The Bottletree

Your Front Door Tells the Tale

2010-10-30T21:15:00.004-05:00

I LOVE that door. It tells a tale about who lives there. And look at the house number. I'd wreck should I pass and catch sight of that entrance! Imagine that door without color, say pale grey, even black. The house would absolutely not have the character you see. Your front door is your calling card. It's what sets the tone of the exterior look of your home. May I beg you to please not be afraid of color? I fully agree that a stained wooden door can be just as beautiful, I just suggest a very interesting door if you're going with stain. By interesting I mean not your standard paneled wooden door. In the above pic, the symmetrical urns and ball boxwoods are the perfect accoutrement for this setting. The door is to that house what a fantastic pair of Italian-made Manolo Blahnik shoes are to a woman's outfit. The urns are the purse.

Ahhhhh. Just look at that color. Yes, the striped awning is also awesome and I agree not likely to be on your front door. But, I want you to look at the neutral taupe color of the building paired with black as an accent. This is an example of a way to make a very neutral home pop. Imagine that door a basic black. Makes me sad to think of it.=) Oh. And look at "her" purse! Don't you just love the tall pots and lanky trees?

I took this photo in Ocean Springs. I was drawn to the bold orange. Look at the eyebrow above the door. So inviting.

I'm throwing this in for a good measure. My interior kitchen door is exactly this color, solely from me finding this picture. I simply had to have it. Not only does color go on your front door, it can make you smile each time you enter a room.

I readily agree that you're not likely to find this door, architecture, nor plants in the South. But I still wanted to share. This is what I'd refer to as an interesting door. I can see it stained a lovely pecan. For me, it would be that perfect shade of pink you see.

Even the shed door deserves color. The barn, the greenhouse, the outhouse? Paint the door! It's one of the least expensive things you can do and get the most bang for your buck. Be conscious of your front door and it's surroundings. Remember, it tells a tale and sets the tone for your home.

The Bathroom, Your Private Spa

2010-10-20T22:39:00.002-05:00

I'll readily admit it. I've been CRAVING a claw footed tub for years. Now, another admission. I recently was given one! My friend called and had found one under a deck he was cleaning out. He said he somehow knew I'd want it. (The dude is psychic.)

Third admission. My very own claw footed tub is propped up out back under my shed. In my defense, I've only had it for a few months. It WILL grace my guest bath in coming days...well, maybe years. (I simply can't imagine giving up the Jacuzzi in the master.)

My first recollection of a claw footed beauty was in my uncle's home in McComb. He fully restored a 3 story mansion and the second floor bath had a tub that felt as big as a Mardi Gras float. It seemed to take light years for the thing to fill. But oh how I loved sinking into it. I distinctly remember my thought processes were that I could easily drown in water that deep.

The one above looks delish with the interior painted. You usually only see the exterior with color.

Just how amazing is that? Absolute sunshine. And notice the full length mirror propped up. I had trouble taking my eyes off the multi-ruffled shower curtain. Perfection, even to me, the non yellow lover.

She looks so relaxed. And I really want to smell what's in all those bottles.

Now, the meat of this post. You do not have to have a claw footed tub to have your very own "Calgontakemeaway" bathroom. But a few things are required. Bed, Bath, and Beyond is the place to start collecting. A bathtub tray is a must. Your pumice stone, peppermint foot scrub, and favorite body wash will set there nicely. Mine even has a book rest on it. A fat, fluffy towel to dry off with is a must. (Even if you have to hide that special one for yourself! You deserve it.) A terry cloth bath pillow will enhance your soak greatly. And above all, music. Iphones and Ipods make it readily available. First, the music is soothing, second it can drown out the sounds past the walls. Wait, I haven't even mentioned a candle! DO NOT get in your tub (clawfooted or not) without lighting a candle. Water, fire, music...the combination will soothe your soul.

A tufted ottoman, bamboo cabinet AND inviting art. Somehow I can only imagine a claw footed tub on the far right wall, just out of sight.

Our pace of life these days is stressful. We must make/take time to unwind. Start by making your bathroom your very own private spa.

Art Wall Joy

2010-09-27T17:42:00.003-05:00

A fabulous new trend is the art wall. Some absolutely have no rhyme or reason, others are perfect symmetry. But the fun part is, you make up your own rules.
Take the picture below. Do you see a theme? Matching frames? No. But it's beautiful and arresting.

(via apartment34.blogspot.com)
Now, this one is exquisite. And notice the black frame in the center area. I'd be delighted to walk up and peruse for a few minutes. My mind would be racing as to why these prints were picked. I'd imagine stories of dear Aunt Nellie who studied art in Paris leaving the owners a couple of signed ones.

(via thecitysage.blogspot.com )
Then you have the OCD person who demands symmetry for survival. Mr. or Ms. Pottery Barn. They love this wall. It's still the fresh new look of an art wall, yet so modern and crisp. Also themed in framing, only black or white frames.

(via potterybarn.com)
Which do you prefer? Moi? I'm the flea market, anything goes, out of the attic junker. I love the oddity of nothing matching. I have a piece I picked up at a Paris flea market paired with something my elderly friend painted. And my art wall is one of the favorite places in my home. It's a definite conversation starter.

(via apartment34.blogspot.com)
Go on. Do yourself and art wall. It'll make your guts smile.

The Paris of South America

2010-09-24T17:59:00.004-05:00

It's Buenos Aires, my friend.

Via

Obviously a cafe/coffee shop. Map on the wall? Oh yeah I'm a solid fan. My very own world map hangs in my bedroom. But I've never just studied a map of South America. My coolest trip "south" was to Venezuela. Maracaibo to be exact. The flight down was exciting to say the least. Some baseball team was returning from the World Series and from the looks of things they had won. I was on an airline that started with a Z and I'd never heard of it. I had a window seat just above the wing and it was the loudest flight of my existence. Propellers AND raucous baseball players are not a good mix. But oh the adventure. I found the country to have THE kindest people ever.

I seem to be all about travel these days. Come to think of it, when have I not been all about travel? And I'm hearing amazing things about the "Paris of South America". When they mentioned "tango in the streets" my eyebrows rose, this sly smile covered my face, and I was ready to hop a plane. Today. Even the word tango makes me smile. I envision a gorgeous slick-haired brunette with a circle skirt and a massive red flower low beside her bun. (Her bun of hair, people.) Let's not forget the black haired matador in the crisp white shirt saying T-A-N-G-O as they step it off.

I have dreamed of Argentina before. But I always thought should I get there it would be to some gorgeous ranch/spa situation where I rode horses. And there were exquisite cowboys. I never in my wildest dreams equated it with Paris?

In my quest of further torture, I discovered the area I'd hang out in is San Telmo. It's attractions include old churches (e.g. San Pedro Telmo), museums, antique stores and a semi-permanent antique fair (Feria de Antigüedades) in the main public square, Plaza Dorrego. Tango-related activities for both locals and tourists are in the area. Which translates to me "tango in the streets"! Here I go again repeating myself. Al fresco dining with live latino music and ah yes...those dancers.

Any mention of Paris always gets my undivided attention. (I sat at a table this very week in a planning session...where all the planning we did was how to get our buns back to Paris the quickest!) And all this mention of the South American Paris really piqued my interest.

I love Paris in the springtime. (The song rolls in my head.)

I'd love Buenos Aires in the springtime. (Still singing though the syllables don't fit.) Might not be Spring, but you can bet your bottom dollar I'll see it.

Speechless

2010-09-24T12:49:00.001-05:00

Bali...I.Wanna.Go.Now

2010-09-15T17:53:00.004-05:00

Hey loves'. As of late there has been so much hype surrounding Bali. And I do say hype in the positive of senses. The book Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert has created an absolute travel boom. That said, I must mention the movie starring the exquisite Ms. Julia Roberts, though I prefer mentioning Javier Bardem (quite possibly the most beautiful male walking this planet).

I want THAT exact guy from THAT exact picture bringing me THAT exact platter to an outdoor table overlooking crashing waves. I have an adventure planned for October, but it's stateside. I'm craving an adventure that takes me far across multiple oceans.

Every picture of Bali I see screams tranquility. (I'm laughing at myself for using the words scream and tranquil in the same sentence.) Somehow I know there's an open-air-thatched-roof-huge-down-covered-egyptian-cotton-sheeted-bed room for me to sleep in. I want to wear cotton caftans and slide my feet on tiled surfaces to hear the scrape of my corn husk thingy slippers. A hammock hangs nearby with a small bell attached to ring for service. "I'll have a pineapple/mango smoothie", I hear myself request of the wait staff. All this with the soothing sound of breaking waves. Sigh.

After a relaxing day of nothing (meaning a massage, pedicure, book reading, facial, then hair mask) I'd dress for dinner and head to the market.

THAT market with fat umbrellas and handmade baskets piled high. You knew I was going to say it. THAT man to lean on would complete this perfect picture in my mind. I'd stock up on spices to smuggle home and definitely swipe a menu.

What's life without a dream.

Today's dream? Bali.

No, I Didn't Go To Abu Dhabi

2010-08-28T18:03:00.004-05:00

Tyler and I took one of our jaunts (as we usually do when I visit Houston) and there they were, six camels kneeling on the lawn. This one seemed to notice us before we entered the roped area.

The camels are there for the IMAX opening of "Secrets of the Silk Road", along with an exhibit at the Museum of Natural Science. The animals absolutely have personality. The one in the above pic followed us with his eyes as we approached the visitors area. We commented on his seeming interest.

It's been a perfect day. One on one time with my first born. And I didn't even have to go to Abu Dhabi to realize a dream of consorting with a camel.=)

Shiny Floors Anyone?

2010-05-12T10:09:00.009-05:00

(via)

Until I found this picture, I had no idea that I LOVED shiny floors. This shot knocks my socks off. Look at those turquoise velvet chairs. Notice the softer version of turquoise on the wall reflected in the mirror? Or is that even a mirror? Ohhhhhh, I don't care. It's ALL flippin' gorgeous. Of course a hotel staff is what it would take to keep this spotless. And therein lies the answer. The Greenbriar.

No doubt, an extrovert imagined up this room.

So. I've decided. Oh yeah. I want shiny floors.

The Pool Boy

2010-04-18T21:19:00.003-05:00

Can I somehow get across my LOVE of this picture??!! Ye Gads, the art above the bed. I love large bold artwork. The pure white down comforter, always my personal choice. Juicing things up with the bold pillows? Stops my heart. The oval table at the foot of the bed with a hat on it? Help me, Jesus! And all at water's edge? I'd not survive just a walk thru of this gorgeous abode. But wait! Is that the lady of the house beside the pool? HA! And she's hugged up to...the pool boy?

I shall close my mouth...well actually stop referencing the below image right here.

Oh wow. My mind is ONE FAT JUMBLED mess from having so much to tell all of you.

Went to Nashville to see my two youngest ducklings. My son is now lead guitarist for a new Christian band named Ryan Larkins (pictures to follow). I rode along with 3 girlfriends headed to a college reunion, not my alma mater. The band my son is in was opening for the reunion. I LOVED watching him play. He left the next day headed to a gig in another state. Hence giving Tay and I some quality time together. We shopped and simply hung out. We do that best...and love it.

Got home and 24 hours later headed to Houston. Cousin Amanda rode along for company as I made my last trek before the wedding of my eldest son. It was a whirlwind trip but necessary. Details and pictures of the wedding are surely to follow in May.

Returned on Wednesday evening late only to start an event early on Thursday for some 500. My dear friend and I collaborate on all things of this magnitude. It was a roaring success, due to an army of professionals.

Which brings me to today. A tired day, but one I am trying to rest up to leave yet again Tuesday. I am off to the Big Apple for several days. Yes, I understand your jealousy.=) Blogs from NYC are promised.

I return to load up and head to Texas for the wedding!. Am I now forgiven for not blogging as of late?

Judy, the box made me cry. You shall hear from me when life slows a tad. I love you.

Ok, back to the pool boy. Do enjoy that pic.=)

Fabulous Faces

2010-03-31T12:39:00.002-05:00

Or should I say Fabulous Face With Fabulous Hat?

I want THAT hat for Easter. Those eyes or even lips would be ok too. Whatever. I'll take the nose.

Ok. I'll stop now.

God Reads My Blog

2010-03-31T10:08:00.002-05:00

Disclaimer: To understand this blog, you must have read the previous post.

When I drove up last evening, someone was pushing a lawnmower in my yard. A pile had been raked and pine cones were piled. God obviously reads my blog.

My neighbor is elderly and her sitter is a friend of my family. She was working away in my yard when I pulled into the drive. My nephew was pushing the lawnmower working along side his grandmother, the sitter from next door. (And no, she does not read my blog. I'm not sure she's even familiar with the internet.)

Now, in all honesty, I was tired. I'd had a full day and my initial reaction was knowledge I had to get out there and help them. After all they were in MY yard, and I simply couldn't just sit inside and watch. (Even though I was completely tuckered out!) I changed quickly into my "yard" clothes and joined in. Within minutes, I was going full steam. I pulled all the unwanteds from my beds, raked straw to the places it belonged, rearranged patio furniture, swept the deck and hung a new wreath on the greenhouse. When I did lay my head down for the night, my yard had taken a new lease on life. And of course, that extended to other areas of my life. I put those pesky out of place things in their place, washed some clothes, generally took my living space to a happier place.

Here is where the knowledge that God reads my blog flooded me. I'd posted that very morning how I needed something to jump start my lagging spirits. I just didn't recognize it...right in my front yard. And it initially irked me. I REALLY did not want to work in the yard. I ABSOLUTELY did not feel like washing clothes. But after reading the state of my mind in my blog, God decided to give me a little push.

And it worked.

Thanks God.

Floundering

2010-03-30T12:36:00.002-05:00

How's this for another "honesty" post? I'm floundering a tad. And this pic is an easy way to show you. Yes, the sun is shining. Yep, I want to ride my bicycle. And uh huh, Tallulah is sticking close.

I just can't seem to smile genuinely just yet.=)

Ever noticed how when the stars aren't all aligned, other things pile up? By this time of year, my yard is a wonder garden to browse around in. (I guiltily admit I've not strawed a single bed yet, though there are gorgeous green shoots everywhere.) There is pine straw strewn all over my patio area. I didn't make my bed yesterday for heaven's sake! And OF COURSE someone came by and brought a friend and OF COURSE has bragged and bragged on my house and OF COURSE begged me to show them around.

Yet, here I sit in the coffee shop blogging about how I can't get it together. And I'm looking out the window at the most gorgeous day you could ever order directly from heaven. Why can't I simply walk to the washing machine and wash those clothes? What is my hold up on driving to the nursery, buying the straw and making my yard look as it's expected? Why can't I put that pile of stuff in the attic as it should have been done long ago?

No answer in sight. I only hope to right whatever this wrong is in my head and get on the ball.

You're welcomed to give me a shove, or some advice. Just be nice. I might cry.=)

The Promised Honesty

2010-03-16T15:55:00.006-05:00

I promised honesty. Here you have it!

I have stayed on track with my eating!
I walked/jogged this morning my full 2.5 miles! (I did skip Monday and Tuesday, simply couldn't make it happen.)
All veggies and fruit. No bread or pasta. Or sugar.

Ummmmm. One ittle bitty slip up. I ate 5 m&ms. Pink and red ones from Valentine's Day. All remaining were thrown away.

The red button has my hand on it, it's half way pressed. I'm almost there. Feeling so much better about it. My phone started beeping with texts at an ungodly hour. I rolled over and pushed up my sleep mask for a peek at it. My dearest darling daughter (whose waking hour schedule is totally messed up from being in Ireland for 10 days) started texting me at 6:40 AM. Wakey Wakey-Eggs and Bakey!! I received a series of approximately 25 texts with instructions. Wake up! Put on your tennis shoes! Put on your ipod armband! Wedding May 1st! Skinny! Skinny!

Needless to say, she cracked me up. BUT, she did inspire me.

What inspires you? Got a suggestion for help with staying on track? I'd love to hear from all of you.

Marshmallow Willpower

2010-03-14T19:10:00.002-05:00

Oh, The Temptation from Steve V on Vimeo.

The New Yorker ran a great story about self control. A professor placed children in a room, gave them a marshmallow with instructions to not eat it. And if they could wait until the professor returned they could have a second one. I so enjoyed the hilarious video filmed testing the theory.

I SO loved it.

Tea Towel Anyone?

2010-03-14T18:19:00.000-05:00

I would SO hang this on my stove!

Houston, We Have A Problem

2010-03-13T10:47:00.003-06:00

DISCLAIMER: When I come back tomorrow and read this, I'm going to be sorry I posted it. I'm in a blue funk and am sure to reveal details that are not for public knowledge. This post is aimed directly at myself...with a loaded, sawed-off shotgun. (That being my weapon of choice because it's the only one that I can think of to inflict extreme damage! After all I do live in south Mississippi.)

I'm desperately searching for that button. The imaginary bright red one in my head that I somehow PUSHED last July. How well I remember how easy it seemed. Were the stars aligned? Were all my neurons, electrons and protons firing in some perfect, specific order? Was it a book I read? Did I develop my fascination with Dr. Oz and he spurred me on? Did my wisdom or the health factor kick in?

I've no answer to any of the above asked questions. I only know they are burning a hole in my psyche and I NEED, WANT, am DESPERATE to figure it out.

You couldn't have paid me to touch a dessert. I was responsible for 4 major events that week of July. There were succulent, homemade desserts piled up. I didn't touch a crumb of bread. I wouldn't dream of a grain of rice crossing my lips. I was ON TRACK. I allowed myself all the fruit I could shovel in. Any amount of vegetables (honestly didn't matter how they were cooked) were never too many. And limited portions of protein. My nurse sister later informed me I was basically doing the South Beach Diet.

And I was getting up 6ish and walk/jogging no less than 5 days a week. You couldn't have paid me to consume something "bad". I was tracking everything that entered my mouth on my iphone. And it worked. I lost 28 pounds by November.

I live with Tallulah (my cat), no humans. Meaning I rarely cook unless entertaining. I learned to dine anywhere and stay RIGHT ON TRACK. People, it's what goes into our mouths. Yes, there are other factors that regulate our weight. But when it comes right down to it, it's how many times we bend those elbows!!! I learned to SNACK legally. McDonald's has a perfect lo-fat ice cream cone, 140 calories, or the yogurt parfait. Wendy's Junior frosty? About the same calorie count. I kept trail mix in my car (and quickly learned a handful with dried fruit in it absolutely CURBS hunger.) Mexican restaurant? Order the grilled veggies and a bit of grilled chicken. Fine dining? Have grilled fish and steamed veggies. Hungry while driving? Chili from Wendy's or salad from McDonalds. Cook every night? Veggies. Eat them first and as many as you can. Then add some protein.

I'm not saying this will work perfectly for you. But it did for me. Pounds melted away. I would talk to myself during my morning walk. Why would I want to kill the effects of my walk with some high calorie sweet? I'd have to walk twice the length to compensate. My mantra was NOTHING TASTES AS GOOD AS BEING THIN FEELS. Having someone say, "Wow, you have really lost!" boosted my confidence further. One dear friend even went so far as to say, "Stop now T. You're going to blow away." (Ummm, that would have to be a force worse than Katrina but I LOVED hearing it.=)

(My daughter Tayler and I did this most of this together. She stayed on track and hit a major goal. She looks amazing. PROUD does not begin to explain.)

NOW, I shall begin all my excuses. Thanksgiving came and I persevered. I did have some dessert, thinking it wouldn't be hard to just maintain. I really did ok. Then came the rain and cold. I missed several days walking because of rain. Then didn't want to get sick because our church production required me singing. And the downhill descent began. Christmas was a time of vacillating back and forth from "just have one Martha Washington" to "I simply can't pass up these dumplings". And it rained more. And got colder than I ever remember in MS.

I'm up 5# from my original 28# loss. (That's the info I'll regret sharing.) Houston, we have a problem. I CAN'T SEEM TO STOP.
3 days of last week were spent seeing just what all I could find to eat. My eyes scanned the horizon just LOOKING for a drive-thru that may interest me. I had Krispy Kreme doughnuts for God's sake. I ate as much pasta as I could without being violently ill. Rice? Give me a shovel. Someone please explain this to me??!! My son marries in mere weeks. You'd think of all the times in my life this would be tantamount? Why can't I get ahold of myself? Where'd that woman who was so proud of making her heart healthy go? I REALLY wanted to have 35# off for the wedding. At this rate, only a very sharp chef's knife could accomplish that goal.

OK, OK, OK. I walked/jogged this morning. And I talked to myself. It felt really good. The breeze was perfection. I changed shirts 4 times just trying to find my "inspiring" one. I didn't quite make the early walk, more a mid-morning one.

Hey. It's a start. Somehow, I've got to find that red button. Today I vow to log everything that enters my pie hole. ( I sincerely hate that vernacular but I'm sincerely overwrought so please allow me.) Next week, I will arise early for my morning sprint. I am returning to my fruit, veggies, limited protein plan. It worked before. Lord Jesus help me to see it working again, and SOON.

I never planned on this blog being a forum about weight loss, but if that's what it takes, so be it. Shall I let you know how I'm faring? I promise complete and total honesty to you. Thank you for your patience with my impatience (with myself). Here's hoping that sharing this with you with help me PUSH THAT BUTTON AGAIN.

I'm off to find some lunch. Legal lunch that is.

Quotable Quotes

2010-03-10T11:17:00.001-06:00

Fabulous Faces

2010-03-10T10:47:00.002-06:00

Never has there been an 80-something year old man as elegantly beautiful. The luck of the stars was with me recently as I was able to see him in concert at the Beau Rivage. I've obsessed (for lack of better word) over this gentleman for as long as I can remember. And to be frank, was terrified he would pass away before I got to see him in person. Whew!

We arrived only to find 4 people from our fair city also sitting on our row. We live 2 hours North, but the fact that it was people who had played important roles in helping shape the artistic lives of my children made it special. The middle school and high school band directors, along with the producer/director of our yearly high school musical all sat close.

Tony Bennett. Need I say more?

A Journey

2010-03-10T10:05:00.004-06:00

If you are familiar with me via FB, twitter, Woodlawn Church, lunch partner, or a cousin, you are aware my daughter is in Ireland. How sweet it is for your child to love and do the things you've aspired to all your life.

The above video made my heart hurt. I'm ready for a new journey. I want to pack my bags and go. My favorite days on a journey are those when there are no plans. The times when I am wondering and absorbing the culture of another place, and more often than not another "time".

Watch (go full screen by all means) and let your mind wander to your next...journey.

Fabulous Faces

2010-03-07T00:24:00.003-06:00

I love gloves, scarves, sweaters, boots (oh Lord I LOVE boots), tights, fur stoles, fur collared coats, velvet, hats, outdoor firepits, snow...you get the picture.

But I'm drowning in desire for Spring. Two birds have been killed with one stone on this blog post. Fabulous Faces and to-die-for Spring attire.

The most debonair Chuck Bass and the prissy Blair Waldorf epitomize my idea of Spring in the above image. I want floaty georgette, straw hats, bathing suits, convertible rides, linen shifts, sexy sandals and seer sucker suits on men. And I CAN'T WAIT! I want to entertain out back with the sun toasting me. I want frozen drinks with pineapple garnish. I want blooming anything anywhere!

Spring, oh Spring, you have teased me unmercifully for the last two days. Please come and stay awhile...

Fabulous Faces

2010-02-23T21:51:00.003-06:00

The man has on an ascot. The Sartorialist would have a field day. This, in all fairness, cannot be billed as just a "Fabulous Face". Fabulous attire, fabulous hair, fabulous shoes, purely...fabulous. Classic perfection. And he and his attire would be perfect on this very day some what, 40-50 years later?

Arrrggghhh...fabulous.

Been There...Wanna Go There

2010-02-23T20:34:00.006-06:00

For lack of reason, I'm blaming it on the weather. I COULD walk out of my house (with a mere 20 minutes warning to pack) and just GO. Of course the stars would all have to align and money would have to bloom on my redbud out back.

I've ridden a gondola in Venice, Italy under this bridge:

>

...so I truly can't complain. But I've never walked on the Great Wall of China:

>

...which is a dream. I've hung out in the markets of Seoul, Korea:

...and loved shopping the market Iteawon. But I long to ride the Orient Express for endless days:

...having breakfast as the Alps go by. I've given Wrigley's gum to children in the Togo, Africa bush:

...and that gives me some perspective.

This blog has evolved into...well, it's tamped my wanderlust for now.

But I'm carrying my passport on my person just in case someone says, "Wanna go to...?"

