) launches into an ear-splitting wail of displeasure.

Did I mention drinks?

Next is the pole. I got nothing (printable).

Finally, we have Festivus Miracles, described at Wikipedia as "minor coincidences that are inconvenient for one of the involved parties." Charlie and I drove an hour to a movie theater in Longview, Texas, that should offer a free tetanus shot before walking through its doors. I timidly approached the ancient box office for two tickets to The Happening, the latest from M. Knight Shyamalan (worth the gas money), only to hear from the booth clerk that every theater in the place is functioning properly EXCEPT the one showing The Happening. Bad bulb, he says to me.

Regarding birthdays, I rest my case.

Birthday Mardis Gras: Day Three

The Corbetts spent the last 24 hours in Texas, a new favorite weekend jaunt for us. We revisited Marshall, the place we took my parents while they were in town the first week of August. We stayed in Rosemont Cottage, a historic structure on the grounds of the Starr Family Home just a stone's throw from the famous Whetstone Square that people travel for miles to see all lit up at Christmas time. We drove in around 4 yesterday afternoon and had the place to ourselves since Rosemont Cottage is basically the sole remaining wing of an antebellum home built by the Starr family and has only one bed--a queen-sized vintage Mallard crowned with the signature "egg" in the headboard.
















Ah, the classic oil field "rocking horse," none of which we saw when trying to show my mother what one looked like!

We tried a local spot for dinner and lucked out with the oyster carousel (delicious), though we still haven't found the steak we're looking for.

The sign.

The ambience.

The oysters.

Whetstone Square last night, on our way back to Rosemont Cottage.

Birthday Mardi Gras: Day Two

0630
Crying
Jackson
Diaper change
Warm baby head trying to crawl inside my neck
The best thing
Ever

0639
Crank up the FJ
Walmart
Baby food
Milk
Pop tarts for hubster
Bananas

Drove Charlie to work
Fed Jackson
Pediatrician’s appointment
More physical therapy
3 months
@#$%&

Goodwill
$1 paperbacks
$2 hardcovers

Great American Short Stories
Cold Mountain
Shakespeare: Five Plays
The Harper Single Volume American Literature
A Short History of the American Nation
What to Expect When You’re Expecting (two copies, & no, I’m not)
French Impressionist Paintings in the Louvre
The St. Martin’s Handbook
How to Read Literature Like a Professor

Anafternoonofuninterruptedblogging
Made reservations
Saturday Night
Historic Bed and Breakfast
Checked showtimes
The Happening
[I heart the Shyamalan]
Waiting for hubster's call
Him, Jackson, and me
All weekend long...

August 14

35
(shhh(*t)hhhh)
Not too shabby
Got a call first thing
Bent over
Sorting laundry
Hallway
Sandra
Sang me the loveliest southern rendition of “Happy Birthday”
Cracked me up
Then cracked herself up
Awesome

Lunchtime
Amy came to get Hunterman
Brought me a present
Iced Tea Maker
SWEET!
Brought me lunch
Home-made chicken salad (with red seedless grapes)
YUM!

Afternoon
Dropped Jackson off to play with Amy
Drove to Youree Drive
Thought about who I am/am not after all these years
Pier 1 for desk window-shopping
Sam’s for 1.5 Liter Riesling and Boursin cheese
For later
Priced a kiddo seat for my bike for rides with Jackson
Stopped at Southern Maid for a celebratory birthday cream cheese-filled donut
For immediately
Picked up my son and went home

Evening
Dinner with hubster
Amy brought us chicken with dressing from Dinnerbelles
And éclair pie
Mmmm
Put Jackson to bed
Watched end of

All of Eastern Promises
Went to bed

Birthday Mardi Gras: Day One

O, Viggo!

Yowza. Saw Eastern Promises last night with the hubster. Let me first say that I have now seen Viggo Mortensen's jumbly bits from just about every possible angle. Not a completely horrible way to spend a Thursday night.

If you've seen A History of Violence and you likey, you will love Eastern Promises as well. Viggo is a turbulent, forboding presence on screen whose Russian accent is absolutely flawless (note to Kevin Costner, circa "19-Robin Hood"). Naomi Watts is fearless and dutifully-compelled in the face of personal peril. There is a fair amount of gore (I watched several scenes from behind my own hands, peaking gingerly through the spaces of my fingers), so this one's an "after nigh-night for the kiddos" feature.

I should also note that nothing, and I mean NOTHING, is really left to the imagination at all and we are talking human trade here, so...gear up for some disturbing imagery and action. (You've been warned.) Nevertheless, the story is heart-breakingly and beautifully told against the velvety background of a lush cinematographic tribute to the rich, red pageantry of Russian culture.

China, you suck.

Nice.

Really.

"Her face was too chubby...her teeth were too crooked."

