Monday, January 30, 2012

Happy Daisy ~ Blogs Worth Following

There is so, So, SO much on the Internet!  It is overwhelming.....well, at least to me.  I do not fair well in crowds and in really noisy, over stimulating environments.....don't be like me....I have issues.  That's how I feel when I get drawn into the Internet.....crowded and overwhelmed.  Because of this, I am really behind the eight ball on the whole sha~bang of computers and technology, but I am getting there.  I am trying to learn new things everyday.  Thus, the exercise in patience on launching a blog.

It is so hard at times to find quality sites to spend your time on.....and if you click on this link, or that link.....if you are like me (I am sure you are not.....because I have issues), you get lost into a grid like on the movie "Tron" and can't get back.....or maybe you can, if you are not like me.  Anywho.....I have found, and fell in love with two blogs, that you may fall in love with too.  I am camped out in them....permanently.  If I don't get my daily dose of them.....when Biker Man comes home, he will find me rocking back in forth in a corner somewhere, staring and unblinking into space.

The blog of my LIFE.....is Ann Voskamp's aholyexperience.com.  Her offerings have revived me in so many ways, that I cannot even begin to list them.  Along with her book, this site is a work of art.  The music that starts once you click on it, leads you to desire a quiet place.....to feed your mind, heart and soul.  It is so relaxing and peaceful.  Scout would tell you that it is playing on my computer, in the background, most of our day.....much to his benefit..... keeping me from turning into psycho mom.  This blog is so very pleasing on the eyes, as well.  Her photography and writing style has healing properties.....I promise!  While seeming idyllic, it isn't.  It is a call to live real life, despite the ugliness that it can be at times.  We are encouraged to embrace the grace and beauty of the current moment.....grace is there, always.....you just have to stop and learn how to hone your vision to see it.....to look deep..... honest.  We are taught how to walk in that place with contentment and thanksgiving....no matter the circumstance.  Ann fills her daily posts with Real Soul Food, and has many applicable quotes.  Though she herself, is quote~worthy.  This site is part of my daily diet....

My other FAVORITE is,  Ree Drummond's thepioneerwoman.com.  Plain and simple, this site makes me very happy.  She makes me happy!  Many of you are familiar with her, and her show on the Food Network.  If not, check her out!  She is so much fun and covers topics like cooking, family life, home schooling and photography.  She also covers lots of fun girlie stuff like make~up, clothes, and accessories.  She is very generous in her giveaways, which are quite regular.  Over the holidays, she celebrated the "Twelve Days of Christmas" and had a major giveaway each day.....iPads, TV's, Wii systems, cameras, Kitchen Aid mixers, and more!  She also does closet clean~outs, and will pull items from her own wardrobe with the tags still on it.....and give it away!  Just like me and Sweet Biscuit.....swappin' clothes!  If you are an animal lover, well so is she.  Her basset~hound Charlie is a strong supporting role in her regular posts.  Ree is so down to earth, real and practical.  Her style of writing is fun-loving, and so humorous.  She fuels a lot of my creative inspirations.....oh, boring, stay at home, strange home schooling mom, and frumpy wife that I am.....

There are many, Many, MANY more noteworthy blogs that are great options to follow...... for encouragement and inspirations.....these are just two that I enjoy.  I would love to hear some of your favorites.....share them in the comments section below.  All of us can use fresh sources of inspiration, and creativity everyday.....

Saturday, January 28, 2012

BOOK GIVEAWAY WINNERS!!!!!

Scout is going to love giveaway days!  His little paw will be the one pulling winners out of the hat.....and today he chose:

Cindy.....AND
Alisha Mayle

Congratulations!!!!!  You both have won a copy of Ann Voskamps book "One Thousand Gifts."
I hope it will be a blessing to you.....as much as it has been to me!

To claim your prize, click on my Facebook picture to send me a private message, so that we may arrange delivery!

There are most posts to come, and another giveaway in the near future.....so don't stray far!

Happy Saturday!!!

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Happy Daisy on ~ Fashion Tips

If none of the other postings have.....this piece WILL cause some serious scandalous gossip.  I love the word scandalous!  One of my Joy~ful friends, reminded me recently of the term.....and it makes me feel like I am in Avonlea, with my bosom friends Anne (with an "e") and Diana, dodging the small town, tongue-waggers. 

