Hot and cranky, I was on the road headed home last Tuesday. Roofers had arrived at our house before sunrise that morning and, to escape the noise, I’d been out with a friend all day where my heat tolerance had been pushed to its upper limits. Admittedly, that’s not very hard to achieve. I couldn’t wait to get home, peel off my tight-fitting clothes and cute shoes, and put on something stretchy and cool. The previously mentioned roofers had arrived at 5:45 a.m. for two mornings straight with their hammers, nail guns, and flat shovels and I was tired and did I mention hot and cranky? As I was driving home, I was on auto-pilot while daydreaming of getting comfy, cranking down the AC, and stretching out for a while with my fan on the “hurricane winds” setting. I suppose the anticipation of all of my favorite things distracted me from my speedometer and I was quickly jarred back to reality by the flashing blue lights and a highway patrolman making a U-turn to get behind me. 

I pulled over on the shoulder and waited while he got his hat situated and exited his patrol car. This might be a good time to confess I’m no stranger to the law. You might as well know who you’re dealing with here. I’ve had brushes with the badge in my day. I may not look like the type, but underneath this Protestant Sunday school member, Highlander-driving, menopausal empty-nester, motherhood blogger facade is a checkered past. It started in my preschool years when I shoplifted a Charms sucker from the store and was forced to take it back and apologize. I stayed clean until high school when a handful of tickets for speeding and stop sign rolls started trickling in and on into college where the Mississippi State Campus Police had quite the file folder with my name on it bulging with parking tickets. Of course, there were the unsolved juvenile crimes that I got away with like when my squad and I stole some road signs and I only mention this because the statute of limitations has expired. It had been years since I’d gotten a ticket though. Maybe I was tired of living life on the run, but here I was again being grabbed by the long arm of the law. 

The officer came walking up to my window and proceeded to tell me why he pulled me over and how fast I was going versus the speed limit. I didn’t think the two numbers were that far apart, really. It was a four- lane highway and I’ve always heard they give you a 10 mile grace span. This was just a tad above that. Anyway, this was the point where, in the past, I’ve apologized to the officer and offered him some kind of excuse like I was late for a meeting at church or a doctor’s appointment, but I wasn’t in the mood to grovel on this day. Did I mention hot and cranky? Even though I’d been successful on several occasions in getting a reprieve with some of my well-worded excuses, it was 98 degrees and too hot for humility and flowery speech. Those encounters when I pled for mercy with contriteness in my voice must have taken place in cooler months when my humor and patience were more robust. I just shook my head as if to say I understood the charges and handed over my license and insurance card, so we could get on with the show. 

He went back to his car and I knew this could go one of two ways. He could come back after calling in my number and seeing my multi-year streak of keeping my nose clean and tell me to slow down and that he’d let me go this time. Or he could come back with a white sheet of condemnation in his hand listing a court date and a number to call to pay my fine. He finally got back out of his car with a piece of paper blowing in the breeze- obviously not unlike my money as it would soon to be thrown to the wind. He came over and explained the high spots of the citation and told me to drive safely as he handed me the “Violator’s copy.” I’m never sure what speeding ticket etiquette is, but the southern girl in me always defaults to “thank you” when someone gives me something. So, I thanked him, but it had the sincerity of when my Mama used to make my brother and me apologize to each other after a fight. 

This is just a silly story about me and a road I’ve been driving for so long at that very same speed- only this time it had consequences. I’d gotten so comfortable with the way I’d been going at that speed that I’d forgotten I might have to pay a price, one day. I’m certainly not the only one going faster than I should- figuratively and, yes, probably literally, too. We’re all moving faster than we’re designed to move and think and interact and work and connect. Everyday, our world is finding news ways to spin faster than it did the day before. Finding places we can cram in more and more. Moving us along in a hurry. Sacrificing quality for quantity. Streamlining systems. Getting us on our way to the next thing. In the process, there have been consequences emerging that we didn’t even realize were coming because, for so long, life’s been going at this speed and we’ve been lulled by the hum of this familiar pace. When we live fast and work fast and love fast, those things are eventually going to pay a price and I think we’re seeing that around us. 

Living life at this clip, it’s so easy to overlook people and the needs of those around us. In our stress, we can speak or type and not think through the consequences of our words. The quality of our work or calling may be compromised. To make it all fit, we might skip over our time with God and staying near to Him. We may be doing many things but not feel like we have time to do any of them very well. We can get overloaded and anxious and become short with each other. Relationships may stay on the surface because we don’t have time to devote to going any deeper with people. We might skip over modeling really important things for our family as we’re constantly cramming more in and something eventually has to go. Shallow relationships, thoughtless words said in haste, forgotten quiet times, less attention to detail in our responsibilities, overlooking the needs of others, widespread anxiety and mental issues. When we’re speeding in our car, it may take a ticket to slow us down and reconsider our choices. When we’re speeding through life, it may take some unfortunate event to stop us in our tracks to reevaluate how we’re doing things. I think we’ve all seen those red flag reminders, lately. They’re everywhere we look, really. It’s like everything around us is screaming- it’s not supposed to be this way! This way isn’t working! 

