Ironic

The day started out great.

I got this wonderful email from one of K Belle's teachers. This is what it said, but with her real name, of course.

In the subject area, it said "WOW!!"

"Oh my goodness! Lady K Belle really allowed the Lord to use her this morning in chapel. I had chills as she and (another student) led in worship. Her harmonizing was amazing, and her voice was crystal clear and strong. What a blessing!"

I was so proud after my initial shock and amazement.

K Belle sings in chapel?

I already knew she had a fabulous voice and have always encouraged her to sing. She seems to only want to sing anywhere else but our church. Strange. Probably because it's where her Mom and Dad sing. She always told me it was because she just got too nervous. But, she doesn't seem to be nervous in all her CYT productions, arts camps, and school. Again, strange.

I am still proud.

Proud mostly of the fact that she is allowing God to use her.

So looking forward to seeing what God has planned for her.

I couldn't wait to tell her how proud I was when I picked her up.

But, before I could get a chance to say a word, she said, "I got in trouble today. I got two infractions."

So, let's get this straight:

Leading others in worship in the morning, but in trouble by the afternoon.

Sounds a lot like her mother. And father, actually.

Here she is singing at about age six or seven, not sure. It's so precious.

Beau recorded it in the studio. He's also singing on it. I had to link the audio to something so Beau made this for me from pictures off his computer in a little over an hour. He's quite amazing.

Love it. Really love it.

Don't forget to enter my King Cake, Coffee, and Saints shirt giveaway before it's over!

Multitasking

I'm the type of person that can't just do one thing.

I get bored easily.

I can't sit still for very long. (probably why my posts aren't lengthy ... if they get too long, I get tired of listening to my own writing)

 

It's just part of who I am. 

I even get distracted from the first thing I'm doing, by moving on to the second and third thing ... going back to finish the first ... realizing I need to finish the second ... and so on and so on.

Case in point: The four books I'm reading right now ... at the same time ... count 'em ... four books.

I think they say a lot about me. I love reading about strong women. I'm constantly trying to get healthy and fit. And, I always desire to know more of who God is and more about who He wants me to be.

This was one of Beau's Christmas presents for me. I really wanted to read it. So far, so good.

I have a slight obsession with purchasing cookbooks and health/diet books. This one's great because it's not a diet, just a new way of thinking about food.

 

I'm only on the second chapter of this book, but all in all, love it.

 

And, now I'm onto the book of Ephesians located in the best book ever.

Read any good books lately? I'm looking to add a fifth one.

Don't forget to enter my king cake, coffee, and Saints shirt giveaway!! Deadline is this Saturday.

Perfect timing (said sarcastically).

Um.

Did you notice something?

My blog was gone.

Disappeared.

Yeah, that's what happens when you let your domain name expire.

Great timing with the giveaway I have going on, huh?

Anyhow, the giveaway is back up.

Scroll down and read the last two posts to get a clear understanding.

The giveaway stands at one Saints t-shirt, one king cake, and one pack of Community coffee.

Happy entering!

Hold up. Wait a minute. Put some Saints love in it.

OK, you know how you entered my giveaway yesterday for the king cake and the bag of Community coffee?

Well, guess what? There's more.

My darling friend, The Hat Chick (and she is a true Southern belle if I've ever met one), is going to add in a Saints t-shirt to the giveaway. So, whoever wins my giveaway, she will also send a Saints t-shirt too. She's super cool like that.

(Actual shirt may vary.)

There's still time to enter.

Scroll down to the previous post, follow the directions, and your'e entered.

That's all for today.

The Post Where I Talk About Sports and Give Away a King Cake

Yes, we're all a tad bit excited down here about the Saints going to the Superbowl.

I was pumped full of adrenaline last night and could barely sleep due to that crazy game. But, all in all, the Saints pulled it off.

I honestly thought I'd never see this happen in my lifetime. I remember watching the Saints play every weekend in my home as a child, then a teenager, then an adult (except for those six years we lived in Oklahoma). And they lost MOST of the time. But, fans continued to support them and love them ... well, except for wearing bags over their heads and calling them the "'Aints."  Hey, they still watched the game. That should count for loyalty.

This is what the people of Louisiana have waited for. And, when I say "people," I mean ALL people ... the sisters too.

However, some people want to steal this moment from the Saints by saying things like the Vikings got robbed of the game due to bad calls by the refs.

Whatever.

Just like in all things, somebody's got to weigh in with their opinion.

Listen up ...

Refs make good and bad calls in every game, in every sport. That's part of the game. Get over it. It's not gonna change.

Heck, you should see some of the calls from know-it-all teenage soccer refs at nine-year-old girls' soccer games. Ridiculous.