Ladies and Gentlemen, the next generation's eating-disorder sufferer, Yang Peiyi, age 7.

"As for Yang Peiyi, she's been quoted as saying she was honored to have had a role in the opening ceremony..." [Translation: "My parents are far too terrified of our government to react appropriately to my denigration. Besides, I'm just a girl."]

Feliz Cumpleaños a Mi

Other August 14 Birthdays

Class Act...refreshing

"Jewel sure knows how to pull off a hush-hush wedding." (People Magazine exclusive)

Cheating: the New Black

Thanks, John.

We, who are about to vote in a national election, salute you.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, or an update on the hot water heater

If you aren't presently web surfing from beneath the steady stream of an ever-so-slightly stinging-hot spray of a perfectly functioning shower head, then I urge you to do so as soon as possible!

For the first time in eleven days, I have just experienced a hot water shower. The repairman left an hour ago, mumbling something about at "thermo couple" as he shoved a clip board toward me for signature on his perilous way across a mine field of Little People figurines, board books, and building blocks out the front door.

I love him.

So, now, I believe the "thermo couple" will be me and the mister, if you know what I mean.

Rent Movies for FREE

1. Open a new browser window/tab and then go here to find your nearest Red Box vending machine.

2. When checking out with your movie selection, select (on vending machine) "Add Promo Code."

3. Enter the following: Y72LR2

4. Confirm with the swipe of a credit card or visa/mastrcard check card.

5. Take home movie and view until it's due the next day.

6. Return dvd to Red Box vending machine.

7. Notice that your credit card has not been charged.

Amazing, isn't it? You can use this code today until midnight for as many movies as you have credit cards (hopefully not too many, though...yeesh!).

"We Own the Night"--Spoiler Alert!

Saw this movie last night. Not really sure what I think of it. I mean, any chance to see Joaquin Phoenix, well, let's just say it didn't hurt my eyes.

Most everything Robert Duvall does on screen works for me, and works well.

Eva Mendes: hot, no doubt about it, and I am woman enough to admit it.

Mark Wahlberg played this guy already, as Dignam in The Departed. Frankly, his presence on screen irritates me.

Director James Gray says his story is about the complicated relationships of distinguished police chief Bert Grusinksy (Duvall) and his two sons--one exemplary, one wayward--in a late-80s, drug-infested Brooklyn.

Wayward son Bobby Green (Phoenix) and his girlfriend Amada Juarez (Mendes)—that relationship is well developed. My only complaint would be Bobby’s apathy concerning its abrupt and unexamined disappearance. The sense that Bobby responds more to the father figure in Marat Buzhayev, who owns the nightclub Bobby manages, than to Bert is undeniably powerful and efficient—you get it in just one scene early in the film. Bobby is definitely the disrespectful screw-up—he scoffs in his father’s and brother’s faces and mocks their vocation openly, high and slouched in a church pew. All you get from Captain Joe Grusinsky (Wahlberg), the exemplary son and cop on the rise, is that Bobby irritates him and that he’s itching to bust the Russian drug dealer who’s been seen in Bobby’s club. The relationship between Bert and Bobby is understandably strained and, though the plot moves toward a contrived tenderness between them later in the film, the viewer is not given the privilege of seeing this development take place. I was more moved by what was lost between Bobby and Buzhayev after the shake down.

It’s weird because, while the hedonistic lifestyle of Bobby and his friends is vivid and lush throughout the film, it is not enticing. On the other hand, scenes with the straight crowd—Bert, Joe’s family, and all their friends—are stuffy, robotic, about as warm and inviting as our showers lately. You want to favor the latter over the former, but it just doesn't feel that way. You find yourself wishing you were out of the bingo hall just as much as Bobby and Amada, though maybe ever so slightly more respectfully. I have no problem believing that Bobby and Amada love each other (which is why the ending seems disjointed). I believe that Bobby and Buzhayev have a close bond. I have trouble believing that such closeness could ever exist among the Grusinsky men as the script is written. It's clear to me that Bobby eventually wants it, but Bert and Joe seem at all times unnaturally detached from him.

The car chase in the rain, and all the ensuing action, is spectacular. The Russian warehouse reveal and sting are riveting, from the first step up the ominous staircase to the freefall. Stunning. Especially Bobby's up-close exposure to one particular Russian's demise. Crazy.

Watch it. Tell me what you think.

Modern Conveniences

So I guess it was Saturday, while my parents were in town, that Charlie says to me, “I think there’s something wrong with our hot water.”




Don'cha just love that?



We all observed, during our next showers, that, indeed, there was not enough hot water. The water would reach a certain temperature—barely a few degrees north of tepid, hold for a bit, and then run cool… Cool like that first poolside toe-dip at the end of spring.