Psalm 46:10 is a timely reminder for us as we live in a world that’s spinning us around at a dizzying pace. “Be still and know that I am God: I will be honored by every nation. I will be honored throughout the world.”  The definition of still is- not moving or making a sound. Deep silence and calm. Synonyms include motionless, at rest, at a standstill. How often do those words describe us? Loud, fast, full, chaotic, busy living may be the biggest barrier between us and God and, without Him, there is no peace. He is peace. When was the last time we sat motionless, silent, and calm and really considered who God is and what this life is really about? He is our Creator, Redeemer, Provider, Protector, Sustainer. The Lifter of our heads. I hope I won’t let myself go a day without stopping to sit still and quiet in awe of what He’s done for me. “For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?”

Hope y’all are having a great week! If everyone will just send $1, we can get this ticket thing put to rest. 

JONI 

We traipsed through the hot sand with our 6 chairs, 3 umbrellas, and cooler of Baptist beverages and found an opening on the crowded beach. We plopped down between what looked to be the annual tanning convention of the Ladies of the Order of the Sun and a family of three little boys under 7. It was a nice spot. The tanning convention women were a jovial bunch as they enjoyed their music and libations while achieving skin darkness that would make burnt toast envious. I was pretty sure I’d seen some of them on educational posters hanging in my dermatologist’s office, but they were having fun and that was all that mattered to them in that moment. I did, however, feel a temptation to tell them about my new neck cream, though, as I was sure they were gonna need it. To the left, the young parents were just trying to make sure they left with as many little boys as they had brought with them. A task not unlike herding cats as the little guys were running in every direction in their matching blue gingham swimsuits. There we sat in the middle. It’s always important to choose your beach neighbors carefully as you’ll be spending six or seven hours in their nearby company. Like real neighbors, they can make your experience a good one or not so much. I thought we’d done well with our choices that day. 

The young family reminded Davis and me of all those years of vacations when it was difficult to discern if it was actually fair to call it a vacation for fear of giving vacations a bad name. By the time we got everyone in their swimsuits, coated them down with sunscreen, packed all the snacks, juice boxes, sand toys, and then hauled it all out to the beach to the melodious sounds of whining children, we felt like we needed a nap. Of course, that option was off the table. All of that started flooding back as I watched that mom trying to slather lotion on her three moving targets. When they were all deemed sufficiently sun-protected, the parents attempted to take a group picture of the littles. Their dad planted them in a row by the water and the children behaved exactly how you’d expect from their birth order. The oldest was looking at the camera and smiling, the middle was squinting and contorting his face, and the youngest was turning a purply-red color from screaming and crying in lieu of breathing. I was sure it would be a picture that would be shown at their graduation celebrations and rehearsal dinners. After a couple of takes, the parents quickly abandoned that effort and started applying floaties and life vests on everyone and then dad took the baby under the umbrella to bounce him to sleep. Meanwhile, on the other side, the ladies of the sun put a fresh slim can in their coozies and flipped over to even out their color. 

I was tired just watching the young family. They’d already done more work than I’d done since our vacation started. We sat there between our grown children and their significant others. No one was asking me to get a straw into a Capri-Sun. No one had pooped in their swimsuit or, at least, was admitting to it. No one was eating sand. No one wanted to go in because it was too hot- oh, wait….that was me. No one wanted to go to the pool. Everyone was just quietly reading and I put my head back, closed my eyes, and relaxed while my airpods played music from my bikini days that none of them would want to hear. I wanted to tell the young mother that it wasn’t long ago when I was her- doling out goldfish crackers and yelling for them to not get so far out in the water. She would’ve taken one look at Carson’s full beard and Blair’s baby bump and she wouldn’t have believed me for a minute. But, she’ll learn soon enough on her own, I suppose. It just takes a few blinks before those days are gone. 

