Antidisestablishmentarianism, Or, A Word By Any Other Name

I have always been a lover of words.

At an early age I began spouting words other children don't usually utilize in normal speech, and that habit has continued throughout my life. I just love to find a word that means something new and fresh. A word that describes what I want to say better than any other. A word that other people wouldn't normally use. It trips off of my tongue like....well....spit. Or something.

As you can see, I can often use a little help when I'm trying to actually FIND the verbage of which I speak.

It's become so much a part of my life that I don't even realize how I'm saying what I'm saying most of the time. For instance, I can explain something to someone in a perfectly understandable idiom, only to have them look at me like they're Bambi's brother and they've just been caught in the headlights of my car.

"What?" I say.

"Exactly." they respond. "Speak ENGLISH, for crying out loud!"

Mom used to get perturbed with me because I started correcting her grammar when I was in elementary school. Finally, after being whopped in the mouth with a wet dishrag for the umpteenth time, I wised up...and clammed up. That's when I learned that correct English is sometimes not as important as the thought one is trying to convey. Especially if the one trying to convey the thought has a wet dishrag in her hand.

Momma didn't raise no dummies.

I used to work at a manufacturing plant. I was in the office with two other women, and after working with me for a few months it got to be too much for them. They started calling me "Big Word User" whenever I went into The Zone. But that didn't stop me. Not for one instant.

Oh no MA'AM.

Finally, at long last, I found a place for my little idiosyncrasy. A home for the latent English Major in me, if you will. A haven for the language lover. A place for my vocabulary to rest in peace.

It's right here.

Downtown Bloggity Central.

My kind of place, with my kind of people. Interpeeps that understand the power of words.

And for that, I thank you.

Giving You The Willies...

Oh, Doug Savage! You are a man after my own funny bone!

Of Paper Bags And Boxing Gloves

I am Directionally Challenged.

Which is to say I couldn't find my way out of a paper bag unless I had detailed directions from some direction-giving source ala MapQuest or MSN Directions or How-The-Heck-Do-I-Get-There-From-Here-Dot-Com.

They say the first step to overcoming a problem is to admit it. I've shouted this one from the mountain tops, and it ain't gone yet.

Heavy sigh.

It's become quite the joke in my family. And I'm the only one who doesn't think it's funny.

This past weekend we ventured to a Place Out Of Town, which is always an adventure. We traversed the state to get to a 50th wedding anniversary celebration, which entailed me driving the two teenaged child-persons to said venue, spending one night with my son, the father of Cutie, and his family, and two nights in a hotel.

I have finally learned how to get to my son's house. After THREE YEARS. Now granted, I don't travel that way more than four or five or eleven times a year, so it really didn't take me very long to learn the way.

However.

I forgot to run the directions to the hotel we were supposed to stay at after leaving Son's home. We tooled along the freeway for what seemed like (and actually turned out to be) hours. We looked and looked for our destination, but it played a better game of hide-and-seek than we did.

I mean really...how hard can it BE to find the Holiday Inn???

Finally, we pulled into a bank drive-thru and asked a very nice teller-lady where it was. Turns out we were only on the other side of town or so, and she was able to give directions even I could understand. Imagine that.

So we found the hotel and got settled. And may I say this? The Holiday Inn has a Kids' Suite that was a lifesaver to me. Although the "rooms" (and I use that term loosely because the one the kids were in didn't have a DOOR or anything useful like gags or anything) were small, they were enough to separate us and give us both some modicum of privacy. The Kids' Suite had bunkbeds in one room with a table and chairs for little bitty kiddoes, plus a television AND a PlayStation with free games. Which kept the kids outa my hair long enough so that I could watch some movies and semi-veg out in relative peace. AND there was a mini-fridge and microwave along with the expected coffeemaker. (end of commercial)

Unfortunately, we had to actually LEAVE the hotel in order to get to the celebration. Before the party started, Hubster arrived with #1 daughter and her family. They decided to drive down and back in one day, as Hubster had to work the night before and the night of the party. We all decided to grab a bite to eat. #2 daughter was riding with me. She had to give directions to the restaurant we decided to go to, because I was totally lost once we left the hotel.

She's 15 years old.

I'm telling you, it's a sad, sad situation.

After all of the partying was over and we were ready to leave, I tried to get us back out to the freeway from the hotel.

It wasn't pretty.

I turned exactly the opposite way of what we needed to go. When the KIDS pointed it out, I actually argued with them, believing I was right - for a change. Oh, the folly! They laughed and made fun of me all the way home, and then some.

Pleasant is not exactly how I would describe it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So here's the parallel...