Now, ordinarily, in the dead heat of a Louisiana August, cool would be a pleasant reality. I am here to tell you that, despite my parents’ polite assurances that the water temperature was more than fine, “cool” in the shower stall of an air-conditioned home in which all the shades are closed against the sweltering heat of late summer is nevertheless decidedly not pleasant.

On Monday morning, I made the call. The maintenance man for our leasing company would be back with me the following day.

Friday. Multiple tepid showers. No maintenance man.

Goose bumps. Shrinkage. Sniffles. A slick on the surface of all kitchenware.

Looks like we’ll be “camping” through the weekend.

Boys of Summer

Work

My latest published story

AWOL

My parents are coming into town for a week long visit tomorrow, so this week has been all about getting everything done that I can so I can enjoy their visit unencumbered by my to-do list. Right about now, I'm feeling a little like this guy...

Nevertheless, I am very excited for their arrival. This will be my dad's first flight after a long flying hiatus. Plus, he hasn't flown since 9-11, so I have my fingers crossed that security actually allows him through. I've encouraged him to take a vow if silence along his way, just to avoid any potential hiccups. Mom just flew out in April, so she's a pro. They have a nice little layover in Dallas, so Dad can peruse the cowboy hat and belt-buckle shops--right up his alley. My dad is soooo Texas. I'm hoping to get them into Texas for a bit while they're here, but we'll see.

I have a guest room to fluff, a bathroom (my husband's) to clean (pray for me), and some home office business to handle, so this will be a full day. While waiting for me to post again, why not check out a few blogs I keep in my Google reader to pass the time. Here's one from my good friend (and Charlie's cousin Kelly's husband) JWomp and one from a guy out in CA who is raising his infant daughter all by himself after a tragic experience. You can read about that here. Maybe you need to make a Walgreen's run and didn't know there's a sweet coupon out for today only. Check that out here (scroll down past the ads).

Alright, that's it for now. Ciao, y'all.

Breakfast with 1987

Family Faces

The Twins



Three Generations, Times Two
Nick, GrandPop and Ireland,
Charlie and Jackson



Nick and Ireland



GrandPop and Gigi

Beddin' Down

At Home in Colorado



"Gold Digger"

Fixer Uppers

Needs Work



Asses



Signs

Okay, so maybe a few more CO photos...

Mt. Ouray, from O'Haver Lake



On Marshall Pass Road, above the lake



Tenderfoot
aka "Skirttails of Death"


"Sheep, Mere Sheep"



Charlie's Birth Place

More Colorado Sites

"S" Mountain (Tenderfoot Hill,
elev. 7503)



The view from the F St Bridge



Local Color



Public Service



Seen on the drive back to the B&B

Airport chat

Jackson and I had a little down time to shoot the breeze while waiting on our friends at the SHV today.

Me and Caesar

Singing his song



"Oooo, I love that little face!"



So sleepy

Jackson on the River

Who, me?



Pure Sugar



So I guess he digs the river then...



Abracadabra!

Squatter

About two weeks ago, I noticed what looked to me like a small rock perched on a ledge beneath the overhang of the covered walkway at our back door. Since this is high up and usually unremarkable, I had the thought that maybe Charlie placed the rock on the ledge for some reason unknown to me (I typically blame the out-of-ordinary around our home on my husband!).

This morning I noticed that the "rock" is now bigger and, upon closer inspection, hosting a wasp. My first instinct was to grab the insecticide, but I rather chose the path of education.

This particular wasp is known among we southerners as a "dirt dauber" (also "mud dauber"), particularly for their practice of building nests from dirt and mud. I watched this precocious little lady—the females build the nests—make no less than twenty trips from her growing nest to the soil of the zucchini plants I am growing in a container not 15 feet away. She is building cells where eggs will be deposited, so as she deposits dirt carried by her mandibles, she then must shape the mud in tunnel-like fashion. Once she has made the required number of cells, she sets about smoothing the surface and covering the cells completely. I’ve read that a nest can be as large as a lemon.

But the coolest thing is what she puts inside the cells before she deposits her eggs…

Paralyzed spiders. Seriously. To feed her growing larvae. She stings ‘em with her venom and them drops them into the cells to wait to be eaten by her young.

So this hard-working little dirt dauber is providing us wth a free service—PEST CONTROL!

And she’s so smart! She picked a spot equidistant between the plants I water and the light that draws her prey. Between the insect-eating spiders and this lady dauber, we’re fighting a two front war on insects at our back door. Amazing.

Best of all, dirt daubers are not aggressive wasps and rarely sting unless severely bothered, so I think I will move my tripod back a little further now…See ya!

Oh, before I go, check out this video I found on YouTube. I hate to see the baby wasp that's gonna eat THAT thing!







*In addition to the Wikipedia link in the title of this post, please also refer to the following websites here and here, which were also helpful in my research.

