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You know you’re in a Redneck church if…TT#5

Thirteen Things about Redneck Churches

1. Instead of a bell you are called to service by a duck call.

2. The minister and his wife drive matching pickup trucks.

3. The collection plates are really hubcaps from a ’56 Chevy.

4. The choir robes were donated by (and embroidered with the logo from) Billy Bob’s Barbecue.

5. People think “rapture” is what you get when you lift something too heavy.

6. The baptismal pool is a #2 galvanized ” Wheeling ” washtub.

7. In a congregation of 500 members, there are only seven last names in the church directory.

8. The choir is known as the “OK Chorale”.

9. A member of the church requests to be buried in his 4-wheel-drive truck because “It ain’t never been in a hole it couldn’t get out of”.

10. Opening day of deer season is recognized as an official church holiday.

11. People ask, when they learn that Jesus fed the 5000, whether the two fish were bass or catfish, and what bait was used to catch ’em.

12. The finance committee refuses to provide funds for the purchase of a chandelier because none of the members knows how to play one.

13. The final words of the benediction are, “Y’all come back now, Ya hear”.

(okay, technically, these are not about me…but I WILL have you know that #2, 10 and 13 have actually been witnessed by me! Happy TT!

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Do You Hit and Run or Leave a Note?

There are a lot of blogs out there nowadays – it seems the blogging community has grown by leaps and bounds over the last few years. Which brings me right to the heart of the matter: I have way too many blogs in my Google Reader and I admit to you all right here and now – I am a lurker. Phew…I feel so much better getting that off my chest.

Lurking. It sounds so dirty, doesn’t it? Like an internet crime that should be punishable by hard labor and restriction from reading for 2-5 years? Thankfully, it’s not. But there are just too many good blogs on the information superhighway and just not enough time in my day to leave a comment. It’s sort of like a hit-and-run, only without the consequences. Oh, sure…they know I’ve been there (hello all you traffic cops out there), but they don’t know who I am, because I didn’t leave a note on their bloggy window.

I’m trying to be better, I really am. I generally leave comments once a week or so, but I read daily. I don’t expect folks to comment here (although it is oh-so-wonderful) when they visit — especially if they don’t stick around. But it’s always so nice to sign on and find that someone cared enough to de-lurk, even if only to say “hi, I am reading your blog.” I know somewhere, out there, people are reading. (’cause I’m the biggest traffic cop around).

let’s discuss this. Are you like me — a lurker, someone who hits and runs? Or do you try to leave a note, spreading love and sunshine wherever you go? Of course, if you are a lurker, you’ll have to de-lurk just this once to weigh in on this subject, I hope you know that.

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In the Dark, No One Can Hear You Scream.

“Wait a minute. If we let it in, the ship could be infected. You know the quarantine procedure. Twenty-four hours for decontamination.” – Sigourney Weaver, from Alien

Last week, our house cat decided she would make an escape to the world that exists beyond her little window in our living room. So intent to stay outside and “live the good life,” she actually hissed at us when we dared to attempt a rescue. So we left her under the porch steps…what else could we do? I am beginning to have an understanding of life and the universe, but cats are beyond me. We didn’t see her for two days. The kids were through with their crying and worrying and I was a tad bit put out with her for having the audacity to be an animal, (for crying out loud) when we saw her sitting pitiably in the yard.

The children’s tears commenced once again with her helpless cries of “you abandoned me out here to forage food all by myself,” so to keep peace and harmony in the world (okay, just my household), I asked my husband to pick her up and bring her in. I gently reminded the children that it had been her choice (not ours) to leave the warm and safe confines of our home, but we would not hold that against her. We would welcome her back as though nothing had ever happened. Then we noticed the bump.

For days, we contemplated what could have caused “the bump“. Maybe she got poked by the barbed wire and had a bad infection. Maybe some tomcat got hold of her and…well. Or maybe she got stung by something. My husband even suggested she had a grubworm. We stroked her, we pitied her…and she soaked it all up – plotting her next escape, no doubt. We were all full of ideas, but as the week wore on and life with a cat returned to normal, we forgot about it. Until last night, that is. When life as we know it came to a screeching halt and I decided to quarantine her to our bathroom.

Nothing in my bucket o’ motherhood could have prepared me for this. We had come home from church and were just settling down to watch a $1 movie from Redbox when K saw it. “The bump” had broken open, y’all. At some point between our arrival back home and the movie, the “thing” had made an escape from our cat’s back. I will spare you of the gory details, but Oh my word there was a hole. A rather large one. I had one of those moments. Did you watch “Alien”? Do you remember how everyone thought, “Oh that pesky alien is dead…so there’s nothing to worry about!” Little did they know…

I backtracked for 30 minutes looking for the “thing”. I wasn’t about to have one of my kids meet up with it in the dark (okay, the truth is, I didn’t want to meet up with it in the dark). Sadly, I never found our “alien”. We resumed watching the movie, but I was unable to fully concentrate on much of anything, because I kept thinking to myself, “Self, there is a grub worm in my house somewhere and it is growing and pulsating and just waiting to sprout into a full blown beetle.” I feel so violated. I don’t even have any cool weaponry to use to fight it.

Last night, I slept with my shoe under my pillow.

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Perfect Score on a DUI Test? Is it possible?

HT to CrazyDaisy for this hilarious video. Watch what happens as this guy in Texas who actually passes every test administered when he is suspected of drunk driving.This skit hails from Comedy Central – thanks to Penguins and LadyBugs for the second HT of the week!