Bookcases

2010-02-22T08:44:00.003-06:00

They are a requirement for MY perfect room. I have on many occasions given absolute life to a room with "doing the bookcases". There is a site where you can buy leather books by the foot. Meaning you give them measurements of how much space you need to fill, the colors you prefer, and they ship you books. Me, I hit the local thrift stores and buy them in bulk for clients. Remove the tattered dust jackets and reveal lovely leather bound volumes. The arrival of the internet has made gorgeous sets of encyclopedias readily and inexpensively available.

Nothing cozies up a room and says "we live here" like books. In a perfect world, I'd add bookcases to my living room and a wall of them in my dining room. (Books would certainly share space with beautiful serving pieces in the dining room.)

Arrgghhh. This is MY perfect room. Bookcases (with books and tchotchkes), pink, a chaise lounge, bust, oil, fireplace and fresh flowers. Dang, I'm such a girlie girl. I LOVE the wallpapered back in the bookcases. (The only thing missing here is a chandelier and I'm just positive it's simply out of view!)

I'm amazed at how many times I have to inquire about books when working in a client's home. The answer is more often than not, "We have plenty. They are inside these cabinets." Get up now and go dig them out. Calling all books! Put your lamps on them. Fill a tray with them. Have some on each table surface in the room. By all means, do not leave them in the cabinet.

Fill up your bookcases.

Images via here

Dreamin'..

2010-02-17T21:40:00.006-06:00

It's no secret I love pink. Hot pink? Whew. I've been asked what my dream kitchen would be. I think the above comes VERY close. I'm a chandelier girl. I love natural blinds. I love wooden flooring. I love glass front cabinets. I love stainless steel. I love butcher block on an island.

The thing I'd change? The countertops (AND the hardware AND the corbels). I'm not fond of the black along with the hot pink. What would I use instead? I honestly don't have an answer for that. I've seen concrete counters I loved, and grey would go grandly with the hot pink.

And since I'm in dream mode, I require this view from those double windows.

photos via here

Fabulous Faces

2010-02-15T22:56:00.003-06:00

Done. I'm officially admitting to having a MAJOR crush on him. Yup. Gordon Ramsey. Restaurateur Extraordinaire. 3 Michelin stars simultaneously.

I WILL visit his "Gordon Ramsey At The London" in NYC. (With a deep desire to lay eyes on him.) And "Maze by Gordon Ramsey" in Cape Town. Africa, that is. The likelihood of either materializing is non-existent.

Please allow me to dream.

Food Network Needs Toyia

2010-02-15T22:39:00.001-06:00

My words were "I'm hungry. I think I want an egg sandwich." My baby sister left the room. She returned in a moment asking, "Does it have to be an egg sandwich?" I instantly answered "Not at all. Anything you find in there you are welcomed to fix." (Like my Southern slang?)

I heard pots and pans clanging and didn't give it another thought. In a matter of minutes, in she walked with 2 brimming plates. From a scarcely stocked kitchen...mine, she produced amazing results.

I'm told there is a show on Food Network where a chef knocks on your door and prepares a gourmet meal from whatever you have in your kitchen. She'd be a hit on that show.

She made salmon croquettes (from a can of salmon, egg, cornmeal, brown sugar) , roasted garlic potatoes, and edamame with sea salt. We dined sumptuously.

Food Network needs Toy.

The Hamptons, in Mississippi

2010-02-12T20:06:00.004-06:00

When you're told it's going to snow, and you live in south Mississippi as I do, you just sorta smile and give a nonchalant "uh huh". As was the case yesterday evening. I was pleasantly surprised to see the flakes falling around midnight. The streetlight in front of my house provides perfect illumination. When I did retire for the evening, the deck just off my master bedroom was white. I hated that the snow decided to arrive during the night, and figured there would be some remnants when I awoke.

Six am brought heavy dripping sounds, and I simply didn't want to get up. I was hearing what I thought was the snow melting from my roof. I pulled my sleep mask on, and snuggled back in. Three hours later when I rolled over with that "ahhh, I've slept good it's time to get up I'm rested" feeling, I was astounded. Fat, fluffy flakes were still falling, it was a winter wonderland.

...a Mississippi snowgirl with camillias for eyes...

Any of you Yankees that are reading this HAVE to give me a break. I understand you get snow, many feet of it. Now I'm asking you to understand, we DON'T. Yes, we had a smattering last December, but nothing like we saw today. I donned my down coat, warm boots, gloves, hat and scarf and took off walking, twirling in the middle of the road.

My neighbor and dear friend, Fran Ginn invited me in for coffee and warm cinnamon rolls. And it was the start of one of those do-over days. One I wish I could miraculously just do over. Several sets of neighbors came by within minutes. The world was waking up and the falling snow had everyone out and moving. We repeatedly gravitated to a window to stare at the falling snow. I stayed a couple hours and as I was leaving, Fran invited me back for lunch.

I returned to a Barefoot Contessa setting smack dab in the middle of "the Hamptons" for lunch. Of course it all took place right here in lil' ole Columbia, in Fran's kitchen. Fran made Chicken and Rice soup while everyone else pitched in just like on Barefoot Contessa when she has "friends" for lunch. I chopped cilantro. Someone else sliced avacado. The table was set, cheese sliced, bread toasted, glasses filled with ice, then we sat down.

A table of six, all varied and different, yet such a comfortable air. We discussed how the neighborhood needs this sort of comraderie, and more often. We all laughed at our imagined "Hamptons" setting. And we marveled at the snow.

Lunch was an impromtu affair, soup quickly made, invites casually done. Yet made such an impression. Oh, and the snow. Just as snow in Mississippi is surreal, so is being in the Hamptons. Hey, give us a break.

We had snow. And "the Hamptons"...all in one day.

The Suit

2010-02-10T15:32:00.004-06:00

Mr. Hamm and the Barcelona Chair are exquisite...

Years ago I read an article in my son's GQ concerning males wearing suits. To make a long story short, the gist of the entire story was that a man wearing a suit/sports coat gets different/better treatment. The author had scoffed at his Dad for years, the wearer of a suit, daily. I don't recall if it was a bet, or if GQ hired him for the story. He was to wear a suit every day for one month (save weekends) to determine how he was perceived and if he did get differential treatment. He kept a daily journal of each and every place he went. He'd always been the dressed down one, never losing the t-shirt and chinos after college. And had forever proclaimed he'd never be in a job situation that required him to dress in a "monkey suit" daily.

He was uncomfortable at first. But without fail, he was treated with utmost respect. He told of fast food places, fine dining, even department stores where he was always given a second glance. And were he perusing a menu board or waiting in line, he was without fail called upon first. The tone of voice with which he was addressed was respect.

Within the first week he became completely comfortable and fell in love with "the suit".

As did I. The man who walks into the restaurant at lunch. The guy grabbing breakfast. The one pumping fuel. If they have on a suit they get a second glance. And always a third. Funny how I've even driven around behind the car to read the tag. Just checking to see if the county is local.

Don't go getting all judgemental on me. It's the truth. A suit demands a second look as well as respect. Yes I am aware we live in a much more relaxed society. And I'm aware suits are not required in many situations. But if there is a question, or likelihood one would be correct, wear it.

Oh, and for a million more points, wear the cuff links too.

Tallulah

2010-02-10T10:14:00.003-06:00

A car pulled up to the curb Christmas Day. I was tersely commanded, "Don't look!". Tallulah was being delivered, my gift from my daughter Tayler. Lulah, as she's now known, was a quivering mass. The hype surrounding her arrival was momentous. I later learned she had been rescued from behind Guadalajara, a local Mexican restaurant. Supposedly her Mother still lives there.

The day I put the hot-pink-diamond-collar-with-the-bell around her neck would have won me $10,000.00 on America's Funniest Home Videos. Had I owned a camcorder. She flipped, pawed, and climbed for two solid hours. An audition to Cirque de Soleil would have been a shoo-in. It was priceless. Tears poured I laughed so hard.

Each time I arrive home, she's peering out the French door. There is a large, circular, green, shag rug 3 feet inside the back door. She prisses to the rug and promptly rolls onto her back, legs into the air, for me to scratch her belly. She needs me.

6 am-ish, I shot straight up in bed at the crashing sound, and immediate pouring water. The above two dozen roses in the goldfish vase had been knocked over. And it was sitting on the vanity at the foot of my bed. Yes, water was pouring down the foot of my bed with a slight puddle on the blanket across the foot. (The blanket had Scotchguard as I easily swiped the water away. Oh, and the car is a dream I hope to realize one day, only in convertible form.) I righted the vase, the accident not being her fault totally. It was top heavy.

She's become an important part of my world. I can't imagine coming home and her not being here. Me not getting to scratch that sweet little belly.

She needs me.

I'm SO Ready For Spring

2010-02-09T23:14:00.008-06:00

I'm an eternal optimist. And I'm having issues staying "up". The weather is killing me. If it's not raining, it's snowing OR in the 20's Farenheit. And I'm in Mississippi for God's sake!

I was on a roll. Walking every day and doing well watching what I ate. Yes, I realize this sounds like a cop-out, but it's NOT. It's too COLD to walk. And when I don't walk, I cheat. And don't give me this "awww...you have no idea what cold really is" speech. I could care less. I have warm Southern blood. I want warmth.

I'm SO ready for Spring. I want to garden. I want green shoots coming up. Never before has everything been so brown. (Another reason my walks are curtailed. My brown world is uninspiring these days.) And it's to be in the low 20's and 30's nightly for the entire next week. Not to mention snow predictions for Thursday and Friday.

The above pictures are of the garden featured in the blockbuster "It's Complicated". Oh yeah, I'm having a couple of raised beds this year. And I want a gravel walkway between. I have a lovely yard that shows off my hard work. I've walked it's dead, brown glory several times recently determining just where to place these new beds. They will contain those gorgeous tomato stakes too. No chintzy metal ones for me this year!

Until then, I'll continue wearing coats, hats, scarves and gloves. And dreaming. And cheating. And when Spring DOES get here, I'll post pictures of my raised beds. With fancy tomato stakes. Hopefully with green shoots everywhere.

Oh, and I'd be thrilled to have Mr. Baldwin too.

Again, I'm SO ready for Spring.

Fabulous Faces

2010-02-08T14:57:00.002-06:00

I've decided I'm allowed to be cheesy if I so choose (cheesy being a word that always reminds me of my Italian pen pal to whom I once had to give the definition). So here goes, a new series of random posts called Fabulous Faces. And I also refuse to apologize if the posts heavily lean to the male species. Oh myyyyy...

Jon Hamm...leaves me speechless.

Eco-Friendly? Let's Just Try.

2010-02-03T13:37:00.005-06:00

I stopped in my tracks and stared. The shopping cart was FULL. Overflowing. With bright kelly green reusable bags. In Columbia, Mississippi. In Wal-Mart. I was blown away. And convicted.

We seem to be inundated with information as of late about being "green". I'm aware, but for the most part it goes in the left ear and out the right. It feels expensive. i.e. "buying a green car". Even switching to eco friendly cleaning products takes time, effort and money. But we CAN do small things that have a massive impact.

According to the World Watch Institute, Americans throw away 100 BILLION PLASTICS BAGS PER YEAR. And according to EarthShare members of the Environmental Defense Fund (EDF), one plastic bag can take up to 1,000 YEARS to decompose.

In the past decade, governments around the globe have underscored the need to cut plastic bag usage:
San Francisco. In 2007, San Francisco became the first U.S. city to outlaw plastic grocery bags.
New York City. In 2008, New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg took aim at plastic bags, proposing a plan that requires stores to charge six cents per plastic bag used. All designed to reduce the use of plastic bags and increase the use of their reusable counterparts.
Ireland. In March 2002, Ireland instituted a tax of 15 cents per plastic bag, which has led to more than a 90 percent reduction in overall usage.
Africa. In 2007, Africa made a bold move, initiating a continent-wide ban on plastic bags, encouraging the use of reusable bags such as those made from burlap.
China. In 2008, the Chinese government made plans to ban free plastic bags in order to cut down on litter and pollution. The ban could also save the country as much as 37 million barrels of oil, used to produce the bags.

Wow. Africa is ahead of us in this?

Retailers have taken a stand also:
Ikea. In 2007, the home furnishings retailer began charging five cents per plastic bag to reduce consumption and encourage shoppers to use reusable bags. Proceeds from the plastic bags—estimated at $7 million—will be donated to EarthShare member, American Forests.
Target. Target recently partnered with popular magazines like People, to encourage shoppers to mail in their plastic Target bags in an effort to recycle them into reusable totes. Send your bags in before November 30, 2008 and receive a free Target Retote. (Bags are also available for sale.)
Wal-Mart. In 2008, Wal-Mart partnered with the EDF to cut down plastic bag usage by one-third by 2013. Through its reuse and recycling efforts, Wal-Mart expects to eliminate more than 135 million pounds of plastic waste globally.
Whole Foods. In early 2008 the organic food retailer stopped using plastic bags, encouraging shoppers to use reusable totes.

Last weekend while in Houston I purchased my reusable shopping bags. (They range from $.99-1.99.) I have right at 1,000,000 plastic Wal-Mart bags under my kitchen sink. And yes, I do reuse them. But from now on, I'm doing the reusable tote thing. I'm simply going to put them all into one tote and take them in the store with me. I'll look really cool, AND make God smile.

I'm just sure that He likes me helping keep His lovely creation eco-friendly. 1 Corinthians says "the Earth is the Lords...". Somehow I think He's offended at plastic bags lying around on His exquisite creation for 1,000 years...I can easily help change that.

Agreed?

Tyler. My son.

2010-01-30T08:53:00.005-06:00

It's his birthday weekend. Which means I'm in Houston. Christmas Day he knelt down in front of me, his siblings, her Mother and siblings and proposed to Jennifer Ann Cobbs, pretty as you please. My perfectly coiffed living room was the perfect setting. No dry eyes in the room. Tears of immense joy.

Tyler. MY eldest son.

This weekend we are celebrating two fold. His birthday and visiting the venues for upcoming nuptials.

We left his downtown, 17th floor loft (another whole post!) early this morning and I spotted a homeless man. The weather is a cool 33 degrees and I cringed and commented. I learned that the bench he occupied "belonged" to him. Tyler then nonchalantly mentioned that he called the paramedics last time he talked with him. His legs were extremely swollen. The man refused medical care. A couple days later Tyler called the paramedics yet again. He later learned they drained some 30-40 pounds of fluid from his legs alone. Tyler and his dear friend Alex purchased him a small butane operated heater. A lady recently brought this gentleman and his friend on the opposite side of the street (who occupies another bench) Eddie Bauer sleeping bags. I am heartened to know he's not cold. We discussed both homeless men as we drove to Tyler's office. He told me of recently having an epiphany while walking thru the church. He smelled hairspray, and somehow his chain of thought went to hairspray/homeless. He referred to how we need the smell of homeless as much as hairspray in our churches.

Tyler. My son.

Breakfast out is my big thing and we have plans. I'm penning this as he finishes his duties. Today we'll hang out, we have much on our agenda. After Jen gets off work, we have a list. I'm meeting aunts, perusing the wedding menu, visiting the venues, and sketching away! Then we'll have dinner at Cousin Rhonda's. FULL day.

But I'll be with Tyler...all day. I absorb him. I watch and listen. I hold his arm when we walk. I stare at him across the dining table. I try and memorize as much of him as I can as it will be another few weeks before I see him again.

Gotta go. We're going to breakfast. So I can stare at...

Tyler. My son.

The Flying Fish

2010-01-29T19:16:00.003-06:00

I had fish tacos once in my life. On Big Beach in Maui. LOVED them. So imagine my surprise at finding fish tacos I liked even MORE in Little Rock, Arkansas. Maybe my memory has dimmed (I assure you this has NOTHING to do with the wisdom of my years). I only know that I'm definite in the fact that the absolute best fish tacos anywhere are at the Flying Fish, downtown lil' ole Little Rock. There are hundreds of "billy bass" hanging on the adoption wall. You take in your singing fish and your name is written under it with the date of adoption. It's priceless. This is not to even mention the "Liars Wall" where you can post pictures of your fish. I'm rambling along and I'm really here to tell you about the tacos!

A slab of grilled tilapia is placed in a crunchy taco shell, topped with a delish coleslaw, then some sort of sauce. Ye Gads. There are three to an order. And though I was stuffed at two, I simply couldn't stop. Then my dear cousin Nathan asked if I got a "shrimp cocktail"? He promptly ordered me one. A fat margarita glass was set in front of me with a tomato looking soup in it. Wow. It had shrimp, pico de gallo, and avacados floating around. I absolutely could have slugged it down like raspberry lemonade!

Yep, I'm going back to Little Rock. The Clinton library just begged to be perused. I loved the river winding thru. It's all quaint and stuff. And I met a new cousin Amanda (Nathan's wife) who was infinitely precious.

My reason for being there made me raw. My cousins Tonisa, Ken and Tana along with their spouses and dear children lost "Mimi". Aunt Margie was here a very short month after being told she had cancer. God was merciful.

There were smiles along with the tears. Somehow God always places things that soothe us in our paths, especially when the path is rough. Flying Fish made me smile.

Losing Aunt Margie cut my soul.

1,000,000 Lines

2010-01-29T17:53:00.004-06:00

Tyler got engaged. On his knee smack in the middle of my living room. Oh my heart.
Aunt Pipete passed.
Precious Aunt Margie passed.
Tayler is going to Ireland. AND doing international studies this summer in France.
Tyren got a sweet little convertible.
I have desperate wanderlust (and am jealous of my Tay for her European jaunts this year.:)
I've come to the conclusion I do not have the Yankee gene that helps a human acclimate the cold.
My yard is desolate. Never before have things been this dead. Hopefully perennials will be perennials.
Tay and Tyren were home for almost a month during the holidays so I had to endure empty nest withdrawals all over.
Tyler's beloved, Jen, brought her mother and two sisters with her for Christmas. It was a delight.
I have a new housemate, Tallulah, a kitten that rolls onto her back for a belly scratching every single time I come home.
Charleigh is officially a choir member at Woodlawn.
Chandler is so grown up looking it's scary.
Last Christmas was the most laid back and enjoyable in many years.
My children and I missed going to the nursing home to see Pipete on Christmas Day.
I sincerely want to blog more. (Compliments warm my heart and I recently received 3 sincere nudges to write more often.)
Tyren and Tay uploaded a video to YouTube. Search "Swanner". More. Please.
Fell in love with downtown Little Rock. WILL return.
Watched a Saints game with Uncle Shelby and Aunt Edie. Memories.
Tayler is really getting skinny.:)
SO connected with my cousins, Nathan and Amanda.
My friend Forrest Dantin passed suddenly. Made me more aware to enjoy my days.
Tayler got a lead in her school musical.
Wanted to somehow rock Tonisa, Ken and Tana...like a Mother would do, in a rocking chair.
Tyler got published in Relevant magazine.
My kindred spirit Fran spent Christmas in France.
Tyren is getting all creative in music with his friend. Find it on Facebook.
Saw Aunt Naomi and Regina and found out we are having a family reunion again in July.
My fountain kept 2 inches of ice in it for a week during our frozen tundra span.

I honestly think I could share 1,000,000 lines of happenings and not be done. So I just typed as they came to mind. I could pick any single afore line and write an entire blog on it. And one day I just may pick from this very list. But for now, allow me to post these random lines. My mind is willy nilly. Emotional and mental stress (nothing to worry over me for:) have my creative flow choked. Well, actually not my flow, but whatever force that makes me put fingers to keyboard is stifled. I have a list in "notes" on my iphone that are blog subjects. It's not like I don't have subject matter. I just don't have the wherewithall to type it. Am I possibly breaking the ties that bind? I guess we will see. I am not going to promise anything. I've broken them in the past.

Just know as I type this I plan to meet you here. Again. Soon.

Believe

2009-12-14T19:03:00.003-06:00

Here I sit in Believe rehearsal. Woodlawn Church has a Christmas service each year that is looked forward to by many. This year we are doing a full scale production.

I have wept at every single rehearsal. The story is a 21st century adaptation of the life of Mary. I can't tell you more. I'd be flogged .
December 20 at 6 pm is the night of our production. As Pastor Mitch says regularly, "If you live within 100 miles of here, this is where you belong!"

If possible, make a point to be there. You will NOT be disappointed. And you will...Believe.

Thankful

2009-10-06T15:27:00.003-05:00

It has rained enough days to carry one of these and never repeat. I like it though cause this time of year rain means cool is coming. Well, sometimes it does. I seriously would love to have this many umbrellas. I have a porcelain stand at my front door with about half a dozen. I'm working on my collection.=)

My youngest is on his way home as I type. My middle child arrives Friday. In mine and their lifetimes, this is the longest I've gone without seeing one of my three offspring. Now if I could just do the Dr. Spock thing and teleport my eldest home, the world would be perfect. I must settle for time with the two youngest for now. I have readied my home for company. I simply love to entertain, whether it be my children or guests. Flowers bedside, fresh towels stacked, candles in place, fresh baked goods, and my Fall scarecrows and pumpkins out.

My next thought process is of my dear friends the Ragsdales in Nashville. I grew up with the 3 Ragsdale children, and adore their mother, Boots. I've always wanted my children to love me as those 3 do their Mother. The youngest, Josh has been found with leukemia. As my son drives home, I try to imagine the terror of "knowing". My heart cries out and I desperately pray that God will heal Josh. Strength is my next prayer, for both Josh's parents and siblings.

Why does it take something of this magnitude to make me thankful for the health of my children and I? How we take that for granted.

Say the name of Joshua Ragsdale in prayer. And then say a prayer of thanks.

Sheer Happiness

2009-09-14T09:30:00.002-05:00

I have a niggling sense that someone mentioned this to me months ago, but I never watched it. I deeply laughed and then tears flowed. I simply don't doubt that this will be an eternally happy couple. Why? The fertile imaginations, the "I am happy and don't care if you think I'm nuts" attitude.

Simply put, we all need this sort of abandonment ever so often.

Go ahead. Laugh at and with them, then cry if need be.

Smiles Anyone?

2009-08-10T22:56:00.003-05:00

Those are my tears. Blue today, school started and I no longer have children school age. They are grown and for now 2 of the 3 are living in different states. In Nashville last week I spent sporadic time with all three. Leaving them alwaysalwaysalways makes me blue.

So, I surfed blogs for inspiration, happiness. Foolish I know, but finding pictures that are awe-inspiring help.

I want to drive this car to this picnic. I picture my 3 and Jen there with me. We all have new books we are dying to crack the covers on. I have plenty blankets and pillows for us to stretch out on.

Silly I know. Just looking for smiles. Think that car and a picnic will help?

"Teachings"

2009-08-01T20:13:00.003-05:00

It is learned from your Mother. It can be taught, but is intensely effective for a lifetime if learned at a young age. It is constant loving reminders, a continual probing of what is good and the right thing to do.

I recently had a house guest who definitely had a “teaching” Mother. When she arrived and was introduced she handed me a lovely basket. It included a large bag of Starbucks coffee, English Breakfast tea bags, and homemade truffles. There was black sheer fabric draped beautifully with large faux diamonds sprinkled around. Saying the least, it was exquisite. Again saying the least, I was duly impressed. My guest was a lovely, very young, 20ish year old lady.

During her stay, I rarely knew she was there, save spending time with her. She was conscious of keeping her things in order, bedroom and bath. (I have a luggage stand I always provide. Her things were all place neatly on and around it.) I cooked dinner and she immediately offered to help then began clearing the table when we finished. She never left the kitchen until all was back in perfect order.

I enjoyed her stay. Yes, I loved the gift basket. But no, that is not why she impressed me so. It was her teaching. Her Mother had absolutely taught her well.

The next person that comes to mind is a 9 year old. He is infinitely kind.

I slammed the door of my car with the side door of the church in sight. Choir practice had already begun and we simultaneously began rushing across the parking lot. He was at a full run, me a walk. He beat me to the door and when he swung it open, I could see inside that the elevator door was being held. He looked back and made a split second decision. His head swung back and forth twice in just a few seconds. His decision was whether to continue running inside to catch the elevator or hold the door for the lady approaching. Be aware, I still had a good ways to go. He paused, and held the door. He waited patiently while I finished walking up. I couldn’t help but smile. He wanted to run inside and catch the elevator, but the positive influences in his life, his “teachings” won. I was so proud. And he is a mere 9 years old. I applaud his Mother and Father. If he’s got it at 9, it will only be enforced and will carry through his life.

For now, I'm your Mother. So listen. Take a hostess gift. It doesn’t have to be expensive. A simple candle, homemade candy, or package of funny cocktail napkins is perfect. Just let the person you are visiting know your appreciation. Leave the area you are staying in tidy. Don’t leave your shoes in the middle of the great room floor. Clear your things from the bathroom. Rinse your drink glasses. Be as invisible as possible, yet hospitable. (Remember, house guests are like fish. In 3 days they begin to stink.)