Directionally speaking, we're ALL a mess when it comes to life. We have no clue as to where we need to go, because we haven't bothered to look at the map.

God realized how LOST we were, and sent His own Guide to us "to seek and to save that which was LOST," - in other words, US. He gives us the map to follow - the Bible - and the Guide - Jesus, so that we can find our way home. Without the Guide and the map, we'd wander forever.

All we have to do is ask for directions. They're there, and in abundant supply!

Even for those of us who can't find our way out of a paper bag.

Luke 19:10

For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost. (KJV)

To All The Blogs I've Lurked Before....

I can't help it.

Really.

For some reason or another I just haven't had the urge to write.

I know you've never gone through something like this, because I read your blog. You write EVERY SINGLE DAY without fail. Your posts are always fresh and exciting. You have Great Spiritual Truths that you impart to the masses which cannot help but bring them closer to God. You are poetic in prose, have the humor of a standup comedian, and the voice of angels, albeit a voice "print" instead of aural.

I cannot help but admire you.

You never have to worry about dry spells. God speaks to you and to others through your writing. You always have a plethora of passionate fodder for the blog. People read you religiously because you are real, down-to-earth, and you use great vocabulary. Your admirers come from all ends of the earth. You receive comments galore, you are asked to endorse products, and you can make another person's blog famous for a day by merely linking to them in a post.

You always have the right thing to say about the right subject. You choose the perfect photos to go with your post. You are relevent, and you speak what people need to hear, what people want to hear, and sometimes what they wish they didn't need to hear. You are used by God to bring reconciliation, to uplift, to teach, to help people realize truth, and to condemn sin.

Wow.

I've been reading you for quite some time now, and even though I am a consummate lurker, please know how impressed I am. You've made a difference in my life, and I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you.

In short, you ROCK.

Thank you.

From the bottom of my little heart, thank you.

Addicted? Me? But I Can Quit At Any Time....

Coffee and I go way back. Way, WAY back.

To give you some sort of time frame here, I think I can safely say I first became addicted to the beany brew in utero. You see, back then, back in the Barney Rubble and Fred Flintstone days, people drank coffee all day long. Strong, hot, black coffee. And my mother was one of those people. When she was pregnant with me, do you think she curbed her consumption of caffeine? Not a chance. I don't even think they knew what caffeine WAS back then.

As a child I was introduced to coffee at an early age. No, they didn't put it in my bottle, but it was almost that bad. You've heard about children in France that are given wine and water mixed together when they are small? It's part of the culture there. As the children grow older they are allowed more and more wine and less and less water, so by the time they are adults they've literally been drinking wine all of their lives.

That's just about how it was with me and coffee.

I remember thinking coffee was a very grown-up type of drink. Only adults were allowed to consume the heady brew. I loved the smell, and I sneaked a drink every chance I could. Mom and Dad were always having us bring them a cup, so it wasn't hard.

And then there was coffeemilk. Oh, sweet, sweet coffeemilk!

Mom would pour a glass of milk for me at every meal. As a special treat, she'd let me take a big drink of milk, and then she'd add a few drops of coffee to my glass.

My mother, the coffee pusher.

As I grew, so did my addiction. I had to have it every morning or risk zombie-itis, along with other afflictions, in mass proportions. I once tried fasting, but ended up with a headache the size of a small mountain range and a case of the DT's. It was just ugly.















Oh yes, it was.

In the 80's I found something new....the hometown coffee shop. They had (gulp) FRESH GROUND COFFEE BEANS there, and they brewed each cup of coffee ONE AT A TIME.

I died right there and went to Coffee Heaven. Really.

The place was called Caron's. No, not like Karen with an O, but like ca-RON's. Caron was an ex-model, and had been featured in the Nair commercial where all the girls wore hotpants and walked up stairs - remember that one? They sang "We've got short shorts..." As if short shorts weren't invented until Nair came on the scene and everything. She had legs up to her chin, and man, was I ever jealous. I mean, being all of five-feet-four-and-one-half inches has its merits....

But I digress.

Caron taught me All About The Coffee, for which I am ever in her debt. I hung out at her place so much she put me to work there. My favorite drink was an iced latte, and I easily could've guzzled her out of store and home, given the chance. And I may have done that, since she had to close up shop a few years after I began frequenting her place.

For several years thereafter I resembled a homeless addict, wandering the streets in search of a fix. Oh, there were the trips to Gloria Jean's, the occasional unbrewed grounds found by accident, and the gift shops hidden away in dark corners that held secret stashes of beans. But I never really found the joy I'd had with my first sip. The thrill, it seemed, was gone.

Fast forward an eon or so.

