I'm simply not that interesting.

I'm posting at Joli today.

I'm not sure it's possible to think of two totally different posts in one day.

Maybe for Pioneer Woman and the like, but not for me.

So, hop on over. Quite an enlightening look into my own insecurities and maybe yours too.

Come back tomorrow for a special treat!

I have a thing for bass players.

You may have guessed that already, seeing as I'm married to the best bass player around, my Beau.

There's just something about bass players you just gotta love.

We rely on them for the rhythm. They are the foundation of the song. They create the groove.

Without them, music would be empty.

There are a few bass lines that I love and ask have even asked Beau to play because they are so cool. These are pretty recognizable and the songs just wouldn't be the same without them.

#1 - Fleetwood Mac's, "The Chain"

#2 - Queen's, "Another One Bites the Dust"

#3 - Michael Jackson's, "Billie Jean"

#4 - Bon Jovi's, "Livin' on A Prayer"

#5 - Dee-Lite's, "Groove is in the Heart"

Look 'em up. Great bass lines.

This all leads to my pick for best audition ever on American Idol and my pick for one of the top contestants - Casey Abrams.

Simply amazing.

And, let's not forget my Beau (I'm the gal on the stool singing the "ooh"s) ... (take into consideration that this was about 6 years ago ... Weight has been lost by both of us & we each have less hair).

I'm not a crier.

I do cry.

But, I try to not make it a common practice.

I do find as I've gotten older, I've gotten a tad more sensitive. I'm sure it's the hormones.

Now when it comes to the things of God and me talking about the things He's done for me ... waterworks have been known to happen.

One of the things that rarely makes me cry is a book. And, I say "rarely" because I can tell you the two books (aside from the Bible) that have made me tear up: Max Lucado's Next Door Savior and Francis Chan's Crazy Love.

That's it. I've never found a book that moved me in such a manner.

Until now ...

I wept yesterday.

Wept. Not cried. Wept.

When I read a specific chapter in this book.

I was hesitant in reading it to begin with because I don't like fiction.

My legalistic tendencies lead me to think this way: "If I'm going to spend valuable time reading, it should be the Bible, or something that will actually help me in my walk with the Lord. Fiction would be a waste of time. I could be spending more time with the Lord."

Dumb, warped thinking. I know. Just giving you a little insight into how my mind works sometimes. CURRRRAZY!

The book is a historical romance set in the 1850s and is inspired by the book of Hosea. If you know anything about that book, you know it's a rough one. If you recall, God tells the prophet, Hosea, to marry a prostitute. The whole book of Hosea is a picture of God's redeeming love for sinners ... for us.

Yep. God compares you and me to a prostitute.

And, honestly, it's an accurate comparison.

We were all far away from Him at one time. 

We were so lost and broken before Him.

 And, there are still times that we struggle to really serve Him.

The prostitute that Hosea makes his wife leaves him and goes back to the lifestyle she once knew and struggles to live the renewed life she was freely given. We do the same.

We struggle to live the life God wants for us because of our own hurt, pain, thoughts, and desires. There's always something or someone trying to lure us back to where we were before, proclaiming that we're not worthy to receive the gift we have and will never be good enough for it.

I love how God speaks to me then.

I love you so much. You are my daughter. 

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! (I John 3:1)

Now, back to why I cried.

It was the image of "Hosea" (really Jesus) sitting down, head in his hands, weeping for me. For my sins, for my struggle, for my pain, for my battle.

The thought of me breaking His heart day-after-day breaks mine.

I felt desperation. 

Desperate for holiness and purity. To be desperate for Him more than my own selfishness.

I highly recommend this book. 

It may make me reconsider my no-fiction-reading policy.

Maybe.

I'm in the middle of a project here.

My neck is aching from staring at the computer for hours.

I've been wading through thousands and thousands of pictures. I'm talkin' pictures dated back to 2004.

You see, I was going to be one of those moms who kept up her kids' pictures and scrapbooks. Yeah, I was a scrapbooker years and years ago. I have mounds of papers, stencils, stickers, and the like that are taking up tons of space in one of my closets. 