Speak out loud the compliment that crosses your mind. Hold the door for the lady with the baby in the stroller. Mail a card to someone grieving. Invite a friend to lunch.

Ok. You’ve now been told. Heed please.=)

P.S. Brittany and Jayce, you know who you are.

The Exact Place I Wish To Be Right Now

2009-07-14T23:17:00.006-05:00

I wish to be lying in that very hammock. How stinkin' cool is that? Misool Eco Resort in West Papua, Indonesia looks to be a perfect place to melt away any and all stress, which is a main component in the perfect vacation. Below is a view of some of the 11 cottages available with 8 being on stilts over a quiet lagoon. I'll have nothing less than a stilted one. They are built from reclaimed wood and all furnishings are from local craftsmen. There is also a dive shop, restaurant and private pier.

Oh how I'd love to wake up to this view. The sound of the waves would wash away the cobwebs. Only improvement I can imagine is someone calling out, "Here's breakfast." That chair is for me to savor my breakfast in. I've a stack of books to read which I would take along. I want to laze around all day for 10 straight days, right here. Get a slight tan and go to dinner each evening. And no, I would not get bored.

Funny how my mind goes to what wardrobe I'd take. Linen, long, flowing swimsuit cover ups, big fat sunglasses. Total comfort all day, but something lovely for dinner. Please notice the outdoor shower below. (I recently bought one for my backyard at Dirt Cheap. I love rinsing my feet and hands before coming in from yard work. Of course mine is not made from a lovely tree trunk, just lowly teak.)

Wanderlust is stirred up. Awwww, let me dream.......=)

Cause of my "Missing"

2009-07-07T09:26:00.004-05:00

I am regularly outdoors as I love gardening, cultivating my exterior spaces and entertaining al fresco. (Hence, "missing". A lovely hand written note I received this week spurred me to post. Thank you, Danette, it meant the world.)

This is my "piece de resistance" for the summer. I collected wooden windows and doors from roadside after Hurricane Katrina. Here is a dream come true. My zen place. It is 10' X 12' and will eventually have a pea gravel floor. The path winding to the door is comprised of pieces of sidewalk from the front of the house. The sidewalk was ruined during Katrina and my sons busted the huge broken slabs into smaller pieces. I then fashioned a walkway from my back patio to the new greenhouse. I still have not made a decision whether or not to paint the "shed". I love the primitive look, yet know I'd enjoy it painted pristine white also. What's your opinion? Also, what to call it? I refer to it as a garden shed, greenhouse, etc.

Do give your opinion....

p.s. The statue is actually a fountain. Water pours from a vase in her hand into another vase at her feet. The hand you see holds a small pot of blooming impatients. She is a Dirt Cheap find.

Celebrate Summer

2009-05-17T17:12:00.006-05:00

Should you visit me these days, I’d offer a gorgeous glass of iced peach tea. We'd sit out back under my umbrella and listen to the trickle of water in my fountains. I'd likely have some smooth jazz playing and there are bright orange day lillies blooming around my patio. The perfect time to celebrate the outdoors is now. The smell of freshly mowed grass and grilling is one of summer's pleasures.
I recently splurged on my trip to Indianapolis and bought these heavy, fat, bright green stubbed off goblets. The picture is a bit deceiving in that they are approximately 6 inches tall and almost as wide. I LOVE them. Here's the secret. (Whispering here.) Wal-Mart has Great Value brand instant peach tea. It comes in small tubs and is packaged like Crystal Light. Each tub makes 1/2 gallon. I make the tea up by the gallon and add 3 individual packets of Splenda per gallon. It is delectable! I also buy frozen peaches in a zip top bag. I serve the tea over ice and float a fat, frozen peach slice on the top. It tastes as pretty as it looks.
For a change, for a summer celebration, take dinner out of doors. Americans tend to think you have to grill to dine al fresco. Not so. Plan to take it outside one night this week. Your family or friends will love it.
I had friends and family over Friday and Saturday evening and told them we were dining at sunset. I clipped some lillies and glads, put them in short vases, rolled out the bamboo placemats, and my table was phenomenal. I grilled chicken breasts with an herb rub wrapped in thick hickory smoked bacon, made a quick cold pasta salad and some deviled eggs. Dessert was pineapple sherbert doused with slushy sparkling apple cider. I broke a biscotti in half and shoved it down in the sherbert for garnish. I SO looked like a gourmet. Hehe.
And yes, we had peach tea in my fat green goblets!
I'd love to hear from you. What are you summer pleasures?

(Note: How do you like my completely ignoring the fact I've not posted in light years? I have no excuse, though I could name 1,000. Thanks for the calls, texts and emails urging me to write. You absolutely warm my heart.)

Happy Birthday to Me

2009-03-30T19:24:00.002-05:00

My cell phone rang. The lady on the line reminds me that I have not blogged in quite some time. How well I know. Maybe that is what I needed, a kick in the pants. Here is an overview of life as of late.

I began celebrating my birthday Sunday a week ago (it was last Thursday, the 26th). I love birthdays and simply extend mine as long as I possibly can. SOLO met at my home Sunday evening and we had a cake for the March birthdays. I blew out candles then. Tyler and Jen arrived from Houston late Monday evening. I cooked Tuesday night and we hung out at the house. I crave just being at home with everyone is in town.
B'day photo op
An incredible group of friends took me to Back Door Cafe after church Wednesday evening. Got myself a Walter Anderson print at that soiree.=) The kids and I went to breakfast together the morning of my big day, and when all is said and done, what more could I ask for? All my ducks were sitting with me at the breakfast table. My children did me the honor of sitting for a photo op with Brandy on my special day. For this I am eternally grateful. We then had a late lunch with Nanna. I celebrated the evening with the ladies at Woodlawn. We had a wonderful party celebrating the birthday of every single lady in our church and it just happened to fall on my birthday! How lucky was I? I told them I’d never had that many people singing to me at once. They all pretended the entire party was for me...I let them=).

My friend Mary asked me to reserve Saturday evening to celebrate with her. She arrived at my home with my 3 sisters, Lisa and Tonya in tow. She had me a hot pink boa, a scepter that said “birthday girl”, a crown with pink fur on it, glasses with happy birthday written above the lenses, a “birthday girl” banner, a champagne flute with tall candles painted on it, sparkling juice and strawberries! All this and I’ve not mentioned that she painted birthday hats along with “birthday diva” and my name on her Jeep windows! I was laughing so hard. We had dinner at Walnut Circle Grill. Can you imagine the laughter at the table? The evening was fantastic. I absolutely will never forget last week. My new friend Raylyn has a snazzy red convertible and I topped off the week with a ride to Hattiesburg Sunday afternoon to celebrate Mitch’s birthday. (In my mind the ride was for my birthday.)

Monday was the first day in quite a few that didn’t feel “birthdayish”. I hate to see it go! Please....just once more...Happy Birthday to me.=)

Happy Birthday Sweet Tara:)

2009-03-16T17:19:00.002-05:00

Those very candles were on Tara's cake last evening. We celebrated out back under my pergola. I set an incredibly beautiful table, well it was! We dined on lo mien with veggies and chicken. Then ended with good ole' birthday cake. (Tara left the thing here and I can't stop nibbling on it. Grrrrrr.) The evening was perfect. My candlelier was glowing as were my lanterns. Jazz greats crooned to us.

Happy Birthday dear sister. Simply put, I love you.

(Hello all. Forgive my absence. Life intruded but hopefully I'll soom be back on track and faithfully blogging. I've missed you all=).

Breckenridge

2009-02-27T00:13:00.005-06:00

So. I've been busy. Snowed under. And actually have been to snow country. I've missed visiting with ya'll. I'm hoping to get on track and be here more often. Sorry to have been scarce of late.=)

As usual, I had to take the "arms flung in the air happy" picture on the slopes in Breck (the locals call it this).

Modis. A grand restaurant right on Main Street. Exquisite art and beautiful food.

Downtown is colorful. Snow was piled high and I stayed in complete awe the entire visit. Maybe it's the snow, but I can safely say that Breckenridge is the most gorgeous place I've been in the United States.

I promise more soon...details on how I was sure I was dying my first day there....=)

I Officially Have Go-i-tis

2009-02-17T22:26:00.004-06:00

First, a non-relevant statement to this blog. I am SO thrilled when I get comments!

Today began early. Now ending late. I'm bone tired. And I have desperate wanderlust. I love my blog and I wish to post daily. Sometimes it just doesn't happen. My brain is bouncing around when all I am trying to say is blogging completes me. When I'm not blogging I'm thinking about it. But life intrudes and I can't make it happen as often as I like. Then I get grumpy and everything that bugs me mushrooms. Right now I want to go to another planet...I mean continent.=)

Shall I dream a bit? Hhhhmmm. If I could fly away to anywhere of my choice today, it would be to China. I really want to walk on the Great Wall. Or India would be grand. I want to pose in front of the Taj Mahal with my arms flung high and wide, like in all my other pics in other countries. Istanbul...here I come. Well, in my mind anyway. I really want to get lost in the marketplace. Let me see...one of those thatched roof huts on stilts out over the water in Aruba would be amazing. Tomorrow, please. Also include a massage therapist that comes to the hut. And place the table in front of that wide door with the view. Ahhhhh...

Gotta go. Need to browse around on Expedia for ticket pricing. Bye bye, now.

Small Town America

2009-02-14T22:56:00.007-06:00

Columbia, MS Courthouse
Today has been another of those "live-over" days. I just spent the evening at Back Door Cafe listening to my daughter Tayler sing incredible love songs. Our friend Eric played acoustic guitar and they did a couple of duets. How did I ever get so lucky to end up in "small town America" Columbia, Mississippi? There are only 6600 people in our small city, yet we have an amazing fine dining establishment. For Valentine's Day diners, there were pristine white cloths, fat, ruffled edged camillias and glowing votive candles on each table. Owner/chef Fran Ginn invited Tay to do the entertainment and the ambiance was perfect. Just one more reason my love for Columbia escalates often.

My weekend started Friday with my friend Lori and I spending a quiet evening enjoying homemade chicken veggie soup, strawberries and cupcakes. Last evening I baked, mini and full sized cupcakes then dipped some strawberries in white chocolate. The strawberries went on top of the chocolate iced cupcakes and I added those little heart shapes with writing to the top of the minis. This morning started with delivering mini cupcakes to my friends, the staff at Hardee's.

After breakfast I rode with friends Lisa and Ashley to the coast to pick up Ash's costumes for the high school musical coming up. We drove the beach, crossed the new Biloxi/Ocean Springs bridge to Ocean Springs to buy muffins at Bayview Gourmet, then had coffee at the Roasted Bean in the Beau Rivage. My reservations for dinner were at 8, so we headed home.

I really can't imagine another city of this size having so much to offer. Columbia High School has a musical each year that is highly anticipated. (Tay had the lead the year she graduated.) The band wins "state" each year. (My three were all a part of it. Tyler began his public career of drumming in the 6th grade. Tay played clarinet and Tyren trumpet and french horn.) And that's not even mentioning sports. (Tyren went to state 3 years running playing tennis.) It's "cool" to be in the musical and band here, as well as sports. That was not the case in my high school.

All this and I haven't mentioned my place of worship, the absolute best perk of the entire city. Cultured friends, award winning high school, fine dining and Woodlawn Church.

Heaven's to Betsy I love this well-rounded small town!

Morning Joy

2009-02-09T09:14:00.002-06:00

(View from my window this very morning)
On my morning jaunt to my coffee maker, there is a large picture window in the living room framing a massive camellia bush. This time of year, an involuntary smile beams with each passing. My camellias are blooming. There are literally hundreds of blooms on this bush and all of them just for me.

How well I remember the first Valentine's Day as a single lady. I would literally cringe thinking of "that day" coming. How vivid the memory of leaving work and going to the mall is. I bought myself a wonderful gift, my very first fountain. Somehow in our minute minds, we build up these expectations over silly things that absolutely do not matter. At that point in my life, Valentine's Day was a glaring reminder that I was a failure. I was one of those who had the table set in bold red for 2 solid weeks. I baked a heart shaped, strawberry flavored cake each year and celebrated wildly. And the arrival of this day which I wrongly assumed was for couples only, made me as crazy as a sprayed roach. There are many Valentines in my life and it's my duty to celebrate with them. My children and sisters now receive my adoration.

My co-workers got the biggest laugh over me buying my own gift, but it was the beginning of a healing process. I was my own Valentine! Come the next year, I purchased a red wheelbarrow for myself. Again, a gift for me. Every year I get extremely wonderful gifts (exactly what I want!). And the good Lord above sends me the biggest bouquet of all, a full blooming camellia bush in my very own front yard.

It's quite special being His Valentine.=)

Bonsoir=Good Evening (in French=)

2009-02-08T21:05:00.004-06:00

I'm not sure if I actually listed this in my New Years Resolutions, but a lifelong resolution has been to learn French. Tay has started me on the alphabet twice, to no avail. She is what I call fluent, with which she promptly disagrees. In my book, if you can converse with someone in French for an hour and you love to pour over books of "french verbs", you are fluent. She vehemenently denies it, but continues to liberally converse.

Tonight I invested in French for Dummies. The decision to purchase this CD set is based on the fact that my knowledge of New York City came from a NYC for Dummies book. Tay will rip me a good one explaining that I have to start with the basics, etc. I want to learn full sentences first so I can say gorgeous French things to her in Dirt Cheap or Wal-Mart! She will have none of it. So...I'm learning from cd's and plan to shock her good and proper.

Check back. I'll let you know how it goes.

Anna Grace Farmer...The Butterfly

2009-02-08T14:33:00.005-06:00

(News! I have been published for the first time. Hooray! The following article was published in the February issue newsletter of New Beginnings, the Anna Grace Farmer Adoption Center in Tupelo, Mississippi.)

Simply put, she was a rare, incredibly beautiful butterfly. A minister made reference to this at the service celebrating her too-short life span of 8 months. He explained that it felt as if we all had nets and were forever trying to “catch” her. She would come close and we would shower her with love and adoration, so desperately wanting her to stay. Then she would flit away, just out of reach in the ICCU where her family would stand at her bedside and ask God for a miracle.

Anna Grace Farmer, along with twin brother Wallace, was born October 7, 2003. Her beaming parents were Tonya Wallace Farmer and Clayton Farmer of Columbia, MS. Maternal grandparents were Mr. and Mrs. Thomas L. Wallace also of Columbia, and paternal grandparents, Mr. and Mrs. Clelly Farmer of Poplarville, MS.

Phones rang incessantly the day it was found out there were to be twins. Soon, a pediatric cardiologist was to give some disturbing news. While still safely ensconced in her mother’s womb, a heart defect was detected. HLHS (Hypolastic Left Heart Syndrome) would require a series of surgeries upon her arrival into this big world. Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia in Pennsylvania specialized in caring for newborns with HLHS, and her parents, along with maternal grandparents, moved to the big city for the much awaited birth of the twins. A very short 18 hours after her birth, Anna Grace went in for the first of her multiple surgeries.

As autumn approaches, a special generation of butterfly is born. The monarch, born to the “Methuselah generation” lives to be seven or eight months old and performs the incredible feat of flying from Canada or the United States to the center of Mexico, up to 2800 miles. Even on cloudy days, their mere half ounce body stays on track with an internal compass, covering some 50 miles per day. They return stateside during spring.

Though Anna Grace had an inconceivably short life span, her mark is domestically and internationally lasting. The Anna Grace Farmer New Beginnings Adoption Center in Tupelo, MS places children with a bleak future into Christ-loving homes. The New Beginnings home for unwed mothers has a direct connection for placing babies that have been saved from abortion.

On an international scale, a water well has been dug in honor of Anna Grace Farmer in Lome, Togo, West Africa at the Institut Biblique de Togo (Togo Bible Institute). This well supplies fresh water to the local village and to the bible school which carries the Word of God into eleven countries in the nether regions of Africa.

The legacy of this tiny butterfly has spread far and wide. Children are taught to love God and are raised in God-fearing homes as a direct result of her life. The plan of salvation and Jesus’ love is taught to those abroad who would never otherwise be exposed.

God has smiled on the Farmer family and they now have Gracelyn Alexis, a beautiful, rambunctious daughter who will soon be two years of age. Big brother Wallace celebrated 5 years in October. A bronze of a little girl with arms uplifted and butterflies lightly resting on her, marks the place Anna Grace was laid to rest. On any given day you will find a couple of small cars and a dinosaur in the lap of the bronze that big brother Wallace has left for her to “play” with.

The 5th year anniversary of her passing was celebrated last May with the announcement of the fresh water well to be dug in West Africa. Wallace and his Sunday School class released balloons to “heaven” for Anna Grace.

Anna Grace is proof positive that though your heart may not be perfect, through God all things are made new. And though it seems impossible, a lasting effect can be had from imperfection being made perfect through Him.

Amazing that such a small life can bring such beauty to the earth and have such a profound influence on the world, be it the half ounce butterfly or the short life of Anna Grace Farmer.

Volcano...from Anthropologie

2009-02-01T18:30:00.003-06:00

This is my present, to me, to celebrate Tyler's birth...day. I know I know. But I deserve a present! I did good rearing him! Every time I have crossed the threshold of that store I've carried one around. I walk past the display where one is always burning and I draw a deep breath. Speaking of displays, no one holds a candle to these stores. Ha. Like my pun? I am absolutely on overload with each visit. It's more than a lowly, design-hungry mortal can bear. I overdose.

Knowledge that anyone who walks in my back door will ask "What's that I smell?" is a deciding factor. A book or some funky kitchen item usually takes precedence. Not this time. (Truth is the red jar did me in. They usually only come in cobalt blue.) Good marketing move all you Anthro marketers.

Volcano from Anthropologie. Oh yeah baby. That's reason enough to plan some entertaining.

Original

2009-02-01T17:52:00.006-06:00

A case of those were in the fridge when I arrived for the birthday weekend. Smiles are easy when you realize a tad of your entertaining skills have been passed on. I walked in to a sparkling apartment, candles lit and music playing. (I am glad he left a hamper of clothes in the laundry. Makes me still feel needed to do a little something for him.) His apartment is crisp and modern, exactly as you would imagine it if you are acquainted. Being a mother, I look around to see what, if any of my everyday existence has colored his life. I realize having reared him, it's inevitable. I still seek the validation.

He loves books. He devours graphic arts magazines. He is a "right brain". He soaks up anything cultural. He is consciously kind. Fine dining is a must. He has an instinct to always be original, be it dress, decor or design.

"Original" sums him up. And is exactly what I set out to do some 288 months ago.

Happy 24 Tyler Marcus Swanner.

Traipsing About Houston...

2009-01-31T21:38:00.004-06:00

I had a German Chocolate cupcake from here...

Sugarbaby's Cupcake Boutique

And a Red Velvet one from here...

Crave Cupcakes
Both places were fantastic in their own right. Sugarbaby's was all fluffy, pink and apple green with black chandeliers. Crave was sleek, modern and served milk from old fashioned bottles.

Cupcakes have seen a revival as of late. Not so long ago, they were considered rather passe. They are now de rigueur, proof in the numbers of people in line and in the dining rooms at both establishments. I don't normally hit all the cupcake joints, but Jennifer, Tyler's sweet significant other ordered some from Sugarbaby's for his birthday. And when I saw Crave, I simply had to go in.

Oh the joys of the BIG city...

I'm Absolutely Overflowing This Beautiful Morn...

2009-01-30T10:10:00.003-06:00

This is the best representation of my heart today...

I awoke to the smile of an extraordinary male today, my son, with whom I will celebrate his 24 years of life this weekend. We will have leisurely breakfasts together, go museum hopping and marvel in the joy we get from just being in the company of each other.

Stealing a couple of days together as we are doing this weekend, makes my life (states away) bearable...well, almost.=)
Happy Birthday Handsome...

Ok. Umm. Speechless.

2009-01-24T16:42:00.006-06:00

A picture says a thousand words. All of which I can't verbalize for now. Whew.

Shall I try? Is this a lobby? Restaurant? Hotel room? Is that a suitcase? Do I also see a briefcase in the background? Is the table from room service or last night's party?

All that and I haven't mentioned HIM. A suit, pocket handkerchief AND cufflinks. Reading the morning paper. Is it coffee or tea in that dainty cup? No time to shave. Did he have the flowers delivered? Were they for me? Hehe...

Mr. Gerard Butler is a multi-talented beautiful man. A man that can play the disfigured "Phantom" and the charming, thoughtful husband in "P.S. I Love You" has to be a romantic.

Ok. I'll stop now.

Kitchen Door Color?

2009-01-24T16:18:00.002-06:00

Ok. The cobbler's children never has shoes. The designer stresses over choosing colors for her own home. I'm SO in love with the pink door. As most of you know, the outside of my home is pink. (Not hot pink!) I am wanting a pop of color in my kitchen. I'm considering this color for my kitchen door. My cabinets are white, walls are natural wood, countertops are neutral tile, flooring is "french country" peachy, pink, cream brick.

THEN...there is this door. Whoa. My heart pitty patters over it also. Decisions, decisions. Whew.

Whaddaya think? Do tell.

Dreamy Dressing Room

2009-01-21T20:18:00.006-06:00

Image via apartment therapy
I absolutely want this dressing room. As in move in today. I am dead over the blue velvet ottoman (Lord, what all I could get into that thing). The nude is classic yet classy. The mirrored dresser, the chandelier, lamps and mirror take my breath away. Ummm, the dog would have to go to Mary.

When my youngest moved out, I created a "media room" of his bedroom. Tay and I simply love it and it ain't getting changed (no dressing room there!). Even if she were to move I'd never use her room. I love entertaining and will always have a guest bedroom. So, only way I'll be getting that gorgeous dressing area would be to add on. And that surely ain't happening any time soon.

I think I'll just use that "look" in my bedroom. Actually, it does favor my private domain. I'll move some pieces around. Give my vanity an update. Remove some access. Then hopefully this raging desire for THAT dressing room will quiet...

Avery

2009-01-21T11:42:00.002-06:00

(photo filched from Tyler's myspace)

This precocious, precious child is nephew of my son's "intended" Jennifer Cobbs. Avery had brain surgery day before yesterday and is in Texas Children's Hospital in Houston. Long story short, Avery has a cyst in his brain that is hereditary. From being a playful, rough little boy, the cyst has hemorrhaged and caused him severe sickness. The surgery went well but I can only imagine the terror and heartbreak this sweet family is experiencing.

Please say a prayer for Avery, his mom Jessica, grandmother Linda, and aunts Jen and Jeniece.

Ms. Celine...

2009-01-18T17:21:00.004-06:00

Look bottom center of this photograph. That tiny person is Celine Dion. This was my favorite portion of the concert I attended last week in Birmingham, AL. I am posting this picture to give you a sense of just how massive the set, arena, and jumbotron screens were. This is Celine performing "The Prayer" with Andrea Bocelli on the screens. It was indescribable.

Tayler's favorite Christmas gift was tickets to this concert. It was my 4th time to see her and I am more impressed with each "visit". We had excellent seats, the above shot was zoomed as far out as I could go to get the entire set top to bottom. The stage was "in the round" though square shaped, giving each side of the arena equal face time. It had 2 "arms" that actually extended into the crowd, one in our section, putting us literally 25 feet from her multiple times during the evening.

If there has ever been a performer that truly loves her fans and expresses that eloquently, it's she. She is very warm and interacts with her audience and when you leave, there's no doubt she appreciates her fans.

I'm just sure she and I could be bosom friends.

Waaaaaaaa!!! (gasp) (gasp) Waaaaaaa!!!!

2009-01-18T15:20:00.007-06:00

That's me squawling my lil' ole eyes out 'cause I want those boots! And I know it ain't happening. Oh well. Can't have everything I want. (sniff, sniff)

Guess I'll just make them my desktop picture and dream everytime I open my Mac.

My Life is Changed...(nothing spiritual=)

2009-01-17T22:04:00.004-06:00

How sad is it that my new pillow is what I am referring to? Don't give me some cock and bull story about it having to do with the number of birthdays I've celebrated. That has nothing to do with it! This pillow is "heaven" made of foam. If you are familiar with Tempur-Pedic, you know they make mattresses (a dream that I will own one day) and pillows. I now have half of the original dream. Well, if you call a pillow half. I slept on a Tempur-Pedic mattress at my cousin Rhonda's home last year. I admit that I've always had reservations about these. My thought process was that "memory foam" would awaken me each time I changed sleeping positions. Not so. I was amazed. So I treated myself to a pillow. Kohl's stocks them. Go on. Treat yourself. It's SO worth it.