There was a new place in town that all the java jerks like me were talking about. "You've GOT to try this!" they said. "It's GREAT!!!" I'd heard it all before. I'd been disappointed more times than Carter has pills, too. But hope dies hard for a tried and true Caffeine Queen like me, so I went. The name of the place?

Starbucks.

Yup, I fell for it.

The first time I went I asked for coffee, straight up. What I got was a bitter, too-strong brew that could stand on its own without a cup. "So what's all the fuss about?" I wondered. After all, I'd been living on Folger's for a while.

And I must tell you, I laugh at that thought now. Long and hard.

I went back up to the barista and asked if all their coffee tasted as bad as the cup I had. After he wiped the shocked look off of his face, he suggested a different drink for me. He even made it himself, presented it with a flourish, and charged me not one cent.

I was hooked. AGAIN.

Oh, sweet-bean-o-my-heart, was I!

It was a mocha. But not just ANY mocha. It was a Venti Iced Mocha with Whipped. And it was liquid gold as it flowed down my throat. Sweet, chocolatey, slightly bitter, creamy, and about four or a gazillion times better than any other concoction I'd had in my life.

Since that time I have been a loyal user drinker, more or less. I rarely vary from my elixir of choice. That is, until this past week.

Since I'm in charge of the coffee service at work (kind of like putting the inmates in charge of the prison), I decided to get a coffee company in that would provide us something other than the usual swill to drink.

Enter the Keurig machine. (trumpets sound)

With the per-cup brewing it offers, this machine is a veritable wonder. The company is providing the machine, and we buy the K-Cups from them. K-Cups are individual cups of ground coffee with little filters built right in. The little cup is placed in the machine, the machine provides the hot water and pressure, and what comes out is a little piece of Java Jollyness. K-Cups come in more flavors and blends than you can count, and most of the better coffee producers are carrying them now. You can get Green Mountain, Gloria Jean's, Starbucks, and a plethora of others. They're available for home and office, and you can get them right on the InterWeb! A home machine (which I would literally eat cat food right out of the can in order to own) is $99. K-Cups run anywhere from $8 on up for a box of 25.

Oh hush. It's cheaper than Starbucks. And besides, the people at work are going to chip in on a per-cup basis. Maybe. I hope.

At any rate, I think we're going to have a long and rewarding relationship together.....as long as the coffee doesn't run out.

I'd Like To Thank My Mother, And My Father, And Weird Cousin Gertrude, And....

This is it, Ladies and Gents.

My VERY FIRST EVER IN MY ENTIRE LIFETIME

BLOGGING-TYPE AWARD!!!!!

As I told kpjara over at Can You Hear Me Now? I got so excited I just about wet my pants when I found out she'd given it to me!

We in the Singer household are very excitable people given to sudden bladder-esque outbursts in times of great joy. It's in the genes. Both the chromosomal type as well as the denim variety.

And in the Spirit of Spreading the Joy, I hereby present this self-same award to the following people:

HeyJules at Maced With Grace - Wow. What God has done in this woman's life over the past year alone would make some of us dyed-in-the-wool Christians repent in our shoes. A fairly new Christian, she is HUNGRY for God and wants to learn and know and be the best follower of Christ she can be....and she wants it NOW, thankyouverymuch, so she's going after it! Her quest for knowledge and truth and obedience is no less than amazing to me, and I learn so much from her passion. GO. VISIT. LEARN. BE BLESSED!!!

Pilot Mom at Claire Bug - Speaking of mounting up with wings like eagles, I am proud to introduce you to Pilot Mom. She's had more than her share of hardships over the past year or so, yet still praises God for who and what He is. She has taught me to not only THINK when I go through trials, but to THANK as well.

Melanie at This Ain't New York - Southern charm at its best! Melanie is young, sweet, Southern with a Capital S, and funny as all get out. Her posts have me laughing out loud most of the time, especially when she writes about her family. She's a HOOT, plain and simple, y'all!

Antique Mommy at Antique Mommy - She makes me laugh. And laugh. And laugh some more. She experiences much of what I do, even though our children are quite a ways apart in age, and she does it with so much humor and such a great attitude! And did I mention she makes me laugh?

Then there's the family award. This one goes to three of my favorite bloggers who just happen to be related to each other. Bev at Blessed Beyond Measure, her daughter Sarah at In the Midst of It, and her sister Barb at A Chelsea Morning have all become near and dear to me over the past months. Although Barb already has one of these awards, I had to group her in with the rest. You see, I do love me a blog about everyday life. I really do. And when that blog incorporates the love of God into the mix, well I just about want to give it a big ol' hug. And that's what these women do for me. That's why I'm giving this one to all three of them at the same time, because, you know, we wouldn't want them to be all alone or anything.

