I do LOVE living in the age of miracle drugs . . . I’m still not 100%, but ohmigoodness. So MUCH better . . .
Well, had to go to the doctor yesterday. Got a shot of penicillin and three prescriptions to try to get rid of this sinus infection . . . 
Everybody’s surfin’ . . . surfin’ U.S.A. . . .
Saturday was a great day! We headed down to the beach for a little party hosted by one of AJ’s work buddies. He rents a little beach shack every six months or so, cranks up the barbeque pit, pulls out the catamaran and the surfboards and invites all all his co-workers and their families down to party on the sand!
Everyone brings a little bit of this, a little bit of that . . . I made the ever-so popular “Goofy Cookies,” which came out beautifully now that I’ve got a new stove that maintains constant temperature and looks damned good while doing it. The recipe follows below:
1 stick margarine
1 Duncan Hines yellow, white, or lemon cake mix
1 egg
1 8 oz. Package cream cheese
1 box powdered sugar
2 eggs
1 ½ cups chopped pecans
Melt stick of butter in 9 x 13 cake pan. Blend cake mix and 1 egg until thoroughly mixed. Pat into melted butter to form crust.
Blend cream cheese, powdered sugar and 2 eggs together thoroughly. Pour over crust. Sprinkle chopped pecans over this.
Bake at 350 degrees for 40 minutes. (I use a glass Pyrex dish and so reduce the temp to 325 degrees and add 5 additional minutes bake time. Should be slightly golden without burning the pecans.)
Allow to cool and cut into bars. Absolutely delicious and very, very rich.
It was a lot of fun — Jami had a blast playing in the water and collecting seashells. AJ took out a surfboard for the first time in 20 years . . . I managed to get a few seconds of video on my digital camera as proof-positive that he DID in fact get up on the board (before falling off . . . ) He’s got the bug again and spent a good part of the remainder of the weekend looking for used surfboards in the newspaper. The one he played on Saturday was a 10 and 1/2 foot longboard, single fin . . . absolutely beautiful artwork. Mo paid $800 for it brand-new, so we’re going to see what we can find used for $300-$400.
We love the beach so much. I think I, more than anyone in the family, would love to live there. But storms frighten me . . . the thought of losing EVERYTHING in a hurricane gives one pause. Of course, we’re less than a dozen miles from the beach where we are, so if the BIG ONE finally hits the coast, we’re probably toast, as well. But the thought of sitting out on the deck gazing out at the gulf . . . it does tempt me so!
Yesterday after church AJ worked in his garden for a while and Jami and I went to the park. We packed up a blanket, books, drawing pads and pencils, made a loop through the McD’s drive-thru and headed to one of the best parks in our area. It has a pond with a fountain and lots of ducks and geese to watch. We spread out the blanket, ate our lunch and had some great Mommy/Baby Girl time. I can’t believe how quickly she is growing up, although I have been warned by those older and wiser than me. Then she commenced to drawing the pond and ducks while I read some of my book. When she got tired of drawing, she started reading, too, using me as a deck chair! I was laying on my stomach and she laid down on my back . . . too funny! We watched bumblebees going from clover blossom to clover blossom and she amazed me with how much she’s remembered from what she learned about bees earlier in the school year. Unfortunately, those clover blossoms did a number on my nose and I’m suffering from allergy symptoms now.
But it was definitely worth it . . .
Okay . . . I would like to go on record as saying I think Michael Savage is the vilest excuse for a human being. Normally his throbbing-vein-in-the-forehead ranting doesn’t bother me that much, but this afternoon I heard him speak so incredibly rudely to a caller . . . I am still furious.
I’m sure most of you have heard about the little stand-up bit First Lady Laura Bush did at the expense of President Bush. She teased him about his early bedtime and also about trying to milk a horse, and a male horse at that(!) when they first bought the ranch in Crawford. Honestly, it all sounded like good-humored fun between two people who love and understand each other.