Now if only Dirt Cheap would get a shipment of these mattresses I'd be set for life.

Eyepopping

2009-01-16T15:18:00.006-06:00

dan duchars

What a gorgeous color. My daughter Tayler has her room painted a deep eggplant, a richer version of this color. Anyone wanting art work like this? Multiple pieces are hanging on the walls of my booth at Antiques & More Fleamarket in Columbia, MS.

Tempts me to go bring them all home. 'Course I'd have to hang them from the eaves of my house since there are no walls left for artwork inside.=)

The tea table in front of the sofa has been painted silver. Love it. Tayler painted her bed silver also and it looks simply amazing. I have the lamp beside the sofa, though not that shade. My pair of mercury glass lamps with creme shades flank my bed.

Think I'll mosey down to Ace Hardware, my favorite place to spend a couple hours. I want...I need multiple cans of silver spray paint. What am I painting? I have no clue. But I assure you, something's getting sprayed!

Pink In Paris

2009-01-13T13:23:00.008-06:00

I peruse multiple blogs daily. They range from cooking, design, fashion...all the way to dieting. Therefore, I see many images daily. It's not often that a picture grabs me. Grabs me and just won't let go. This one did. I am feeling spring yearnings and this one caused them to mushroom out of control. I am envisioning setting a table with a shimmery pink cloth, a white soup tureen (to use the silver ladle in the picture), and serve peach bellini tea from the pink tray. All of this under my pergola of course.

The street vendors in Paris make my guts smile. Moseying along the riverwalk is an absolute favorite pastime. Well, one of them anyway. Viewing the bridges that span the river is life changing. (I have actually taken a couple of evening dinner cruises and viewed most of them first hand. Even the undersides are breathtaking.)

Pink, silver, the riverwalk, the Seine and architecture...a lethal combination in Paris.

Image via apartment therapy

Travels of 2008

2009-01-10T23:09:00.012-06:00

There is more than one. But only one wins over all others. My visits of 2008 were wide and varied and I only hope to cover 1/2 the miles in this year as I did last year.
Paris? Indescribable. Germany? Breathtaking. Africa? The winner. Hands down.

(Palm tree studded view across the pools to the Atlantic.)
The resort, the Hotel Casa del Papa in Ouida, Benin, West Africa is my choice of where to return. From the moment of arrival, I felt my inner most being begin to relax. I'm unsure if the break from the mind-numbing, spirit-disturbing country of Togo is the reason, but I truly don't think so. I absolutely loved sleeping with the sound of waves of the Atlantic crashing in. The swish of palm trees was comforting. The bungalows were crisp and clean with Egyptian cotton linens on tester beds and old Air France posters for artwork.

I lay for hours under this private low-hanging hut listening to the ocean, reading, and yes, napping. Ever so often a friendly employee asked if I needed anything. I had several Coca-Light.

Dining here under a thatched roof as the sun faded and the pitch black night made the ocean invisible to the eye, was glorious. The fish was fresh and as tasty as any I'd ever consumed.

My new tradition is listing the places I visited during the year. An overnight stay out of the county I reside in qualifies. Notice that's c-o-u-n-t-y, not country.=)

Travels of 2008

Houston,TX
Jackson,MS
Atlanta, GA
Nashville, TN
Indianapolis, IN
Baton Rouge, LA
Paris, France
Lome, Togo, West Africa
Ouida, Benin, West Africa
Tupelo, MS
Biloxi, MS
Mannheim, Germany
Strasbourg, France (spent the day only)
Winston-Salem, NC
Chattanooga, TN
Covington.LA
Laurel, MS

I'm amazed that I hit 3 continents this year alone, with Africa being a first time continent. I begin every year wondering how I will manage a new city or country visit, and somehow....it just happens. May the force be with me yet again this year!

Oh Wow.

2009-01-10T18:23:00.005-06:00

Nicholas Haslam
I love blue.
I love crisp, high count, white bedding.
I love mirrored pieces.
I love matching chests for bedside tables.
I love wall mounted reading lamps.
I love oddly shaped headboards.
I love a good reading chair w/ottoman in a bedroom.
I love symmetrical bedsides.
I love dark walls.
I love proof 2 forms of bedside lighting works.
Simply, I LOVE everything about this bedroom.
(Except the plaid on the bench.=)
Then, I'd add a to die for chandelier.
May I spend the night?

The Church of Whole Foods

2009-01-08T01:55:00.001-06:00

(Previously posted to MySpace on Wednesday, August 13, 2008)

She sat a couple of tables over and happily nursed her baby without covering nor shame. I read her wife beater style tank when she walked by and it said "Kiss-Not Kill". The air of a "hippie" was apparent and I can't explain why. Maybe it was the hair, longer than most women this day and age and cut into a shag.  Just beside her in a booth was what I assumed to be a student, though his age defied my assumption. He was furiously highlighting in a thick workbook and there were colorful post-it markers sticking out on all sides. He looked to be adamantly studying. He'd raise his head ever so often with a concentrated look as if to memorize.  Up walked 4 young guys, all within a couple years of 20, plus or minus. They ordered a variety of fruit smoothies with protein. Tanned legs stuck out of plaid shorts and fitted t-shirts advertised popular clothing brands, college monikers and the such. Brown feet were ensconced in leather type flip flops and the careless way they flipped their college haircuts out of their eyes belied not a care in the world.  Obviously wealthy, yet weak, the elderly woman watched all this without concern. She had a diamond on her hand worth more than my entire monetary portfolio and heavy gold earrings weighted her lobes. Her hair was perfectly coiffed and what I call "cataract glasses" were perched on her head. She was waiting patiently, at that age where you have no choice. You are still mobile but have little stamina, and are basically forced to let everyone do their thing. If they take you with them, you sit until they finish and come back to help you to the car.  Then there were the three 30 something women who had been swimming. With cover-ups on and pricey handbags on their shoulders, they commanded the attention of most within sight. Each had a clip holding up their obviously saloned hair and they pretended no one else existed. They talked brightly and made eye contact with not a soul.  In this mix, the cowboy was the most interesting. And no, not for obvious reasons. He was well dressed in a suit and tie, a pair of cowboy boots, and his head was topped with a dressy, summer cowboy hat. His handlebar moustache was thick and grey, and overwhelmed his slight frame.   My favorites were right beside me, close enough for me to catch some of their words. They sat down in a booth across from each other and in a gesture obviously familiar to each of them, they reached across the table and joined hands. Both women were over 70, one of them beautiful to the point of my knowing she was a beauty queen in former years. The beauty prayed. I fumbled hysterically in my bag for my camera. Then proceeded to turn off the flash trying to be Sherlock Holmes and get a picture of their prayer. Of course, by the time I got it in place, they were finished praying. The eldest held on to her friend's hands and I heard her saying " You are the dearest friend I have." I had previously guessed sisters, then observed something that portrayed a long lost joy in seeing each other. An extra something that was not in the familiarity of siblings.  All this transpired in the coffee shop/juice bar of an upscale grocery store, Whole Foods. According to traditions in Mississippi, none of the previously mentioned people would be considered "normal" by most standards. Oh how I'd have loved to poll those I discreetly watched. I would have been safe to bet there wasn't a Republican in the mix. This crowd was full of social activist. My view of the parking lot revealed a range in transportation, from Hybrids all the way up to the excessive BMW. I watched people emerge from vehicles and it's quite comical to pair a person with a car. The thin guy with nylon running shorts exits the Jetta while the 50ish well built women in the tennis dress slammed the door on her Mercedes. How extremely different everyone was, yet all had something in common. What fun a debate amongst these would have been. Obama would have been shoo in as President that very second, and every single American in Iraq would have been deported home at the earliest possible moment.  The yuppie women carrying the $1000 purses and driving the gas guzzling SUV's felt this was "their place" just as did the hippie mother who proudly nursed her child in public. And there my son and I sat. Both born in Mississippi, me living there most of my years and him for the first 23 of his life, we also felt it was "our place". We were right at home.   I love Whole Foods for the beautiful displays and choices in things not readily available in my small town. The art of piling fresh fruits in baskets, the colorful array of gourmet salads, the cuts of meats and fish the staunchest gourmand would demand, and the choice in fresh baked breads are entirely tempting. The visual feast of just walking through this store or having a smoothie while people watching is high on my favorite things to do when in the big city. The fresh flower market alone is sensory over dose. Learning to live "green" and "organic" abounds. I saw a green t-shirt available for purchase that proclaimed " I was organic when organic wasn't cool."  I find it comical that the prissy 30 somethings were there because it's a "cool" place to be while the nursing mom considers it "green". Should either discuss the other, I somehow think it would be in disgust. Yet they find commonality in a grocery emporium.  Churches need to take on the "Whole Foods" approach. Services should be bright, colorful and welcome you. Funny how the scents and sights of Whole Foods flower market greets you at the door. Upon arrival, we need only the best as is offered at this beautiful retailer. The worship should be pure and as good for you as anything organic. Fresh protein offered like you see in the market area would mean healthy saints. Something new and fresh in song and the Word is attractive. The 30 something prissy and the hippie nursing mother should feel right at home. We have the equation it takes to get to heaven, and it's up to us to introduce them to it.  Making your house of worship a comfortable setting for all walks of life is your place. Not only the pastor, hospitality team or janitor is responsible. You will be held accountable for those you come in contact with that would never be exposed to Jesus otherwise. As we walked out of the store, 2 separate guys bagging said, "Thanks for coming in. Have a great evening." Wow. And they are even friendly.  Whether someone is looking for coffee, a protein drink, or a berry smoothie, something in our services need to appeal to them all. And a friendly welcome is the perfect place to begin. We should take pride in the grounds. Fresh paint and an entrance that beckons is a must. It doesn't take tons of money to have a clean, inviting entrance. Place urns beside the front doors with a plant to say welcome. Light an incredible smelling candle in the foyer. Make sure the restrooms are outfitted properly. Have soothing music (live or piped in) playing pre and post service. Then when they arrive, make them know they are welcomed and in a place that offers something they need.   The Church of Whole Foods. What a concept.

The Profound Influence of Olida Joyce

2009-01-08T01:49:00.003-06:00

(Previously posted to MySpace on Wednesday, July 30, 2008.)

Olida Joyce Bourn Bourriague a.k.a. "Aunt Deta" would pop me good and threaten my life if she knew I divulged her full name. Today would be her birthday. I can't begin to describe the crater in my soul her passing created. I often relive the sheer terror I felt the day she told me of the lump in her breast. Having already lost 3 in our family to cancer, I simply didn't have much faith.   I was the first born child, first born paternal grandchild, and Aunt Deta's first niece. I'm told she was not allowed to attend the baby shower honoring my impending arrival because she was only 15. This she did not like. We lived on the same street as my grandparents, just 3 doors down. I've laughed at the stories of me taking off Bibbie's glasses during church and wearing them upside down. I'd stand in her lap and disrupt church with my shenanigans. She would voice her remorse and would say how ashamed she was of doing that.   Three months after my 4th birthday, my mother brought home my 3rd sibling. Meaning there were 4 children born in 4 extremely short years. By this time, Aunt Deta was graduated and basically a built in baby sitter. The story of how she was forbid to go on a date the night she graduated was told often. My grandmother, known to all as "Bibbie", strictly forbade it. (She is altogether another full blog.) My mother had her hands full to say the least. The way things evolved were, I took up residence at my grandmother's. My Daddy would demand I go home for the night, and I'd put up a huge fuss. I became quite adept at begging at a very young age. I'd wail and he'd give in. When he didn't give in, and forced me to go home, I'd beg and cry until he'd say, "Go on back up the road! I'm tired of hearing it!" Out the door I'd run, back to where everything I said was the law. Back to where anything I wanted was promptly provided. Wonder what Freud was say about that observation. LOL.  My Dad began evangelizing around the time my younger brother Timothy and I started school. We settled into a routine of myself and Tim being cared for by Bibbie and Aunt Deta. Mother had 2 younger ones at home, and someone else feeding and bathing 2 of the 4 was a Godsend. This is not to say my Mother and Dad were not involved in our lives, they were highly visible. But anytime you get your way, are doted upon, and discipline is sparse, you gravitate to that habitat. Daddy and Mother, with 2 babies in tow, would leave for revival. Aunt Deta would take us to school. She had a great job at Gollott's Seafood and when I look back, I realize she basically spent her earnings on me. (I've no doubt the others were beneficial as well.) I remember her taking me to pick out school clothes, book sacks and supplies. She bought me my first stockings and high heels, then helped me avoid my Daddy before and after church. I remember shopping for my Easter dress (after I decided I would no longer wear things my Mother sewed for me), my Christmas banquet attire, and a leather coat I was dead for. I never realized what a blessing she was to my Dad.  In my teens, there was never a special service she didn't haul me to. And I always took an entourage. It never dawned on me she'd be tired for work the next morning. We went to every Labor Day service Bro. Majors had for years. We went to Jackson to Campmeeting and would sometimes drive back home. I even remember a trek to Little Rock that exposed me to "free" preaching. Even after I became licensed, she'd still go and chauffeur. Sunday afternoons always meant a nap, and one particular Sunday, she said she had somewhere to take me. She would not tell me where. We got in Pawpaw's snazzy little red truck, and off to Virginia City we went. (Virginia City is a small community 10 miles out in the country from Biloxi.) She stopped in the middle of a deserted road and got out. I still had no idea what she was doing. She said "Your turn to drive." I learned to drive that afternoon on a standard shift. We laughed till we hurt, but before I returned home, I could smoothly shift. Well, smoothly most of the time.   There was always an orange cereal bowl on the back of the refrigerator that was full of quarters. I don't know where I thought they came from. Did I think they procreated in there? It was always full and bought many tanks of gas. (Of course back then $5.00 would fill a tank.) It fed me and my girlfriend at the mall on multiple occasions. I knew it was for me and after initially being introduced to it, I never had to ask. She'd say,"Did you get you some quarters to eat on?". When I mull that over, I think she always gave me quarters 'cause it kept her from actually realizing just how much money she spent on me! I guess she cashed her check and brought home rolls of quarters just for me. She'd have had to save quarters for 3 lifetimes as many as I went through! She took me through a drive-thru every morning of my life on the way to school. She helped me purchase my first love a suit for his birthday. She went with me to haggle a deal for the first car I purchased in my name. She championed my choice of boyfriends, though Bibbie would have forbade me to date anyone if I'd have listened. She was in the room within minutes of Tyler's birth, and later showed me the bruises on her fingers from me squeezing her hand during Tayler's birth. She brought me a dozen roses after Tyren's birth because no flowers had been delivered. She stopped on the way home from the hospital to pick up a ceramic pumpkin with his name on it. I simply could not bring that child home and him not have a pumpkin in the family pumpkin patch on my dining room table.   How do you compensate for this type of devotion and sacrifice? I was her world, and she definitely was mine. And when I grew up, it didn't stop there. Every time she came in from the grocery, she brought bags of diapers. I simply don't remember buying them for my first two. Tay drank pear juice like I drink Diet Coke, which is in large quantities. Aunt Deta always bought the little 6 packs of juice and I'd dilute them to make them last longer. We moved a couple hours north just before Tay turned 2. She'd call to check on me, and by the sound of my voice would know if things were rough. Within 24 hours, she'd show up in my drive with a car load of groceries. I never left her house after a visit that she didn't pile the back of my car with essentials. I'd find all kinds of things when unloading the car. Paper for school, boxes of cereal, toilet tissue, and snack cakes to name a few. My children adored and worshipped her as I did. They each were just sure she loved them the most.  Much to my grandmother's dismay, she married at 43 years of age, and God gave her 2 lovely step children. One was basically grown, and the other a tow headed 3 year old that she loved as if she had birthed him. I was her matron of honor.  Today I will make the trek to her graveside. If only I could celebrate in person with her. I would set the table with my favorite, most elegant place settings. I'd have red roses in crystal as that was her favorite flower. I'd play Kenny G, again her favorite, and we'd dine sumptuously. We'd eat carrot cake topped with sparkly candles and I'd surely sing, and loudly.  Instead, I shall take her red roses and place them in the container on her headstone and have a long talk with her. My hope is that all the things I say to her today were also said while she was here. Sleeping in the living room on a short love seat beside her hospital bed the last 5 nights of her life was nothing compared to what she gave to me. Her influence on my life and the lives of my children will forever live. I shared with her in those last days, to the best of my ability, what she had meant to me. I am still unsure of how to give back what she gave. And I fear I'll never be able to.  Happy Birthday Aunt Deta.

I Need My Mother

2009-01-08T01:29:00.002-06:00

(originally posted to Myspace on Sunday, May 11, 2008)

I have questions to ask my Mother. I've needed her many times over the last 28 years, but as of late, the need is so strong it overwhelms me. She has never been there, except in my mind, where she tells me buy good quality shoes, walk tall, and to put a vinegar rinse on my hair to get the soap out.  At eighteen, I was invincible. I remember the bliss of being 18 with the sense that the world absolutely, unequivacably belonged to me. I was attending college, working part time, doing aerobics 4 times a week, and enjoying being in love (well, what I thought was love). The world was a bed or roses, and I was wallowing in the petals.  Being the oldest of 6 children, and another sibling on the way, fit me perfectly. I'm an extroverted sanguine and as first born I was boss. My Mother ran a smooth household and not much was required of me. I of course had chores, but was basically foot loose and fancy free. With that many children the chores were spread out fairly thin. Baby number six had been born the previous summer, and the new baby was coming in July. Then my Mother got sick.   She loved romance novels, beautiful shoes, classy purses, and White Shoulders perfume. I remember her sitting on the sofa with piles of laundry to fold and a book in her hand. If the outside door opened, she'd stuff it into the sofa cushions out of guilt over needing to be folding. She often reminded me to brush my hair 100 times nightly and to take smaller steps when I walked. She made a full wardrobe for my Barbie one year for Christmas. Never dawned on me to be suspicious that each time I walked in the room where she sewed, she'd cram it in the drawer and jump up. I distinctly remember her standing at the stove. She'd boil chicken, lots of chicken for tetrazzini. When I walked up beside her she'd slip me a large piece as she deboned. I honestly believed I was the only one she gave chicken to until discussing it some years back with my sisters. She gave us all chicken with each of us thinking we were the chosen one!  I heard her tell someone when quizzed about how she loved "that many children", that she did not divide her love, she multiplied it. She carried a handkerchief to match her outfit each time she went to church. There was always a half roll of breath mints in the center of her hankie. She bought peppermint flavored Certs since none of us kids liked that flavor. That way she was guaranteed mints for service.  I am older now by five years than my mother was when she died. During my pregnancies, I simply did not think I could bear my mother not being at my side. But you continue to breathe, even when you are sure you can't draw another. While going through a difficult divorce, I grieved deeply yet again. Questions you feel no one but your mother can answer swirl in my head up to this very day. How do I deal with empty nest syndrome? Do teenagers ever become normal again? What is your recipe for German Chocolate Pound Cake?  I became an adult overnight. If our family was a tree, it became huge splinters. My Dad didn't know where his socks were, and for some unknown reason, he assumed I did. We were all still hungry, our clothes got dirty, school was still in session, yet Mother was not there to feed us, fold the clothes nor get anyone up.  Anna Quindlen said in reference to her mother's death, that she performed for a theater of empty seats. As if to say "Look at me, Mother, I did good. I'm okay. I'll get by." Much responsibility fell on me in the early days after her death. My eight year old sister at the time held my hand non-stop. She wouldn't get in the tub nor go to the restroom alone. The 18 month old baby would go to my closet where I had hung my her favorite robe and ask for "Mama?". I felt I had to perform as if my mother could see my every move. I was responsible.  When I reached the age that my mother was when she passed, I simply freaked out. I felt it wasn't fair for me to live longer than she did. But oddly enough, I figured out that loss makes us happy in some ways. I am aware just how short life can be. I attribute having my priorities straight to being conscious of just how precious and fleeting life can be. Her death taught me well. I want my love of life to be ingrained in my children.  There is a hole in my heart that will never be filled. My children may never understand what this feels like. My hope is they never will. Oh I know I shall die someday, but I pray they will have led full lives and have years of love and the cushion of spouses and their own children. We didn't have that when our mother died. I was too young to truly know her and absolutely too young to learn to live without her.  With tears dripping from my chin, I realize I would trade the knowledge that I must live life to the fullest for what I lost so many years ago.

Africa

2009-01-08T00:02:00.003-06:00

(The following blogs were written last summer while traveling via France to West Africa. They were originally posted on MySpace. I am intermittently reposting those not here.)

Wednesday, May 28, 2008
4 Days Before Departure  

Monday marks the big day. I must admit that until now, I've not been overly excited as usual about international travel. Graduation for my youngest, excessive work hours, High Praise at Woodlawn (multiple weekday practices for this Friday evening concert), and life in general have kept me from focusing. As of now, I am focused! I shall do my best, depending on internet availability, to give you a day by day account of my travel to France and West Africa.  In previous blogs, I have ranted about Danny Rivers' message "Be The Church". I've also been a tad redundant with my continual blather about SOLO, our new Single Adult Ministry. Visiting the continent of Africa this year didn't really figure into my plans and I so love the mysterious ways of my God. When He dealt so heavily with me after Danny spoke, I responded by asking SOLO to take on raising funds for water wells in Africa. Drinking water is the source of death for multiplied thousands per year. Never did I dream I would possibly get to choose the villages I want to have fresh water wells dug in!  Those mysterious ways of God? My dear friend, celebrated Chef Fran Ginn (owner of Back Door Cafe) held a cooking class and all proceeds went toward our missions trip. She so eloquently told the story of her desire of missions travel to Honduras, and promptly assured us she "just wouldn't be going". We all howled in laughter as she explained her mammoth fear of lizards and how she does her missions right here by donating her time. Yet another mysterious way of God? A lovely lady that has been attending Woodlawn for less than a year, handed me an envelope last Sunday with a precious note explaining that she had wanted to be involved in missions. It contained $1000 toward the trip. I'd say God wants me in Africa.=)  Funny how things that would never interest you catch your eye in the most unusual settings. Memorial Day meant grilling, swimming, and total horseplay with my family. (I'm the one under the umbrella with a stack of magazines.) There was a beach ball being tossed around in a game of "don't let it touch the water". It bounced out of the pool and being the one "not in the water", I was the retriever. I was astounded to recognize the ball had the globe printed on it, and would you believe both Togo AND Benin, the countries we are visiting, were there? One country was too small for the letters so it was printed out in the Atlantic with an arrow pointing inland!  We arrive Paris, Tuesday morning, and meet the Adams from West Africa. Several in our party have not seen the City of Light, so we spend a couple nights there. I have done the major tourist-y things, so I shall try to "get lost" in the feel of the city that I simply will never get enough of. Gertrude Stein so aptly put it, "America is my country, Paris is my hometown".  Kristen and Steven Andrus, along with their children Brennan and Ashland are patiently awaiting our arrival. If my memory serves me correctly, February marked a year for them in Lome, Togo. Woodlawn is honored that both missionary families come from our church. We will be a part of services held in Togo, as well as Benin, help at the new Bible School under construction, and have some semblance of vacation Bible school for children.   My thrill will be going into the bush with ever seeking eyes for where to put those fresh water wells.

Monday, June 02, 2008
Travel Blog-Day 1

If there has ever been diverse traveling companions, the 11 in this group personifies it. There is moi, one husband wife team, Demetra and Jay Carney, Jerron Carney, Janette Wallace and Joyce Dykes (sisters to Jean Carney and aunts to the Carney men), their niece Whitney (my Tay's best friend), Tomeka Posey (a recent addition to Woodlawn), Scott Popec (new dean of Music at TBC), Selena (a high school graduate kin somehow to Janette and Joyce), and Kayla Gibson (granddaughter of missionaries we will be visiting.  I'm amazed at the dynamics of a group. In the loading of luggage, transportation to the airport, checking bags, and passing thru security, hierarchy has been established.=) It's quite comical.  I just consumed a bag of fresh beignets here in the airport. We are soon to board for Houston. We then fly out at 4 pm for a 8.45 am arrival to the city of Light. (1.45 am mississippi time=) I am anxious for my toes to hit French soil! Our hotel is just off the Champs Ellysees. You shall receive updates daily.  There are plans to visit the Louvre, train to Versailles, peruse the Notre Dame, all of which I have previoulsy done. I shall find a bridge (of which there are 23 spanning the Seine River) and just stand there. The bridges are one of my favorite things there. I have made an exectutive decision to blog from a bridge. I shall try to convey my feelings of this most beautiful of all cities.  Till my toes touch down...

Friday, June 06, 2008
Travel Blog-Day-Umm..I Have No Idea! FINALLY POSTED!!