This was our trip to celebrate our men- who are also at different stages in life. Carson turned 24 last week and birthdays are BIG deals in our family. They’re all about tacky paper decorations and balloons and getting to pick all the food we eat. This year’s birthday theme of sharks seemed appropriate. Carson’s just starting out in life and his career. He has a sweet girlfriend who we all just adore. He’s at the age where he’s free to go in any direction and we’re excited to see how his future unfolds. We celebrated Father’s Day for Davis and John Samuel. John Samuel had his first Father’s Day as an expectant dad. He’s starting to feel the nearing responsibility of having a baby and what changes that will bring for them. It’s a time that’s full of a lot of excitement and probably a lot of new worries he never knew existed, too. And, of course, we celebrated Davis. Our patriarch who’s raised his family and is starting to slow down from years of working so hard to provide for them. He’s moved into a “help and advise only when asked” role with his children and is looking forward to his first grandchild. 

The beach is a place of many sweet memories. All the way from the carefree teenage bikini years when my stomach was so flat you could roll out a pie crust on it…to blowing up swim rings and trying to open Go-Gurt with greasy sunscreen hands…to sitting there between my grown children with my arms folded comfortably across my muffin top and feeling grateful that those little kids turned out to be really good people. Wondering how I got from there to here so fast, but thankful that Davis and I are enjoying this new phase of life together. Whatever season you’re in, it won’t last long. Don’t wish it away. 

Y’all have a wonderful week! 

JONI 

P.S.

I got this new game called Ransom Notes for my birthday that I was dying to play because it looked like it would be hysterical. The box said 3-6 players and I had just the friend group in mind who’d be sure to make it a hoot. I sent out a text, a couple of weeks ago, and gave a few dates for them to check and see if they were available. A minimum of two weeks is about how far ahead you have to start to find a night everyone is going to be free. We’re all so ridiculously busy that it’s a monumental task to assemble a group of more than two without a lot of back and forth on dates. We all agreed on a day and I asked everyone to put dinner and a game at my house on their calendars.

I’d told them ahead of time that this would be a comfortable and casual affair- as in leggings, shorts, t-shirts. Nobody wants to sit around on a Friday night in clothes that don’t give to the pressures induced by a large meal. The night came and they all started arriving. I greeted them at the door in my spandex and comfy shoes. I’d also prepared them that we’d be eating on disposable plates and having food that required minimal work- a baked potato bar and an ice cream bar for dessert. I literally got two gallons of Blue Bell out of the freezer and had some toppings for it. I even served the caramel and chocolate sauces right out of the jars in which Hershey’s and Smucker’s had packaged them. Some of that might not sound like a big deal to you, but it was a struggle for me not to get out the plates, glasses, and put the sauces in pretty glass bowls. It went against the southern hostess in me, but I fought the urge for the greater cause. 

I’d told my friends I was going to set the bar low from the start, so we’d be more apt to do it again. If we thought we had to make an elaborate meal or have a pretty centerpiece or set a beautiful table or wash dishes all night afterwards, we’d be less likely to do it very often. I confess I did buy a cheap bouquet of cut flowers at the grocery store and had three little bud vases on the table. I mean- I am a retired floral designer and a bare table was just a step too far for me in this quest for simple entertaining. 

We had our loaded baked potatoes on our disposable plates and our Diet Coke and sweet tea in our plastic cups and our ice cream in paper bowls with plastic spoons. When we finished, we smooshed it all down in the trash can and got out the game- which did not fail to meet the lofty expectations I had for it. We laughed and laughed and laughed to the point we were scared to move or get up from the table for fear we’d have an accident- and no one had brought an extra pair of leggings. This group of friends goes back a long way- most of them since childhood- and there was more belly laughing than I’d done in a while. That is, until someone looked down at their watch and announced it was almost 10:00. Nobody could believe how late it was and they started gathering their things like it was a fire drill. I thought, oh, we are getting old. I guess 10 is the new midnight when you’re of a certain age. 

We used to do this kind of thing all the time. Somewhere along the way, we got busy with our kids and their schedules and our jobs and just life in general and we let entertaining at home fall by the wayside. Over time, we let social media convince us that get-togethers at our houses had to be fancy, grand, and picture-worthy to be worthwhile. At some point, we decided meeting at restaurants was an equal substitute to inviting our friends into our homes. Well, it’s not, at least, not all the time and I’m so guilty of that. It’s much easier to meet up somewhere than to try to clean and plan everything down to a tee. I guess this post has no real point except to remind you as I recently reminded myself- fun doesn’t have to be fancy. Maybe we can have even more fun with paper plates, t-shirts, and a new game than we ever could with fine china, cascading centerpieces, and tight waistbands. It’s all about who’s at your table- not what’s on it. It’ll be harder for some than it will be for others, but let’s try to welcome back the lower bar and call some friends to come over and eat on paper plates. I think I’ll find a game that needs even more players for next time. 

I hope y’all have a great weekend celebrating the fathers in your life! We’ll talk soon! 