Apparently, it was toooooo risque for Savage. I don’t know if Savage has ever been on a farm, but since I was a kid, I’ve heard jokes about the “city slicker” trying to milk a bull or what have you. I’m not going into tons of detail here, but apparently Savage’s imagination made this old joke a lot more perverse than I’m sure the First Lady intended it to be. He equated what she said with the Clintons’ behavior. Somehow I fail to see the similarities between a little good humored fun and the former Boy President getting sperm all over an intern’s dress. It ticked me off that he would be so rude to Laura Bush, who is a class act all the way around.
A woman called in to express pretty much the same opinion I have of the whole situation: The First Lady has a good sense of humor and a strong enough relationship with her husband that they can tease each other without taking offense. Savage literally attacked this woman. He called her an idiot, asked her when her welfare check was going to arrive, and when one of her children cried in the background, made reference to her unwed child (which I surmise in his foaming-at-the-mouth rage he meant to say “illegitimate” child). Then he hung up on her.
The guy is an A #1 jerk — I don’t care how “educated” he professes to be, how many botanical whatevers he’s cataloged, or how many letters he has after his name. He’s a jerk.
My mother-in-law gave us a copy of his book (somehow she ended up with two) . . . I won’t be reading it, and I may be burning it. Somehow I think it would make me feel better . . .
Popping in to post the quickest of updates. We had a get-together at my older sister-in-law’s house yesterday to welcome my younger sister-in-law’s new fiance’ into the family. Verdict? He’s a great guy. No uncomfortable pauses in conversation, anxieties over what he will think of us . . . it was as if he’d been in the family for years and years. Great sense of humor and dotes on my sister-in-law as he should.
They asked my girl if she would be a junior bridesmaid in the wedding next spring. I thought she was going to choke her aunt with the fierceness of her hug, if she didn’t bust her eardrums with the loudness of her “YES!” She was incredibly excited. She’ll be 10 years old by then and I think she’ll handle her “junior bridesmaid duties” just fine. They are getting married in a very old Episcopalian church in Galveston — it was built in the mid-1800’s and has a long aisle and beautiful stained glass windows (two of which are Tiffany windows that survived the 1900 Storm). The photographs are going to be marvelous. The reception will be held at the historic Galvez Hotel on the Seawall. I do love weddings . . .
I think the most touching moment of the entire day was a 30 second exchange between my husband and his little sister, though. When goodbyes were being said, he hugged her and then said, “You know, when you were 16, you were a real pain . . . but you’ve turned out alright. I love you.” And he kissed her on the cheek. She looked at him and told him how much that meant to her.
She went through a pretty bumpy time during her teenage years — a REALLY bumpy time, and she has turned into a beautiful, intelligent woman. I think her fiance’ appreciates the woman that she’s become. It was evident in his eyes.
Well, enough of that — work to do, bills to pay . . . 
My girl spent the night with a friend of hers last night and so AJ and I were “baching” it (parentally speaking) today. We rode the motorcycle to church this morning (sorry, Miss O’Hara — had to wear jeans, but I did wear a very nice black long sleeved t-shirt with Harley-Davidson embroidered in pretty script over my left collar bone). 
We have so few opportunities to ride together because the little miss is too young to stay at home by herself, so we grab them when we can.
Church was okay, but the worship services are kind of getting to us. I can relate to one of Miss O’Hara’s laments — preaching’s great, but the song service — big sigh. I don’t know what we’re going to do. Pray for guidance, I guess . . . should we stay or should we go?
After church we rode over to a little restaurant on the San Bernard River and had lunch. We love this little restaurant — so casual, up on stilts on the bank of the river. Across the river is ranch land, so you see the cattle grazing across the water. Very peaceful. We both had an absolutely delicious gumbo with shrimp, crab, and sausage followed by a piece of pineapple pie. Okay, so I ate the pie, but I didn’t eat all the gumbo. AJ brought what was left of it home in a take-out container. He LOVES gumbo! Came home around 3:00 p.m. and I decided to take a little nap. I must have been wiped out because I woke up at 8:30 p.m.!
My girl was home from visiting her buddies at their house on the canal and so she got a shower and I fixed her a little dinner. She got a little pink — forgot her sunscreen, but I think she had a great time.