As most of my dear friends around me, would never admit to my face.....I am an unlikely source or spokesperson for fashion.  If it wasn't for Sweet Biscuit and my other bestie from high school, American Beauty.....I would still be wearing 1990's jumper dresses and Sam & Libby flats.  How these two gravitated towards me and my "fashion dont's" wardrobe is beyond me.

Sweet Biscuit is the perfect southern hostess who can kick out some serious biscuits and gravy.....all the while looking put together and perfect with the latest hair, make-up and styles, ready to go  clubbin' uptown at Hot Mama's Cabaret.  Last call is 8:30 p.m. ~ everyone has to catch the light rail, and get home to put their babies to bed.

American Beauty, in her own right.....and at any given point, looks like she just walked off the runway from the most recent fashion premier in New York City.  She was voted best dressed in high school.....and every time we are together, I want to go home and throw all my clothes away and start over.  More than once, she has given me emergency closet intervention, and helped put my clothes together into some semblance of order and outfits.  R2D2 says there should be Granimals for adults.  American Beauty is married to Rocky, who is a true blue Italian. (Yo!  Rocko!  You in the blog.  How du ya like da blog?....eh?)   They make for an extremely attractive couple.....the ones you rudely stare at, when you see them out in public.  Anyway, more about her in a moment.

Now.....I am not going to hell in a hand-basket.....not because of who I am, but because of who He is..... (Ephesians 2: 8, 9).  Yet, if I were to guess what "Gehenna" would be like for me, in my best human imaginations and limitations, it would be the junior high years.  Those years were THE MOST grueling of all my life.....you couldn't pay me a million dollars to go through those two years of abominable abyss again.....EVER.  My memory is wrought with deep-dark locker rooms.....jerky-jocks who haven't been introduced to perspiration prevention, and who pelt you hard, HARD, during dodge ball.....the clumsiness and lack of finesse when trying to manage the newness of womanhood that comes unexpectedly during school, and your mom has to come and rescue you....like a ga-ba-zillion times during the year.  The transition within those changes of a young persons life, were so emotionally charged on so many levels for each of us, if our science teacher had lit a match under our rear ends, we would have been shot to the moon.  Talk about rocket science.  It was too much, simply too much.  And poor American Beauty.....she was the gossip not of the mean girls, but the quiet kind.....of pity.  She lived with her granny, who didn't allow her to shave her legs.....like until the ninth grade.  It was horrid, HORRID for her.  You know what hairy legs in pantyhose look like.  More than I, can relate to this "diabolical" time.

It was the 80's.....and the culture and styles were so "parachutey", so many patterned sweaters, so neon, so synthesizer driven and so......So......SO much of a sensory overload.  There was the blue eyeshadow and the hairspray.  Oh man.....the hairspray alone coulda' kept the local orthopedic surgeon in business.  Girls (including me) would spray so much Aqua~Net on our hair, it would be so heavy, that it was a miracle we weren't dealing with neck problems trying to hold our heads up under the weight of it all.  But, I survived that season of my life and redemption surfaced so that I may spare others of the same terrors.  From it, came fashion tips.  I'll share a couple with you now.

Fashion Tip #1 ~ Don't wear your headgear if you have to go to the emergency room.

Okay.....so I had to wear that headgear contraption during the hideous junior high braces thing.  I was  a competitive gymnast and had a reoccurring ankle injury.  It seemed quite regular, that I was having to go to the emergency room or physical therapy at the local county hospital.  One of those trips was early on in the re-rigging of my mouth, and I had to wear the headgear.....ALL.  THE.  TIME.  To school.....on the bus (which reminds me of Joan Cusack, and the character she played in the movie "Sixteen Candles".....PAINFUL)..... to the grocery store with R2D2.....everywhere.  Anyway, one of the trips to the hospital resulted in me having to be on crutches.  R2D2, who is dependent on the use of a wheelchair, and I......(on crutches and also wearing my headgear) got on the elevator to leave the hospital.  When the doors opened, there was man standing there waiting to get on.....when he saw us, his eyes grew wide in shock, and he ever so startlingly jumped back.  I recall wanting to tell him that we had just been in a train wreck.

Fashion Tip #2 ~ Don't shave your arms.