Gonna Getcha

..and so is this!

Coloradoans love their dogs. Here's one
showing off down at Riverside Park in
Downtown Salida!



Charlie's cousin Kelly & her son Johnny
playing under the F Street Bridge



A kayaker on the Arkansas River



A rafting family inspires our next
Colorado-trip to-do list

This is Colorado

I think she likes me...



The split tree on the road to Buena Vista



Almost Heaven

Vacation, All I Ever Wanted

So I’ve been on vacation with my husband and son—six days in the Rocky Mountains, visiting Charlie’s parents and introducing them to our son, Jackson Luke.

Charlie grew up in Salida, Colorado, about a three-hour drive southwest of Denver. We stay in a bed and breakfast run by Lance and Patti called Beddin’ Down. They’ve become good friends, so much so that it feels more like a visit with family. This is the place to stay when traveling through or sticking around for rafting/hiking/skiing adventures. Tell them Mollie sent you.

Salida has its charm and intrigue, though its potential has yet to be reached. Growth and development are evident though barely keeping pace with soaring housing prices. Neighboring Buena Vista (byoo-nuh vis-tuh, or byoonie if you’re a local) is a quick and easy trip promising good ol’ burgers and ice cream cones at K’s Dairy Delight. Come hungry.

Back in Salida, the most distinguishing feature is S Mountain, or “Tenderfoot.” It’s peak is accessible by automobile via Spiral Drive, and—by no means a “mountain” in comparison to the nearby fourteeners (mountains at or above 14,000 feet in elevation above sea level)—still affords an excellent panoramic viewof the entire town of Salida. At the holidays, S Mountain is lit up, literally, like a Christmas tree, but the “S” is lit year round and currently flashes a red heart around the “S” intermittently. Charlie and I drove our rental up Spiral Drive for pictures, and I’ll say now what I said then as we were clinging to our “oh sh*t” handles inside the vehicle—given the shape that road was in, we were clutching the skirttails of death. Hey, Chaffee County? You might want to look into some maintenance up there. Seriously.

We had the pleasure of sharing the house, for a few days, with a group of New Yorkers (and one Los Angelean) who were in town for hiking and rafting. I’m proud to say that this group hiked to the top of Mt. Shavano (elev. 14,229 ft.) and lived to tell. Note: Mt. Shavano is known for its mysterious snow pattern called the “Angel of Mt. Shavano.” Can you find her in this photo?

While in town, it’s told that Laughing Ladies is not to be missed for dinner. We wouldn’t know because we turned it down for Lance’s homemade spaghetti, several bottles of wine, and a first-time viewing of Nacho Libre. Y’all go check out the Ladies (closed Tuesdays and Wednesdays), but we were laughing just fine without them that particular night!

Wednesday night is Thai night at Bongo Billy’s down on the Arkansas River. We left Jackson with “Grandpop” and “Gigi” and soaked up the savory, made-to-order shrimp curry and Clark’s mouth-watering margaritas. Live local acts entertain, but outdoor seating lulls the listener to the sounds of the river rushing by below. Tell Michelle Mollie sent you. And don’t dare leave without a peanut butter cookie.

So tired...

I've lapsed into an old habit...Golden Girls DVD and up very late since Charlie left for training...

Jackson sleeps peacefully in his crib and even the cats have settled into slumber. I still taste Korma from takeout at this Indian Restaurant in town. I'm sucking down lemon-flavored Propel and wondering why it's so easy to creep through the night when Charlie is away. When he's home, we got to bed together, at a decent hour. He walks around the house turning out lights and saying, "Time for bed."

Why do I stay up so late when he's gone? Maybe because the bed is empty.

Okay.

Lights out.

Fabulous Finds

On the way back to Louisiana, we took a day and bedded down at the Navy Lodge on base at NAS Ft Worth JRB. We have a view of the lake and a lovely little kitchenette--not bad for sixty bucks a night...

Last time we were here, I plugged the word "bookstore" into google maps on my phone, and--to my delight--a place called Half Price Books popped up nearby on the map. Holy Cow! Amazon used-book pricing without the shipping fees? I can pay with my Visa check card? They have music and films, too? Outta my way!

I picked up four books. Bird by Bird (Anne Lamott), The Problem of Pain (C. S. Lewis), The Sound and the Fury (William Faulkner), and [with a wink and a nod to Rob] Ulysses (James Joyce). All for under twenty-five bucks!

The only way to travel

On the Road Again...

With apologies to Mr. Nelson, the Corbetts are headed for Denver International in a rented gun-metal gray Corolla on their way back to the bayou. Here's a sample of what they're seeing along the way.

Work

Since I mentioned my work with the newspaper, I thought I would post links to some of my articles here.