All of the women above are more than worthy of a read.

So what are you waiting for???

Now, the rules are as follows:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.

2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.

3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative silver version if gold doesn't fit your blog).

Home Sweet Home

A few weeks ago they did one of those Extreme Home Makeovers in my neck of the woods. It won't air until sometime in May, but it was All The Talk around here. People were donating time and materials and whatever else necessary to make sure our home-town hospitality would shine like a new quarter. Yes indeed, we are GOOD at that. So good, in fact, that we've had them here twice in the past year.

By now it must be obvious to you that homes in my town are of such Great Quality as to require the Extreme Home Makeovers more often than not. Mine could be included in that. But we won't go there.

We went by the house last week. We knew the neighborhood it was in, but not the exact address. It was a warm day, and we had the windows down as we drove up and down the streets in search. A family was sitting out on their porch, so I decided to ask them where the house was. I pulled up in front of their house, and before I could even finish my first sentence they told me it was two streets down, turn left, then take the first right and the house would be down the hill on the right.

These people knew how to give directions without wasting time. And somehow they knew I needed to hear "right and left" instead of "east and west" since I am known far and wide as a directionally-challenged type of person.

So we found the house.

It was built on a slope, and every square inch of land that could be put into usable space, was. The lot was not huge by any means. I was afraid the house would stick out like a sore thumb due to the neighborhood it was in, but somehow it didn't. It blended into the surrounding homes fairly well, even though the front was lit up like a Christmas tree with landscaping lights. It looked cozy; not at all pretentious. It looked like a great place for the large, blended family for which it was built. It looked like a place you would be proud to call HOME.

Home is where you can be yourself. Home is the place where you're accepted. Home is where you LIVE.

The Bible says that Jesus lives in our hearts. Our bodies are the temple God chooses to dwell in... His HOME. What an awesome responsibility that is! The upkeep on a regular home, one that houses the most precious people on earth to you, is bad enough. But when GOD HIMSELF makes your body His home...that's almost beyond my scope of imagination.

Yes, there are times when I wish the whole Extreme Team would do a makeover on this body of mine. But the one thing I need them to do the most can't be done by humans. No surgery, no weight loss, no nip or tuck will take care of the remodel I need. When I'm about to give up on the body I have, I realize one thing....

I have the Extreme Team living inside of me.

Father, Son, Holy Spirit. They work on the part of me that needs help the most. Not this overweight, out-of-shape human that I am. Not this shell my soul uses as temporary housing.

No. They're after much greater things.

They want to tear down the walls of my heart. They want to rebuild it...to make it a new, strong, huge, dwelling place for them. They want what's inside to be built first as a strong foundation. The porticos and the gingerbread and the siding and windows are the last things on their minds. They couldn't care less about the color of my hair or the clothing I wear. What they are interested in is ME.

The true me. The one I am when I'm HOME.

Ephesians 3:17

Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong.

Like God for Chocolate...

I sure am glad y'all are writing, because it's been a long, dry spell here in Singerville.

I'm just sayin'.....

I couldn't write a lick worth reading for the past month or so, but I certainly hope to be back in the swing of things soon. I think it's called Oh-Sweet-Petunia-I-Really-Do-Love-My-Job-And-All-My-Creativity-Is-Being-Channeled-Through-It-Right-Now-itis.

And oh, what a sweet disease it is!

Oh yes MA'AM.

The past month has been oh, so VERY BUSY. I'm diggin' on it in a BIG WAY. I'm even dragging out All The CAPITAL LETTERS in virtual EXCITEMENT over the WHOLE THING.

And the best part? I get to show the LOVE OF JESUS to the people I work with. I get to put smiles on the faces of people. I get to make work a little more fun for them...a little more caring, a little more happy, and a little more like home. I get to be the kind of boss I always wanted to have. I get to do all of this in a Christian atmosphere, with caring people, in a place that honors God.

SOMEBODY HAND ME A PEW SO I CAN JUMP OVER IT, BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN BLESSED BEYOND MEASURE AND I'M SHOUTIN' HALLELUJAH!!!>

(And yes, Bev, I thought of you as I wrote that.)

So if you think of me from time to time, know that even if I'm not writing, I'm happy. I'm where God wants me to be, and even with all the other things that can go wrong in a day, that's enough. Because in case you haven't heard me say it more than, oh, A GAZILLION TIMES or so, know this:

GOD IS GOOD.

REALLY good.

Better than CHOCOLATE good.

And there ain't no arguin' that!

Psalm 52:9

I will praise you forever, O God, for what You have done. I will trust in Your good name in the presence of Your faithful people.