my husband

Eskrima, uskrima…we all eskrima

This little stick? It’s called an Eskrima (es-krim’-uh) stick. What’s if for, you ask? Well, let me just say this – it is NOT for beating your husband over the head with. 🙂 It’s actually a Filipino martial art that emphasizes stick and sword fighting.

My husband is teaching our family to use them and tonight we had our first lesson. Let me just preface the rest of my entry by reminding you that I have been sick the last couple of days. So it made complete sense that I would get out in the stifling heat and have a lovely workout with the sticks, right? Ugh.

However, I must admit that although the temperatures were hot, and I’m extremely out of shape – I feel so incredibly cool when I do Eskrima. Ironic, isn’t it?

Here’s a video that will give you an idea of what we’re doing as a family (of course, we aren’t quiiiiite this advanced yet!)

Now, despite the fact that I feel cool, I know that I must present quite the interesting picture as I attempt to do the variety of moves and stances that my husband is teaching me. It’s a lot like dancing, but instead of just a partner, you’re doing it with two sticks in your hands and trying to dodge your partner’s every blow. If you are as uncoordinated as me, you’ll end up looking more like Elaine on Seinfeld when she tries to dance.

And let me just give you one tiny piece of advice should you decide to try this sport out in your front yard. If you happen to step in a bed of fireants, don’t worry about them, instead focus on the sensation of the stick hitting your hand and cracking your knuckles because you weren’t paying attention, which is far more excruciating than 100 fire ant bites on your foot, I promise you.

More than once, our neighbors who were driving by felt the need to slow down to a crawl and wave at us just to make sure my husband wasn’t beating the wherewithall out of me or vice-versa. At least I tell myself that’s what they were doing, but it could have been just some plain old rubber-neckin’ going on. With country folk, you never really know what they they because they are so nice, they’d rather lie to you than hurt your feelings. You meet them in the grocery store later and they say to you, “Honey…I saw you out in the yard with your husband yesterday. You shore do make a cute couple! I told Henry just as soon as I saw the two a you out there that that was a match made in Heaven if I ever saw one!” Then quietly, “Sweetie, is everything alright? Do you need a place to stay for a few days?”

Oh, I kid. No one said that. But you know what I’m talking about, right? That’s just why I love the South. I love my home state of Texas…I love being Southern. My mama always said it was “a sin to lie, but if you could embellish something, well…that’s an art!” And I don’t think she was talking about using rhinestones and sequins.

So I suppose I’ve got a yearning to become somewhat of an artist – I want to get back to my Southern roots and tell y’all more about my early childhood memories…mainly because I’m afraid I’ll forget them if I don’t write them down. Heck, I’ve already forgotten half of them and I’m sure when I write, there will be plently of embellishing going on to fill in the gaps. (I just don’t remember the exact wording that my brother used to tell me there was a snake on my shoulder in 1978, okay?) I’m sorry….I don’t — but I’m sure I’ll come up with something much more creative that what he said anyway, so there ya go.

So tell me this – do you ever embellish your stories to make them more interesting? Or do you stick to “just the facts, ma’am”? Do you feel that it is being dishonest to embellish a little? Where do you draw the line? Tell me…I wanna know.

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Now I Pray me Down to Sleep…

This is a photo of my son…and this is the very reason you rarely see photos of him. Because he refuses to take a serious photo. The moment the camera comes out, he commences with his “entertainer” mode. He prances, he dances, he summersaults, he flips backwards, he flies through the house as if he’s superman. He’s all boy and I love it. I just wish he’d let me take stinkin’ photo of him without his finger in his nose or somewhere else it doesn’t belong.

Two very cute things happened with him today that I have to share before I burst. But first, a little background – yesterday, we let him go with a friend to the lake to go swimming and although they put sunscreen on him, his fair little body just never stood a chance. And he burned. {I felt so horrible – like the worst mom of the year, especially after the whole cancer series!!!} So last night was spent with much holding and comforting and spraying on of the lidocaine.