I made a vow a few years ago to start organizing my pictures.

Yeah. I'm just getting to that.

And, when I'm done, these pictures will be sent and printed into albums. 

No more scrapbooks.

I have years to catch up on. But, I will do it. It may be slow, but I'll get there (along with those hard copies of the ol' blog). It will happen.

Until then, enjoy these sweet gems I found in going through my photos yesterday.

La Petite Belle in her younger years

One of our punishments of kissing, lips touching, for as long as we say (after fighting)

Um ... 

K Belle in her younger years

Um ... what in the world is with the bow belt?

Aw ... my sweet, little Easter girls

Reminiscing is so much fun.

OK, now back to work.

I'm trying not to take it personally.

K Belle wrote a poem ... a poem that was sent to a writing competition.

She advanced to the next level.

She took 1st place at the Superior level.

Of course, I'm beyond proud.

She has informed me that I tell her I'm proud of her way too much. I told her I will continue doing so despite her not wanting me to.

We have this on-going dispute of me showing pride in her and her acting like everything she does is not a big deal. It's become comical.

The award-winning poem was to be written about someone she admired.

Of course, she chose her dad. 

Not her mom. Her dad.

It's OK. Really.

Here is her sweet poem.

My Dad

His gentle, stern face soothes my soul

As he bids me farewell for the day.

He may have scolded me the night before

But the past has scurried away.

As he wraps me in his gently arms

And he says he loves me so,

We speak of past events

And how much I have grown.

As the night creeps in and the sun goes down

And my mind begins to tire,

I say, "Good-night" and think

Of how my daddy is who I admire.

You can take the teacher out of the school ...

... but you can 't take the teacher out of the teacher.

I often want to jerk a knot in a kid's tail.

For real.

K Belle often says I have a "teacher-mode" that just happens naturally.

I don't plan it. It exudes out of me.

One thing that I simply cannot tolerate is disrespect, especially in church ... even more when people are trying to worship the Lord.

I eyed two girls mocking worshipers last night and I was about two inches away from pulling their hair and giving them the look of death.

Obviously their parents made them come to church.

It really lit a fire in me. 

I had to walk out of service.

I want to be opposite of this.


I want to the the person that gives grace ... that makes excuses for why people are the way they are ... that always thinks the best of everyone.


It's one of my many flaws. Ugh. I hate it.


It's funny that I often think that way about other people and assume other people think that way about me. That people naturally think the worst in me. Why? Why would I think that? Sounds kinda dumb as I'm writing it down.


I want people to see the good in me and I want to see the good in other people.


God, help me.


I'm not sure that there was any good in what I saw those girls doing and I still really believe they needed a good whoopin', but I want to believe the best.


It all stems from  history with people in general.


I don't want my history to determine my future.


And, who am I to decide who needs grace and who doesn't? I think I need it the most.

 Because I have received your grace, you transform me to also be able to have grace for others. Your grace is the theme of my heart and the melody of my life. Psalm 119:53-54

I want that. I want grace to be the melody of my life, not my own pride or sense of justice, even if I feel the justice is merited.

I love this.

66 Valentine's Days together?

Incredible!

I asked Beau if he could imagine spending 66 years with me. He gave me a smirk.

I said, "That would be awesome! We're not even halfway there. So many more years to go." Woo Hoo! Bring it! Looking forward to many more years with my beloved Beau.

(Love Barbara's dig at the end. I didn't know Barbara was so feisty. I think I like her even more now.)

The North and the South

I'm not talking about the 1985 miniseries, which included the fabulous acting stylings of Kirstie Alley and Patrick Swayze. Although this does hold a special place in my heart. Any entertainment where women can wear hoop skirts and carry parasols is a fine piece of artistic work to me.

I'm just talking about what separates us ... the North and the South.

There are numerous things I could mention. But, let me just begin with the obvious.

Gravy

I'm not even sure Northerners eat gravy, but Southerners eat gravy with everything. I'm not a fan of the white gravy. Yuck. Brown gravy is the popular gravy-type where I'm from. Rice and gravy is a staple.