I’m going to go ahead and turn in for the night . . . it’s 11:30 p.m. and I figure I’ll get another good nap before I have to get up and go to a shutter installation.
It was a good day.
Well, I’ve been MIA for a while — it’s been pretty busy here with little time for fun stuff like posting interesting tid bits and my bird’s eye view of the world. But I’m taking a little time this morning to say “hello!”
An important request to those of you who believe in the power of prayer — I have a good friend whose wife is expecting. They’ve suffered through a couple of miscarriages, but this pregnancy seems to be going well. They’re at 12 weeks and so far everything looks good, based on a recent ultrasound. Please keep all three of them in your prayers!
My sweetheart recently went on a motorcycle retreat with some men from his step-dad’s church. They rode miles and miles up into the East Texas piney woods and he said it was a truly rejuvenating experience. I hope he’s able to go every year, as he really has seemed more at peace and generally happy since going! Now if someone would come up with something for us girls! (Hmmm . . . scrapbooking, anyone?)
The little miss is doing well. I’m not sure, but I think she is ready for school to be out. She loves to read, but she’s tired of reading the “required” books. I think she’d like to have more freedom in her reading choices. This will be a lot easier for me to manage next year when we start homeschooling. I want her to have a well-rounded education, of course, but I also want her to have an education that is custom-designed for her benefit AND enjoyment.
My sister and I will be attending the SETHSA homeschool conference in June. While I’m pretty sure that we’re going to start out using A Beka’s materials, there are so many wonderful materials out there to supplement and enrich the educational experience. I need to start “hoarding” my pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters now!
The business is going well — I have several jobs coming to completion with installations scheduled three days next week. Have a few bids simmering on the burner and hope to hear positive replies from the potential clients soon. That will help with the expenses of homeschooling, too . . .
Here’s a column I read this morning that I thought you’d all enjoy. I know it made an impression on me:
Learn When to Keep Your Mouth Shut
When our children are growing up, we do our best to teach them language that is respectful. Certain phrases are merely unacceptable, and we are scolded or worse if we use them.
Some children have some difficulty getting their brains and mouths to work in unison, which would explain why I spent a good bit of my childhood in the bathroom having my breath made Zestfully clean.
One such phrase we discourage our children from uttering is telling people to “shut up.” It’s a quite harsh, impolite way of telling someone you disagree with them or are just disgusted with what they have to say. Still, as we run across people in our daily lives, it seems more and more often no other phrase is quite as fitting.
Such as when we watch Barry Bonds complain about how difficult people have made his life. Watching his press conference about how the media has tried to tear him down and treated him unfairly, playing the race card in the process, is so ridiculous it sends us screaming “Oh, shut up already!” at the television and looking for that old novelty foam brick to fire at the screen.
The same goes for most of the political debate shows.
Why do Chris Matthews, Sean Hannity and their brethren not know when their comments have gone so far outside the bounds of logic that they need to grab the SuperGlue and do a little tooth bonding?
Still, the times when the phrase is most deserved to be uttered we remember the lessons of our parents and allow discretion to take over, instead standing there smiling uncomfortably as our blood pressure climbs. It would be so much easier if we could just drop that direct, two-part instruction on the person for the sake of our long-term mental and physical health.
A trip to my dry cleaner’s lately has me popping a precautionary aspirin afterward.
The young woman who works the counter makes small talk with me by complaining about how terrible her job is. Poor thing only gets paid for about 20 hours of overtime a week, and she’s so grateful for Saturdays to roll around because she gets to go home at a decent hour — 3 p.m. instead of 6:30. My heart is bleeding over the terrible life she must have.
Apparently she must believe that I’m not a customer, but a career counselor.
She’s one of those young adults we’ve raised with the spirit of entitlement that you just want to grab by the lapels and snap her into the real world, where folks regularly work 60 hours a week on second or third shift to feed their families.
But that wouldn’t be nice.
It also wouldn’t be nice to clam up the folks who complain about how stressed they are because they’re not sure how they’re gonna make the next payment on their Lexus or how much it costs to keep their kids outfitted in South Pole gear and Air Jordans.