But, that's just it ... it's part of the game.

THE SAINTS WON! And, that's final.

Now, not another word. Let the Saints and the people of Louisiana have their moment.

Brett Favre ... it's OK. You've had some good years despite the fact that your last play was an interception that led to the Saints' victory. You win some, you lose some. You've had a good run. Don't go away mad.

Anyhow ... I know you want me to get to the point about the giveaway, right? Because I'm sure most of you non-Louisianians don't care about the Saints.

While watching the NFC Championship game, I spent five hours making this ...

Two homemade king cakes. Yeah, I get these wild hairs sometimes and want to face a challenge head on.

I know they're not the prettiest cakes you've ever seen, but, they were yummy, especially hot out of the oven.

Don't worry. These are not the king cakes I'm offering.

No. It'll be a good 'ol Meche's king cake shipped from me to anywhere in the USA.

It's time for my Annual King Cake Giveaway.

The Rules:

(Read carefully so you don't get disqualified.)

Last year I limited the giveaway to those who had never had king cake, but this year, in honor of the Saints' victory, the giveaway is open to anyone ... Native Louisianians or not ... Southerners and Northerners.

All you have to do is leave a comment on this post and tell me what flavor filling you'd like ...

Cream cheese (my favorite)

Bavarian cream

Blueberry

Chocolate

Cinnamon

Lemon

Pecan Praline

Raspberry

Strawberry

And, also, in your comment, tell me where you're from and an email address or way to contact you.

And, just because I'm feeling generous, I'm gonna throw in a pack of Community Coffee for you to enjoy with your king cake.

You may only enter once. However, if you post about the giveaway and link back to me on your blog, you get two entries.

Deadline to enter will be Saturday at midnight.

I will randomly pick a winner on Sunday and announce the winner Monday morning.

Happy Commenting!

I just can't get rid of it.

I did a major closet cleaning this weekend. MAJOR.

I had to make some hard decisions.

Until now I have kept all my teaching supplies.

All of them ... my books, posters, cut-out letters & borders for bulletin boards, curriculum aides, maps, transparencies, art project samples, craft supplies, and this ...

See those?

My E-Z Graders ... a teacher's best friend.

 I just couldn't.

Do I know that I will teach again? No.

Do I miss teaching? Yes and no.

Do I miss the other stuff you have to do in teaching besides teaching? No.

Beau gave me permission to buy all new stuff should I go back to teaching. Really, he's saying that just because he's ready to make room in the garage for his soon-to-buy car by making me get rid of it all.

Other things I found that I'll be keeping for sentimental reasons.

Me signing papers for my All-American Cheerleader nomination -

Autograph of Mikhail Baryshnikov's ballet instructor, Bella Kovarsky ... yeah, I took a class with her. She was one of the first to introduce the Russian teaching method of classical ballet to American dancers.

Dancing at the World's Fair 1984 held in New Orleans ... I'm on the front row along with a popular local news anchor.

Love can be a hard thing.

The entire law is summed up in a single command: "Love your neighbor as yourself." Galatians 5:15

Did you read that? "The entire law." EVERYTHING summed up with one command.

I struggle with love.

Why?

That's a good question.

Now, it's easy to love my children .... my husband (even though it took a while for him to get to the heart of who I was in those courting years) ... my close friends (which are few and far between).

It's loving the rest.

Yet, my God commands me to.

But, if I'm being real here ... really real ... I can shut my heart off.

I hate that about me.

But, it's really easier and natural for me to do that.

I want to love.

I want to look into the eyes of strangers and see what Jesus would see.

I so often don't because I don't take the time to even look anyone in the eyes.

I don't take the time to discover and know who people really are ... even people I see on a regular basis.

I laid in bed just meditating on this one verse and wondering why I'm not like everyone else ... those that just love everybody and that's easy for them.

I asked the Lord, "Why? I do try to love people, Lord, but I don't love them like I should."

I want to genuinely love them. For real ... not an act ... not even because I am commanded to ... just because my heart desires to.

In fact, as I looked back on my life, I realized the people I loved were minimal.

And, yes, it always comes back to the same thing.

A little girl was never meant to cry herself to sleep night after night, wondering why her daddy left her and she wasn't worth fighting for.

Because you don't cry, and you don't hurt, when you don't love.

Ugh.

Personal therapy stinks.

I wish I was married to me.

Having a wife would make my life so much easier.

I definitely should get one of those maids/cooks.

Talk about bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan ... well, really, Beau fried the bacon.