Ya'll

The speech in the South is totally different that of the North. We talk fast and use words that aren't even words, but we all understand each other ... well, most of the time. And, where I live, the Cajun dialect will make you think you've stepped into a foreign country. Don't believe me? Come visit.

Friendliness

OK. This may be a touchy subject. But, honestly, Southerners are just nicer. There ... I said it. More welcoming, more friendly (at least that's been my experience). That's not to say they can't be blunt. THEY CAN. But, the manner in which the blunt things are said are nicer. (FYI: I've been told I am more like a Northerner in this area. Whatever.)

This Butterfinger commercial describes us to a T ... Sweetness with a little bite.

In addition, you get a Southerner angry, and you'd better run for cover. They have strong opinions and guns and they're not afraid to use either.

Ma'am

In the South, we are taught and teach our children to say "ma'am" and "sir," and to always address adults with a "Mr." and a "Mrs." It's considered rude and disrespectful if a child doesn't use these terms. Not so in the North.

Bacon grease
Don't you know you're supposed to save that stuff? When I was a child, I remember there always being a bowl of cold, hardened bacon grease in the back of the fridge that would be used in several dishes to come. This made them even more delicious.

There are many, many more. These are just a few for you to consider.

I do love the South. Love.

But, there are also things that I don't love. I'm sure that's something both Northerners and Southerners can agree on. There are things we would change in both areas.

I choose to keep my eyes on the good things, the things I delight in.

Northerners, what do you love about the North? I want to know because I honestly LOVE your New York City. It's one of my favorite places on earth.

Valentine's Day ... 1977-1982

Those were the good years.

The years where I delighted in addressing my special little Valentine's cards for my class. I remember taking great care in signing them and deciding on which love-phrase would be appropriate for which classmate. This was quite an important decision in those days.

Designing the Valentine's Day card mailboxes and holders was equally important.

Doilies were a must in all decorating. I learned quickly that glitter is a girl's best friend and made my creation stand out from all the others.

The school day seemed to crawl by on this extra-special day. I couldn't wait until 2:00 when the passing-out of these treats would occur.

When I finally got my bag of cards and candy home, that's when the real fun began. Reading each card carefully (because I'm sure each kid put as much effort into their cards as I did in mine) and nibbling on chocolate hearts while watching Scooby Doo was the very best part of the day.

And, my mom, with her propensity toward going over the top each holiday, would not fail here. She always made these days great with special treats and Valentine's Day baskets. Sweet.

When I reached my teen years and had boyfriends, the days did seem even more important. But, honestly, I can't remember one thing about any of those days. Figures. Even though, everything in my life at that time was a HUGE deal and life-altering.

After Beau and I married, most Valentine's Days were filled with the typical dinner dates, cards, and chocolate. Nothing really eventful, but nice. We save the more significant outings for our anniversaries. I mean, do we really need TWO holidays to celebrate our love? Isn't each day we're together a celebration? (barf)

After we had children, the fun of Valentine's Day returned.

This morning we will be making special pancakes and giving out our own Valentine's Day baskets and cards.

Beau and I will head over to work out to combat our late breakfast at Another Broken Egg Cafe'. Then, some shopping for furniture and maybe tile. Exciting, I know.

But, really, I'm happy with that and thankful that I am loved.

Wishing you much love on this Valentine's Day!

Why's everything gotta be about the blondes?

Yeah, yeah ... we know ... "Blondes have more fun."

Whatever.

I disagree.

I remember, when I was young, always liking the brunette characters of every TV show rather than the blonde (because I was a brunette little girl wanting to feel like I was just as pretty). Most blondes were portrayed as the "pretty and not-so-smart" ones, while the brunettes were the ones with more "intelligence and not-so-cute."

I disagreed even then.

I thought the brunettes were just as pretty.

I chose Kelley over Jill ... Jackie Rush over Sarah Rush ... Janet over Krissy ... Shirley over Lavergne. (And if you know all the TV shows I'm talking about, you're pretty good.)

But, let me tell you something ... I favored blondes yesterday.

Actually ... blondies.

This cookbook contains one of the best recipes for blondies EVER.

And, here it is.

