My memory is pretty low functioning right now.  It's like.....well, scary low, some days. 

I went to the grocery store Friday and, while I was in there, I ran into a lady that I know.  Well, a lady that I'm supposed to know.  Her eyes met mine and her jaw dropped with the biggest smile you've ever seen and her arms reached out and grabbed me and we hugged and patted each other like proper Southern women.  We stood in front of the eggs and canned biscuits and talked, mostly, about how good it was to see each other.  All the while, I was smiling and thinking to myself, "Who in the world am I talking to?"  I longed for a clue in her words and listened carefully for any hints.  Her face was familiar, but that's as far as it went for me. 

I started going down the mental list of possibilities.  You know how you do.  "Let's see.....does she work somewhere....maybe the bank, insurance office, my favorite restaurant?"  Nothing.  "Well", I continued silently, "did we go to school together, our kids go to school together, or play on the same team?"  Still, nothing.  "Is she one of Davis' relatives, who we only see at reunions?  Were we in garden club together?" 

We finished our embracing and "catching up" and I left.......without a clue.    

You know the feeling.  Please, tell me you do.   

I went on with my shopping and tried to shake it off.  I only needed a few things and was in a hurry, so I hadn't made a list.  Now understand, lists are the only way I can function in society now, but, on this particular day, I was feeling sort of confident....maybe even a tad cocky, you might say.  I decided to go old school like I did back when my memory was a young thing. I needed Butterscotch chips, Cheese, Detergent, Apples, Eggs, and a Roast. 

Before implementation of the list system had become necessary, I'd just make up an acronym to help me remember the few things I needed.  I decided to throw caution to the wind and declared the word for the day would be B.R.A.C.E.D..  There was no way I could forget anything I needed with this plan.  It was bullet proof. 

Well.

I should've "B.R.A.C.E.D." myself to have to make another trip to the store is what I should've done. 

Eggs.....not a problem.  I grabbed those, while I chatted with the nice, anonymous lady.  D is for detergent.....got that.  Cheese.....there's my C.....grabbed that.  Oh, this was going so good.  It was like Wheel of Fortune, grocery store edition.  My memory was running like a well oiled machine and all my cylinders were firing.  I was filling in the blanks like a boss.  I'll take a B, Pat.....B for butterscotch chips.  Threw those in the cart.  Apples.....there was my other vowel.  Ok, I'm good to go.  Oh, wait.  I'm missing the R.  You can't spell B.R.A.C.E.D. without R.   

I wracked my brain.  R....R, R, R.  What did that R stand for?  I walked around hoping something would jump start my stalled memory.  Raisins?  Rice?  Rolls?  Reynold's Wrap?  Relish?  Ramen Noodles?  Rice Krispies?  You know.....I'd never noticed before, but there just aren't that many things in a grocery store that begin with R.  I gave up.   

I got pretty deep in the checkout line, hoping that whatever R stood for wasn't all that important, and that's when it finally came to me.....a Roast!  I backed out of the line, "Excuse me....sorry....I forgot something....coming through" and then headed to claim my R.  R is for roast.  After about 20 minutes, I had finally solved the puzzle and resolved to never come to the store without a list again.  Those days are gone.  That ship has sailed.                           

I made my way back to be checked out and, after paying my bill, I headed out the door.  Then, there came that panic that sweeps over you.  That feeling that comes when you get to the exit and can't remember where you parked.  You've got to make some decisions pretty fast once you get outside, too.  "Let's see....I think I'm over here.....or no......I think that's where I parked the last time I was here.  I must be over here." 

And you know how when you get down to the very end of a row without seeing your car, you have to make some hard choices.  You can either (A) cut over to the next aisle of cars and make like you intentionally walked all the way down to the end of the wrong row only to cut through because that's how you roll or (B) you can just stop without any fear of judgment, press your remote, listen for the beeps, all while craning your neck and looking as lost as a goose.  Many-a-time, the beep of the door locks has guided me in the way which I should go.

I was feeling pretty incompetent by the time I got in my car.  Like maybe I should call someone to drive me home.  I did take some comfort in the fact that the lady in front of me was lost, too.  Misery does love her some company in a big parking lot.     

Other memory failures include, but are not limited to....