I did the horrendous job of chopping, without whining or crying, mind you. (Note I'm still dressed in my work clothes, which included high-heeled boots ... that was for the husband too. I mean, what man doesn't like a well-dressed broad in the kitchen cooking up his meal. This is a rare occurrence.)

It was like having a real 1950s housewife in the house. Resemblance? I think so.


I present to you ... Coq au vin.
(which should definitely be started before 5:30 p.m.)

For the recipe, you know who to visit ... need I say her name?

OK. Pioneer Woman.

I really love this woman.

I received this in the mail yesterday ...
... and my heart got all aflutter thinking about reading through it last night.

I literally had an internal struggle about doing my Bible reading versus the cookbook. No lie.

The book of Galatians won out, but I did sneak a few peaks at the other book.

I can't help but run.

I go through phases.

A running phase.

A kick-boxing phase.

Aerobics phase.

Jillian Michaels phase.

P90X phase.

I always come back to running.

It is the most difficult for me and you know my issues with challenges. Bring 'em on.

I find that running, when I do it consistently, is the quickest way for me to drop a few pounds and I feel more empowered when I've finished a run.

Shoot. When I wanted to drop some pounds before my wedding, I ran every day and I did drop a size and had to have my dress taken in. I'm sure it was the running and not my daily diet of one pack of Ramen noodles, a few saltines, and a bean burrito (79 cents back then).

Well, I'm at it again ... trying to get my endurance back after my lack of running since the fall. That's when I started P90X. And, we all know how well that worked. Results definitely vary. My results were nil.

I can run the two miles. No problem.

Now, I've got to get back up to the three.

And, one day ... just one day ... 13.

A girl can dream.

But, I have a feeling my orthopedic surgeon would advise against it. Ugh ... these stupid knees. (I thought I would be a professional dancer or cheerleader. Stupid. Should have done tons less jumping. And, "professional cheerleader?" Is that even a job? Stupid youth.)

Whatever.

Without my iPod, I could not run. Could. Not.

The playlist makes all the difference. It really does.

Here are the songs that really get me moving right now.

And this because I like to reminisce ... Ahh ... Me and New York ...

I have a problem.

I like to do things the hard way.

Why? I don't know.

If you've read my blog for a while, you know that I'm a bit of a wannabe gourmet.

The more exotic, rich, or difficult a recipe is, the more I want to make it. And, if the ingredients include heavy whipping cream and two sticks of butter or more, I'm even more intrigued. Hence, the dieting problem ... but, that's a whole other post.

It's a challenge to me.

I know. I'm sick.

It's a problem.

You see, I live in the Deep South. When I say, "Deep," I mean I'm an hour away from the Gulf Coast.

People down here eat forest animals and season everything with Tony Chacere's Cajun Seasoning.

So, here's the dilemma.

When I read my Southern Living magazines or cookbooks, (yes, note the word "Southern") I often have some difficulty in finding the ingredients I need for some of these "Southern" dishes.

True "Southern" dishes do not have ingredients like:

Creme fraiche

Dulce de Leche in block form or any form for that matter

Turkey brine

Coconut milk

Napa cabbage

Mung bean sprouts

And, just to let you know, I had to go to several stores to find Greek yogurt, which I absolutely adore.

I have a need right now to make this:

Buttermilk Panna Cotta with Zinfandel-Poached Figs

Problem: Ingredients include vanilla beans and dried Mission figlets

Figlets? Not figs. Figlets

What the heck is a figlet?

Is that like a baby fig?

I have a feeling I won't find these at Piggly Wiggly.

Off I go ...

I'm pretty much like a model.

My job has many tasks ... some less thrilling than others.

Now that changes everything.

I had lunch with a wonderful friend yesterday ... one of my very best friends in the world actually. I love her.

We have really great talks.

Being with her is comfortable.

I actually could spend even more time with her than I do, but then she might consider me needy. So, I give her me in small doses.

Oh, and did I mention she's beautiful too. I want to hate her because of it, but I just can't.

(Yes, she will want to kill me for posting a picture of her.)

Anyhow, in our conversation yesterday, we discussed the curse on women, brought on by Adam and Eve.

But, Eve, especially.

Remember the curse that was put on her?

Let's refresh our memory.

Genesis 3:16

(New International Version)

To the woman he said,
"I will greatly increase your pains in childbearing;
with pain you will give birth to children.
Your desire will be for your husband,
and he will rule over you."

That's how I've always read it.

Then, my friend said she had read in a different version this:

Genesis 3:16 (New Living Translation)

Then he said to the woman,

“I will sharpen the pain of your pregnancy,and in pain you will give birth. And you will desire to control your husband,but he will rule over you.”

Uh ... what?

So that's why we do the things we do. It's all part of the curse.