Digressing to Monday am... 6 am-Wake up after a mere 4-ish hours of sleep. Zombie-like I pulled on the clothes carefully laid out because I knew I'd be cross-eyed from extreme weariness. (Will refer to weariness in future prose.)  7.30 am-Depart Woodlawn. Precious law-abiding Bro. Clark drove us to the Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans at warp speed of 55-(MAX) 65 mph. We wenr by way of McComb and down I-55 to avoid traffic on the Causeway/Covington. I'm sure it's time saving, but I also know we lost a couple of days in Paris because it took so long to get to the airport.!=)  12.30pm-Depart New Orleans.  4.05-Depart Houston for Paris.   9.5 hours later, we deplaned to an 8.45 am sunny Monday morning in lovely Pareeee' (with our American bodies registering about 2 am at home). The Adams were waiting as we cleared customs. We "bought" ourselves some euros and my eyebrows literally touched my HIGH hairline. Can you say "the dollar ain't worth diddly squat over here??!!"  I had forgotten the Metro stairs. Oh heavenly Father, the stairs. With our 3 day transportation passes in hand, it wouldn't have been so bad, but having been awake for what now felt like 3 days straight caused unadulterated hate of stepping up one more time. (Sure, I "slept" on the plane, but sleeping straight up with armrests digging into my sides that were designed for anorexic French women did not encourage REM sleep.) We checked into Hotel Madeline Haussmann just around the corner from the Opera. Deep in the heart of the city with the Metro (subway) in sight is perfection. (The slight imperfection was that the hotel elevator is eccentric and performs only at odd times.) Here is where those who didn't obey the "light packing" advisements cursed. And loudly. Yes, I hauled my suitcase(s) up 3 flights because the French call the 1st floor 0-zero. Moans were emitted as we craved laying down, but the streets of Paris called.  With everyone ravenous we basically stopped at the first sidewalk cafe. I was aware of major price gouging if dining al fresco at sidewalk cafes (and vocalized it), but we were tired and hungry. And we left poor. I think at that point several were ready to go back to the place that offered "give me your tired, your poor , and your hungry! LOL. I tell you this in all seriousness. Those that ordered a "coke" payed 8 euros for it. Which translates into close to $14.00. Should I even mention what was paid for a hamburger that arrived with a beautifully fried egg atop it? Nah. I'll not divulge that bit of juicy info. The saving grace was that across the street was a lovely flower market and I simply adored the view.  The cokes and burgers (I know, I know) were soon forgotten as we climbed and descended some 82 more flights of stairs in the Metro. We walked the Tuileries (gardens of the royal palace) which is multi-leveled, meaning stairs. I am forever amazed at the symmetry and vision the French have for gardening. And statuary. And fountains. I felt as if I was overdosing on an addiction. That addiction being lovely ladies and naked gentleman posing proudly in all their marble, granite or limestone glory. And often in the center of a fountain. I personally forgot the stairs, airplane straight jacket seating, and malfunctioning hotel elevator as I absorbed the sights and smells of Paris.   Walking along the Seine perusing the street vendors made my guts smile. Soon enough, we were all posing with the Eiffel Tower behind us. Reactions of those at their first view was lovely. The long elevator ride to the top of the tower is disconcerting, but the views of this most beautiful city knock the breath out of you. The views are not of skyscrapers but of architecture, all centuries old and it causes you to realize just what a young pup America actually is. Spires, domes, gardens and fountains are in abundance. Full size trees in extensive rows that are trimmed into square full size tree-tall hedges go on for days. I stood there and wondered when and how you trim a 40 ft. tree to be squared on all sides and top.  We ended the evening with dinner in the Latin Quarter in a greek restaurant no less. The live music was extremely comical and I hit the streets while everyone finished their meal. I am ashamed that I cannot remember the french word for raspberry, but I had a cone of raspberry gelato that would make the staunchest CIA agent beg.  By 10 pm the entire group was walking as if they were 89 years old. And we still had to navigate the land of stairs to return to our hotel. Have I mentioned anything about stairs? We are now pushing 20+ hours of no sleep and still climbing up and down stairs. Many were delirious with everything funny to some, nothing amusing to others.   Back at the hotel around 10.30 pm and I had got my second wind. Having been to Paris on previous occasions, I simply didn't want to waste an evening, and it was entirely too early to retire. Four of us took off to Monmartre, my favorite area in the city. Sacre' Couer, a massive white limestone church, is situated high on a hill on the outer edges of Paris and there you have lofty views of the Eiffel tower and city lights. A genius had a ski-like lift installed that bypasses some 2000 (excuse the slight exaggeration=) steps to the perfect viewing area. We meandered up and down streets, watched the artists paint and stopped in to listen to a pianist while having a crepe filled with Nutella (a chocolate hazelnut paste). We closed the pub down and headed back to our hotel. At this point, were walking like we needed walkers!   We rounded a corner and the Eiffel Tower was blinking! I was unaware that at the turn of the new millennium blinking lights were attached from top to bottom for the celebration. It was such a huge hit that every hour on the hour for 10 minutes the tower has white lights flashing, almost reminding you of a Christmas tree that boldly blinks in no set pattern. It is indescribable! I think the biggest assumption by those that have not viewed the tower is their perception of it's size. It's so massive that most pictures are taken from far away so as to get the whole thing in the picture. Trust me, it's gargantuan.   After a few hundred more steps we made it back to the hotel around 2 am. I am a day behind as our schedules have been chock full. Here's a promise of full disclosure, well, almost full, to come.  Check back...=)

Travel Blog-Day 3

(Written sitting in the airport waiting to plane to W. Africa, aggravated that internet is not available.)  Four of our group, not including the Adams, has previously visited Paris. Hence a touristy agenda was called for. The plan of the day was to train to Versailles (the "country palace" of Marie Antoinette), and having previously made the trek, I chose to get lost in the city.  When I laid my head down last evening, I was positive my internal alarm would awake me early, regardless of the fact that I'm living 7 hours ahead of CST. I forgot to turn on my internal alarm OR I turned it off when it sounded.=) Someone banged on the door at 9.30 am (which was 2.30 pm at home may I remind you) and I was shocked at the time when awakened.   Paris has recently placed numerous bicycle rental stands all over the city, and with a deposit, you may ride for 1.5 hours no charge. Anything more, you pay 1 euro per hour. I was quick to advise all that I would be up because of my internal alarm, and planned on cycling around in the early morn. That internal alarm malfunctioned. We didn't leave the hotel till 10, because my weary body didn't cooperate with my mind.  Janette, Whitney and I wanted to see a Marie Antoinette exhibit at Grand Palais, dine somewhere memorable, and shop, all before a late evening dinner cruise on the Seine River with the group. We took the Metro, was completely lost in a matter of minutes, but happened upon exquisite shopping none the less.   When I squealed they were sure I'd been mugged. There it was, a dream that I never considered possible, The Grand Colbert. Anyone familiar with the movie "Something's Gotta Give"? Remember Diane Keaton's favorite haunt? Her birthday dinner with the divine, tall, skinny, sparkling candles on the oh so French birthday confection? Her line was "there's this little place behind Palais Royale, the Grand Colbert, that I just love".   Three foot diameter pots on the bar held palms that touched the 20 foot ceiling. The music was French, a much improved change from most dining establishments. They LOVE American music in France. Place settings sparkled and the staff pulled the table away from the banquet setting for easy access. The privacy glass between booths was etched and a lipped silver coaster housed our water bottle. Large olives (non-pitted) were brought in a ramekin with toothpicks tucked to the side. Need I describe more? My braised beef accompanied by herbed potatoes melted on my tongue. Lunch at the Grand Colbert IS the highlight of my Parisian stay.  After our gourmet lunch fare, I was better oriented. We caught the Metro to the Grand Palais and was wowed by Madam Marie Antoinette's life. Her writing desk, Serves china, silk embroidered fabrics for cushions, a harp commissioned by her Mother for her personal use all are beyond imagination. She lived quite the life. Sadly it ended tragically and quite young.  I was light on my feet so as to get the window seat on the barge for our late evening dinner cruise. It doesn't get dark till close to 10 pm. The Seine River winds through Paris, is narrow and 23 bridges span it throughout the city. Each bridge is named and is a work of art in itself. Pont de Alexander is the most famous with it's gold leafing on the statues and arches. The dinner cruise was approximately 3 hours with stunning views of the Eiffel Tower and multiple bridges. (See photo album of Paris for pictures.)  We ended the evening with a walk that included, God help us, the longest staircase yet. Justin Ward, a minister/missionary from Texas attending culinary school in Paris was our guide to a lofty, perfectly symmetrical view of the sparkling Eiffel Tower. I stood quietly with all senses honed trying to indelibly imprint my mind with this scene. All the while gasping for breath from the quick climb.  Our last evening was coming to a close.   Someone's Metro pass kept denying access, and while they waited for a new one to be printed I went up ahead, put on my sunglasses, laid money on the floor in front of me as if begging, and began doing my best Stevie Wonder impersonation. Subway tiles make for really good acoustics and "Isn't she lovely! Isn't she wonderful....." rang loudly. I had the head sway going well and someone gave me some coins.=) Whitney recorded me with her camera and I'm sure to get famous on youtube I've no doubt.  I packed with a heavy heart, yet excited to step foot on a new continent the next day...

Friday, June 06, 2008
Travel Blog-Day 4

(Written in hotel room in Lome, extremely frustrated because I paid for internet without being told it would not work again till morning!)  Woodlawn hosted High Praise Worship Arts Conference last week and what a roaring success it was. As staff, we made lists of things NOT to do next year to make things more perfect. I now have a list of things NOT to do when traveling with a group in Paris. =) Never, ever take the subway to and from the airport because: 1. You will climb and descend more stairs than you thought existed in the universe. 2. Suitcases are the equivalent of large warts on your nose and you decide you will do anything to be rid of them, even just wear whatever you have on your person and purchase a toothbrush. 3. Early morning means FULL Metro cars with commuters that do not understand when all 13 of your group is on the same stairwell laboring to pull overstuffed suitcases up multiple flights of stairs. And the commuters walk at a full clip and are late to work. And you are definitely in their way. 4. Medium sized cases, especially oversized ones do NOT go through the turnstiles and your backpack will be caught while on your person when the gate thingy shuts! At that point, ya ain't goin' nowhere. 5. Should by some freak accident you board the wrong train, all 13 have to get back off, climb the demon possessed stairs up and down yet again to find the correct train. (Are you remembering that all the trains are stuffed full of rushed commuters?) It truly was comical, unless you were one of the 13.=)  We arrived at Charles De Galle Aeroport with 2 hours and 40 minutes till take off. I actually enjoyed it after realizing it was perfect timing to work on my blog.  6 pm-Arrive Lome, Togo, West Africa  Until we boarded a bus to be transported to the terminal, I thought we were the only plane to land at the airport. I spotted just one more. It was dusk with few streetlights. We passed through customs with no hitches, collected our luggage and soon were in an air conditioned van on our way to the hotel. Within seconds of passing through the gate exiting the airport, the most intense culture shock of all my born days ensued. Motorbikes missing either front or back lights crisscross continually all around you. It's first come first serve in all lanes. But you aren't sure what a "lane" is as there are no lines nor traffic signals on the asphalt/dirt roads. Wait, I saw one traffic light. There are small compact cars, a few large delivery type trucks, but mostly motorbikes in a city of 700,000 plus. And according to the missionaries, no one drives at night. Ha. I spotted a woman with several large pieces of wood, seemingly splintered pieces of 2 x 4's balanced on her head.  I am faltering here trying to come up with words to describe what I saw in transit to our hotel. I'm told it has rained daily for a week, the reason for so much water standing in the intersections. Pictures of this would make the front page of my hometown newspaper and be called a flash flood. Yet we drove right on through. As did the motorbikes. There are vendors lining the sidewalks with flames of some type oil lamp for light. And while I'm trying to view the sidewalks, there are no less than half a dozen motorbikes vying for a spot in front of our van. They do not look, they just pull out. And the van swerves to miss them. Again, no one drives at night here! I simply cannot imagine tomorrow when they all do decide to drive.  Our hotel is beautiful with manicured grounds and the sound of the ocean rolling in. We are at Hotel Sarakawa on the Atlantic Ocean. We dined this evening under a lovely gazebo with the sounds and smells of the ocean blowing in. I had Sole Mienuere (pan fried fish) and rice pilaf. Their Coca-Cola "Light" basically tastes like flat Diet Coke from a 2 week old 2 liter with no lid.=) But it was wet, and cool with 3 or so cubes of precious ice.  I shall retire for rest, but the sights of the city keep rolling through my head. I've not seen this country in daylight and am aching to do so. Tomorrow I will record with my camera the things I've tried to describe to you. And I also get to see the drivers. All those who don't drive at night.   ***p.s. How I ever forgot to mention this I have no idea. After discussion with Pastor Adams, he was extremely pleased to hear that SOLO wants to put fresh water wells here. When I inquired about the location, he said that churches that have wells gain favor with the government and officials and it's very advantageous to the missionaries in many ways. He will take me to where wells are needed and I will have a pictures and a full report of where they will be placed!

Travel Blog-Day 5

I'm one confused female. Should I blog about going to the bible school site? The church service I just attended? The Lebonese food I so enjoyed today? Pastor Adams and his amazing success here in Togo? My visit to Steven and Kristen's lovely home? The Cantrell's who are AIMer's and left a 2 month old grandson in Texas 9 months ago? The Ellis' from Brookhaven, MS who are overseeing the building of the Bible School?  I just made the executive decision to give you a once over of my day, and do future in-depth blogs from the afore mentioned.  When I woke up in Lome, Togo, West Africa I walked straight to the window. Last night was PITCH black from the power being cut off. (I learned that to conserve energy the power is literally shut down in various, random parts of the city with no forewarning. I assume this hotel runs on generators or has an agreement with some high falutin' official because the hotel had power but none across the street nor to the sides. The power is purchased from neighboring Ghana. Yeah, that Ghana. (I took a picture today of the Andrus' generator, which they have not always had. It means they can at least have lights when the power goes. Kristen was so thankful and quick to mention that T.L. Wallace Construction had provided it.)  Back to walking to the window...There is a lovely view of stucco looking buildings with tall palms swaying in the ocean breeze. I did not expect the Mediterranean influence. Not many 3 story buildings, rarely 2 story ones. It's when your eyes light on the ground that you are shocked. Red clay mud everywhere, and gooey from the rainy season. It was raining when we left the hotel, but soon cleared. There aren't puddles here. There are full size fishing ponds in the intersections. This massive city has no sewage system nor garbage disposal system either. The streets tell the tale. The incredibly accommodating missionaries were able to rent a "bus" as Brennan (the Andrus' 6 year old son) calls it. It's a tad bigger than a van, not quite a bus. And the streets are crawling with "moto's" (motorcycles), an Ashland (their 2 year old daughter) word. There are 3 people per bike quite often. We saw five. I have a picture of a mattress folded in half and strapped to the back of one.   Everyone is selling something. It reminds me of a chaotic flea market, maybe one you'd find on the Biloxi beach the day after Katrina. You don't see masses just walking, they are all manning a rickety, makeshift stand of some sort. From hub caps to roasted chickens, it's for sale on the sidewalks. I can't figure out who they sell to. I'm told that with 700,000 here there is a need for all this stuff. But you don't see people walking the street with shopping bags. Many walking have a 3 ft. diameter dishpan looking thing balanced on their head, usually women, sometimes men, but much more rare. And it's piled higher than any Pentecostal hairdo I've ever witnessed. There is usually a netting of some sort around the wares in their head pots. Ranging from bananas to cell phone covers, many peddle from atop their head. Several women had a 16" square box with plexi glass sides on it balanced right on top. I finally got close to one only to realize it's pastries. Some fan a fire right on the mud sidewalk with large natural colored fans to keep it hot while roasting corn cobs. The biggest shocker is the cell phone stands. Most have no electricity, mud floors, and a poorly painted sign advertising cell phone cards. They love cell phones and purchase minutes at these stands. I'm truthful when I tell you they are stands on every corner AND between the corners. They may live in a shanty, but they have a cell.  The bible school sight is 20 minutes out of town. I was so choked up the entire time we were there that had someone said Boo, I'd have broken down. I didn't know until my arrival that Woodlawn has been fully responsible for building this school. There is a 1/2 mile long block wall surrounding the 3.5 acres with a front and back gate. I will post pictures of this wall. I'm guessing it's about 10 foot tall and here's the kicker. Each and every block was MADE on site. I asked how. They showed me a metal frame where sand, rocks and concrete are poured in, allowed to set up, then placed on the wall. The blocks are made close to the wall so as to not have to haul them. There is no heavy equipment. 140 loads of dirt were brought in for footings and foundation, and each load was shoveled by hand into this foundation. The school will consist of 8000 square feet including the dormitories. I asked if this school was the way to win this country, and the answer was a resounding YES. The nationals (locals) would never understand having a white pastor. These missionaries are pastors to the pastors. They teach these men (and 1 woman who had the highest average for this school year) how to pastor thriving, growing churches. Bro. Adams arrived 12 years ago with 8 churches established, and there are now 38 works and 28 "preaching points" in Togo alone. (A preaching point being somewhere that church is held, but not on a weekly basis.) There will be a printing room for printing their own curriculum and tracks, and the Togo National church offices will be moved to the school. Right now, classes are held in a church and they have to take turns as there is only one classroom. Pastor Adams and Bro. Steven Andrus teach. 14 men and 1 woman attend and when they graduate and they immediately return to their village to either assist at or start their own church. At completion of the new bible school, they will be able to house 32 students. An outdoor type kitchen will be at the back of the dorms and a large "lobby" area. I'm told this is where they will prepare and cook their own meals.  An amazing thing I saw on the way in to the bible school was a sewing shop. Three women were on the porch of a shanty sitting at black and gold pedal driven sewing machines. I inquired and learned they take in sewing for people in the village.  The new school needs a well. I have been under the assumption that the first well SOLO had dug would be in a village. I am going to present to the class the suggestion that our first well be at the bible school. From then, my burden is to put them in villages on church grounds so the missionaries have favor with the "chief".  I'm aware this has not been a once over of my day as promised, but I simply had share all this. Next is my first church service in a third world country.  And I'm going to cry while typing...

Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Travel Blog-Day 5 Evening

My heart felt like a water balloon being filled from a spigot. I was just sure at some point it would burst and I'd dissolve into a large puddle. When I stepped off of the bus, tears flowed. Earlier, the bible school site had done me in, and when I saw the church building, the moto's leaning against the building, and heard the singing, tears dripped from my chin.  I have a house, car, church, health, etc. These people have shanty's, lucky ones own a moto, they walk forever to get to church and 3000 children die DAILY in Africa from malaria caused by mosquito bites. But the sweetest, purest worship flows from them. How do I improve their world and continue living what's consider a "normal" life at home? I will start by helping provide clean water. And bicycles for village pastors. And mosquito nets that a family of 4 can sleep under.  We drove for what seemed like an hour, well it was an hour, through the teeming city of Lome. Jerron said everywhere you go is like going to the sandbar on the back rack of a 3 wheeler. I couldn't have said it better. It's nerve racking being continually jostled, knocked around, and hitting your head on the window of the vehicle. When we stepped inside the church, the music was so loud you could feel it in your chest cavity. I knew not a word. But I just couldn't quit weeping. One of the missionaries mentioned that if the PA is not squealing, they don't think it's anointed. Lol. They had it working grandly while 4 plus people had mikes and were all singing something different. There were bongos, stainless steel bowls with rings piercing the sides to form a tambourine, drum set, keyboard and various noise making objects. And they all made their own joyful noise to the Lord. When service begins the ladies line up in front of the band and one begins to sing. She starts singing with no music and after a bit of pecking, the keyboardist finds the key she is in. Most songs are sung with just keyboard for a couple verses then the drums join in. And every time on every song I was amazed at the rhythm. It's a haunting, obviously African beat. Seeing worship from these people to our Most High God is transforming. They sing with eyes closed and smooth movements. Even the smallest children move to the beat. There is wide open space in front of the pulpit with the chairs set far back. It took me a bit to figure it out. Within minutes I knew. They exit their pews and in procession they "march" as if a large dragon at a parade for the Chinese New Year, only not connected. Their steps are mostly slow, sometimes at a clip, according to the music. The ministers go first and they circle the perimeter of the open area in front of the stage. They eventually weave around and in and out with each person following the next. Reminds me of walking thru a maze and playing follow the leader all at once. Ministers wives, men, then women in the audience all form a line and repeat the process. It's what's to come that gets you.  The median age for life expectancy in West Africa is 47 years. I think possibly this is the reasoning behind such seriousness in worship by the children. Is a short life the reason they are so responsive so young? Is it that they have nothing else in their lives that gives joy but Jesus? They then form their own line and began to "march" in worship, I am deeply touched. They move beautifully to the drum beat and I sat and wondered what they would think of Woodlawn Gap Kids church. To whom much is given, much is required and I'm proud to say that though our cultures differ by worlds, God has blessed and we have given much to His kingdom by way of our children and to foreign missions. Pastor Carney will be the first to say that children are the church of tomorrow, and we are in process of hopefully building a children's center in the near future. The majority of churches here are a direct result of someone witnessing to Pastor Adams on the job and he being baptized and filled with the holy ghost in little ole' Columbia, Mississippi.  The women carry their little ones on their back, in a sling type thing called a pagne (pawn-yay). They take the child by the arm and literally sling them over their shoulder then tie a large piece of brightly colored fabric over the baby. The child's feet are wrapped around the mother's sides and stick out from the wrap. The ladies sit and breast feed right in the pew. Jenny Cantrell, AIMer here in Togo, told me of a picture she took of a mother at the altar with hands raised, weeping, and a child leaned around her side and breast feeding. By service end, as in every country in the world I think, kids are sprawled on the floors or sleeping on the narrow pews, which are nothing more than a backless bench.   Three florescent lights hang in the rafters and one ceiling fan turns above the platform area for the ministers. It's hot and your clothes are sweated down. But when you leave you have witnessed a mind blowing revelation that no matter who, what, when, where, God shows up when there is worship from His people.

Travel Blog-Day 6-The Village

I knew all along we were going to see "a village church", and was excited about that fact until we attended church in the city. I then knew it would be a much more unsettling experience.  We drove through miles of poverty and filth that you simply cannot fathom then turned off the "road" toward the village. There was lush foliage and pineapples growing all the way up to the road. Massive mango trees are pretty common, bougainvilla grows wild, and there is a bright orange tree called a flamboyant tree that is exactly like a mimosa in Mississippi, just not pink. It's unfair to even call it a road when it's the equivalent of navigating Red Bluff in a golf cart, just on flat land. The ruts are huge and deep and you are just sure the bus is going to tip on it's side. And every time Missionary Adams visits one of these churches, he takes this road. I shall never take even a half way decent road for granted again. We plowed some 8-10 miles into the bush and arrived at a church that is pastored by one of the brothers from the city church. We were asked to wait at the church till Pastor Adams could go locate someone from the church family. Within minutes, there were 25 or so villagers swarming us. They had never seen that many white faces at once in their lifetime. The church had no electricity, running water, nor bathrooms. But it is a thriving work. Steven Andrus explained that the pastor rides a bike here from the city each week to hold service. A bicycle. I asked if all the pastors of village churches had bikes. He told me no, but when this pastor graduated last year from the bible school, he wrote a letter and asked for help to purchase one. He raised 12,000 francs which is about $30.00 and the Togo National Church paid for the rest. You can guess my next question. Is there a need for bikes? Steven laughed. He explained that they simply don't have a $100 to purchase each graduating pastor a bike. They received letters from 3 students who graduated this year with a dire need for a bicycle. I also imagine you have guessed that I'm raising money for bicycles. So pastors can ride untold miles, in unforgiving conditions to spread His precious word.   (While sitting in a lovely air conditioned room the day before my departure, the lady doing my pedicure who knew of my trip here, told me she'd like to donate a manicure/pedicure/eyebrow wax to be raffled off and the money go to Missions In Africa. I cannot wait to tell her that we are going to buy bicycles for the graduating pastors with the funds raised! She will be ecstatic.)  There are goats roaming around the village, in the same fashion as dogs in America. Chickens peck at nothing in the red dirt. And the children smile hugely at you after their first initial shyness. I took a couple of pictures of them on my digital camera and showed them the screen. After that point, I had a following to that would rival Paris Hilton in Vegas! Lol. On my return to this most haunting country, I will pack even lighter, yet my suitcase will be heavier. All I had was a package of gum in small travel purse. I tore each piece into the smallest possible strips and passed it out. It was as if I was giving away $100 bills. My guess is that not one had ever tasted Big Red. I was worried that the cinnamon may be too hot, but I only saw smiles and huge chewing motions. And more small palms lifted begging for more. I had to show them the empty packages to be able to move.  The shantys are small. Some have porches, the nicer ones have block walls with thatched roofs. Some are just 4 poles stuck in the ground from trees they hacked down and topped with palm fronds. But they were elated to see us. I noticed a girl of about 10 take off running away from us. She returned promptly in a filthy peach and white dress that she changed into for our visit. She dressed up for us. Many of the children have never left their village. The adults may go toward town to buy food, but kids do not go. One site that sticks in my mind is of a mother laying on a bench and a child standing on the ground in front of her nursing. She was sleeping soundly and this child was nursing happily standing on his feet. Most kids have on clothes, though too huge or too small. Many we saw had nothing on. And they grin and wave with no thought whatsoever of their nakedness.  A man walked up with a baby girl of about 4-5 months old. (You know the girls because they all have pierced ears and mostly wear only dresses.) I asked to hold her, and he began chattering to me. Pastor interpreted that her Mother had died and he wanted me to take her to America. He was begging me to take her. In their minds, America is all wealth, health and perfection. (And compared to here, it definitely is.) I won't even begin to assume that I can convey to you my emotions over this exchange. I walked around and held her while she stared at me with bright eyes.  We gathered and had prayer over this village. The people are reverent and are very still while Pastor Adams prayed, and then it was time to go. They literally chased the bus till they could run no more. A throng of kids all laughing, hollering yo-vo! Yo-vo! (White person! White person!.)