Cobb's Bar-B-Q
Plex Gym
Janey Macey & Associates
Bossier Parish Teacher of the Year

Bird by Bird

I was talking with my brother yesterday about writing and how the process can be so overwhelming, even when one sets limits such as two pages a day. I remembered something I had read by Anne Lamott about her own brother and his writing woes.

"Thirty years ago my older brother, who was 10 years old at the time, was trying to get a report on birds written that he'd had three months to write, which was due the next day. We were out at our family cabin in Bolinas, and he was at the kitchen table close to tears, surrounded by binder paper and pencils and unopened books on birds, immobilized by the hugeness of the task ahead. Then my father sat down beside him, put his arm around my brother's shoulder, and said, 'Bird by bird, buddy. Just take it bird by bird.'"

--Text excerpted from Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott, Anchor, 1995. Click here to read more online.

--Photos taken by M. Corbett on the ledge beneath the roof of her front porch.

Perfection

I write for a local community newspaper, which affords me the opportunity to meet some pretty incredible people whom I then get to feature in my articles. Joe and Sue Cobb are particularly memorable.

They own a BBQ place in downtown Bossier City that has been there since Eisenhower was in office. I was treated to delicious Texas-style barbecued beef AND Miss Sue sent me on my way with some Angel's Trumpet plants from the grass patch next to their restaurant. I took those tender, young plants home with me in paper bags and transplanted them to old formula cans filled with potting soil and with holes punched in the bottom. As I was heading out of the restaurant, one of the Cobbs' regular patrons was telling me how beautifully these plants bloom. Then, as I passed by my container garden on my way into the house for the night, I saw that one of the plants actually had bloomed. I brought the plant inside and took some pictures to share here.

Fly Navy

Not an Air Show. No special engagement or operation. Just a Wednesday at the Naval Air Station in Ft. Worth. These shots were taken from the ground.

Show off.













Yes. Upside Down.

Rockets Red Glare--Monroe Style

We Corbetts are blessed with neighbors who love to help each other out and get together often for barbecues and beer. This past Fourth of July, the Monroes had everybody over to celebrate and watch the fireworks that usually light up the sky beyond their fence courtesy of the hotel/casino just up the road.

Well, this year the show was somewhat lackluster (either that or the neighbor's tree grew a LOT since last summer). No matter. Our good buddy Ray ran up to the store and came back with enough fire power to remind any veteran what fighting for freedom actually might look and sound like!

We were delighted, and I tried to capture a few shots with my camera. Here's what we came up with. Enjoy, and thanks so much for a great time Sandra,Ray, and Miss Jordan!

Target Diaper/Wipes Deal

For the past four months or so, my family has been playing what is commonly known online as the drugstore game. We clip coupons, shop CVS, utilize their customer rewards program known as Extra Care, and save a boatload of money on things we buy anyway. I've become a subscriber to quite a few blogs that feature tips on how to get the most for your dollar at all kinds of retailers, though we mainly shop Target, Wal-Mart, and CVS.

Since this experience has turned into quite a lucrative habit for us, I thought it might be of interest to those who visit us at Borderlands of Faith. Here's what we did yesterday:













This deal was actually 6 separate transactions. I bought:

1 Jumbo Pampers diapers on sale at $8.49
1 Pampers 3-Refills wipes at $5.99 (reg. price)

Used:
$1 off 1 Pampers diapers coupon from P&G insert 07/06/2008
$.50 off 1 Pampers wipes coupon from P&G insert 07/06/2008
$5 off both Pampers diapers & wipes (180-ct +) printable
Free $5 Target GC when u buy Pampers diapers & wipes (180-ct +) printable

I handed the cashier the gift card coupon first, then the two P&G coupons, and finally the $5 off Target coupon.

This purchase rang up to $7.98 before taxes, and the cashier handed me a gift card with $5 loaded onto it. I turned right around and did the deal five more times (I always buy 6 Sunday papers so I have 6 of every coupon). That gave me a total out of pocket of $47.88 before taxes and earned me a gift card with $30 on it.

Bottom line: 6 packs of Pampers and 6 packs of 3-refill wipes for $17.88 before taxes--a little over a dollar per item!

I, however, parlayed the $30 gift card into another transaction pictured here:













This transaction rang up to $20.63 before taxes.

$.25 clearance Cosmetic bag
$.25 clearance Patriotic music cd
$.25 clearance Glitter glue
$.25 clearance Camping ER blanket x3
$.25 clearance Camping ER whistle
$.25 clearance appetizer dip spreaders
$1.49 clearance wicker paper plate holders
$1.34 clearance Renuzit Pet Odor Remover
$2 Lysol All-Purpose Cleanser Fluid on sale 2 for $4
used $1 off 1 MFR coupon from booklet I got at Jackson's pediatrician's office
$.94 Rubber Maid ice substitute x 2
$9.99 40-lb Scoop Away cat litter
$.95 clearance Elmers rubber cement
$1.66 ea Lysol Toilet Bowl Cleaner on sale 3 for $5
used 3 $1 off 1 MFR coupons from same booklet above

Total came to $20.63 before taxes which I covered with my $30 gift card, so I still have over $7 to spend on that card.