Earlier today, I was on the phone with Heather from Desperately Seeking Sanity (she was saving me from the insanity I call WP) and we had actually been on the phone for quite a while when he came up to me with huge tears in his eyes and said in the saddest, sweetest voice he could possibly have mustered up, “Mama…I hurt…will you pray for me? That Jesus will heal my sunburn and make it all better?” It was a very sweet moment and of course, I put the phone down and poor Heather heard me talking to Jesus on behalf of my boy. {he’s much better tonight, by the way}

I was later struck by the fact that someone from the bloggy world got a little “real-life” glimpse into our home and I was so glad that instead of the usual noise and fighting, we were able to demonstrate our faith. We try to raise our children to walk in the light they have been given and we talk to them daily about “what the Bible has to say about {fill in the blank}”. They think nothing of asking us to pray with them or for them if they are hurting in any way and I am so thankful for that. But it’s truly rare that anyone else gets to see that from our kids – because they are, well…kids. Folks at church still give me a hard time about AJ’s daddy britches.

Speaking of praying, my husband has bedtime duty. It’s something he’s always done with our kids from the time they were born. He sings songs, tells long made-up stories that he has to consummate with a “the end” or it’s not a story and then he prays with them out loud before they go to sleep.

Usually, they are asleep within 2 minutes of him starting, but he continues to pray for a short time after they are asleep. By that time, he’s usually worn out from the nightly ritual and ready to end it.

Tonight, when he was finished, my son giggled in a sleepy voice and said, “Dad…did you know you said ‘the end’ when you finished praying just then?”

Well, I’m sure Jesus understands, doesn’t He?

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You don’t bring me flowers anymore…

While attending a Marriage Seminar dealing with communication, Tom and his wife Grace listened to the instructor, ‘It is essential that husbands and wives know each other’s likes and dislikes.’

He addressed the man, ‘Can you name your wife’s favorite flower?’
Tom leaned over, touched his wife’s arm gently and whispered, ‘It’s Pillsbury, isn’t it?

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Well, nobody’s perfect…

Hoooold it right there, internets! Don’t think you are going to read another word until you’ve made sure you’re all signed up for this month’s contest. Go! Quickly! But come back, I have things to tell you.

Today my son informed me that someday when his daddy and I die, he is going to go live with his best friend, Major, and his mom and dad and they are going to adopt him and they are going to live happily ever after. Then I asked him what would happen if we didn’t die. After a moment’s hesitation, he looked at me, shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well, I guess I’m stuck here, then.” It’s so good to know I’m loved and appreciated. Sigh.

I have always found advertising slogans amusing and when I was growing up, my secret wish was to work for a company who wrote jingles. (I’m a dreamer, I am. High and lofty, those were my goals.) Partly because I loved J-e-l-l-o! (can’t say it without singing it, can ya?) and partly because I loved the fact that I could tell my mom “You deserve a break today….at McDonalds”. She never really saw the humor in that and I always ended up with extra chores, for some reason.

But I digress…the other day, my husband questioned me about the kind of peanut butter I buy. I’ve always bought JIF. Always. I like it…at least that’s what I thought. But the words that came out of my mouth in answer? “Because choosy moms choose JIF.” What?! Where did that come from? I’ve been hoodwinked into believing that JIF is like the Proverbs 31 mom’s choice for peanut butter. What is UP with that? I feel like such a goober. No pun intended. Seriously. It just kind of flowed out of me like buttah. Peanut, that is.

Alrighty-then. Have you noticed this is my attempt at a light-hearted post? I’m trying, really I am, folks. Apparently, I’m trying so hard that I keep hitting publish instead of the return key. So if you see three, maybe four posts with this title, only read this one, okay?

Lastly, the Design Blog is coming right along. I’ve received several orders and am currently plowing my way through them. The latest one is here. I had so much fun doing that one – partially because I know her IRL, but mostly because she told me I could do whatever I wanted. I really liked that. That photo of the crazed batwoman? That’s her photo, and as you can see, her title fits her personality to a tee.

I don’t really have a good way to end this post, because it’s totally stream-of- consciousness writing. I like that kind of writing. It’s the kind I do best. Well, it’s probably not the best, but it’s the kind with much less stress. Unlike yesterday’s post. I thought I was going to have to invest in Kleenex before I got the silly thing posted. Those are hard for me. My creative writing teacher in college told me that I had a knack for it waaaay back then. I’m thinking that somewhere between college and having babies, my brain turned to oatmeal and all I’m good for is cranking out a mushy bowl or two with some brown sugar, buttah, cinnamon and raisins once in a while. “It’s the right thing to do.” (Quaker oats slogan, don’tcha know?)

So what’s your favorite slogan of all time? Don’t be shy – I love me some comments. Hey, it’s the polite thing to do…didn’t your mama ever tell you that?