And, here's where I actually give you the recipe because it's so delicious. Even more delicious hot out of the oven, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

The Best Blondies

1 cup butter, melted and slightly cooled

2 cup brown sugar, packed

2 eggs, beaten

2 tsp vanilla extract

2 cup all purpose flour

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

1 cup chopped pecans (I actually will use a little less than a cup next time.)

1 cup white chocolate chips

3/4 cup toffee or caramel baking bits (I used chopped Skor bars.)

Vanilla ice cream

Line the bottom of a 12 x 9 baking pan with parchment paper. Spray sides of pan with non-stick vegetable spray and set aside. In a large bowl mix together butter and brown sugar.  Beat in eggs and vanilla until smooth. Stir in flour, baking powder and salt; mix in remaining ingredients. Pour into prepared pan and spread evenly. Bake at 375 for 30-40 minutes . Allow to cool in pan before cutting into bars. MUST ADD ICE CREAM! Makes 1 dozen.

You can thank me later.

Now ... someone needs to come up with an equally delicious brunie recipe.

Keep it simple.

You all know I'm an avid American Idol watcher.

When it comes to singers/musicians, I tend to have opinions. Some of it due to my own personal taste and some of it due to living with a Grade-A musician for going on 17 years. He has rubbed off on me a bit.

But, I've always, even before I met him, was not a fan of over-singing.

Never.

Yes, there are singers like Christina, Whitney, Mariah, etc. that can sing their guts out. I give them that. They have true talent. I just don't care to listen to them for an extended period of time. 

Just my preference. That's all.

I think a singer can sound just as good or even better by keeping it simple. 

So, you can do all those runs? Great! You don't have to do them all the time. And, you should use taste when using them at all.

I find the greatest voices are those that have pure, natural tones without all the fluff.

There were some contestants recently that I really loved. They did some runs, but they were tasteful and there tone was so pure. No screaming or wailing involved.

Last night, I heard the sweetest little 1940's voice I have ever heard. Of course, she won't win because she doesn't have the typical sound American Idol fans vote for, but I think I could listen to her for hours.

When I heard her, I felt like I had just put on an old record and was sent back in time.

Take a listen to these two.

I really like her. That's all I'm gonna say about that.

I've always wanted to be "asome."

Found this little gem on my desk yesterday from La Petite Belle.

Not sure it would've been so cute without the misspelling.

Movies can make a difference.

There are some movies that absolutely changed my life. 

Amazing that images and stories on the big screen can do such a thing.

I'm told that at a very young age, I wept and wept over The Yearling. 

My mother said I cried for some time and had to be comforted.

I don't even remember this movie, but apparently it's about a boy who tries to care for a deer. Any guesses on what happens to this deer? I wouldn't want to spoil the ending for all of you who are headed on down to Blockbuster to rent it.

Just like a movie can affect your heart in a good way, it can also damage you for years. 

Take these two: The Wizard of Oz and The Exorcist.

When you're a child, flying monkeys can freak you out. But, even more freaking out can come from the devil himself. I only saw bits and pieces, but what I saw made sleeping difficult for the next 3 years. I try to stay as far away from the devil as possible.

Fear turned into inspiration after seeing The Turning Point and Grease. 

My dream of becoming a ballerina seemed more attainable. (Not sure if I've mentioned my love for ballet. I danced for 11 years and performed in some full-length ballets with the Lafayette Ballet Company. It was a dream that died after I became a cheerleader because that was going to get me so far.) If not a ballerina, I could sing and dance on Broadway for sure. I could sing every song from Grease word-for-word.

Then, there were other song and dance movies to come like Flashdance, Fame, Dirty Dancing, and Footloose ... all of which I adored as I got older. (The Sound of Music will always be watched in my home. No discussion.) Musicals were and will always be a favorite here even with Beau's opposition.

The tears cried for The Yearling pale in comparison to the tears shed for E.T. Ridiculous to me now, but he was kind of a cute little alien.

I also developed my love for Gone with the Wind at an early age. I remember longing for the days when it would come on TV again.

