First, I can’t tell you how much we appreciate all of your messages, prayers, and well-wishes for Blair and John Samuel and their sweet baby. I hope you’ve all gotten the word by now that I can’t respond to comments left on the blog for some reason. Not sure what the issue is or who to contact about it, but I read every word and LOVE hearing from you! Thank you for praying for them. We give all the praise to the Author of Life who heard our prayers and yours and gave our family this beautiful gift in such a miraculous way. He’s continued to keep His hand of protection on this baby and Blair is just a few days shy of her second trimester! Thank you for your gift of intercession in this! You’ll never know what it’s meant to all of us. 

It’s been a busy few weeks. Even when you’re past having school age kids, May is still just a crazy month. Everything happens in May. I haven’t had time to sit and write, so I thought I’d just string together some random thoughts and occurrences that have no real merit and very little, if any, entertainment value. 

You know because I am who I am, we have to talk about the warm weather and its accompanying woes. I’m not sure how it is where you live but the heat in Mississippi is already ridiculous. It was in the 90’s way back when there was still a lot of May left to go. At this rate, we’ll all be incinerated by the 4th of July. We’ll be like giant sparklers walking around. My blooming plants already look stressed and are starting to get their affairs in order. Their declining health is about a month ahead of the usual course of things. And there has been a fly in my house since Mother’s Day. I don’t mean the same fly. I just mean that when one fly is exterminated, their headquarters sends a replacement fly over immediately so that our home is never without the presence of a fly. It’s really starting to get to me. 

I’ve been hearing all the predictions that the heat will be awful this summer. The worst in a long time. There’s a perfect storm brewing, I tell you. Pair the historical heat wave with me being at the pinnacle of my menopausal experience and I may not make it to autumn. I’ve been having those hot flashes that start at the back of the neck and work their way around to the chest and then up to the face. Night and day, I’m a constant sweaty, sticky mess. If I combust before fall, just know I loved you all and, if you need me before then, I’ll be indoors somewhere until further notice. 

Ok, so I won’t dwell on the premature acceleration of the heat, because I know some of you are into this kind of weather and I won’t rain on your parade. Let’s pretend it isn’t that bad and just talk about all the snakes that have slithered out from their winter hiding. In the South, you can tell summer is coming when we start posting pictures on social media of the snakes we encounter. Granted, most of them are post-mortem photos, but some are allowed to live long enough for their captors to ask the Facebook world the question- what kind of snake is this? A public debate then ensues as to what kind it is and if it should live or die. The men generally want to free the snakes and the women consistently demand death across the board- likely because of that enmity thing spoken about in Genesis. This year, I’ve already seen more snakes pictured in planters, patio furniture, crawling up brick walls, and clinging to front doors than I care to count. On our walks, I’ve almost stepped on two already, myself. I keep telling y’all the heat brings all of the evil out from its hiding. 

We’re a couple of weeks from our garden harvest. Davis planted an extra large garden and we’ve found ourselves planning our trips and activities around vegetables. Squash, okra, crowder peas, cream peas, green beans, corn, watermelons, blueberries. It’s got me feeling all pioneer-ish. Here is actual footage of me asking Davis when he thinks the crops might come in and if the the corn is tasseling yet. This weekend, I’ve got to defrost the big freezer to get ready for all of this. I guess that’s one problem Carolyn Ingalls didn’t have. I’d love to learn to can but something about the possibility of wiping out the entire family line with botulism dissuades me. 

Carson and Anna Kathryn came for the weekend for a big family gathering on Sunday. I’m hearing a lot of empty nesters my age talking about downsizing and I’m so curious about that. What are y’all even talking about? When children leave home, they usually return and bring more people back with them. Spouses, significant others, pets, children. I’ve found that we’re needing more room not less. When they’re all here, it’s every man for himself on their side of the house. Davis and I are in negotiation talks about adding a bonus room in the attic with the baby on the way. 

For the last month, I’ve been trying this new neck tightening cream. I have an issue with my neck sagging. You know we’re our own worst critics, but I’m convinced I look like a linebacker when I look down. If our cameras in selfie mode have taught us anything, it’s how we look from below and, believe me, it’s not good. So, I try to always keep my head held high- figuratively and literally. I’ve called a couple of clinics to see if there’s any non-invasive fix for this age-related issue and, so far, no one has a non-surgical alternative to offer. I did see this Bare Minerals neck cream and decided it couldn’t hurt to try it. It may be making a tiny difference but I need to see some big, drastic changes. Let me know what you’ve found that falls between surgery and tilting my head back all day. 

I’m enjoying my teacher friends being out of school. I even have one who retired at the end of this school year so that gives me another potential partner in crime during the day. Those school teacher friends are a strong and courageous bunch. I’d be terrified if they locked me in a room with 28 six year olds all day. They’re awfully crafty, too. I’ve already had an art project day with one of my kindergarten teacher buddies and we made mosaic portraits of our dogs out of old magazines. I hung mine in my laundry room where no one will ever see them, but I think they’ll be pretty cute to look at when I’m pre-treating spots and emptying the lint trap. 

We’re planning a beach trip for the end of the month to celebrate Father’s Day and Carson’s birthday. Since both of our children live near the coast, we haven’t actually stayed on the beach in years. We usually just go for the day when we’re down there visiting them. The beach was once my favorite place on the planet and all of our vacations centered around a beach somewhere. Now it’s only my favorite when the sun starts going down. The 50-something me looks out from the balcony at high noon and just sees the makings of heat exhaustion, skin cancer, brown spots, and an even saggier neck. I owe my skin a heartfelt apology for the hours and hours I laid out on the beach- in the middle of the day- unprotected- frying my epidermis all the way down to the hypodermis because, after days of fever, chills, blistering, and peeling, it would turn brown and I’d look, oh, so good. Now I’m a platinum member patient at the dermatology clinic. 

I have to share a sort of funny story to close. Everyone was here for Mother’s Day. Because it’s utter (but fun) chaos when everyone is here at once, we got to church right as it was starting. The choir had already filed in and the first hymn was about to be sung. Not wanting to cause a scene, we all slipped in on the next to the last pew in the back. We sat down and noticed how unusually creaky it sounded but didn’t think much of it. That is- until we heard a loud pop and the whole pew shook like something had given way. I thought- well, I’ve always wondered how it would all end, but I would’ve never guessed this. The people sitting behind us could see the legs of the pew and advised us to move as they saw a big split in the wood and were afraid it was going to collapse. So, after being so careful not to make a grand entrance, we stood up and barreled down the aisle as discreetly as a train derailment to find another spot large enough to accommodate us. We all sat down ever so gingerly in our new seats. I mean- it’s one thing to break one pew, but break two and people start to judge. The threat of the pew falling and sending my legs up in the air in the church house was far too reminiscent of that Easter Sunday when I fell out in the choir loft to the organ’s rendition of “Up From the Grave He Arose.” A girl can suffer from PTS for years after stuff like that, you know. 

Well, like our friends once wrote in our yearbooks, I hope you stay cool - unless you enjoy the summer and feeling as if you’re on fire. If so, you do you. Y’all have a great weekend and hope to talk to you next week! 

JONI