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My husband hates it and I love it…

Sound familiar? I could be talking about a myriad of things, since we are polar opposites. He’s a lover of all things science and the closest I come to liking anything with the word “science” is “sci-fi”, and it’s only loosely based on science, right? He loves history and geography and I can’t remember what happened yesterday, much less 300 years ago. Plus, I’m what you might consider a bit of a geographically challenged kind of gal…ahem. Tell me you’re from Buffalo and I might think it’s somewhere in Oklahoma on the prairie.

So I’m sure I’m not the only woman out there who experiences issues with her hair and her husband, right? Please tell me I’m not. He likes it long, I like it short. He likes it gray, I like it colored. I like to look young! fresh! vibrant! We’re just different that way. I walked in today from my hair appointment and even though I knew better than to ask, I was so excited that after 3 years of searching for someone who understood my hair needs, and having finally found her (praise the Lord!) I had a momentary lapse of judgment and asked him, “So, what do you think?”

Y’all, I should not have asked. As he was searching for least offensive words to use to let me know he didn’t quite care for it was okay with it, his face betrayed his emotions and the moment was comical to say the least. He tried to be positive, he really did. So I couldn’t hold it against him.

But I love my new haircut. I’ll have him take a photo later and post it so you can all see. Because I’m generous like that. And because I love it that much. Really. I do.

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Use caution when reading this post…

Rambling post alert!
Reading this post may cause drowsiness. If affected do not drive or operate heavy machinery.

1. We had our annual church Ladies party last night – it was so much fun! I didn’t remember my camera, but I know a certain friend who took lots of photos…including one of her in the bathtub! (fully clothed, but you should see this bathtub — it’s seriously delicious!) We had what I have always called a “Chinese Gift Exchange”, but others (in the interests of political correctness?) call it a White Elephant party. So for all of you Chinese folks that have ever heard me call it a “Chinese Gift Exchange”…please don’t be offended, I was, up until now, ignorant of the fact that I was being offensive. Instead, I’ll just call it a “Chinese White Elephant” gift exchange. Because I’m wierd like that.

2. AJ got SAVED Wednesday night! Yours truly was blessed to be able to walk him down the good old Romans Road at 9:52 pm and ask him all the important questions to make sure he understood. I wish I could say I had more to do with the whole process, but his daddy has been answering a lot of important theological questions that his 5 year old mind comes up with (such as…”if I get saved, will I get a new body?”)This is of UTMOST importance to him – because he really wants to be like Jesus and get a NEW body. Not that there’s anything wrong with his – it’s only 5 years old. I keep telling him to “wait until you are 38! Then you REALLY be ready for that new body!

3. We are so. far. behind. on our handmade Christmas items. Sigh. I really should have started about 3 years ago to complete all the things I want to do for this year. I’m thinking I’ll have a few nights where I don’t sleep much so I can get it all finished. I’m making a bundle of these criss-cross coasters from All-Sorts, a couple of these lovely offset pincushion wristlets from Planet June for my crafty friends, fridge magnets and pushpins from Creative Outlet Designs for some of our agents, the grocery bag dispenser from Dioramarama, patchwork pincushion from from BHG, mama backpack from happythings, and about 50 other delicious goodies I don’t have time to find the links for. That should do keep you busy for a while.

4. I am in the process of weeding out toys that the kids currently have in preparation for Christmas. Our church has a “Christmas store” coming up this Sunday, plus our Nursery is in dire need of some new playthings, so we are sorting through what is scattered all over the bedroom floors. There has been much wailing and gnashing of teeth thus far – too many items I never see played with are now “my FAVORite”. Note to self: next time schedule a playdate with daddy and do this without help. Sigh.

5. My mom gave us a beeeeautiful Haverty’s Mayfair leather rocking recliner for Christmas! My husband is almost beside himself at the thought of having something other than a glider rocker for those late night study sessions he is so fond of.

6. I think I am catching a little bit of the holiday happies. I am most thankful for Jesus, even though He wasn’t born at Christmas, and the origins of Christmas are pagan, I can still rejoice that we have a Savior who came down to save us and loved us enough to die for us. Mostly…I am thankful He is God and didn’t stay dead – that He’s sitting at the right hand of the Father today, and I am eagerly anticipating His return. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. That would be the second best Christmas present I could imagine.

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