So.....Mac Daddy's side of the family is of the Hobbit origin.....shorter, hairy beings, keeping the keratinous filament removal business booming, without worry of a downfall in the current economy.  The hairy-genetics didn't skip my generation, and it is impartial to gender.  An eighth-grade girl and excessive hair will go to war.....and to war I went.  On my arms.  I just took my little pink Daisy Razor and wielded it with such confidence.....I was sure I had solved all my problems in this world.....not one of them being a clogged razor.  The school dance was coming up and I would be free from any embarrassment, of a boy asking me to dance, and me reaching out to take his hand, and him being taken back (like the guy waiting for the elevator) by my manly arms.  Nope.  Not gonna happen.  BUT, what did happen.....was that I was dancing with a bunch of girlfriends, and one of them took my arms to pull me into a line dance.  She jumped back as if being electrocuted and asked loudly "DID YOU SHAVE YOUR ARMS?"  Call the convent.  I had decided immediately that I was going to be a nun.  I am Protestant.  Lock me up.....throw away the key.  In my immaturity and lack of beauty tips, I just figured that once I shaved all the hair off my arms, it wouldn't come back.  (I didn't put two and two together in reference to my legs.....which R2D2 had allowed me to shave since..... like..... fifth grade......because of my Hobbit origin.  She didn't want me to be embarrassed.)  That night on the dance floor, stubble had already began breaking surface on my arms.....no longer was it the downy softness.  I should have left well enough alone.  Instead, I was waving around two five o'clock shadows on that dance floor......I think I was secretly voted most hairy girl in my class.

Anyway.....there are more fashion tips to come in future posts.....but for now I am going to go eat some cookies and milk to try to forget that I just told you all this.   As Buddy the Elf would concur.....I need something stronger tonight.  I need some 2%.








Saturday, January 21, 2012

BOOK GIVEAWAY!!!

Because this book changed my life.....and I want you to be blessed by it too.....I am giving away one copy of Ann Voskamp's book,  One Thousand Gifts,  next Saturday, January 28th.  You can keep it for yourself.....or leave it magically on someones doorstep!

If you are signed up to follow my blog by Friday, January 27 before midnight, your name will go in a hat for the drawing.  I will announce the winner in a post, and on Facebook, sometime Saturday.  The winner will message me on Facebook to claim their prize and arrange for delivery.

Don't miss other fun posts this week.....like my fashion tips!  Have fun.....kick up your heels and do a little jig.....no one is watching!!!

Soul Food ~ If You Only Read One Book This Year

Ever since I was a child, I have loved to read.  Knowing this, my mother crafted a little girl bear reading a book on my Christmas stocking when I was only eight years of age.  My stocking now hangs at my home during that celebratory season, next to the ones she made for Biker Man and Scout, as they joined our clan.  The stocking fairly represented what I enjoyed doing most as a child.

I have never lost my deep love for reading and books, but the passion for it has ebbed and flowed over the years, for a brief time getting snuffed out by required reading in high school and college.  After that, I believed I didn't "have the time" to read anything enjoyable.....for "pleasure."  I unknowingly locked my soul into a cage that felt guilty if I wasn't reading something that would "challenge" or cause me to "grow" in the professional or personal goals that I had set for myself.  As I look back during that season of striving, there were many times that I was very sad.  Literature legalism had crept into my life, causing a dictation in my heart of what I "should" be reading.   I realize that I was robbing myself of who I really am, not allowing myself to experience a full variety of something that was a God-given gift, for me to delight in.

It wasn't until a couple of years ago that I took the bull by the horns, working to break off the self-imposed bondage in regard to one of the loves of my life.  Through my discoveries, it has occurred that I am not one to follow book trends anymore, in either the faith-based or other genres.  I concluded that just because it was on the New York Times Bestseller List, or that is was the richest woman in America's book club pick, or someone that I really respected suggested it for personal growth, didn't mean that I had to read it.  Or that I should read it.  Or that I needed to read it.  There is a lot out there, and each of us only have so much time in the day.

For sure, I feel that all of us should be reading something......it is so good for us!  I think it is right and appropriate for all of us to have personal censorship in our reading choices, based on our own convictions.  I do find reviews, and others opinions of a read, valuable.  It helps me navigate toward the best picks for quality reading, selections that I want to fill my mind, heart and soul with.  As I have begun to follow my heart on making my "own" choices.....I have fallen in love with reading again.