Thursday, June 12, 2008
Travel Blog-Day 7

Our Last Church Service  I told Jerron I would not give him credit for saying this, but here goes. We split into 2 groups and went to separate churches on Sunday morning. Myself, Meka, and Scott went with Jerron to Pastor Koffi's (ko-fee'). And when we pulled away from the church, Jerron said, "That's the POA (Pentecostals of Alexandria) of Lome!"  This was my 3rd African church service, and definitely my favorite. (I had instant reservations about typing that in the blog for fear of the other pastors reading it, then died laughed at myself. How in the cat hair would they? Not with any internet connection I had while there! Not to even mention they certainly don't have a computer! And to think that the Adams' and Steven and Kristen deal with sketchy internet 24/7. I will call their names earnestly and daily for the rest of my days.)  We rode with Steven in his horse and buggy across trails that seemingly had never been blazed on the western frontier. Believe it or not, it was rougher in his 4WD than on the bus. Only difference was there were tons of dark-skinned, bright-eyed people on the sides of the roads and billions of buzzing moto's racing with Steven as if we were at Talladega. We were late from having to get all our luggage transferred to leave for Benin, the next country.  Close to 250 gathered in this large block building that had no doors (if so, they were standing wide open and I simply don't remember them), no lights on, a blaring, squealing PA, and over half the church was children. There were 3 ceiling fans and I'm told that a former lady missionary Elsie Lund purchased the fans for this work. The little ones all sat in the front half of the church. I'm assuming this was because it was Sunday and their from of Sunday School.  This would be the church you'd go to for special occasions were you able to visit other churches. Kristen tells me Brennan asks if they are going to Bro. Koffi's each and every Sunday morning. That boy knows a good thing when he sees it. There was a testimony service which is actually a song sung by whomever gets up, and the congregation joins in after the keyboardist finds what key she is in. Just before Jerron preached (he did truly superb, though with an interpreter) the choir lined up. Had I the funds, Woodlawn would experience this choir. Beautiful, haunting melodies in perfect harmony with only bongo drums accompanying is indelibly imprinted on my mind.  I spent most of the service moving around with a video camera. I took footage of Jerron preaching, the choir, the children's worship, breast feeding mothers, kids eating spaghetti-looking something out of a small black garbage bag (their version of a ziplock), and the church grounds. All to soon we had to leave. We had a rendezvous with the rest of the group for our trek to Benin.  When we exited the building, Pastor Koffi followed and led us to a small building just beside the church. They had cold drinks for us in a small basket sitting in the middle of the floor. As an American, you envision drinks on ice. These were drinks obviously bought in advance of service just for us and they were simply delicious, though lukewarm. I told the pastor, who was also the interpreter and spoke English incredibly well, that I was impressed with his hospitality room! He explained it was the "Mike Ellis Room" and pointed to where he had painted that on the wall. Mike is a contractor from Brookhaven, MS and he and his wife are there overseeing the building of the bible school. He pride in this was that Mike had helped him build this "study room". There was not a stick of furniture in it, but he beamed about it as if I had just installed $20,000 worth of furnishings.  We pulled away in Steven's vehicle with A/C blaring, all discussing the service, and my heart was heavy with the knowledge that was my last African service for who knows how long. How does Pastor Adams come to America, walk into Woodlawn and not absolutely detest us? When it's too cold in the church, we are vocal. When the PA is not perfect, many squawk. When the soundtrack skips, we're mortified. How does he keep a balanced mind concerning us? I am truly aware that cultures differ. But this literal and figurative continent division HAS to be painfully hard to keep in perspective.  On to Benin...

Travel Blog-Day 7 & 8-Benin

We met the rest of the crew at the hotel, changed clothes from sweating down at "Sunday School" and was on the road to the neighboring country, Benin by 12 pm. We left our services early and I was trying to figure out why the huge rush. The missionaries had packed us a lunch to eat on the bus. They told us it was only a 2 hour drive to Benin where we would be able to relax for a much needed "down-time" day. My perception was that we had been to the 3 services in as many days, took a day trip out to the villages, visited the bible school site, had dinner at both missionary homes and were now foot loose and fancy free. Why the rush? Why eat on the bus? There was a cooler on the bus, no, not full of ice, but the frozen plastic water-filled containers for keeping things cool. We passed around a container of pineapple, mango, avocado and all had a can drink. (Have I mentioned the fruit? Dear heavenly Father it's like pure sugar! Nary a piece of fruit in the USA is as sweet.) We stopped at a store and most were afraid of the food, but some of us had a croissant with sausage inside, their version of our pig in the blanket. Steven had bought croissants and Kristen brought delectable cream cheese spread, which I got a kick out of. It was my favorite brand from here in the states. The Laughing Cow Creme Cheese containers in french cracked me up. I can only imagine some snooty french madame peering down her nose in disdain at the stupid "American Laughing Cow" fromage (cheese)! (And if you've never tried it, it's in the "gourmet section" beside the deli at Wal-Mart. Delish.=)  Reality dawned soon enough when we reached the Togo border. We had to fill out papers to leave, which I found incredulous. We then entered what is called "no man's land". It's an area between the countries that is holy chaos. Here they searched whomever, whatever their hearts desired. You take your passport to a policeman who is sitting under an outdoor porch type area of what I assume is a government building. Then you sit down on a rickety bench and wait till they decide it's your turn. Pictures are forbidden. People butt in line, there are goats bleating right behind you, cars, buses, and trucks are stopped in the middle of the road in any haphazard way they please. At this point, you have nowhere to hide. "No Man's Land" is Disney World to the 1,000,000 car sales men of West Africa. You are continually accosted by men desperate to sell you something. Want a cell phone cover with silver stars? A wife beater? A suit for your 3 year old son? Whole grilled fish? A Rolex watch? A Gucci wallet? A Tom & Jerry comic book? It's available. And if you make the mistake of slightly making eye contact with one, or even glancing the way of any said item, they are on you like ants on honey. That meaning 10 in 1.0 seconds flat.  You finally tire of sitting on the bench, so you move around, only after being unforgivingly rude to the car salesmen. They absolutely do not understand no, thank you. It's sweltering hot on the bus, and you are told in an hour plus that you are allowed to leave Togo. On to the next stop which is about a 1/2 mile to Benin customs. Here we had to wait on visas while dodging car salesman, goats, etc. You get the picture. We were able to obtain Togo visas in advance because of our length of stay. But we only needed a transient visa for Benin because our time there was to be only 48 hours. In yet another hour, we were on our way, in our second West African country. I found it to be beautiful. The road was a tad better, the scenery breathtaking. We passed fishing villages where they live in huts out over the water. Can you say mosquito heaven? I told them this was the Almafi Coast of Africa. It was truly beautiful.   We arrived Ouida, the birthplace and voodoo capital of the world. Thankfully, we drove straight on thru. The town was cleaner but still extremely poor. We stopped for pictures at a massive monument for the "The Door Of No Return". Benin was governed by the Portuguese, and I apologize for my lack of knowledge, but this was where the slave trade began. When one tribal village overtook another, they sold them off as slaves. This was the port where the Portuguese loaded them on boats. It's a hauntingly sad place.  We turned onto a road, which was the beach. I'm telling you, we drove in sand on the beach for 20 or so minutes. There were sporadic thatched huts on the beach side of the road with fishing boats laying on their sides. We arrived to Casa Del Papa, a resort that would price out at $750/night on Maui. You'd weep if I told you just what we paid per night. Yellow cabins with a porch faced the endless, roaring Atlantic Ocean, all connected with a running boardwalk. Rows of massive palm trees swayed in the stiff breeze between you and the ocean. It was as much a culture shock to walk into this paradise as it was to leave the gates of the airport the first time in Lome. The cabin had connecting doors and consisted of 2 private bedrooms that opened to the front porch. Pristine, with white walls and vintage Air France poster for artwork, they were perfect photo shoots for a Pottery Barn catalog. With clean line, dark wood tester beds, sleek linens and a "wet room" bath, I could have simply stayed a month. There was a/c but who prefers that over the breeze off the Atlantic?   We dined under a large thatched roof pavilion with a wait staff that had giant smiles. The fish, I had bar, was fresh from the ocean. I'm told Casa del Papa is popular with Europeans in the high season. Americans would disdain it only because reaching it is hugely inconvenient. There were 3 pools and if you looked up as if needing something they jumped. Small low, domed open huts were positioned out on the beach far enough apart that you were in solitude. They brought me a chaise lounge and I put down roots. (I made the remark were I fabulously wealthy I'd come in by copter, because return I would!)  And all the while my mind is reeling from knowledge of what is a couple hours away. I know my mind was playing tricks on me. Yes, it was divine having all the amenities, but somehow I kept returning in spirit to the sights and sounds of Lome.  I awoke to an odd swishing sound, even over the roar of the crashing white caps. I got up to see a small African woman with a baby strapped on her back sweeping the sand. Literally sweeping any footprints out of the sand between the cabin and the beach. I inquired and it was work, which she obviously enjoyed. Breakfast buffet was again served under the pavilion and I couldn't wait to hit the beach. We had been non-stop since leaving the previous Monday, and this leisurely Monday was sorely overdue.  The four missionary couples, and Steven and Kristen's children all went with us. I was so glad to see them get this respite. (I figured out that they weren't all scheduled to go with us but Jay and Jerron made it happen.) Demetra, with her heart of pure gold, did manicures and pedicures on the missionary ladies. She sat on the tiled floor up by the pool and the ladies were treated to some pampering. I went to the concession and brought them bottled drinks. I wish that had been my idea.=) We only saw one other couple at breakfast the next morning. Other than that, we "yo-vo" missionaries had the resort to ourselves. Kristen brought kites for the kids, and us older kids enjoyed them as much as Brennan and Ashland. The surf was strong, but Bro. Adams fought it for large shells for his grand daughter, Kayla. I slept for a couple hours on my chaise under my little hut. We spread out each claiming our own little thatched dome, everyone had books and simply chilled out. I sat outside after dinner late that evening on our porch and blogged with my travel candle lit. It was pitch black save the landscape lighting positioned half way to the water. You could hear the roaring ocean but not see a living thing.   I loved getting to know Jenny Cantrell from Kansas City, Kansas. She and her husband Ken are AIMer's and will return to the states in August in time for their first grand baby's 1st birthday party. When she left he was a very young 2 months old. They are waiting on appointment to Birkena Fasa, the country to the north of Togo I believe. During the mani/pedi session I discovered she and I have strong constitutions (meaning large feet). I wore home one pair of shoes and left her all I took. What kind of sacrifice is that? None. I can go to Payless any given day of the week a mere 1/2 mile from my home. She arrived in Togo 6 months ago with 1 suitcase. We all left anything that could be of use. Sunscreen, bobby pins, lotions, the guys left all their ties and dress shirts, the women their clothes, etc. How do you repay someone for giving up the life we live here in exchange for African life? I know we can't repay in any way, but we surely can do our part to make life as easy as we can for them.  Our departure time of 9 am from paradise came wayyyy too early. We left a bit more rested, yet sincerely anxious to get home. Back in the hot bus, over hill over dale to Lome where we were to fly away home....

Travel Blog-Day 9-Headed Home

Previous to my eyes opening Tuesday, I was groaning. I had been a tad under the weather Monday evening and when I woke it was to abdominal pain. I got up and walked straight out to the water. I was trying to soak in the feel of the beach, ocean, calmness of spirit, knowing we were beginning a LONG journey home.  We met at 9 am and had prayer before beginning. How elated we were to be headed to the grand US of A and yet anguished to know we'd be traveling for 35+ hours. We had to clear customs leaving Benin then again to enter Togo. We planned on going to the airport before lunch for an early luggage check in before our 10.20 pm flight out. Nix that. Customs took a bit longer than was planned. We had dinner and off to "market" we went. I knew we'd find good pricing on happys for our friends and family, but I also had an inkling it would be something of a brouhaha after our experience in No Mans Land. Still, I immensely enjoyed haggling with another crop of car salesmen. I wanted gifts that left no doubt they came from Africa. I found them. But good Lord, those guys love the process of the haggle. And they met their match in me.   The market is basically an American style flea market but with much less walking space between the rows of booths. One gentleman stepped in front of me and held his arms straight out to his sides as if to block my passage, saying "Madame! Madame! Look to my booth!" Pastor Adams had already laughed at dinner stating that the Africans would be unsure of me because women are as a rule quiet and never outspoken. He made the statement that Lome would never be the same. Well, when this guy blocked my way as if to force me to look at his wares, I looked him directly in the eye and sternly said "Do not block my way." He moved to the side, his eyes bugging out, and made some whoooeeee sound. LOL. His intimidation absolutely was not working on me. I certainly did not want to cheat him, but was also warned they will start off quoting you triple what they will actually take. I left with what I needed.  Gracious hosts, the Adams, allowed us all showers in their home after a hot day of travel back to Lome, then market. We loaded and off we went. It was disconcerting to enter the airport knowing Pastor Adams was not with us. At that point I realized just heavily we had depended on his maneuvering us around. He was not allowed into the airport if not traveling. He did a superb job of planning our days and was so careful to anticipate our needs. We are eternally grateful for his thoughtful kindness.  There is no order to the Lome airport security. We were all trying to get our bags on the conveyor belt to pass through the xray machine as a group, while others were pushing and cramming their bags in with ours. There is no a/c in the check in area and it was quite hot and bad for those who were under the weather. Once assigned a boarding pass we were able to go into an a/c area. One in the group did not fare well with the heat and sickness. I was fearful of them not allowing us all on the plane, but God was with us and we all boarded for our journey back to the land of excess.  Six hours later we were in Paris, and a couple hours later winging our way back home. Nine hours later Houston had never looked so grand. Reclaiming bags then rechecking them for entrance to the states was cumbersome but happily done. I was thankful for the organization, computer screens, and welcome from US Customs officials. Their questions and tight security only make me thankful for the safety we live in daily. We dove into Wendy's and I got the largest Diet Coke available. And guzzled until my eyes watered. A chicken sandwich never tasted so much like a delicacy. I had a moment of guilt remembering Jenny Cantrell saying the first thing she was going to eat when she hit the states was a chicken sandwich from Wendy's. I said a prayer right then and there for her.  Two more hours in the air landed us in New Orleans with smiling faces there to meet us. My desire is to return to Africa for the dedication of the bible school. All knowledge I gained, collimungous included, I'd fly away again tomorrow and repeat the same process.

Friday, June 13, 2008
Post Travel Blog

Here I sit in Hardee's, quite Americanized for the first time in days. I have on "normal" shoes (high-heeled red pumps), eating biscuit and gravy, gulping a large Diet Coke, my Mac plugged into a dreamy, beautiful 120v wall plug (God how I missed that!), and freezing my tush off. I suppose I acclimated to the African heat. I know I sweated buckets, not from the usual gardening nor sunning, just by attending church.  I tend to be a tad formal in conversation subjects. I don't discuss flatulence, diarrhea, nor human waste. But I must admit to several, no many, conversations concerning all 3 afore mentioned. Several of us, myself included, were/are sick. One has been to the potty an average of 25 times daily for the last 4 days, and it was not uncommon for someones eyes to widen, then hastily leave the dinner table with no explanation and return rather white faced. We were careful to use only bottled water, and by the time I finally mastered brushing my teeth while not using tap water, it was time to come home. I was not fond of dipping my toothbrush into a cup of poured bottled water, then brushing, and having to wipe my mouth off so i could drink to swish my mouth out. It was like learning to walk all over again. I bet I turned the faucet on and off 5+ times each time I brushed. I finally got another cup and hung over the spigot to remind me not to turn it on.  We ate in comfortable, clean restaurants but were warned to not use the ice if unsure if it's filtered. Our lunch, though NOT expensive by our standards, would pay the weekly salary of a dozen African laborers. Our Americanized intestines are just not used to anything remotely African. Our drinks were only bottled ones, and we used many anti-bacterial hand wipes. But how do you refuse the hand shakes and hugs of the precious people that are desperately happy to see you? It was inevitable, being queasy and making the bathroom runs (pun intended, God help me), but I'd leave on that jet plane again tomorrow.  I am now safely ensconced in the land of plenty, though my system is still far from up to par. My mind reels with visions of African church services, sidewalk vendors, moto's, missionary sacrifices, baby's tied on women's backs, and no internet. It won't be long that I will take for granted the easy access to ice and my computer being blazing fast and connected. I have had my drink refilled twice with ice added in the last hour.  I pray to never forget all I saw. And to be grateful for the little things. Ice, diet coke from a never ending fountain,120V wall outlets...and 1 million other things...

Sunday, June 22, 2008
“Through My Eyes”

(Disclaimer: This is my "message" from our service highlighting Africa. If you read my travel blogs, this may be redundant. A forum of 6 answered most asked questions about our trip, Jerron opened with facts on the success of Pastor Adams and Andrus, It was then my turn. We ended with a 10 minute media presentation of video footage and still shots from our travels. We took pledges and raised $85,000.00 at service end. This will complete the bible school and dig fresh water wells in multiple villages.)

Early this year, Danny Rivers kindled a fire that now rages within me. He sat down on the steps right here in front of this pulpit and preached a simple thought, "Be the Church". I'll be the first to admit that in my 29 years I'd never heard it on that fashion. His message was direct and incredibly simple. As Christians most of us have been taught how to be "in the church" since our birth. His elementary concept to "be the church" shook me to the core. He basically admonished us to do as the scripture says and "love our neighbor as our selves". In that service, we saw moving footage of Africa that haunts me to this day.
2 weeks ago, I experienced what you and I saw on these screens.
700,000 people live in the teeming city of Lome, the country of Togo, on the continent of Africa. The intense culture shock when we exited the gates of the airport is indelibly imprinted on my mind. There was no power outside the airport. The government shuts the electricity off city wide, at any given time, I assume to conserve energy. Pitch black hardly describes it. The trek to the hotel felt like a race at Talledega, with us being the only racing car, everyone else on motorcycles. Bro. Andrus assured us that no one really drives at night, it's too dangerous. I could NOT imagine daylight when they all DID decide to drive. We were surrounded by motorcycles with missing, dim, or no headlights and I literally could have pulled the ear of multiple people on bikes next to us in the van.
Right now, it's rainy season in Togo and we drove through ponds in intersections that would make headlines in the Columbian Progress reading "Flash Flood". Koffi, our driver seemed to not notice and drove right off into the ponds. Somehow we exited on the other side. We arrived at our hotel which obviously has some high falutin' official in their pocket because it was the ONLY public place in the city with electricity, besides the airport.
The city of Lome has no sewage system, no garbage pick up, and not much by way of law enforcement. The average median income is less than $400 annually. Yet the purest, unadulterated worship I've ever witnessed flows from these beautiful people.
My worship is forever altered. How many times have I walked in those doors with a need? I have entered many times with a heavy heart, broken in spirit, emotionally, physically and spiritually. Within these walls I have asked God to provide for me countless times. Within these walls, I have worshipped Him for providing in times of need. Within these walls I have raised my hands and picked up my feet in praise and Honor of His goodness. But all for what? What was the underlying reason for my praise of Him? Do I really worship Him with pure motives or do I worship with knowledge He's going to repay me in some way? I've thanked Him for financial security. I've thanked Him for keeping His hand on my children. I thanked Him when I was able to purchase my home. I worshipped when He blessed me with a new vehicle. I'm eternally grateful to have been placed in this city where the church loves my kids. I adore walking into this choir loft and lifting His name. But why do I do it? Is my praise pure? Is my worship for the right reasons?
When the van pulled onto the grounds of our first African church service, I simply could not stop crying. Tears flowed freely when I heard the beat of the drum, the sound of voices. I didn't understand a single word, yet His spirit permeated the air. Pure praise was being offered up. Do you think anyone was asking for God to provide for their electric bill? They have no electricity. Think any of them were worried about where the money would come from to pay insurance or get the air conditioner repaired? No, they don't know what insurance is and most certainly don't have an air conditioner.
Their hands were lifted with tears flowing because He saved them. He is the reason to live. A church service for them is a clean place to gather and give holy praise to the One who fills their hearts with joy. To glorify the One that died for them. There's no underlying purpose other than to worship the Most High God that loves them
unconditionally.
Cultures differ, hence worship differs. Somehow I think God enjoys their worship a bit more than mine. I have purposed to learn to worship God for who He is, rather that for what He has done or what He can do for me.
Their services are extremely long by our standards and most of us would have long headed out to the Deck, WOW, or Azteca, yet these incredible people continue their praise. From the 2 year old to the adult male, tears drip from their chins. Do these children somehow sense that their lives are not long? The life expectancy in Togo is 47 years of age. Disease, hunger, and contaminated water are all factors in their short life spans. 3,000 children die daily of malaria related deaths in Africa alone.
Our single adult ministry, SOLO, took on the task of digging fresh water wells in Africa after the service with Danny Rivers. We set a goal to have at least 2 wells dug this year. And here is where I can put in a plug since I have the microphone. If you are a single adult we welcome you. We meet upstairs in the Family Life Center each Sunday morning at 9.15.=) Tonya and Clayton Farmer are simply doing a fabulous job of building a singles ministry that you will definitely hear a lot out of in the coming years.
You can't imagine my joy when it dawned on me I just may be able to visit a village that we could place a well in. Our first stop on our first morning there, was the new bible school site. Again, the moment we entered the front gate, tears began flowing from my eyes. I learned from Bro. Adams that Woodlawn has been the sole contributor for the new school and after today, I fully believe we will have what it takes to complete the school. My heart felt like a water balloon under a spigot and I was sure it would burst when I learned that there was no well on the bible school site yet. I could not wait to get back to the states and ask the SOLO class if they would agree to our first well being dug at the bible school. I'm happy to report to you that Tonya and Clayton Farmer will be responsible for the well and it will be in honor of Anna Grace Farmer. Today marks the 4th year anniversary of her going to live with Jesus. There are balloons in the foyer for each child in Wallace's GAP kids class. Make sure your child gets a balloon and we'll meet on the front porch to let them go in celebration of this memorable day. Our single adult ministry will join the Farmers in paying for fresh water wells that the life expectancy of children in Togo may be lengthened. Pastor Adams will help us to place the wells in areas where they are needed most. We plan on placing them on church grounds as it gives favor with the chief of the villages.
I now stand between the flags of the two countries we visited, Togo and Benin, and I tell you the needs are overwhelming and never ending. To whom much is given much is required. How many times has a minister stood in this pulpit admonishing us that we have been given so much and we are required to give back. Can you give up a diet coke a day for 3 months and give $100? Can you sacrifice eating out once a week for a year and give $500? Can you live without $1000 a year for shallow entertainment? Your sacrifice will allow this gospel to be spread to parts of the world you may never get to see except through my eyes.
Let me be your eyes and tell you the need is greater than you can wrap your mind around. Pastor Adams assured us that the way to get the truth to these people is thru teaching men and women in the bible school so they can return to their village to pastor a church. He prints all the curriculum for the school therefore they need tons of copy paper. The bible school attendees need bicycles so as to not walk 2-3 hours to preach in their village on weekends while attending school. (Last Sunday after my short testimony, a member of SOLO class gave an offering of $1500.00 to cover 15 bicycles for graduates.) Electricity still has to be run to the bible school property and that alone will be upwards of $15,000.00. Once the school is completed, furnishings will be needed. Desks for the students, bunk beds and mattresses for the dormitories, not to mention Bibles.
We have been given much, now our sacrifice must be great. As Anne of Green Gables says, you just wouldn't believe what all I wanted to tell you about that I simply did not say.
I will close by saying, call the names of Caroline and Randy Adams, and Kristen and Steven Andrus each and every day when you pray. I hope that when standing in line on Judgement day my sacrifice is not compared to nor judged against any of these 4 people. If so, I shall be sorely lacking.
(P.S. The Andrus' have since returned home and are now pastoring in New Hebron, MS.=)

It's Almost Gone...