But, the movies that ripped my heart out and stomped on it were the movies I saw as an adult: My Life, Terms of Endearment, Steel Magnolias, Schindler's List, Forrest Gump, The Notebook, The Passion of the Christ.

And, even more recently, Marley and Me. Yeah, it's about a dog. So what?

And, what's with the movie, Up? Um ... sad and depressing. I think I got teary-eyed watching it this weekend too.

Any movies change your life? Made you cry? Inspire you? Affect you in any way?

Help a sister out. What am I missing?

I'm having the urge to see some I haven't, like The Shawshank Redemption. Any ideas?

I'm coming to grips with it.

(A friend mentioned this quote to me this past weekend. It really made me stop and think for a minute.)

I'm sure this will be the first post of many about hittin' the big age-that-we-not-mention.

Yeah, I'm there.

I don't like it.

But, the first step is admitting that you have a problem. So, here you go.

I have a problem reaching such age.

That age is for old people (sorry, friends that are of that certain age and beyond).

It's just the truth.

At least, that's what I've always thought. 

Until, now ...

My thinking is changing.

I'm so far from being old.

So. Far.

But, there are certain things I have noticed in my life that are rearing their ugly heads and saying, "Yeah ... you're gettin' old."

The first thing I've noticed is my need for slippers. I never wore slippers much until this past year. And, now, I wear them every day. I can't wait to put them on. Weird. Before now, I thought only grandmas wore slippers.

The second thing came into play this weekend when I bought a cardigan and got excited that it was reversible. How many young people do you know that get giddy over anything that's reversible? None.

And, the last thing ... I've forgotten since the time I thought of this post about 30 minutes ago. Classic.

It may have had something to do with elastic in pants ... no, that wasn't it.

Darn. Can't remember.

But, this will definitely be the year I fight my metabolism, that ugly beast.

I have finished my 30-day diet I posted about a month or so ago. I had lost 8 lbs. in 3 weeks, then, weighed myself this past weekend and had gained 4 lbs. back after doing the EXACT same thing I had done the previous weeks.

I gorged myself on cereal, bread, cookies, coke, and candy all weekend in rebellion.

I have a tendency to be rebellious. I know ... shocking.

But, my rebellion can go either way. Rebellion for good or rebellion for bad.

It's something I struggle with. It's the reason I eat Cap'n Crunch and Lucky Charms. To rebel against all those childhood years my mom did not allow me to eat sugary cereals. I ate oatmeal and cream of wheat almost every morning.

Now my rebellion is for good. 

I will rebel against this body of mine. I refuse to "age." I refuse to gain any weight. 

The scale telling me I gained 4 lbs. will only make me stronger ... well ... after my 2 days of binging and complaining.

So, don't worry. I will not quit. I will continue to fight. And, even fight harder when my body calls me a "sucka" and laughs in my face. Rebellion in action.

See? I am coming to grips with it.

Stranded

Yes, we are stranded at home ... at least for the rest of the day.

Schools are closed due to inclement weather, mainly freezing rain.

Roads are closed due to ice. 

Southern Louisianians can barely drive in 74-degree weather, so icy roads would have been a challenge.

Roads closed = No work either.

The whole family at home with really nothing to do is quite enjoyable.

I will be in pajamas for possibly 3 days. That could be one of the best things that has happened in a long time.

A Constant fire burning. Love that.

Hot chocolate for the kids. Coffee for mom. Equally love.
(except for the fact that I ran out of Splenda and had to break the diet by adding a teaspoon of sugar to my coffee ... see? stranded, living in the wild)

Movies galore. Up with the girls last night (Boo Hoo ... sad and depressing). Then they took Despicable Me upstairs so Mom and Dad could watch Social Network (Not sure who rates these movies, but I would not allow my 13-year-old to watch this movie. I propose someone with decent morals become the new movie-rater.) Red tonight.

It's funny how these Southern Louisianians can brave a category 5 hurricane, yet my whole city freaks out over ice. My local Albertson's had no firewood, 2 lbs. of ground beef, 1 can of kidney beans, and a minimal amount of chili seasoning packs. All of Lafayette is having chili tonight (including us) and stockpiling for the long, cold few days.