Last summer, a book began circulating within my circle of friends.  I blew off all the "ya gotta read this" suggestions.....even skipping over the many postings about it.  Then one rainy day, I had some extra time to spend reading the details of everyone's minute by minute life drama, on my news-feed.  Wouldn't you know it, stellar "ya gotta read this" comments about the book were again rising.....more.....and more.....and more.  Something at the cellular (and I am not talking about my cell phone) level in me quietly spoke....."read it."  So, I asked one of my precious friends if I could borrow her copy, when she was finished.  I was in no rush.  Then.....something magical happened.  The book appeared at my doorstep.  Literally.....two days later.

As I unwrapped it.....the words....."a dare to live fully.....right where you are" immediately challenged me.  This was no dare.....double-dog dare.....or triple-dog dare, that would make you want to revert to the maturity of an eight-year old male..... to put up your dukes and start sparring, or even to stick your tongue on a freezing flag-pole.  This dare was a wooing pursuit of the deep place.....a place that was hungry.....tired.....hurt.  A place that was ready to throw in the towel at times.  I didn't even know that that place was there.....and that I was there, in that place.

What do you do when you have felt alone and sad.....all of your life?
What do you do when children you are caring for cuss you out.....run-away.....threaten you, and then take their own life?
What do you say to the first girlfriend......who's husband is a drunk?
What about the second.....who's husband is a Pastor and he chooses his secretary instead?
The third, who's an Ivy League educated professional.....who's husband hits, cheats, steals and walks away?
How do you respond......when a precious one loses not only a baby, but two, three, four and even five.....one at birth?
When does the "sad" stop in the deep places?

Now.....I am cautious, because of my own experience, in recommending titles and authors for reading.....so.....having just unpacked all that mess.....I am proceeding carefully.....

BUT, like everyone else in my news-feed, I have to share when I find an extremely rare treasure.....

Ann Voskamp has given me one of the greatest gifts I have ever been given.  Her book, One Thousand Gifts, encourages us to grab hold of the opportunity to open our eyes to what is immediately around us.  Right here.  Right now.  There is no encouragement toward efforts of striving.....there is no "you shoulda'"......"you coulda'"......"if you only have woulda'".....the encouragement is to embrace grace towards the life you are living.....in this very moment.

There are no words that I can share, that would adequately provide proper justice for this treasure.....I can only share with heartfelt passion.....this book has changed my life forever.  For eternity.  You can do your own research.....check the reviews and decide.  But, may I appeal to you.....you have that deep place too.....that longs to be opened up to a new....a refreshing.....a revival.

Give yourself a life-changing gift this year.....soul food.....if you only read one book this year.....consider the masterpiece..... One Thousand Gifts.




Monday, January 16, 2012

The Dinner Bell ~ Fueling Scout's Four Pack

R2D2 is one of the most creative people I know, and a major source of inspiration to me.  I am always amazed at the minds of creative geniuses, and her's no less.  She is a published poet and designer, at least of the home that her and Mac Daddy live in.....which looks as if it was staged for a Pottery Barn catalog shoot.  She's great at naming things, and would not have been a starving artist had her livelihood been dependent on great masterpieces.....like the butt-print she did of Scout, when he was eight weeks old.

Most grannies want a cute hand print or footprint.....a lock of downy fine hair.....or are holed up at the neighborhood hen house, snipping and snitching over a ga-ba-zillion pictures of their baby's babies,  plastering them into a fifty page photo album (that will just tuck into their pocket book).   This, all with the intention to show it off to LaVern down at the post office on Monday morning.

Not R2D2.....she brushed some Lake Blue paint on Scout's precious baby-bottom and sat him right down on a piece of paper that was taped on the kitchen counter.  He thanked her for capturing the memory, with a water-like baptism.