Maybe the solution would be mandatory group sessions for these chronic complainers, sessions led by homeless mothers and senior citizens who can’t afford to fill their prescriptions each month.
Maybe it would be to buy them a ticket to be part of the next mission trip to Nias, Indonesia.
Either would provide some perspective on the spoiled, ungrateful lives we are leading, and perhaps teach the chronic complainers to shut up without us having to say a word.
Michael Morris is assistant managing editor of The Facts. Contact him at (979) 237-0145, or e-mail michael.morris@thefacts.com.
Guess that’s it for now. I’ll try not to go so long between posts . . . hope you all have a great day!
Please read this excellent, excellent column by Doug Giles!
An Old School Pope or Progressive Dope?
Doug Giles
April 9, 2005
According to some of my tightly wound theological buddies, as a Protestant Christian, I’m not supposed to say anything favorable about a Catholic, especially … a Pope. Oh well, I’ve got to give honor where honor is due, so pardon me, brethren, if I praise the former pontiff’s past achievements. 
Even though I disagree with Catholicism’s soteriology, and from a fashion and function standpoint I don’t get their funky hats or the Elvis-like papal robes, or their elaborate walking sticks, I’ve got to admit that I appreciate John Paul II’s accomplishments for the human collective and his unwavering moral convictions in the face of amoral, bossy and prissy secularism.
Yeah … The Pope did what was right, and in his genteel, non-Doug-like way, let everyone know they could kiss his Polish posterior if they didn’t like what he stood for. And I personally dig that in a priest, pastor, pope or whatever you want to call a religious leader.
Why does this palpably appeal to me? Well, for one revoltingly obvious reason: namely, in many churches today, both Protestant and Catholic, we are inundated with no-guts, wind-testing, capitulating clerical slaves of public opinion who neither lead, follow, nor … get out of our way. I believe large portions of the pastorate today have become nicer than Christ and have forgotten the injunction in the scripture to take uncomfortable stands for righteousness when things begin to get twisted. John Paul II did just that. Check it out.
While many ministers were pulling lint from their navels, or embroiled in a scandal for trying to hump an altar boy, or chasing rich donors, or vacillating on the major issues, John Paul II was serious business. He didn’t ignore the societal nightmare that was communism; he didn’t waffle in his biblical stance on issues such as sexuality, marriage, abortion, infanticide, suicide and euthanasia. He didn’t mellow his mouth regarding the place of religion and religiously informed moral judgment in public life. Yes, the latest Pope was solid in his deep disregard for the “progressive” agenda.
Speaking of the progressives … There’s been a lot of chatter and blather from the loopy left about getting a more secularized pope, a Pope Lite. One who is not an old geezer with respect to his view of right and wrong. Y’know… maybe a metrosexual hip guy, in the vein of Ross on Friends, malleable in his beliefs and muddled in his worldview. One, unlike John Paul II, whom they can bend and stretch like Gumby to fit their licentious lives and liberal take on life.
I, on the other hand, would like to see the subsequent servant be a retro pope and sport the same holy moral nerve of the last pontiff. A veritable papal cowboy who is not indecisive and dithering regarding the verbum Dei, even in this decrepit day of overt ministerial wussification.
Yeah … I’d like to see the next pope keep an old school devotion to the Christ of the Bible, teach the word of God (as is), and maintain a traditional view of life, sex and marriage, not prostrate himself to the “progressives.”
I’d like to see the next Pope exchange his white robes for a black leather cape like Morpheus had in The Matrix and trade in the Popemobile for a Harley Fat Boy. At least on the weekends. (Comment by me: I love this mental picture! 
)
I’d like to see the Catholic Church let the next guy get married, as St. Paul said was a minister’s right, to a girl like Salma Hayek and have some kids. This in turn would, hopefully, cause thousands of other priests to follow that which is normal.