Whew! One more thing we can blame on Eve.

Then, I thought I would look through just a few more versions and I came across this one from my favorite version, The Message.

Genesis 3:16

He told the Woman:

"I'll multiply your pains in childbirth;

you'll give birth to your babies in pain.

You'll want to please your husband,

but he'll lord it over you."

Now, that sounds more like it.

Geez. Can I just get a straight answer?

Either women have a natural tendency or desire to control our husbands or please our husbands.

I think it may be a little of both.

But, there's no doubt about the "lording over" part.

(Not from my own personal experience, of course, because you all know I'm married to the man of my dreams who can fix anything.)

Thanks, Sonia, for calling that to my attention.

It takes very little to make me happy.

On Monday night, about an hour before bed, K Belle said she wasn't feeling very well. It was impossible for me to pin down exactly what was the issue because, as you know, when you ask your child what hurts, the answer includes every body part that can hurt.

Being the good mother that I am, I told her to just go to bed because the reason she didn't feel good was that she was tired. That's my staple go-to cause for every ache and pain. She had no fever and living with two drama queens dulls your senses.

At about 11:00 p.m., I hear vomiting. Yep. Guess she really was sick. We went through that a couple of times throughout the night. Man, I hate vomit. I have a very long-standing non-vomiting record. I can count on one hand how many times I vomited in the past 20 years and two include giving birth, which just doesn't count.

K Belle finally went to sleep for the night and I knew she would be home with me yesterday, which I also hate, not because of her being home, which I love, but because that leaves me to teach her 7th grade lessons for the day. Let's not even think about the fact that I have a degree in Education. My expertise is limited to preschool to 5th grade. That's it.

La Petite Belle, who was also up late due to all the commotion, woke up with a headache and whined about getting out of the bed and going to school. She was pitiful. I gave in and let her go back to bed.

The day turned out to be spectacular.

The girls pretty much just laid around.

It was mostly quiet and uneventful, except for the repair man that showed up.

There is nothing more attractive than a man that can fix stuff.

And, this man was no exception.

With his bleach-stained, stretched out "Honey-Do" t-shirt, sweatpants, and unshaven face, he made me the happiest woman alive with his mechanical skills and knowledge of how to do stuff.

This man:

took our dryer apart and found the culprit behind the pesky squeaking noise it had been making for 3 months

solved the problem with a busted outside pipe

fixed a leaky valve from the refrigerator

greased our noisy garage doors

and even, worked on our taxes, and helped cook dinner.

What kind of man does all that?

My Beau.

After I turned on the dryer, I was so thrilled that I kissed him. And, by "kissed him," I mean really kissed him.

I love that man.

Not sure where she gets her frankness.

As La Petite Belle and I were watching the ever-present Disney channel and the constant bombardment of Disney music videos, I heard her make a gagging noise as Hannah Montana (aka Miley Cyrus ... or whatever she's going by these days) appeared on the screen singing one of her recent songs.

I looked over at La Petite Belle and questioned, "What? You don't like Hannah Montana anymore?"

She said, with a disgusted look on her face, "No."

She paused for a while, then said, "I texted her."

Me: "What?"

La Petite Belle: "Yeah. You know you can text her online and she really gets the messages. She really reads them."

K Belle confirmed this story.

I didn't tell them that there's no way in Hades that Miley Cyrus reads those, but whatever.

Then, La Petite Belle proceeds to tell me exactly what she "texted" the Disney superstar: "You're being so inappropriate for the girls and boys that look up to you ever since you did that 'Party in the USA' video." (That's the video where she's dressed a little too skimpy and dancing a little too provocatively for her age ... not sure where La Petite Belle gets her opinions from.)

That's it. Sweet and simple.

Like I always say, "Why beat around the bush? Just spit it out."

Now, we've just got to work on her tact and approach.

Oh, Miley ... Can you just go back to being your sweet, innocent self? I know there's so much pressure on you, but thousands of little girls are watching. I do hope you will use your talents for good.

Here's a bit of help for you:

You look so classy when you wear something like this.

You look trashy when you wear something like this.

Or when you dance using a pole.

And, please, oh please, don't text pictures of you in your underwear to a boyfriend (which was the first thing that popped up when I was looking for images of you) or pose in a well-known magazine only covered up with a sheet with your back exposed.

Hopefully, you will heed my advice.

Because I'm sure you read this blog like you read all those texts.

What was I thinking?

I wrote this whole post last night that reveals the core of who I am ... ugliness and all.

But, then deleted it.

It was way too much information about me.

I'm obviously still not ready to let you know that I don't have it all together.

Beau says, "As if they don't know that."

Thanks, hun.