She created the whole thing into a map, and called it "Scout's Little End of the World."  She added trees, a campground named "Blue Moon,"  Round Bottom Road down south, and Boat Load Marina to the east.  The butt cheeks are the major water reservoirs called North and South Sweet Cheek Lakes. The dry hiking trail that divides the two bodies of water is named Tooshie Trail, and is complete with a warning sign "watch for falling rocks."  Even when a touch of paint accidentally got on his little "tentacles".....that's what my Southern Sweet Biscuit's boys call those things.....she has three (son's, not things), and is married to Hong-Kong Phooey.....so she has lots of those things at her house.....anyway,  R2D2 turned those itty-bitty prints into islands.

As you can tell, R2D2 is all bright and shiny.  But, she is best known around town for what she creates in the kitchen.  It is all fresh, healthful, tasty and satisfying.  My very favorite meal since I can remember is Spinach Noodles.  It was my comfort-food during weekends home from college and visits after I was newly married,  living far from home,  not knowing how to cook more than a magic-from-the-microwave meal.  This goodness fuels Biker Man's six-pack (Oh yes.....he's got one!), Scout's four-pack (when comparing in the mirror one day.....that is all he could "find") and my tire-tube, nicely.  You may enjoy trying it out, so I thought I would share the recipe with you.

R2D2's Spinach Noodles

 THE STUFF:
~ 1 pack of spinach noodles.....cooked according to package..... I use whole wheat pasta sometimes
~ 1 box of frozen spinach.....thawed and drained (I use fresh most of the time.....big ole' gob of it)
~ 4-6 T of butter.....depending on your New Year's resolution
~ 1 diced onion
~ 1 thing of mushrooms.....sliced (I leave these out.....they are not Scout's thing)
~Salt and pepper to taste
~Generous portion of freshly grated Parmesan cheese

WHIPPIN' IT UP:
~Saute the onion in the butter till it's golden, then add the mushrooms (if they are your thing)
~Add the spinach.....saute till warm
~Top the pasta with the mixture
~Dump Parmesan cheese on top (if you are me)

Now, Biker Man likes to have "protein" with his meal.....so I have started to add grilled-chicken breast that is cubed or sliced to the spinach mixture.  For zippy-prep, I will get the grilled strips that are in the lunch-meat section at the Piggly-Wiggly.  This meal is very quick (less than 15 minutes total), simple, cheap, and GOOD.  I always have the stuff on hand, and it is my go to in a pinch.  If we run out of ingredients for this, we are way over-due for a trip to town.

So give it a whirl!  You may be thanking me for sharing some of R2D2's creative genius.   There is more "yumminess" from where that came from, so I will plan to share more in the future.  For now,  I hope you enjoy this meal as much as our family has for over 30 years!  I better go check the pantry.....

Thursday, January 12, 2012

"Mommy's Stuff".....Rated PG-13

Lately, my mind has been operating in terms of the movie rating system.  So, to fairly warn you, this post is flirting with a PG-13 rating.....don't worry, the blog rating won't go any higher.  As I embarrass myself,  I don't want to embarrass my Biker Man, my Dad (Mac Daddy), or my Mother (R2D2 ) in the process.

Walmart was offering a free picture with Santa at the beginning of the holiday season this past year.  I was thrilled, as it satisfied Scout's desire to sit on Santa's lap and have a picture, since I paid a pretty penny to have it done the year before.  As Scout sat there talking to this really skinny guy playing Santa, I thought....."what an idyllic moment.  This is rated G."  But when we got to the counter to pick-up our picture, the guy in front of me wasn't very happy with, in his opinion, the not-so-speedy service that Walmart was offering along with their FREE picture with Santa.  He was fluently dropping the "F" bomb non-judiciously.  Well.....that was rated R for language.   I turned around to check Scout's safety as he perused the Lego isle, and saw a junior high aged girl with a tank top on that accentuated "the forepart of the body above the abdomen" (as described by The Webster's New World Thesaurus).  That was rated PG-13 for innuendo.  The movie rating system has certainly changed since I was a kid. What was  rated R in the 70's and 80's is now rated PG-13, and on occasion PG.  Our culture is riding on a PG-13 rating in general and you don't have to take your kids to the movies to see R rated material anymore.  Just take them out to pick-your-place in public, where you will hear R language, see  PG-13 (to R) rated modesty and could witness colorful family interactions and violence among spouses, and between parents and children, that are no where near a G rating.  Anyway.....I will step-down off my soapbox now.