I’d like to see the next pope take that gold-plated shepherd’s staff and publicly pulverize any priest who has committed an act of pedophilia and then personally escort such a Judas Priest to the papal dungeon to a) be executed or b) be forgotten forever. Can I get an amen? (Comment by me: I prefer choice “a” big-time! Anyone who harms an innocent child . . . there’s just not a strong enough punishment. 
)
I’d also like to see everyone leave the next pope the heck alone and not force him to be just a “nice guy”… like most ministers have been reduced to, but rather a truth dealer… a herald and defender of God’s word … who doesn’t give a flip about the feelings of the secular squabs. (Comment by me: To deal with the b.s. of this world, the Pope needs to be tough, and not afraid to speak the truth — which is why I kind of like the Harley-riding image above . . .
)
My ClashPoint is this: John Paul II faced communist thugs, absorbed a would-be assassin’s bullet, and didn’t bat an eye when the world didn’t like his moral stances. And that’s the kind of holy chutzpah the Catholic Church needs to fill his now empty Chukka boots.
Pope John Paul II understood that a traditional, biblical worldview is the moral rudder that will keep us sailing in the new millennium. I just hope that the Catholic Church will yield up another leader who will fight that which is foul when in floats to the top of society and carry on John Paul II’s attitude and actions. Yes, we need, must have, an old school, JP II-like pope and not a progressive dope.
Doug Giles’ provocative weekly one-hour radio program, ‘The Clash’, has re-launched with several new features. Go to clashradio.com and hit ‘listen live.’
©2005 2004 Doug Giles
“What happened to just being a human being, you know? It’s nothing more than state-sanctioned murder. All the big guys, they all have their hands tied up by some tinhorn judge down there. Come on, when they want to whip a judge, they got no problem doing that. Look what they did to [Ten Commandments proponent Roy Moore] in a heartbeat. So they can do it if they want. They just don’t want to.” (Mel Gibson)
Thank you, countrygirl411, for this quote. I hope more people see the inconsistencies in our judicial system that Mel points out in his comment. Just WHY was Judge Greer so much more powerful than Judge Moore? Why was he able to enforce the murder of an innocent woman, while Judge Moore was prevented from maintaining the exhibit of the Ten Commandments? Why are some judges so “powerful” and others not? I don’t really have answers to these questions, but I’d love to hear any comments you have. I do know that my sense of justice is deeply offended by what has transpired.
My husband and I were talking about it yesterday and we both agree that there’s a difference between life support and life assistance. Life support being the type of intervention that Christopher Reeve received (he was not able to breath on his own for more than a very short period of time). Life assistance is the type of intervention that keeps you going while you receive care and therapy to recover (like the feeding tube Terri was denied).
We both decided that we’d have no problem with life assistance if there was a possibility that we’d recover. Neither one of us wants to be on a ventilator or other support if that’s all the recovery we’d ever have.
We need to put this all in writing.
Well, after cheating on my diet this weekend, I’ve almost recovered the little bit of ground I lost. It would have been better if I’d not “fallen off the wagon” so to speak, but at least I didn’t do too much damage.
Goodness, I haven’t used/heard that expression in a long time: so to speak
It may still be too soon . . . years ago, before we even had Jami (so at least 10 years), I met someone who literally used that phrase every other breath. Oh, my, goodness. It was so annoying. We have a barbecue every 4th of July, and this particular 4th my husband invited a fellow teacher to stop by. Well, he brought his girlfriend. Oh, my, goodness.
This girl used that phrase at the end of EVERY sentence. It was like a nervous tic:
“I took a quilting class where we learned to piece quilt tops, so to speak. The teacher told us how important it was to invest in quality fabrics, so to speak. Cheap or “bargain” fabrics are no bargain, so to speak . . .”
I am not exaggerating this at all. I think that was one of the longest days because it got to the point where I couldn’t really focus on what she was saying because I was so fascinated by the “so to speaks.” I started counting them in my head . . . I tried not to grab her by the shoulders and say “SNAP OUT OF IT!” 
I went through a phase when I was a kid where I said “you know” a lot. I am so grateful that my mother stayed on my case until that habit was broken!
A Scribbler & A Shutterbug 