God, I love this game.

Crops

Dude, I'm a farmer...

Fresh Ink, or--Happy Father's Day, Charlie!

Charlie has expensive tastes. For nearly every gift-giving situation of our marriage, I have pleaded with him--in advance--for gift ideas for him. The usual suspects are:

a motorcycle
a new car (update: we bought the FJ Cruiser on his birthday two years ago!)
a tattoo

I have a personal policy against us owning a motorcycle while we are diapering an infant, so a tattoo it was for this past Father's Day. We found a place and met the artist--Rafael Coleman--who owns Iron Horse in Shreveport.












We decided to go with a photograph I took of Charlie playing with Jackson at our friend Tara's pool party on the Fourth of July last year. Jackson was just two months old (almost to the day). Here's the original photo (after Charlie applied his mad Photoshop skills):









First, Rafael drew up a tracing which he applied to Charlie's shoulder where he wanted the tattoo.









First cut is the deepest.












Mister Charlie, Rafael's pet spider, who lives in a very thin glass container mere inches from the tattoo chair...













Jackson waits patiently...



It's gettin' there.









A shot of Rafael's ride while you wait.









GORGEOUS!

Daddy's got the day off!

A typical Saturday morning scene...except that it's FRIDAY! WooHOO! We get a whole extra day with Daddy, which doesn't happen very often at Chez Corbett. Happy Independence Day!

Vacation?

All the free time we can stand, and this is where we're likely to be found!

Extravagance

I was out for a drive one day trying to calm my son during a particularly heinous and all together inexplicable crying fit. It worked like a charm--he was finally at peace and I was enjoying the late afternoon light on the winding, tree-lined roadway.

Then we rounded a corner and saw this house. It's ENORMOUS. I can't even imagine having to clean it routinely, much less paying for the furniture to fill it.

I haven't yet figured out who lives there, but I have a few guesses...

Dinner Out in Ft. Worth

We tried a little kid-friendly diner last night while we're in Ft. Worth on a business trip. Met some nice people with a little boy named Blake whom Jackson adored! We like to try new places out of town, and the Purple Cow did not disappoint. It's such a relief when your kids are welcomed in restaurants!

A Different Perspective on the "Fall" of Man

Reflections in Exile: Irenaeus--"Nice Guy" Theologian

Breakfast

Charlie isn't much for breakfast. He's perfectly happy with cereal or nothing, not even coffee.

For me, coffee isn't so much for breakfast as it is a multivitamin--an essential component of the morning routine absolutely vital to daily function.

Breakfast? Well, that's all about the egg.

My family has made an art form of weekend breakfast. My father is the foremost breakfast meat connoisseur. My mother is the scrambled egg whisperer. Whether at home or out of town, one thing was for certain for the Waltons--there would be a country breakfast at the morning table. Cracker Barrel does a nice one, which is where my sister discovered "Eggs in a Basket" (she prides herself on being the last to order and the one giving the rest of us plate envy--she's that good). I found a tutorial for Eggs in a Basket here. Try it for yourself. Yum.

In Honor of Skip

"Nevertheless, it is better to see the Lion and die than to be Tisroc of the world and live and not to have seen him. But the Glorious One bent down his golden head and touched my forehead with his tongue and said, Son thou art welcome. But I said, Alas, Lord, I am no son of thine but the servant of Tash. He answered, Child, all the service thou hast done to Tash, I account as service done to me. Then by reasons of my great desire for wisdom and understanding, I overcame my fear and questioned the Glorious One and said, Lord, is it then true, as the Ape said, that thou and Tash are one? The Lion growled so that the earth shook (but his wrath was not against me) and said, It is false. Not because he and I are one, but because we are opposites, I take to me the services which thou hast done to him. For I and he are of such different kinds that no service which is vile can be done to me, and none which is not vile can be done to him. Therefore if any man swear by Tash and keep his oath for the oath's sake, it is by me that he had truly sworn, though he know it not, and it is I who reward him. And if any man do a cruelty in my name, then, though he says the name Aslan, it is Tash whom he serves and by Tash his deed is accepted. Dost thou understand, Child? I said, Lord, thou knowest how much I understand. But I said also (for the truth constrained me), Yet I have been seeking Tash all my days. Beloved, said the Glorious One, unless thy desire had been for me thou wouldst not have sought so long and so truly. For all find what they truly seek.