We had an possible PG-13 incident a couple of years ago that rendered Biker Man into a state of the most hysterical laughter that I have seen him in, EVER, during our years together.  Of course he would never admit if he peed his pants, but I wouldn't have been surprised.  I did.....no lie.

Scout and I had finished up school for the day (yes, we are one of those strange home school families), and in the normal run of things for the afternoon, Scout was to go and stay in his room playing, while I took a shower.  He was five at the time and I still kept the bathroom door cracked, just in case I heard someone falling down the stairs or robbers (another one of Scout's favorite words from our recent, fine literature pick) kicking in the front door, or some other unlikely event.  He was fairly trustworthy to stay in his room, but knew if he was in a "mergency" that he could come and get me.  He also knew that blood had to be involved with a "mergency."

I finished in the shower and came out of our master bath into our bedroom to dress, and on the other side of my bed.....there stood my sweet baby boy.  A look came across his face that I will never forget.  I am a mother, and I can decipher in a split second the facial expressions on my child, and I knew that the expression he held did not involve the blood of even a hang nail.  The look of shock and disbelief came from the fact that he saw me.  It wasn't the "OH NO! I just got caught" look.  It was the, "I can't believe what I just SAW" look.  Yep, I was standing there without even the basic, leafy garden-wear that Eve would have fashioned herself.  There was no getting around the sight.  We are a pretty modest household, and the last time Scout would have seen anything like that, was before his biological memory kicked in.  Like, when I had to ween him from breastfeeding at three weeks.....

He ran into his room and didn't even attempt to come out, until I called him, after pulling myself together.  We, of course, had a conversation about disobedience, about privacy, and the importance of knocking.....blah, blah, blah.  I was seriously hoping he would just forget the whole thing, and I was going to do everything in my power to help him do so.  I actually thought he did.  Then, Biker Man came home from work.

As Biker Man came in the door, he proceeded through his wind-down routine, which involves changing clothes.  I followed him into our bedroom, overwhelming him with the million words, or so, a day that a woman is supposed to squeeze in  (Poor guy hadn't been in the door for five minutes).  When we walked in, there was Scout, standing at the same spot where his little psyche was burned straight through, and his eyes were wide......and unblinking.  "Papa!" He exclaimed with heartbreak in his voice, as if he had just witnessed a dog getting hit by a car.  "I.....I.....I saw Mommy today."  He stammered in a precious little boy voice.  Biker Man, with a look of confusion, turned to further question what Scout was communicating.  I took the lead to quickly interject and explain the incident to him, adding that he had bedtime duty tonight with the anatomy book.  He stood there with an appropriate amount of shock and a slight smirk on his face.   He then turned back to Scout and asked very slowly and calculated, "Well.....what did you see?"

The next thirty seconds proved to be one of the most hysterical moments of our family's history to date.  With as much serious reinactment that a five-year old could muster, Scout took his chubby little hand and waived it over his body, like a magician wielding his wand, from his neck to his knees and said....."I saw Mommy's stuff!!!!"  That's when I think I peed my pants.

 Rated PG-13 or R?  You decide.


Wednesday, January 11, 2012

"Pweeze. Takea Offa Shoe!"

I know I am biased, but I think that Biker Man is pretty wise.  He says that everyone is strange.  He's strange.  I'm strange.  You're strange.  We are all strange.   Obviously, it is a matter of perspective of what strange is between us all.  Each of us have our own quirks, quinky-dinks, and issues that we are persnickety about.  One thing we have realized, what others think is strange about us, is the fact that we don't allow shoes to be worn in our house.

The "rule" didn't become a member of our household until we had been married for 3 years, and were buying our first home in the south.  I didn't like "the rule" for a long time, and it has been the source of a few lovely marital discussions (Don't judge us....you have had many of those in your house too, about things that are MORE strange.).  I hated asking people who were visiting to take off their shoes.....it made me feel uncomfortable and awkward.  Most everyone that comes to visit, are very understanding and accommodating towards our strangeness.  Many have been inspired to institute a similar practice in their own home.  I have girlfriends tease, that they are going to get us a "Welcome to Japan!" sign for our door.  There have been a few, over the years, that would raise an eyebrow at us.....or would have a deer caught in a headlight look.  We knew that the eyebrow people thought we were strange.  So, the rest of our hospitality during their visit was a song and dance routine trying to compensate for our strangeness and to convince them that we are really normal.....and can be fun.  The deer caught in a headlight people were ones that I had a revelation about.  They didn't necessarily think we were strange.  They were worried that we would think they were strange.  Those dear souls (no pun intended) had foot issues......like aroma (Scout's new favorite word from the book I am reading him right now, Homer Price).....or had had a bad pedicure, or had not received one at all.  Some had growths and stuff, and were embarrassed, which made me embarrassed for them.  We have had a few precious ladies whom have had temperature gauging problems.....guess it was that time of life and changes were a happ'n, and they needed socks, slippers or something.  But, I have learned over the years, how to gracefully, and not so much at times, tip toe (again, no pun intended) around hopefully making everyone feel comfortable when visiting. 