At least, I can still make you think I do.

Basket case

I'm coming of age.

You know the age.

The age where your body actually takes over.

You have no choice but to succumb to it.

It's the hormones, people.

Some hormones say, "Hey, you're still young. You're strong and can take on anything. Nothing bothers you."

Other hormones say, "You are too old. Your life is almost over and you must take everything personally. Everything affects you."

And, yes, you must fight. And, I hate to break it to you, but the battle gets worse with age.

The battle is constant: Young, fun hormones against the older hormones trying to get you down.

Part of the battle is trying not to be a basket case at all times.

(Example)

I'm not used to this uncontrollable surge of emotion that can happen at any time.

Any. Time.

With absolutely no warning.

Don't believe me?

Here are the things that have made my eyes well up with tears this week

(It's only Tuesday):

The Hallmark movie, "Christmas in Canaan"

Having to do 3rd grade math homework for an hour and a half with my child

Realizing that I can be such a jerk

Watching the video of the 20,000 people dancing to The Black-Eyed Peas song, "I've Got a Feelin,'" on Oprah's show in Chicago last summer (I actually giggled at the fact that I teared up over something so ridiculous. Nuts.)

(Here. Look at it. What the heck? No need to cry.)

"The Biggest Loser" - at least 5 times throughout the show

Reading that Paul wrote that the Corinthians "gave, even beyond their ability" and realizing that I don't even know what that means and I obviously don't give enough

Thinking about my kids going back to school and that I would actually miss the couple of weeks that we had together (the staying up late and sleeping late was the best)

Enough with the waterworks already, crybaby. Suck it up.

My New Relationship with WalMart

I have posted many times about my hatred for this overpopulated superstore.

The thought of having to make the dreaded trip to WalMart makes me cringe. These trips are limited. I will only enter the store if there is no possible alternative ... meaning Target doesn't have what I need. Target and I are like best friends. I actually have Target withdrawals if I haven't made a visit after a week or so. Seriously. Not joking.

Yesterday, I had a doctor's appointment which led me to the other side of town, which I don't frequent much anymore. I decided to stop at a WalMart store on the way (not near my home) to get a few things.

Oh. my. word.

The store was amazing.

Super clean.

About 20 people in the entire store and none that looked like this.

No mile-long check-out lines.

I actually enjoyed myself and took extra time roaming the aisles.

So, WalMart, I will begin shopping with you again. In fact, I will drive out of my way to shop with you. I will not shop the WalMart near me. It's the pits.

And, is filled with this.

But, seriously, I'll take the pajamas any day over the lack of clothing on most.

For more unbelievable pics, go to peopleofwalmart.com.

Warming: Some of them will blow your mind and may not be appropriate. But, they all are actual pictures that people have taken at WalMarts across the country and submitted.

Why ruin a good name?

Levi.

What a great name!

Of course, your mind naturally goes to two places: Jews and jeans.

Am I right or am I right?

You think, Levi's ... what a great brand of jeans founded many moons ago by the Jewish-German immigrant, Levi Strauss. He was, obviously, extremely successful in his business built in 1853 and created a product that most every American has owned at one time in his or her life.

Levi = Ambition, Success

The name "Levi" is also a good 'ol Jewish name. I even think of the Levites from the Bible ... the tribe descended from Levi, one of the sons of Jacob. This tribe of Levi was the only tribe to receive no land when the Israelites entered Canaan because "the Lord the God of Israel Himself is their inheritance." Hello. They were mostly priests and had the duties of collecting the tithes and taking care of the tabernacle and in the temples. They also served as teachers and judges.

You get my point? They were pretty important.

Levites = Responsibility, Spirituality, Servants of God

This guy right here ...

is really starting to get on my nerves.

He has ruined the good name of "Levi."

For any of you who don't know, this is Levi Johnston.

He is Bristol Palin's baby daddy.

He's fully taking advantage of his 15 minutes of fame by doggin' out the Palin family (who has been nothing but courteous and taken the higher road) on every talk show he can get a spot on.

Not only that, but posing for Playgirl because I guess that's what you do when you actually have no other skills, talent, or ambition.

And, wait, it gets better ... Donald Trump says Levi would be great on "The Celebrity Apprentice" ...

Uh ... Donald, the last time I checked, you had to be a celebrity to be on the "Celebrity Apprentice," hence the word "celebrity."

I don't count providing DNA to make a baby as being a celebrity. If that's the case, heck, I know a lot of celebrities.

And, Levi, as far as your acting career goes, why not go to college and get a job to support that baby of yours.

This video makes me want to vomit a little.

Go home, Levi. Go home.

OK, I'm done.