"Then he breathed upon me and took away the trembling from my limbs and caused me to stand upon my feet. And after that, he said not much but that we should meet again, and I must go further up and further in. Then he turned him about in a storm and flurry of gold and was gone suddenly" (Lewis, C. S. The Last Battle. New York: HarperCollins, 1956, p.204,206).

A Little Summer Reading

My brother, Rob, is reading Ulysses, by James Joyce, and suggested I pick it up. I found a site online where I can read it for free, so I thought I would share it here. Ulysses is written in stream-of-consciousness style, much like another novel I read back in college, The Sound and the Fury, by William Faulkner. I read that one based on a challenge that I'd never get through it. I did get through it, and I loved it. So I am hoping I feel the same way about Ulysses. I mean, it' a novel about a day in the life of a man whose wife is cheating on him. And her name is Molly. How can it not be a good read?

My Boys on Father's Day

Dot Store Shoppin'

On the front door last night

Gardening, Rent-Style

I grew up among gardening folk. Nana, in Jacksonville, will tell you that her mama had a real way with things that grow out of the ground. I know the truth. She's just as much a green thumb as "Mamama" ever was. Charlie takes pictures of Nana's flowers all the time. They are truly lovely, but what fascinated me most about being with Nana and Grandaddy during the summers of my youth was the nightly trip out to the garden come sunset. The heat of the day would be passing lazily over by then, and out we'd go with a bucket or a tin pan to collect the bounty the Carolina sun had ripened to perfection for our harvest. Okra, snap beans, strawberries, tomatoes, cucumbers, yellow squash. Nana's gardens produce some of the most beautiful fruit and vegetables I've ever known, and to this day her crops are the standard by which I select produce for my own family's dinner table. Sadly, the choices seldom measure up.

Nevertheless, I had some success with my own 6' square garden spot along the lake--mostly okra, which I love lightly dusted with salted flour and fried in just a little canola oil...mmmm, summertime.

Charlie and I don't live on the lake any longer. We rent a home in a suburban area with very little water around. And though the ground is not ours to do with as we see fit, I still wanted a garden for the summer. Last summer we had a brand new baby boy to cultivate, so I did not want to pass another summer without one. What to do...

Container gardening.

Charlie andI live on one income--his. So I knew I wanted to keep our expenses to a minimum and invest most in the plants themselves. I had been collecting old formula and coffee cans, and we had an old entertainment center that got demolished in our cross-country move. I salvaged two drawers from that and had Charlie drill holes in the bottom of them for me. I used a scredriver and a hammer to punch holes in the bottoms of the cans. Voila! Containers. I did, owever, purchase a couple of 88-cent pots from the Big Box.

Potting soil at the local Big Box Store was relatively inexpensive--I think I paid $2 per 40-lb bag, and I also bought my plants there--all for under $3 each. I bought tomato, okra, bell pepper, strawberry, and [what I thought was] squash plants--turned out to be zucchini rather than yellow, and where I come from zucchini is zucchini and squash is yellow squash!

Only the strawberry plant has suffered. It must not like containers. I tried the hanging method with one of the tomato plants, and it's working out just fine. Still no fruit but it's early yet. The okra and zucchini are going to take over. Seriously, save yourselves.

I added mint and rosemary plants to the collection after a recent trip to the local farmer's market, and a lady I interviewed for one of my news stories graciously sent me home with several starters of angel's trumpets to plant. They need to be repotted but are also hanging in there.

Now, I'll have more to say about container gardening once it actually produces fruit for us. We do have some tiny okra buds coming in. For now, the jury is still out, but I will say that container gardening, so far, has been a real pleasure. I get such a kick out of nurturing these tender plants, watering them in the mornings and evenings, closely inspecting them for health and defense against rodents and insects. There like little babies who need special care, and that touches a deep place in me that needs to nurture and protect. I also relish the appeal to frugality that gardening satisfies. It's just one of the many means to the end of keeping me home with our son, yet affording pursuits that interest, challenge, and inspire me.

Anne Rice is a what?

I know this is old news. But I've been away having a baby and learning how to take care of him, so I have some excuse, I suppose. Anyway, my brother tells me about Anne Rice, encourages me to check out her website, and then mentions her book Christ the Lord.

Well, I picked up Christ the Lord a while back, read a few pages, and decided that it was going to break down into a reboil of gnosticism. I'd been down that tunnel before, so I laid it down. Boy, was I mistaken. I've now got it on order to try it again. Based on my brother's recommendation, Ican hardly wait for it to get here.

One thing I have noted about Ms. Rice through her website--she goes to great pains to explain herself to members of the evangelical Christian community in terms of the works of her past (her vampire chronicles) and the decisions of her present (her endorsement of Hillary Clinton for president). I think she's wasting her time. I wonder how long before she realizes that many from that community will never fully accept her confession of faith in Jesus Christ. The evangelical Christian community seems more in the business of disproving "incomplete" or "inferior" faith than affirming and celebrating it. She should give another Anne a call. Ms. Lamott could give her some pointers.