Now, I am not one of those germ-a-phobe moms.  We strive to obtain a basic level of sanitation through hand washing, sanitizer and the like.  What we miss, I trust it's being covered under the "it's building immunity" clause.  Biker Man, on the other hand..... while he too, is not a germ-a-phobe, he is not your average guy.....much to my benefit!  I am sure that I have taken him and his neat ways for granted many times in the past 18 years.   Biker Man's name "Biker Man" doesn't give you a mental picture of a particularly clean gentleman.  I am sure you are picturing a rough around the edges, smokin' hot guy, sporting a black leather rebel jacket, riding a motorcycle.....(although, he did arrive on my scene in 1994 sportin' that bad-boy style, he's still got it, and he still makes me swoon).   His image is contrary to what one would think.  He works very hard to take very good care of us, and is a good steward to all that we have together.  Just the other night I was reflecting in thanksgiving, on what I would do without my Biker Man:
"Biker Man,  what would I do without you?"
"Don't know." He carefully replied.
I said, "We would probably go to hell in a hand basket, the house would fall around us and the cars would be on the side of the road, with steam coming out from underneath the hoods.  We would be fat and have more than nine cavities."  He chuckled and enveloped me in a hug.  I love my Biker Man.

My eureka moment that caused me to put all my chips in, at the poker table, in regards to "the rule" was when Biker Man started to take Scout into the men's restrooms in public, just after he was potty trained (Scout, I mean.....Biker Man arrived on my scene, back in 1994, potty trained).  Public restrooms are one thing that we both are phobic about.  Most are pretty disgusting.  The first time Biker Man returned from taking Scout into the men's room, he said, "Until he is older, you need to take him into the women's room.  He is eye level to the man potty's and can't keep his hands off.  Many men have bad aim and the floors around the man potty's are nasty.  Scout just kept dancing around in it, like it was a rain puddle."  OOOHHHHH GROSS!!!!!  I had never thought about that!  It meant that stuff was on Biker Man's shoes, Scout's shoes, and who knows what in the world I had walked in.....in the parking lot, the store and the women's restroom.  That was it!  No more shoes worn in our house.  We are strange, but so are you.  Like I said, Biker Man is wise.

Recently we had the privilege of being a guest in a dear Asian woman's home.  She greeted us with much warmth and a big hug.  Before we walked further into her home, she said, "Pweeze.  Taka offa shoe."  We quickly obliged, as we understood her request and reasoning.  I understand that it is the culture in many of the Asian countries, that outdoor shoes are not worn in their homes.....for various reasons.....like bad spirits coming in or something.....we don't want any of that here either.  But her simple request to us, reverberated in my heart.

Now, every time that someone comes over, I think of her, and want to say, in my best Asian accent, "Pweeze.  Taka offa shoe!"  Actually, after writing this, "pweeze, taka offa shoe" will be ringing repeatedly in my head today.  Can someone come and visit me, so I can say it in my best Asian accent?  Oh, don't forget your slippers.....and does anyone have a sign that says "Welcome to Japan?"  I could use one.




Monday, January 9, 2012

Dr. Captain and Nine Cavities

So, I will start this inaugural post by breaking the ice.....jumping in with both feet and throwing all caution to the wind.  I want to share with you the most embarrassing moment, of my entire life.  I am a pretty transparent person in many ways, though like all of us, I do get embarrassed.  I get embarrassed mainly at character flaws in myself, when awakenings come to my heart, making me aware of areas that I need to grow.  But this one had no opportunity to be squirreled away into a character lesson.  There is no quote applicable or scripture relevant, making the experience a nice neat little package.  There is no getting around the complete and utter mortification that I experienced.