JONI 

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 

In December, I shared the story of a miracle God gave our family for Christmas. The one embryo belonging to Blair and John Samuel that sprang to life a day after the news was given that there were no living embryos left and adoption was the next option they should explore. I’ll start out today with a word from them. 

Most of you know the story about how we got one single miracle embryo, during our second round of IVF. There was no other explanation, other than God. I am happy to report an important update to that story. God saw this wonderful miracle to the end. We are expecting a precious baby this December! We are still in awe and will forever be thanking Him! 

For those of you battling infertility, we are so sorry. Please know that you are not alone. This is a devastating journey, in every way. You have done nothing to deserve this, and you are still worthy- despite not being able to have children, right now. We don’t know how the journey will end for you, but God will see you through. He is always faithful to never leave his children. Please reach out to us if you want to talk about anything infertility. Unfortunately, we are pros! 

“You have turned my mourning into dancing for me; you have put off my sackcloth and girded me with gladness, to the end that my tongue and my heart and everything glorious within me may sing praise to you and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever.” Psalm 31:11-12

We wanted to be sure to thank each and every one of you who have prayed so faithfully for John Samuel and me throughout this difficult journey. We are so blessed to have had such a large community of people go to God on our behalf. Please continue to pray for a healthy pregnancy and for a healthy baby to join us in December.  -Blair and John Samuel 

 

Everything is perfect according to her tests and her doctors. The baby’s growth, her hormones, the development. The once lifeless embryo is now a thriving baby with a strong heartbeat. It has little arms and little legs and is moving all around. There is no doubt that God breathed life where there was none. Life has a way of lulling us into a sleepy place where we’re less attentive to the works of God. He gave this gift to our family in a way that has reawakened our awe and wonder at His power and goodness. 

When something isn’t right with one of my children, something isn’t right with me. They’re an extension of me, so what pulls on them, pulls on me. I’ve felt like there have been days I haven’t been myself. My mind has been in another place. Through these years, there have been times when Blair felt like everything was going wrong all at once and I’d be on the other end of the phone having used all of my limited words and wisdom with nothing left to offer her. I have to confess times of questioning. Like we all do when we don’t understand, we asked why. This fallen world has a way of filling our minds with questions we want to ask God. In recent years for me it’s been -why do some loving couples struggle with infertility while others, who don’t even care for their children, have no issues at all? I don’t think God minds questions, but we can’t get so far into the weeds of the whys that we become blind to His goodness and sovereignty and the hope He offers. No matter how far we have to travel out of the briars and the brush, we have to find our way back to the place where hope and trust are. 

With the miraculous way the embryo got its start, I’ve felt an overwhelming calm and peace about this since they shared the news. When God is so obviously in something, you have the freedom to sit back and rest in His power. If you have prayed for them, I could never begin to thank you enough. Overwhelmed doesn’t begin to touch it. Innumerable times, I’ve been told they were the subject of your prayers. Countless times, I’ve been asked about them and their updates. In a world that seems to be mostly turned inward to self, you have been the very opposite of that. To have so many offer their time before God to plead for our children, well- you just have no idea what that means to us. If you’ll continue to do us that honor for a healthy pregnancy, we’d be so grateful. I also have to note that some of the loudest cheerleaders have been women who were never able to have children. The tears in their eyes when they spoke to me came from a place that recognized and appreciated the deep longing of that journey. May God bless them, every one. May God bless you all for your kindness to our family. 

I don’t have room to write all the miraculous ways God has shown His hand in this, but I’ll leave you with one beautiful example. My sweet mama was here with us on Mother’s Day and she shared this story. I recorded it and wouldn’t trade it for anything. She said on December 14, after I’d just told her, the day before, that there was no embryo left, I called her back to share the glorious news- there was one healthy embryo that came to life in a miraculous and inexplicable way which had baffled the medical staff. Joyful, thankful, and not knowing what else to do, my mother said she went to her Bible and opened it and found this verse jumping off the page. She had it printed and framed and gave it to Blair for her first Mother’s Day. 

A story only God could write. Footnotes only He could insert. Winks only He could give. A miracle that came to life at Christmas, was implanted the week of Easter, and is due to be born the week of Christmas. Thanks be to God. 

For the last several weeks, I’ve answered vaguely, beat around the bush, sent cryptic messages, changed the subject, avoided conversations, darted behind store displays, refused to make eye contact, and basically acted like a weirdo. Their sharing the news couldn’t have come a moment too soon for my cranial pressure and, perhaps, most of all, my social life.

Y’all have a great week! 

PUNKIN  -My soon-to-be favorite title