Note: I am not an advocate of drinking and driving, so don’t even go there. This video, whether real or made up, is just hilarious to me. Sorry if it offends you.
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I don’t suffer from insanity, I enjoy every minute of it.

Have you ever felt like you were stuck in the spin cycle – just turning round and round and never really accomplishing very much but getting the ever-living daylights drained out of you? That pretty much sums up my week. Except I actually enjoyed it…so does that make me insane?

AJ had a Dr’s appt this past week and we learned he is mildly asthmatic, in addition to having ezcema (which we discovered at last week’s appt). So we left the Dr’s office armed with 3 new prescriptions. He received an inhaler, which has been an interesting experience. Have you ever tried getting a 5 year old to do anything slowly? Especially inhale? It is about as easy as trying to herd a bunch of cats into a bathtub full of water.

K is playing basketball in the Upward program this year and may I just say her participation in the program should be called “OhMyWord.” Now, don’t misunderstand me – she has athletic ability. She is, after all, my child. But she has never, ever played organized basketball and it’s painful, albeit humorous to watch her learn. Never one to quit, she has determination and the desire to win inside of her. Still. Sometimes that is just not enough, folks. Her team played their first game this weekend and my girl didn’t know the difference between offense and defense, bless her heart. She was playing defense at both baskets and there was one moment in the game where she actually got the ball and forgot if she was offense or defense and ended up throwing it in a teammate’s face just to rid herself of the pressure and possibly the impending embarrassment of making a basket at the wrong post. Sigh. Much of the rest of the weekend was spent going over the rules of the game with her. Something her coaches apparently overlooked, since all the other girls on her team are returning players.

And our new computer is wonderful. I have never had anything as nice as this – I can run more than one program at a time and it doesn’t freeze up. Miracle of miracles, I tell you. God is so good. He has even answered my prayers for patience. He has given me many opportunities this week to exercise my willingness to trust Him and remain calm while transferring files and programs from the old computer to the new one. Like when the old computer’s screen kept shutting off mid-transfer and wouldn’t come back on, no matter what I did and I had to power the tower down to reboot the screen — I remained calm and said to myself, “Self…remain calm.” See how easy that was? I just love it when God answers prayers. And I didn’t even pull out one hair, although I’m pretty sure a few gave up and turned loose and a few others turned grey in the process. (And do you spell grey “grey” or “gray”? It was always my understand both were acceptable, but everytime I spell it “grey”, spellcheck says it’s spelled incorrectly…go figure)

I did think about shedding a few tears when I realized I had inadvertently deleted a 30 page mini-book I had written in college for creative writing. It was some of my best work ever about growing up on a farm and country life. I was reformatting a disk and thought I had saved it to the desktop on the old computer (I even checked the folder where it was supposed to be stored) and just as I hit the “delete” key to remove it from the disk, I noticed the folder was gone. After a mild panic attack and trying to cancel the delete (which didn’t work), I gave up and just decided that I would rewrite it in the days to come. It was peppered with country witticisms my Aunt Sister (her real name was Leola Daniels, but she was called “Sister” because, well, she was the oldest sister of 4 boys and 5 girls on my dad’s side) and Uncle Steve used to say – things like “He’s so poor he’d have to borrow money to buy water to cry with” or “She’s so dull she couldn’t cut hot butter with a knife.” Thing is, the mini-book was written 15 years ago, before I had three children and when my brain still remembered things that happened longer than 5 minutes ago. I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to write that well again. I had honestly forgotten about it until I saw it and my mind exploded with the bloggy possibilities. “Oooh…I could pull a Pioneer Woman and post it in chapters” was but one of many that came to mind. Oh..okay, it was the only one that came to mind because really? my mind can only process one thought at a time, people. Especially when I’m working on the whole patience thing.

I still have not completed my new banner for 2008. A little behind the ’08 ball, yes I am. (get it? I crack myself up) I do have some ideas, one of which I borrowed from some scrapbooking paper I have – I freehanded a little birdy from it and I will probably use it somehow in the design. I am finding that if I come up with a graphic first, it’s easier for me to do the rest of the design. Here’s the sample I drew: What are your thoughts on using this bird? Is it too cartoonish?

And might I just add that I EL-OH-VE-EEE (as Rachel would say)having my Adobe on the same computer I use for the internet? No longer do I have to use one computer for the graphics and one for blogging because neither one would do both. Now I have one computer that I can do everything on. It’s tempting to stay here all day, but that would be insanity, right? (I might enjoy that, too!)

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$MART = Save money and reduce tension


A man and woman had been married for more than 60 years. They had shared everything. They had talked about everything. They had kept no secrets from each other except that the little old woman had a shoe box in the top of her closet that she had cautioned her husband never to open or ask her about.

For all of these years, he had never thought about the box, but one day the little old woman got sick and the doctor said she might not recover.

In trying to sort out their affairs, the little old man took down the shoe box and took it to his wife’s bedside.

She agreed that it was time that he should know what was in the box. When he opened it, he found two crocheted dolls and a stack of money totaling $95,000.

He asked her about the contents. “When we were to be married,” she said, ” my grandmother told me the secret of a happy marriage was to never argue. She told me
that if I ever got angry with you, I should just keep quiet and crochet a doll.”

The little old man was so moved; he had to fight back tears. Only two precious dolls were in the box. She had only been angry with him two times in all those years of living and loving. He almost burst with happiness.

“Honey,” he said, “that explains the doll, but what about all of this money? Where did it come from?”

“Oh,” she said, “that’s the money I made from selling all those dolls.”

So my question is this – how much money have you put aside?

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