My husband (Biker Man), myself, and our son (Scout) moved back to my hometown a few years ago.  To make the transition easier for ourselves, we decided in the process of choosing new doctors and the like, that we would just use the dental practice that my family had gone to for care, since I was a very young girl......before the hideous junior high braces thing.  Unknown to me, the dentist that I had gone to, way back when, had taken another dentist into the practice.  The captain of my high school football team.

Once we were settled into a new normal, and had all our our insurance mumbo-jumbo worked out, I called to make appointments for routine dental care for myself and Scout (age four at the time).  I wanted to get in quickly, so that we could get two cleanings squeezed into the calendar year.  The only availability for both of us on the same day and time was with Dr. Captain.  Apparently, Dr. Gonna-Retire was off playing golf.

I was a freshman when Dr. C was a senior.  He was the stereo-typical captain of the football team.  Handsome, popular and stellar student.  He wasn't though, the jock-bully type.  He was quiet and kind to all.  So when I realized that I needed to take the appointment with Dr. C, there was a trusting place in me, that it would be okay to see him.  To have him get very, very, very, close to me and look into my mouth.....and I am sure up my nose.  He was a professional by the way.  He has looked at the backs of throats on gobs of people.  I would just be another number.  And besides,  I was blessed with great teeth and always had good oral hygiene.

The day came for the appointments and my mom went with us so that Scout wouldn't be in the room by himself.  I will admit, I was getting nervous.  Moving back to your hometown, after so many years, brings alot of curiosity and wonderings.  It also brings alot of self consciousness.  I just kept remembering that this guy was a dentist and that we were all adults here.  I was no longer that little freshman football cheerleader looking up googly-eyed at the varsity players.

As I checked in, Dr. C was standing at the counter finishing notes on the last patient he had seen.  When he saw me, he greeted me with a warm smile and greeted my mom.  We did live in a small town.....had gone to the same church as youth and our dad's had worked together.  In small towns.....everyone knows everyone.....and everyone knows everyone's business.  Really and truly.

I had my cleaning and Dr. C checked Scout first, so that he could report to me while he was checking my teeth.  He came in.....did the professional dentist thing and conversation.  Then he sat down.  Then he leaned down......real close.....like he is supposed to.  I had decided that I had made a mistake, right then.  I just held my breath and wished I had not worn my dorky, fuzzy, pink Crocs.  What was I thinking?  In about a gazillion minutes he was finished.  As I began to get up with the confidence that I had in every other visit to the dentist in my life, because of my great oral care, he said....."We did find a few spots."  My head was spinning.....spots?  "What do you mean?" I asked, trying to sound collected.  "When was the last time you saw a dentist?" He asked.  Stammering, I became tounge tied.  When was the last time I saw the dentist...?  I stupidly responded....."Um...I think last year."  Dr. C then dropped the news, "You have nine cavities."

Now, I love Jesus.  I would never want, nor intentionally take the Lord's name in vain.  But all I could think at that split second was.....OMG!!!  Then I started thinking very fast forward in my head......"there is a HIPPA law.....he can't tell anyone this.  I have to find a new dental practice.....I am not going to be able to look at him in public.  I am sure his wife is beautiful.....he is going to tell her.....she won't be able to be friends with me.  The won't let their children near Scout."  It was a mess.....I was a mess.  At least my child's teeth were "spot-free."  Maybe he would just think that I am such a great mom, that I have sacrificed my dental health, that I have been a martyr to the needs of my child.

Fast forward two years later.....I get a phone call on a Sunday evening.  I answer and hear familiar male voice on the other end.  He calls me by the name that only my family and people from my childhood know me buy.  It is Dr. C.  All of a sudden I feel like I am in a dream...,,it is very surreal.  Why is he calling.....it is Sunday.....is something wrong with Scouts teeth?  Is he inquiring that all my teeth haven't fallen out?  He is calling to inform me that he is going to be Scout's basketball coach for the upcoming season.  Great.  I will never be able to get away or hide.

That's how small town.....I will be embarrassed forever.

Welcome to my blog.  Thanks for visiting...

Love,
Daisy Boots