Christians like Anne Rice do my heart tremendous good. Like Jesus in his culture, these thoughtful, conscious Christians unsteady the boat of pride and apathy just by being their authentic selves. It's inspiring.

50 Reasons I am Grateful

1. For the courage to change and grow without fear of approval.
2. For the cowardice of a man who never came home.
3. For a family that shows and confesses love.
4. For friends who didn't mind when I actually did have to call at 3am.
5. For my best friend, my husband, my unborn baby's daddy.
6. For the sights along highway 17, headed south to Nana and Grandaddy's.
7. For the mystery and wonder of Christmas, including Santa Claus. I still believe.
8. For films, of all kinds, and the unique way they communicate the transcendent.
9. For James Taylor on a summer evening.
10. For laughter through tears.
11. For Amy Grant, who taught me how to sing my first song, without evening knowing it.
12. For Russell Crowe, well, just because...
13. For Portfolio Weekly, for inspiring me to make this list.
14. For Momma, Daddy, Sarie, Matty, and my precious husband, who are bustling around me to get Thanksgiving dinner on our family table. We've laughed so much today my face hurts.
15. For hot showers after a long workout.
16. For guitars and chords with an added 2.
17. For echoey hallways and stairwells to sing in. Try it sometime. The acoustics pull music from your throat.
18. For performance cars that hugs the curves. I will miss my mustang so much.
19. For Anne Lamott, who loves Jesus and uses the f-word. I needed her so badly when I first read Traveling Mercies in divinity school.
20. For Gloucester, VA, the sweetest little day trip my husband and I enjoyed on my last birthday. Big shout-out to Jessica's Sweet Shop and Bacon's Castle over in Surry, VA, too.
21. For Mr. Johnny Pope, my 9th grade P.E. teacher, who helped me figure out that I was worth something when I didn't really believe it.
22. For Eden's Bridge's Celtic Christmas cd, which breaks my heart every year.
23. For free classes, museums, art galleries, and outdoor festivals.
24. For graduate school, which I really miss.
25. For kittycats indoors and ducks outdoors. I need to own stock in Iams and Purina Scratch Grains.
26. For my great Uncle Halbert, who taught me how to tell good stories.
27. For cheese and butter.
28. For the terrifying gift of life, growing steadily inside me.
29. For Kempsville Diner and Vaios, our new family tradition.
30. For the public library and WorldCat, to which I no longer have access!
31. For C. S. Lewis.
32. For the way a teenager can be coaxed into smiles and conversation, if you listen well and really care to hear what they are aching to tell you.
33. For health and exercise.
34. For Geri and all my pals over at WeightWatchers. See you when the kid gets here!
35. For Saturday nights with the Brownies. The connection we have is eternal and precious to me.
36. For a well-formed turn of phrase.
37. For clever television, like Will & Grace.
38. For the privilege of travel abroad and the beauty Israel and Jordan held for us when Charlie and I traveled there two summers ago.
39. For live concerts with really good seats.
40. For Lenny Kravitz.
41. For letting go of perfectionism.
42. For Sundays no longer enslaved to church attendance.
43. For Oprah.
44. For keeping good traditions and ditching guilty obligations.
45. For the internet.
46. For my momma's fried chicken.
47. For my brother's uncontrollable laughter.
48. For dry weather in the 50s, maybe even the 40s, when the air smells a little like it's burning.
49. For kindness in strangers.
50. For grace, the kind that has nothing to do with church, offerings, outward appearance, profanity, alcohol, rules, or other people's absurd expectations.

Postcard from the Borderlands

It's a curious place in which I find myself. Married. Thirty-something. Knocked up. Masters degree-holder. Former christian educator. Former christian worship leader. Former conservative christian. Recovering Republican. I've been through lots of changes in the last 12 months alone. I have an empty schedule and a stack of reading material. The best decision I've made in a long time was quit church cold turkey.

I didn't come to this lightly. After two years of working as a worship leader and another two years of masters study, I interned for a church plant that failed miserably and left me battered. That pretty much sealed it for me. Sundays have become beautiful days for my family. We actually look forward to them, which is weird for me. I have always hated Sundays. When I was a kid, Sundays meant that company leaves and church convenes twice. Now, it's leisurely mornings, breakfast with my best friend, day-long conversations, and time spent just breathing together. Sundays are more sacred now than they've ever been before.

I just read a few lines from well-known author Philip Yancey's bio: "...some people do need the kinds of books I write. They've been burned by the church or they’re very upset about certain aspects of Christianity. I feel called to speak to those living in the borderlands of faith." These words inspire the blog you now read--a place to vent the frustrations, share the small victories, and celebrate the awareness of those who've been behind the curtain.