Beau's working on our taxes. He's being quite productive on this cold morning.

The girls are sleeping late.

I guess I could do laundry. A woman's work is never done. I think I would be correct to say that our jobs are constant, come rain or shine ... just like the mailman.

I'm thinking a nap's on the agenda for sure.

It's a good day, minus my biggest challenge ... staring at the box of Cap'n Crunch in the pantry and not eating any. That makes me sad.

To all my freezing friends, enjoy your days at home!

Proud Mama

My kids make me proud a lot.

Even when they're not really doing anything, I'm still proud.

Proud of just who they are.

I was extremely proud last night to see K Belle playing keys and singing background vocals for worship in the youth service.

I was most proud, not of the fact that she sounded awesome, but of the fact that she's allowing herself and her gifting to be used of the Lord.

It takes guts to get up on a stage and lead people in worship. Especially teenagers. Especially when you are only 13.

But, it was great!

This is the only picture taken from a friend's phone. Boo, Mama for not having a good picture! That would have surely embarrassed her if I'd have broken out a camera.

I pray that she will always use her gift for the Lord and serve Him all the days of her life.

She said she didn't understand why we were so ecstatic over this ... like it was no big deal.

Um ... yes. It was and is a big deal.

And, yes, I am proud.

A Sad State of Affairs

1. I never in my wildest dreams would have thought that I would be representing "the religious community." 

But, I am. 

I know ... shocking.

This is my idea of the religious community.

I'm now sitting on the board for a local non-profit organization helping women in our community (an amazing place). When the director spoke with me about the position a few months ago, she expressed the need for someone to be the voice of "the religious community."

In my mind, I laughed out loud.

"The religious community" ... not sure said community would be so thrilled knowing I was their representative.  And, I don't really want everyone looking to me as an example of "religious." I try my hardest to be the opposite and to just love Jesus with not only my heart, but my life.

2. Cheat Day on this diet has become Binge Day for me. 

I'm starting to love binges. I may need an intervention myself when this is over.

It's a little insane. Not sure what I'll do when this is over.

Sunday I ate: approximately 8 cookies, 4 cream puffs, chips & salsa, cheese cubes, 4 sandwich spirals, a burger, fries, handful of jelly beans, half a box of Sour Patch Kids, half a pint of Ben & Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch ice cream, a bowl of Cap'n Crunch, 2 large Cokes.

Told you. Ridiculous.

However, in 3 weeks, I've lost 8 pounds. (Cheat Days included - last week I ate half a pizza & still lost)

The last day of the diet is Saturday. Think I'll just go back to eating right and cheating a little here and there.

3. Roxy Belle has acquired a diva attitude.

She did something she's never done to me before. I attempted to move her out of the chair I had been sitting in and she gave me a small growl, like she owned the chair and couldn't be bothered by me.

Uh ... no way, sister! I gave her a good talking-to.

4. There are people at my gym that do not wear deodorant.

For real.

The kicker is they always seem to jump on the treadmill next to me.

Seriously, I have to breathe to run and am taking in quite a bit of air. This is simply unacceptable.

What would possess someone to not wear deodorant?

I get the whole organic, natural thing. But, this is too much. 

It's just downright offensive.

That's a pretty good sum-up of the past few weeks.

Mama Belle, you have lost your mind.

I know that's what you're going to say when I tell you that I'm writing and in charge of 2 blogs now. I know. I do it to myself.

I tend to be a perfectionist. Even worse ... a perfectionist that 's an overachiever.

Yeah .. geez. Why can't I just leave good-enough alone? Trust me ... I'd love to.

But, when God speaks, I just have to listen.

And, I do believe this is part of His plan. So, I set aside my don't-wants and got myself to work on this little project.

This new blog is specifically for the women's ministry of our church. Click on over and tell me what you think.

www.joliblog.org

It's designed to get our women to connect in an easy way. In a church our size, it's definitely hard to meet other women. And, hey, didn't I meet all you ladies through the amazing internet?

I'm super excited about it and about the writers and women that are all participating in our new Bible study.

If you'd like to join in on our Bible study, we won't mind.