2009-01-03T15:13:00.003-06:00

It’s slipping away, and I’m holding on for dear life. I wore my Santa apron one last time today. I hear moans and groans wishing the holidays “were over”! Not me. Ever. I simply love the emotions and spirit that comes with it.

Here’s one last view of the way my important holiday events (Christmas morning not included, it’s a given) played out.

Family

(Notice: Todd holding court and Tiji and Tara hysterically laughing)
For years now, Christmas at Nanna’s is a pajama party. You simply don’t come unless wearing pajamas. We arrive around the 6 o’clock evening hour and the celebration lasts for the next 24. The process of finding just the right thing to wear has become quite important. Invariably, the discussion around Thanksgiving is “Have you found your pajamas yet”? There have been matching families frocks, adult “onesies”, and this year Todd’s t-shirt was a perfect Santa suit that asked “Does this make me look fat”?

Some history. I am the eldest of 8 siblings. Twyla, Timothy, Tiji, Todd, Tara, Toyia, Tedd, and Travis. 2 Divorced, 1 single, the rest married. Between us, we have 9 children, with 2 being stepchildren. You add spouses and significant others in the mix and it’s a motley crew. We decided years ago to “draw names” and the results are classified. From year to year the eldest or youngest stands and presents their gift. There is the proverbial cat and mouse, handing it to the incorrect person only to reach past and give it to the proper recipient.

The evening is loud. The 3 young ones are begging to open gifts from the time they walk in the door. Todd is in a perpetual state of performance and telling jokes. Tiji and Tara are doubled over from his shenanigans. Tayler is on the piano. Music is blaring from Toy’s room. Tyler is telling hilarious stories. Clint does impersonations. Tedd and Tyren are posing. Pots are clanging in the kitchen. Shadoe and Chandler are chasing each other. Basically it’s a mad house. But we’d have it no other way. The evening is scheduled when everyone can be there. Todd works in Singapore, and Tedd, Travis and Parrish work 14 and 14 or 7 and 7, meaning they are gone various times during per month. It takes some fanagling, but we always manage to secure a date.

Everyone brings their favorite Christmas serving dishes, and makes their favorite recipes. And yes there are requests. We eat, kids open their gifts, adults take their turn (I am thrilled to say Todd had my name so my gift was an oil on canvas from Singapore!), then it’s games and foolishness, with heavy accent on the foolishness. Then we eat some more. Truthfully, we eat all evening. The dynamics of the late evening game table were entirely different this year. I sat back and thought of the days when I remember my Mother on the sidelines watching as I was.

We all spend the night on “the hill”. With Nanna, Todd and Tara all living in walking distance, we usually all stay. The next morning is a huge breakfast. Todd and Zazzy got Nanna a gorgeous waffle maker with that flipping mechanism. We had amazing waffles, along with tons of anything else remotely breakfast oriented. We simply hang out for most the day.

That 24 hours is to be remembered. Memories made never to be forgotten.

Church

(I went back in after everyone had gone for the evening and snapped this.)
Now here’s a subject that brightens my eyes. Our Christmas service at Woodlawn Church was on Saturday evening to allow the city to participate. We chose that because every Sunday is extremely busy churchwise. The biggest shock to me when I moved to Columbia 20 years ago, was that everyone went to church. In Biloxi, out of my high school friends, maybe 3-4 went to church regularly. And I attended a large school. And I knew pretty much everyone. Biloxi is just not a churched city. It’s predominately Catholic and they attend Ash Wednesday, Easter and Christmas. The entire school was literally bussed to the local Catholic churches on Ash Wednesday. I was one of maybe 10 that stayed at the school. They all came back with black smears on their foreheads and my thought was “and they think my religion is strange?” My friends Donna and Janet went to the Baptist Church, and Nancy was Mormon. Everyone else in my acquaintance was Catholic. When I think back now, I realize I remember their names only because they were church goers.

Back to Woodlog=), as referred to by Bunch and Breeze, the comedy team that kept the evening lighthearted. We were packed out, chairs in aisles. The songs made your heart smile, and even though it was basically my baby, I must admit the auditorium was breath taking. (DVD’s of the service are available. 601.736.5128/church office) The Miracle of Christmas, the name of our evening, was a perfect way to celebrate the birth of the King. My favorites from the service was when the song “The Miracle of Christmas” was sung with acoustic only and two 4’ X 8’ canvases were painted on stage by my sister Toyia and Brandi Rose ,the other when my Tay sang. Pastor brought a moving message. The evening ended on a high note with the band performing a couple of Trans-Siberian Orchestra songs.

A grand piano and a saxophone serenaded us from a small stage in the center of the foyer. The rotunda was roped with lighted garland and scented candles were lit running up the stairwell. We served fresh cookies and sparkling juice, as the weather was warm. People lolled about, snapping pictures in the their Christmas frocks and soaking up the warmth of Christmas. The evening ended just as we’d hoped. The images are forever imprinted on my mind.

Giving

(Each of the 26 trees represented a family.)
"Light Your World" will change your life. It was founded by Danny Rivers and is an incredible way we as a church give to our community. It's an adoption program of sorts for those less fortunate. You sponsor a child and Elevate Student Ministry does the work. They shop, wrap the gifts, do the cooking and serve. The family is invited to dine with us on Sunday evening and at that time are presented with a "Christmas" for each of their children. As a sponsor, you're invited to the festivities. You make new friends and get participate in the joy. When I arrived, I was amazed at some 200 plus in the gym. We were served a lovely meal and sat with the family we sponsored. Games including the crowd were played and extra gifts were won by the children. Pictures with Santa were taken and last but not least they were told the Christmas Story. We then went to their family tree for smiles and laughter.

My sister Toy played a huge part in the organization of it all and to say I was proud is an understatement. Twenty-six families had an evening that would not have been possible save the giving of our church. If there is no such program at your church, you now have the knowledge of how it's done.=)

Extended Family

Cousin Rhonda from Houston came in Christmas Day with her youngest girls. My heart wishes this to be an annual thing, though I know it simply can’t. It’s as if this one was stolen from time. I hope the day comes that when I have to share my children we can synchronize our years. We’ll surely fly far away together.

We were able to pull something off that I am extremely proud of. A phone call was made to the Coast and a time set with the “coastal cousins” to dine. We made a shot in the dark on Saturday after Christmas and it worked. Rhonda, the sisters and I drove to the Coast and had dinner at Ruby Tuesdays with Aunt Edie, our father’s only living sister. Her children, save one were able to come. David, a nurse who just happened to have the night off, and his children Nathan and Lindsay, Stephen, a captain at the fire department who was off his 48/72 hour rotation, and Anita, mother extraordiniare who came when she left work at 5. I sent out a text with the time and God smiled on us for each cousin to be able to make it. Their youngest sister Amanda was not there, but I simply do NOT feel sorry for her as she was in New York City for the holiday=). We laughed and posed for pictures. We told stories and reminisced about our parents, Bibbie, Papaw and Aunt Deta, then drove back home.

I must admit this was my favorite holiday happening. It was such an unlikely thing with work schedules, but God was good and allowed us some time together. That evening I vowed I would always try to get us all together, even though work schedules and geography make it seem impossible. The only fly in the ointment was that all my siblings every single cousin was not there. There are “Arkansas Cousins” ,“Bourriague Cousins”, "Coast Cousins" and “Houston Cousins” . We discussed a cousins reunion and I pray we can make it happen.

At this time in my life, family has become of utmost importance. With my very own ducklings flying away, my extended family has become an obsession. With the early passing of so many of those close, I feel an urgency to stay connected to this generation I am a part of. If you are reading this, and fall into the sibling or cousin category, please reach out and touch someone. Let’s try our dead level best to meet this year. I’ll work on a date and a central location.

Goodbye holidays. You will be sorely missed.

Resolutions

2009-01-01T00:49:00.002-06:00

Get a new country stamped in my passport.
Organize my photos into albums.
Walk.
Learn to sail.
Take a trip with Tay.
Write thank you notes within 24 hours of the need.
Take a cooking class.
Remember birthdays.
Cook more.
Make cupcakes with Charleigh and Shadoe.
Learn to ballroom dance.
Change A/C filter regularly.
Devote more time to growing SOLO.
See Wicked.
Do more "sisters" time.
See Aunt Edie more often.
Ride a ferry.
Visit the Memphis Zoo.
Celebrate small wonders.
Write down 5 reasons I'm grateful. Daily.
Entertain more.
Visit Houston more often.
Spend the day in Fairhope.
Moisturize often.
Return to Horn Island.
Dig in Dirt Cheap less often.
Read the Bible more.
Organize and label linens.
Paint the pantry doors with chalkboard paint.

New Year's Gift for Moi

2008-12-31T21:09:00.002-06:00

Ever wanted something desperately, but it came to mind only sporadically? Fall, a year ago, I posted a blog about a weekend at the lake. (My original blogging started here at thebottletree.blogspot then I migrated to MySpace for a time. I plan to one day repost all my blogs, including the lake weekend one to this sight.) On that long weekend away, a chef friend cooked us a meal to die for. Tenderloin was served on a bed of polenta. He cooked the loin in a tajine. I fell in love, partly with the chef, partly with the tajine. We also dined on butternut squash soup and had Bosch poached pears for dessert.

I have since drooled over tajines online and at The Kitchen Table, my favorite gourmet kitchen store. I could never justify buying one. While perusing design blogs this very day, I ran across a kitchen with a shelf lined up with tagines. My intent to own one was instantly renewed. There it was, sitting on the top shelf at T.J. Maxx begging to go home with me. I promptly adopted it.

I am now the proud owner of a tajine, my first Moroccan dish/pot. Be sweet and you just may be invited to dine with me when I break it in.

Hellooooo 2009!!!

2008-12-31T10:17:00.000-06:00

There are no words to express my desperate desire to view the Sydney Opera House with my very own naked eye. But doing so when the New Year rolled in? I fear I'd not survive the emotional upheaval. Can you believe that across the world it's already the New Year?! (Australia is one of 2 of the 7 major continents I've not visited, oh but I will...=)

Maybe I'll shoot for viewing that fireworks display when 2010 rolls in. Ahhhh...that thought soothes my raging wanderlust.=)

Needs No Introduction

2008-12-31T09:50:00.001-06:00

Here's to the crazy ones.
The misfits. The rebels. The trouble-makers.
The round pegs in the square holes.
The ones who see things differently.
They're not fond of rules, and they have no respect for the status-quo.
You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify, or vilify them.
But the only thing you can't do is ignore them.
Because they change things.
They push the human race forward.
And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius.
Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world...are the ones who do.
~Unknown

My Holiday

2008-12-29T19:57:00.006-06:00

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve at my home was a fun filled outdoor evening of karaoke with family and friends. (Thank you, Karaoke Queen Crystal). The firepit was blazing and tons of candles were burning. Red pillars in lanterns were strategically placed. Red Table runners with fat white snowflakes graced the small dining tables. Messages on my chalkboards welcomed all and wished them excellent holidays. (If I’ve not mentioned it, I absolutely love chalkboards, in all forms. I have a 4 foot tall, extremely obese Italian chef who holds a chalkboard on a dowel, a 2.5 foot standing pig with a chef hat that also holds a chalkboard, there is a small board beside my backdoor, and another hanging in my kitchen. The first time my pal Lori visited after I purchased Giovanni, the obese Italian, she introduced herself and said she thought he was a grand choice for a husband.)

It monsooned before our evening was over, effectively dousing the firepit. But my oversized garage did exactly as I'd imagined, allowing the party to continue while rain poured. My first visit to this house brought immediate thoughts of “I can have 100 people under here for a party!”. (No, there was not 100 people here.) There is definitely something ethereal about being outside listening to rain while candles glow.

My largest pot, a white enamel “gumbo”, was full of Cabbage ‘N Beef soup. My large tea dispenser sat beside a container filled with ice and a scoop. It was basically “help yourself” which made for an easy, enjoyable evening for me. The dessert table was laden and it can safely be said that all had a grand time.

My neighborhood is extremely quiet, just not this Christmas Eve. Husband and wife travel nurses live to the East and to the West is an elderly woman who is a night owl. Behind me is the grandmother of the female travel nurse. As Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston songs were belted, I was glad that most of the neighbors were celebrating elsewhere. Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree all the way to Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer was performed. And although I am part of a family of incredible singers, there were some pretty funny renditions to be heard.

Love flowed freely. Hugs were contagious. Gratefulness for the holiday spirit was felt. Simply put, a perfect Christmas Eve.

Christmas DayTraditionally, I cook an oversize breakfast casserole that is brimming with eggs, sausage, and cheese. My eyes popped open well before 7, and I somehow knew I didn’t have the sausage. After inspecting the freezer, I got my keys. My hope was to find a service station that carried a few groceries. I learned years ago to let the brood sleep in. They are lightyears past the early presents ritual, so I cook and take my time setting a table that makes my guts smile. Back to the sausage...I was delighted to find Winn Dixie shining brightly. I meandered around collecting special things for our morning meal, Orange/Banana/Strawberry Juice, my missing sausage, and fat cinnamon rolls. Soon the casserole and cinnamon rolls were in the oven, bacon sizzled, and pancakes were slowcooking on the griddle. I sliced oranges to garnish our glasses and got out the new holiday mini pancake griddle. It features Santa, a tree, a gingerbread man, and a snowman. Every one got a full size pancake with a mini holiday on atop it. We dined sumptuously.

Until this year, it never dawned on me that one of our rituals is actually now a tradition. We finish up a slow, late breakfast, then go to different corners of the house to finish wrapping. The wrapping has become as significant as the gifts. Tyler visits the Museum of Modern Art for his paper. Last year was origami atop the gifts. This year there was holly and sticks, subway maps, and metallic bronze tissue for wrapping. I personally love attaching ornaments of significance to the ribbons. It’s a lazy, no rush day for us, so presents aren’t had until lunch or after.

I racked up this year! Crate & Barrel goodies from Tyler always means smiles. A pink old fashioned Schwinn 10 speed from Tay was a definite hit...And vintage dishes from Tyren were perfect. We love giving the old as well as the new. And books are a big plus.

Christmas Day was another one of those “live over” days. May there be many more in my lifetime.

It's Here...

2008-12-23T10:52:00.002-06:00

Doesn't this tree look lovely yet simple? I just may be tempted to do something of this sort next year. I literally put finishing touches on my tree this very morning. I "mess" with it the entire time it's up.

There is a big pot of holiday soup on my stove, and I sent out several text messages inviting family and friends to drop by for a bowl of soup. It's impromptu, but feels good. I will pop biscuits in the oven, stack bowls beside the stove, blare Christmas music, and simply enjoy the season.

I'm told our cool snap with be gone tomorrow. So it's a warm Christmas Eve and Day for us. But that will in no way diminish the love of family and holiday at my house. Family will arrive from Houston, and hopefully there will be a pile of people around the firepit Christmas Eve.

May your world be happy and bright this glorious Christmas.

The Oh-So-Popular Roland

2008-12-17T22:45:00.001-06:00

The most fun of this season has been the reaction to my front door Christmas decor. I have been asked repeatedly to post Roland's picture. Here he is frolicking in the snow! He nor I can believe our luck with the winter wonderland we experienced last week. As talked about here, Rudolph's cousin has been a hit at my house.

Do tell me what you think.=)

The Impossible Happened

2008-12-17T17:29:00.000-06:00

(my beloved bottletree)
We had 8-10 inches of snow. Yes, in southern Mississippi. Last week it was 73 degrees Farenheit Tuesday, frigid air and SNOW on Thursday.

Dear patient friends, December is busier for me than a peg leg man in a forrest fire. (Like that one? I can hear my Daddy say it then hee haw at himself. LOL.)

But last Thursday was one of those "live-over" days. It is stamped in my memory forevermore. I awoke to heavy snow fall with the ground already white at 6.30am. We were warned the day before, but without any hope it would actually happen. I jumped up to check if there were any flakes at all falling and got a massive shock. It snowed hard, continually for 6 hours. I have never in my lifetime experienced snowfall like that. Woke up Friday again to a winter wonderland.

This is my backyard by 9am. The rest of the day was spent with my family. I found I love sitting on a trash can lid and being pulled by my nephew Chandler behind his 4 wheeler at quite a clip. I returned the favor for him. Imagine that.=) The day was simply...over the top.

Funny thing is the almanac says we'll have snow again next week. I am officially adopting my Pawpaw's love and deep belief in the Farmer's Almanac.

Mama Duck Is Happy

2008-12-08T08:47:00.001-06:00

My computer is in the shop (again), so I borrowed Boo's. (He doesn't know, I lifted it while he was sleeping.=) The last couple weeks I've worked the hours of the 6 digit earning executive (without the 6 digits). The internet in my house is on the blink (AT&T assures me it will be righted today). In spite of all of the above, life is grand.

All my little ducks were here for 4 whole days. We did the things that I crave while they are in far reaching states. We dined sumptuously at The Back Door, schlepped around Hattiesburg, went to Starbucks, had Christmas at Nanna's, and just hung out at the house (certain lamps aglow, candles burning, holiday music on...that perfect way I like my house to feel). We had sparkling juice in beautiful glasses with pomegranate floating in it and the girls wrapped gifts that would win the prize in contests. We watched Christmas movies, cooked (I cleaned) and simply enjoyed each other.

What more should the holidays be?

Stay Out of Mississippi Jeff Foxworthy!!!

2008-12-01T22:32:00.001-06:00

The day was perfect for it. So much so that I'm quite sure I never remember having decorated with it quite so cold. I had on a scarf, hat and fingerless gloves. A large mug of hot chocolate was ever close. The wind howled and blew my ribbon into the road. My Ipod blared Holiday music and I worked diligently, red nose and all. If there is such a thing, I felt snow in the air, right here in South Mississippi. I'm well aware that was wishful thinking.

My silver tinsel wreaths are wrapped in clear lights and have "green...apple green...green" ribbon on them. (That's exactly what my sister Tara calls the color. It's hilarious.) The sparkly lighted wreaths are on each window of the house. I found full garland made of silver tinsel last year after the season, at a grand price. My door is garlanded with the gorgeous, full sparkly tinsel and accented yet again with clear lights and the bold green apple metallic ribbon.

The kicker is, my front exterior door has a deer head on it. One with large horns. I know, I know. I'm afraid my boys will wreck when they see it! He was being discarded by a client so I carted him home, absolutely cracking myself up. Roland, Rudolph's cousin, wears a large, sparkly green apple ribbon around his neck proudly. I'm just extremely nervous that should Jeff Foxworthy come through town for some reason I may end up on some reality show boasting "Most Elegant Redneck Holiday Decor"!

I grew up in family of hunters. My Dad took me once, brought me home and promptly informed my Mother I was a "bulldozer" in the woods. That oh so manly sport known as hunting has never made sense to me. My brother in law supplies me with delicious venison sausage. And that's about the extent of my exposure to hunting. My boys have never been remotely interested in it.

So, having Roland on my door is quite comical. Oddly enough, he looks amazing! My entire crew will be here this weekend and I'm looking so forward to their reactions.

Do drive by. Roland will make you smile.=)

Sisters

2008-11-28T09:28:00.001-06:00

Having sisters is one of those indescribable things. I'm the eldest. So I rule. (It would behoove you to not ask questions concerning this.) There are 3, Tiji, Tara, and Toy, and I absolutely cannot imagine life without them. Saying we are a close knit crew is a silly understatement.

Today is "Christmas Candy Making Day" at Tara's, sister number 3, chronologically. We each have a favorite we make, always in double, sometimes triple batches, then share among the 4 of us. Tara's will inevitably be peanut butter balls and Toy's ALWAYS something different (as in "not the norm"). Tiji loves making cookies and I liking dipping "stuff" in almond bark. (My nephew Clint loves my oversized dipped pretzel sticks.=) Music will be loud, it will get messy, but things WILL be back in perfect order before we all leave. (Tara's house is the "best kept".=) AND we get to take home a pile of Christmas candy loot.

The four of us spending time together is necessary to breathe. I wish I could tell you how often I hear "I need some sister time!". Last year we went to Vegas... Funny what you can read in "..." when Vegas is mentioned. Hehe. We often take off to Beau Rivage for an evening of dining and dancing=). Or just have a relaxing evening together at somebody's home. And every year I get the call, "We found our sister gifts, your part is $75!". Someone finds something we all have to have, and you put your 1/4 in the pot to cover the costs of 4 of them.

Today I will get my "fix". We'll laugh, do the electric slide, possibly cry, plan a get-a-way, and weave that sister bond all the tighter.

But that's what holidays are all about. Strengthening family bonds.

Gratitude

2008-11-25T17:40:00.001-06:00

 "Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos into order, confusion into clarity.... It turns problems into gifts, failures into success, the unexpected into perfect timing, and mistakes into important events. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today and creates a vision for tomorrow."-Melodie Beattie

Hello all. Thank you for your patience with my absence. This "most wonderful time of the year" is my "busiest time of the year". Hopefully, I will slow this week and post. My heart has been here all along, Father time just interferes. Under the "note" icon on my blackberry is a list of "blog subjects", hence never lacking subject matter, just time.

My house smells seasonal with sweet potato pies in the oven. Out of state loved ones are here. Overwhelming feelings are consuming me. In the next couple days here's my vow:

I'm going to...

Hug everyone.
Call someone I've not spoken with recently.
Voice my love to those dear.
Say prayers for those who lost family members recently.
Take pies to friends who are hurting.
Invite my new friend with no family to dine with me Thursday.
Spend quiet time with family.
Plant my amaryllis bulbs.
Set a date to make gingerbread houses with the nieces.
Go to the nursing home and visit my aunt.

Make your Thanksgiving list. Or plagiarize mine. Just promise to be thankful in your own way.

(picture from www.cocokelley.blogspot.com)

Thanksgiving=Giving

2008-11-17T07:11:00.000-06:00

A long line of cars with their lights on passed as I waited to join the funeral precession. The funeral was that of a 22 year old, son of an old family friend. I absolutely cannot fathom a funeral, much less the death of my very own 23 year old son. How is anyone ever ready for such a time? Be it 23 or 83, death is still beyond shocking.

The "church/chapel" was packed past capacity. I found a chair in the adjacent office area and sat texting my eldest, states away, asking him about music should I have to plan a service for him. I truly wasn't being morbid, just in the throes of a slight panic attack. Feelings of thanks consumed me and I realized yet again you never know when something unspeakable will happen. We texted away, me keeping the conversation going so I could breathe. I suggested a couple songs to which he told me a resounding NO.

Week after next will be rough for the Golman family. I've been blue because recently I learned all my brood won't be with me Thanksgiving Day. After seeing the grieving Mother, I have resolved to lift my chin and be thankful my children are at least somewhere for the day. And I shall call that Mother's name each and every time thoughts of unfairness pop up .

I'm proving my thankfulness for life, health and wealth by giving back this season. My mind replays stories told by my cousin Doretha of how thankful she was for the Ronald McDonald House they stayed in while her son was in the hospital. Each time you go to McDonald's, inside or the drive-thru, give. $1, $5, even $100 will benefit those in need. Lodgings and food for families with loved ones in the hospital is what Ronald McDonald House is about. I saw my first Salvation Army bell ringer last weekend. In this age of debit cards, I have resolved to keep cash just to put in the red pots. It's a grand cause.

Always, always add something to your total at McDonalds for the Ronald McDonald House. Never pass the bell ringer without making a deposit in the red pot. Lastly, teach your children to give and explain where it's going. Have them give something of their very own. Now is the time to clear out since much will be coming in. You'd never believe those at the thrift stores scavenging for toys for gifts for their children. Never throw away, always donate it.

Needs are incredibly easy to find. Just ask. It's Thanksgiving. Give thanks, then just plain give.

I want...want...want...

2008-11-13T23:19:00.002-06:00

Ask me if I want this headboard...and my Boo jumping on my bed again...

And this sofa with my Tay-Tay same height as this wee one...Will continue to look for furnishings that remind me of Tyler...=)

Event Planning-My Forte...

2008-11-12T14:35:00.003-06:00

Waking up to the sound of bubbling water, birds chirping and a deer looking at me from the wall above the bed was lovely and disconcerting at the same time. I don't think I've ever slept in a room with a deer head. I immediately opened the blinds for a view of the lake. Serene calmness seemed to invade me though I knew my day was chock full. I was the event coordinator for a "leadership retreat" sponsored by the Developmental Partnership of our City. The retreat is being held in my client's dining hall. Last evening, late hours were required so I stayed over in the adjacent "Camp" house.

With my ipod set to "Jazz" genre, we started the day with Triple Berry Muffins, Fresh Fruit and Sparkling Orange Juice with Pomegranate. Lunch was Spring Greens with Crunch, Penne with Veggies and Alfredo Sauce, Grilled Poultry with Caribbean Jerk Seasoning and Peach Walnut Crisp. At break time there were warm Chocolate Chip Cookies and Brownies with Walnuts. I sat the tables with a variety of gourds, white and natural pumpkins, Indian Corn and loose deer antlers. The retreat ended with grilled burgers and chips.

Interior Design thrills me, but with wisdom I find event planning is a true love. Not the catering, I would get the hives were I required to cook for 500. It's the planning and implementing I love. Food choices, the actual set up, tablescapes, and music decisions all make me smile.

It has rained all day so we propped the back doors open. The air smells clean and cool and since the rain abated I'd like to paddle to the middle of the lake across the way. Tall necked ducks are quacking loudly outside the back door and I have the urge to chase them. I shall suppress it since I really enjoy working for MCDP.

It's grand to do something you love, especially if it's work related. In this season of thanks, I want to reflect on my abundant blessings. Jesus, if you read my blog please know I'm entirely grateful for allowing me the pleasure of doing what I love AND getting paid for it.

Having Trouble Breathing...All Weekend

2008-11-10T23:37:00.001-06:00

Friday
My weekend has been chock full of emotions, most of them precious, some overwhelming. Eventful doesn’t begin to explain it. I have 4 blogs rolling around in my head and am completely unsure of where to even begin. I think I’ll do an overview and in-depth ones can follow. Spending the night with friends, attending a heart rending funeral and falling in love all over again with extended family all in one weekend will do you in.

Friday was rushed. I seemed to be behind from the moment my toes touched the floor (in reality, from the first early ring on my cell). I was due to dinner/sleepover with dear friends in Laurel at 6 p.m. and the entire day seemed to work against me. But when I arrived, (sorry to admit it, yes I was 30 minutes late) each obstacle of the day faded away. Royal treatment tends to mellow the drama of a rough day. We dined sumptuously on spring greens with raspberry vinaigrette, garlic mashed potatoes, french style white and green beans and bacon wrapped filets. Finer hosts are rare. My friends live on a working horse “ranch”. The next morning I was introduced to 2 new babies. Diva and Cobalt took my breath away. George, their fine feathered rooster showed up after Katrina and never left. And Tom was found up a tree at around 6 weeks old. He is beautiful, kind, midnight black with a white face, now rotund and sleeps with George in the hay, together I might add. Oak Crest Farms is a zen place for me.

There is a peacefulness at watching horses graze. When let out of the barn that morning, Cobalt followed his mother across the pasture to the shade tree. Diva pranced around and returned repeatedly to the fence to be petted. Jack, their terrier followed our every footstep, well as far as he can. Jack wears a collar where an invisible fence keeps him in. The batteries are now run down but he simply will not cross the line. How well he remembers the first time. I’m told you would have thought he’d been shot he howled so loudly.

Thank you Ben and Ron for your true hospitality. Of the 5 bosom friends I’m told I’ll have over the course of my life, you are part of that lump.

Saturday
In the “most beautiful days of the year”, this day ranked extremely high. Crisp, clear and sunny are just a smidgen of adjectives that describe. My drive to the coast was soothing. Sunroof opened, James Taylor’s recent Christmas album blared.

Actually, I was headed to work. My cousin David has a new house and asked for help placing new artwork. He booked the day with me with no way of knowing I’d have to be there that very weekend. His new place is 3 blocks from the beach, definitely a perfect bicycle jaunt. Our plans included making his home great, then dinner.

His bungalow is long and narrow, almost in shotgun style. There is a deck running the entire length beach side with mood lighting on the posts. That makes for perfect entertaining. David is a collector of old, fine things. And it’s easy placing great stuff. There is a sailboat that is 4 ft. or more in height. Propped on the mantle in the same room is the captain’s helm from a bygone ship. The dining area, not a formal dining room, has a grand collection of wines and 2 sassy redheads in oil paintings. We worked for several hours and smiling was entirely easy around dusk. It really all came together wonderfully, and I must say the transformation was startling.

The fact that I have lodging that close to the beach is thrilling. And I’m taking my bicycle. Yes, the one with the basket on the front. The place of my birth is less than a mile from his home and I feel a deep seated connection to this city.

Our day ended with great conversation and seafood. A young lady that grew up beside me, and is also David’s cousin, is his backdoor neighbor. Marissa and her husband Zach joined us for dinner. Bonefish, a new fine dining establishment, was the perfect setting. Less than an hour into our conversation, Zach and I discovered a commonality. He’s a contractor and he began telling me of some unusual work he’d been commissioned to do by a client. The phrase “it’s a small world” doesn’t come close to this. The people he’s working for are dear friends of mine from long ago. I worked for them for years and one of the ladies graduated with me. Needless to say, conversation flowed freely for some time.

Hostessing is an art. The book “Home” by Pottery Barn has an entire section on “guests” if inspiration is needed. I spent a relaxing late evening with yet another cousin, Anita, David’s sister. With candles burning, and a large bowl of popcorn, we caught up on Grey’s. Her daughter graciously gave up her bed for me and it’s truly the little things that count. The bath was outfitted nicely and obviously waiting on a guest. Anita waited on me hand and foot though I protested. She has a lovely home and is the most unselfish person I know. She is another blog entirely.

I’m not sure I even turned over during the night. I went to sleep with the knowledge I would dine at my favorite breakfast haunt in Ocean Springs. How much more can you ask for as a guest?

Robert Heyward King by "little james"
Sunday
Purposely, I’ve not alluded to my reason for needing to be on the coast. A grand, great uncle passed and the funeral was at 2 p.m. When I walked in the door, my breath literally caught in my throat. There was an oil on canvas displayed of Robert Heyward King a.k.a. “Uncle Bobby”. A rendering of a face has never been so moving nor so perfect. It’s human nature to study a portrait and in my humble way, I usually have thoughts of which eyebrow would be lowered or if the nose is a bit off kilter. I could hear Uncle Bobby speaking as I looked at this oil. His spirit is definitely alive in the portrait. I began to inquire immediately. His grandson, “Little James” as this grown man is known, was the artist. I’m proud to announce he is also my cousin. (I know, I know, I have more cousins that Carter has liver pills.) Uncle Bobby owned a construction business for untold years, as well as worked for several prominent companies. He was an instructor at Jackson County Junior College and also Biloxi High School. Oh how he loved to tease. Every picture my mind conjures up is of him holding a coffee cup with an ever present twinkle in his eyes.

Reconnecting with family is such a precious thing. I’m not fond of the reason, death is always emotional, but all the hugs and kisses are absolutely soothing to the soul. My grandmother, grandfather, Dad, Mother, aunt and uncle were all missing. My grandmother would have been collecting her a stack of the funeral programs, bumping into chairs while moving around on her ‘wheels”. Daddy would have been laughing with all the uncles, enjoying the jokes as well as telling them. And all the while Aunt Deta would have been taking pictures, documenting the occasion. Pawpaw would have sit quietly on the sidelines, ever observant. My thought processing on what my Mother would be doing is vague. It hurts to realize she’s been gone so long that I have trouble placing her in a huge family setting. I do know she would have been laughing.

I promised the aunt’s Christmas cards, as I’m always reminded to do. I conversed with long lost cousin Ernest Lee and was told a story of his worst whippin’ ever that my Mother caused. Another cousin, Candy (who is grand daughter to Uncle Bobby), added fuel to my blogging fire. You never know who’s reading.

My day started early at Bayview Gourmet in Ocean Springs. I left with a box full of gargantuan muffins, 2 of which did not make it home. While crossing the bridge I texted Steve (yet another sibling to David and Anita) to say seeing the water made me think of him. He insisted I come over and I left there with a cutting of bamboo and an avocado tree. I love visits that produce presents! (Read previous blog “I’m Officially A Redneck” for more on this cousin.) And yes, David, Steve and Anita have one more sibling, Amanda who is on “adventure” living in North Carolina. I also visited her last month. I have an affinity with this band of cousins wouldn’t ya’ say? All you other bands of cousins don’t get your panties in a wad. I’m affinitied to ya’ll too.

As weekends go, this one was fulfilling. Vacillating from sheer joy to deep sadness, these 3 days were the epitome of that famous quote. “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”

I definitely had trouble breathing for the last 3 days.

Your Trash...My Treasure

2008-11-06T22:23:00.001-06:00

The lamps that look to be McCoy Pottery (but have no markings) were $4.00 each. The statue, a cool $8.00. I hit paydirt at the fleamarket. I reworked my mantle to accomodate the treasures. WOW. I love it. Today was a "fraid I'm gonna miss something so look at every single booth" day. I scoured that place and came home grinning.

Just wanted to share the joy.

"Swanky"

2008-11-04T21:43:00.001-06:00

Every time I pass this building, my heart speeds up. The owner allowed me a walk through and you could audibly hear my brain clicking. In "my" perfect world, there is a design shoppe on the bottom floor and I live upstairs. The corner entrance would boast a carved wooden sign stating the name "Swanky" with "interior/event" just below. I laugh at myself, but I just can't get away from that name. I love the idea of answering the phone, "Swanky, may I help you?". Large square copper pots with ball topiaries in them flank the front door in my vision. A chalkboard on the sidewalk with a daily quote would be a must. Brightly lit window displays would be impossible to pass without stopping to peruse. Accessories, custom furnishings, a few antiques, even some consignment pieces would make any heart rush upon entrance.

The building is the original Citizen's Bank. There is a beautiful conference room upstairs with mahogany walls that I envision as a dining room. I can see the sparkling chandelier. I'd love having lamps lit at dusk in those front windows with the view of the courthouse. The ceilings are high and the windows tall. My prized art would showcase perfectly.

What's that quote about dreams? "Dreams are necessary to life."~ Anais Nin

What I fail to mention here is I'd have to find me a billionaire to accomplish all this. Feel free to make introductions.

2008-11-02T14:43:00.000-06:00

Thank you, Mark...

You have possibly given me the gift of the century.

While attending an incredibly beautiful wedding in Saint Francisville, Louisiana on Saturday (blog forthcoming), my friend Mark says" I looked back, saw tears, and I told them, we'll get a blog from this!"

Sometimes I feel as if I am talking to the wall when posting. Other times, it's for my sanity. Then the time comes when I seriously want to know I'm making a difference. Saturday was validation that warmed my soul. Mark told me of sitting at his desk wiping a tear from one of my posts. He relayed to me how the subject of one blog had given him the boldness to respond to something negative that happened in his life.

I, being human like you, crave knowing that ever so often something said speaks to you. Feel free to comment or email. And if you haven't, subscribe. You'll receive an email notifying you of new posts. I am honored to have your readership.

Mark, my swelled head is your fault. But please, all of you, do share my blog web address with 10 people today.

You'll receive a $1000 shopping spree at Target just for sharing! hehe...

It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

2008-11-01T07:29:00.001-05:00

This is the way I begin the season, I watch Miracle on 34th Street (the modern one). My mind is reeling with the fact that it is NOVEMBER people! I felt those sweet "wow, it will soon be Thanksgiving and Christmas" pangs earlier this week. I have begun my shopping, picking up a few things here and there. I keep a detailed list in my phone and purchased gifts go under the recipient's name with an X. I also immediately list the "perfect thing" the moment it pops in my mind. So many times we have an epiphany of just THE thing, and the moment slips away. List it!

Today the ipod gets set on Genre "holiday", I'm boiling cinnamon, orange and cloves on the stove (a tradition that my Tay loves), and I'm going to reflect on making this year one to remember. Yes, it's a rough time for me since my business reels out of control. Yes, my boys both live out of state and I'll crave their presence. Yes, my days are longest and my stress level peaks. But my reaction to things basically out of my control is what governs my happiness.

I am giving myself the gift of blocking off some hours. I will spend quality time with my Tay. I will wrap gifts in a timely fashion. I will mail Christmas cards by December 10th. I will invite bosom friends over to dine. I will blog.

Beginning today, make some lists. What holiday requirement stresses you the most? Is it wrapping? Gift buying? Grocery shopping? Decorating? Baking? Christmas card? Start now to relieve the stress. Wrap as you buy. Pick up some of the holiday groceries each time you go. Set a date to decorate. Update your card list now and address 5 envelopes daily (if doing custom, get the envelopes in advance). I highly recommend being fully decorated before Thanksgiving. You can still set an incredible autumnal table along with your Christmas decor in place. It makes you no less thankful because the tree is up.

Do things now to make December a time of sipping cocoa by the tree. It's up to you.

Baby, That's HOT pink

2008-10-31T09:01:00.002-05:00

I lovelovelove this room, although I simply couldn't wake up daily to that color. I'm afraid it would cause me to catapult out of bed! I have been inspired for some time to do something like this art wise on my dining room walls. My wall color is a lovely chocolate, conducive to interesting conversation.

There are only 3 walls in the room, one with a door and 2 with oversized windows. The other is a large passageway to the living room. I am going to mirror the focus wall that faces the living room (I was lucky enough to procure 3 large sheets of mirror being disposed of). The other windowed wall is going to get the "multiple, multi-sized art" treatment.

I shall post pictures...(don't hold your breath as to when, it's overload season for me beginning tomorrow=).

(Photo from www.hiddeninfrance.typepad.com.)

2008-10-30T08:33:00.000-05:00

The Battleship in Mobile, Alabama
I agree. That is the most beautiful portrayal of the battleship I have ever seen. I am off to meet a client in Mobile today, and the first thought process I had was of the battleship. My memories are in no way reflected in the above romantic picture. I remember crying and begging Daddy to get us out of there! The tour takes you deep into the belly of the ship and as a child, I was sure I walked 42 miles! I vividly remember the bunk beds and how they were stacked so closely together. Everything was painted shiney steel gray.

I don't plan to visit the ship today (actually never again=), but you owe it to yourself and children to at least once walk the 42 miles. Six months at sea on that monster? Makes me deeply appreciate the Navy.

I prefer a sailboat please...

2008-10-29T10:28:00.001-05:00

This is exactly where my heart is today, on the water in sleek teak-decked sailboat. Oh, and while I'm fantasizing I may as well admit I parked my little convertible (pictured below) at the dock before boarding my boat. We're dropping anchor in a small cove at Horn Island and Wentworth (he's my imaginary chef) has prepared grilled salmon to top our salads. The centerpiece on the table is a large hurricane with a 3 wick white candle. (The back deck has a removable table. Perfect place for dining in the sunshine.) All white linens and a smattering of sea shells complete the setting. I think I'll ask him to set my ipod to play Jamie Cullum.

We'll be back to dock just after sunset, all windblown and with pink noses.

Oh man, I forgot about Wednesday night ensemble rehearsal at 5.30. Sheesh, guess I'll have to wait till another day...

Craving vs. Wanderlust

2008-10-28T23:05:00.002-05:00

My home, which I refer to as "Never Finished" is what we call here in the South, a "Katrina" house. I purchased it in sad repair. Three trees in all went through the roof of the house and garage. A blue roof was not even put on. The garage had the most damage, but when I walked up, visions of parties floated in my head. The garage is deep, two cars can park one behind the other comfortably, as well as beside each other. In other words, four vehicles in all can fit. All that AND a storage room the entire width across the back. I envisioned linen clad tables with sparkly chandeliers dropped over them and easy jazz piped in. The garage literally sold me before I sat foot in the house. But there the vision did not end.

A small convertible could be housed perfectly during the "too hot" and "too cold" months. Finding the right one is a challenge, literally. If I could curb some of the wanderlust, it just may be possible. Some far reaching place on the globe always beckons, and the vision is bumped further away. At some point the craving for a convertible will overcome the wanderlust, and I'll be setting pretty. Well, a convertible will be setting pretty in my remodeled garage. Preferably one EXACTLY like the photo I found at www.cocokelley.blogspot.com.

I won't even mind taking down the hammock to park it.

You Need One...

2008-10-28T16:53:00.003-05:00

Mario Batali Griddle/Pizza Pan
Oh the joy of finding gift cards you'd forgotten about. I carefully put them away so I wouldn't lose them, therefore never saw them again for 8 months. Have you ever experienced the sheer joy of a Christmas gift in August?

The Kitchen Table, an exquisite gourmet kitchen store in Hattiesburg, makes my guts smile. (Yes, I am aware I use that phrase too often!) My daughter and sister-in-law both did extremely well by "gifting" me with cards to this lovely establishment. I love making pancakes. I love preparing breakfast for overnight guests 'cause I get to show off my griddle. The newest addition to my kitchen is the Mario Batali "Persimmon" Griddle/Pizza Pan. My, my the joy. One of my favorite movie segments is Diana Keaton making breakfast for Jack Nicholas in "Something's Gotta Give". This after a first failed attempt at pancakes.

You need one...I highly suggest "persimmon". Ahhhh, anyone with the creativity to use that for a color name is someone I love. It also serves as a perfect cookie sheet and makes for delectable homemade pizza. Go on...spend some time in The Kitchen Table or purchase it here.

Shirley Bourn Dunaway

2008-10-28T16:31:00.001-05:00

"Aunt Edie Noodles"
There are those that deeply affect your life without much fanfare. This doesn’t discount those that are obvious or in the limelight, just realization of the importance of the quieter ones comes with wisdom.

While recounting things that come to mind when I think of my Dad’s only living sister, first thing that pops up is that she made my wedding dress. I remember being completely lost when it came time to get married. My Mother had been gone for some 4 years and along with my engagement came yet another form and stage of grief. Cognizance of that fact simply alluded me. Yet she was a constant. She purchased the fabric, notions, and trimmings, then spent countless hours creating it.

I fondly remember the harmony of she and her sister singing “The River Of Jordan”.

She admonished me to eat the crust on the bread. I was mortified each and every time she’d announce “It’ll make your “dinners” grow!”. I’ll let you figure that one out.=) She brought her shower gifts to each function in the bag they were purchased in, just added a bow to the bag. Then proudly proclaimed we’d know which gift was from her.

Repeatedly I’d call needing work, and her reply was always, “What time can you be here tomorrow?” Off to the coast I’d head after dropping off whichever ones were school age. A finer seamstress/drapery workroom you’ll never find. My first pan of dressing was made while on the phone with her. I use her recipe for muffins and salmon cakes.

For years, each and every time I left her house she’d “plant” a can of “coffee” in my vehicle. She’d be sure to whisper and tell me where she hid it before I left. Many a loaf of bread, school pictures, $5.00 worth of gas (1/2 tank years ago), school lunch money, and gallons of milk were purchased with change from the coffee can. She’d always ask if I was out of “coffee”.

Every Christmas Eve has been spent in her home for as long as I can remember. She makes a gargantuan pot of Chicken Noodle Soup with her infamous shell noodles. To this very day my kids refer to them as "Aunt Edie Noodles". That pot alone would literally feed Cox’s Army. We absolutely crack up each and every year at the candle on her bar. It’s shaped into 4 vertical numbers-2000. Every year she corrects the last 0 with a black marker to the appropriate year/date. It’s the tackiest, yet funniest thing ever. She has a pair of Christmas mice that are collectibles. They’re about 8” tall, in full Christmas dress and my eye searches the room for them yearly. She tells the story of getting them as a gift from a downtown bank long ago. We sing, laugh, reacquaint, and celebrate the holiday as it should be done, family style.

My grandparents spent the last couple of years of their lives in her home. Her sacrifice was great. This on the heels of losing her sister, and not so long after burying 2 of her brothers.

I can never write enough words to express my genuine love and admiration for this incredibly special lady.

Happy Birthday, Aunt Edie. My life would be less without you.

Ramblings...

2008-10-27T10:32:00.002-05:00

(Simply could not resist..spotted on fav blog cocokelley...my fantasy yard work attire=)

I’m going to ramble, please allow me. In Advance class (basically Sunday School) our very able teacher has been admonishing us to journal. All the while I was thinking, hhmmm, that’s called “blogging” for me. We were instructed to write things down that we struggle with. Though blogging is my “journal” this is not the place because it’s too public. (If only you were privy to my anonymous blog. I have not blogged in several days and if rambling is my way of getting back in the groove then ramble I will.

Today, I’m punch drunk happy with myself (only after being desperately disgusted with said person around 5 yesterday evening). A bit after 7 this crisp morning, I was digging in the dirt with a scarf around my neck. The dark maroon mums are the perfect addition to the bed beside my drive. The wind was blowing and if a feeling can be described as beautiful, I have experienced it this very day. This punch drunk love of myself would have been more appropriate yesterday BEFORE the 40 guests arrived=). Some things just have to be moved to the back burner.

A previous blog alluded to the fact that Gustav (the hurricane) caused me considerable stress on the homefront. Not from damage, but from preparations. Makes no sense, I know. My house has been in basic order (well, to a level that my psycho tendencies recede, hush Tayler) but the outside literally gave me the hives when I drove up. We live outside, weather permitting, as much as inside=). And all my outdoor furnishings were STILL “secured for high winds” under the carport. I’m sure anyone passing was sure I was going into the scrap metal business. (I’m exaggerating here for chuckles, I do not live like a redneck.)

SOLO, my single adult class came to my home last evening and nothing is better for your home than entertaining. Whatever gene it is that God distributes causing a love of entertaining, I have two. I must tell you that after the initial disgust from around 5, by 6 the “punch drunk” began. The weather was perfect. The firepits glowed. The candles were luminous. The food was exquisite. The music was soothing. The company, my exact choice, though also my ministry. The two days of rigorous labor paid off, and they could have cared less that I had to hide the mums I didn’t get planted. I only know that the lesson Clayton taught was for more than one visitor there. Three of the attendees have never walked in the door of Woodlawn. They will now.

After class yesterday then the lesson last night, I have made a commitment to myself to desperately try to blog more often. It thrills me so to be asked “Has the ink ran out of your pen?” as was the case Saturday. With all things in life, there is ebb and flow. My blogging has been “ebbing”. I have purposed to try to post at least once every couple days. The posts may be short, but it will be something dealing with a life issue or just giving you insight into my day. A surefire way of killing your blog following is to rarely post. Lord help me to breathe life into them again=).

(Subscribe at the top right of the blog and see if I can keep you breathing=).

Pasta on the Pearl

2008-10-14T01:07:00.002-05:00

It had to be different. My friend's birthday dinner was cause for celebration. I wanted an unusual location to set a fabulous table and after scouting around I found the perfect spot. There are a couple of new deck style viewing spots on the Pearl River. I cooked a pot of pasta, heated garlic french bread and ordered a cake. I packed up candles and table needs. The results were astounding.

I told Mary, the birthday girl, that my daughter would pick her up and our place of dining was a surprise. She arrived just before dark to candles illuminating the deck that overlooked the mighty Pearl River. My ipod played Dean Martin and we dined sumptuously. It was a perfect eveninig. And a perfect birthday for my dear friend.

Happy Birthday Mary...

Miss Hope

2008-10-12T15:17:00.000-05:00

“Buh-taw-fwy!! Buh-taw-fwy!!” she hollered as she ran in circles chasing a bright yellow butterfly. Hope Baggett is an inquisitive 2 1/2 year old who is incredibly strong, self willed and takes me back some 18 years to another time and place. Spending the last 2 days with she and her brothers transported me to when I chased a 2 year old girl along with her 2 brothers, a 6 year old and a newborn. Hope works at keeping her brothers in line, one older, one younger, just as my Tayler did.

Her favorite outfit is a darling little hot pink sweater skirt with lots of color added. The bold sweater that matches goes on usually without a shirt and this is the outfit for every day of her life. (Of course her precious Mother makes her change for the outside world.=) It's too small, but somehow it the most important thing she owns. We played in the backyard for a bit and she found a black beetle-looking bug that I would have shrieked in terror over touching. She worked diligently to keep him crawling on her arm though he repeatedly fell off. In the end he was half smashed but she'd put him right back.

She looked intently into my eyes and said "I wike you hair."

"Lest we become as children..." This week I plan on chasing some butterflies, giving sincere compliments, wearing something just for comfort, and searching for the interesting (NOT a black beetle bug!) then using all my patience to enjoy it.

Join me?