1)  Trying to find my phone while I'm talking on it.
2)  Pouring myself a glass of tea after I just poured myself a glass of tea.
3)  Having to buy one of those geriatric pill organizers because of the inability to remember if I'd taken my medicine.
4)  Leaving clean clothes in the washer for a couple of days and having to wash them again.
5)  Burning cookies.
6)  The inability to come up with the right word for everyday objects.  "Pick up your.....your......oh, you know.....those blue things....right there.....that you wear on your feet".
7)  Failing to introduce people, because I can't remember one or more of their names. 
8)  Calling the roll when I need someone......"Blair.....Carson....Davis.......Sugar!"
9)  Looking for the glasses that are on top of my head.
10)  Asking someone a question that I just asked them or that they just answered. 
11) Shaving one leg or one armpit.
12)  Forgetting to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. 
13)  I can't remember what I was going to say #13 was.
14)  Using alternative salutations like "Hey, girl" or "Hello, my friend" when names refuse to come.      

I better stop before someone calls the people in the white uniforms to come take me for a ride.

Anyway, we'd be here all day if I told you everything, so let's leave some mystery in our relationship. 

I try to self-comfort......telling myself I'm almost 47 years old and have way too much to keep up with.  Yeah, that's it.  My mind is so full of different kinds of information having to do with work, husband, kids, friends, schedules, obligations, parents, meetings, special occasions, appointments, etc. that my brain just can't hold it all.

I guess, as a woman living in her 5th decade, who can't remember why she came in the kitchen, I'm becoming more and more amazed by the omniscience of God. 

How He can know what I'm doing and what I need, while tending to a woman just like me in Hong Kong and the billions of other people in between us.  How He knows the number of hairs each one has on her head and what each fingerprint looks like.  How He can hear prayers in English and Spanish and German and Japanese and French and understand each one perfectly.  How He sees all the animals and gives them food and takes note of the sparrow that falls to the ground.  How He knits a baby together, month by month, and never forgets to start his mother's labor.  How He keeps track of chromosomes and genes and traits and creates everyone with a purpose.  

He never forgets gravity or photosynthesis or decomposition or condensation.  He keeps the sun at its safe distance and always remembers when to make it rise and when to bring it down again. He never forgets to change the seasons or the tides or the phases of the moon.  He remembers to make hearts beat and marrow to make blood cells and uses nerves to warn of trouble.  He keeps the planets spinning and the water cycling and the food chain intact.  He keeps charge over His angels, sending them to protect my child and a mother's child who's three continents away.  He keeps the oceans in their places and the stars burning at their assigned posts.  He moves the clouds around with His breath and doesn't forget who needs the rain.  He gives the flowers and trees the nod to do their budding when He decides it's time.

He knows that what I need is not what you need and never gets the two confused.  He keeps track of who to send where and prepares their way.  He brings people together and puts strengths and talents where they're needed.  He listens to bedtime prayers and turns hearts to Him when it's just the right time.  He inspires and leads and brings conviction according to His plan.  He remembers to give wisdom, understanding, and comfort to those who ask.  He memorizes each prayer list and even knows the ones that are kept quiet.                    

He doesn't forget to come when we ask.  Keeps all His appointments.  Remembers His promises.
Never late with His answers.  Calls each of us by name.  Doesn't forget where we are.  Supplies what we each need for each moment.  Always on time.  Lets nothing fall through the cracks.  Always according to plan.  Right on schedule.  Never hesitates, stumbles, forgets, bobbles, or makes a blunder.                   

I guess we're most astounded by different traits of God at different times in our lives.  Maybe when we're having to extend difficult measures of forgiveness, we're most in awe of His incredible forgiveness.  Maybe when we're giving up something that's dear to us is when we're most aware of His sacrificial love.  And, just maybe, to a perimenopausal, almost 47 year old woman, who can't remember her own kids' names, His omniscience might be the most amazing thing that she can think of in that moment of her life.

Some of my favorite Bible passages are in Job where God challenges him.  They are, to me, the most beautiful words that God speaks to assure us of His omniscience. 

 

   

     
        

Our local Chick-fil-A announced in January that it would be closed for the entire month of February for some remodeling. 

Wait.....What?  That's like closing the hospital.....the fire department.....the interstate system for a month.  You just can't do that.  We're talking about essential services here.

Sunday is one thing, but February?  Well, that's another.   

Public panic and pandemonium immediately ensued.  A dark, ominous cloud hung heavily over the city and despair could be seen in the hollow eyes of those longing for just one waffle fry to touch the tips of their craving tongues.  If they could just lick the pickle juice from one chicken flavored bun then maybe, just maybe, they could make it through another February day.  Their hands seemed to have a tremor about them and a hint of nervousness could be detected in their voices.  There was a palpable fretfulness in the air.  

Lunch hours found them all driving in circles, unsure of where to go.  The others with their garbled drive thru speakers left them frustrated.  They longed to hear the melodious sounds of "it's my pleasure" and grew tired of having incorrectly dressed burgers flung through their car windows without a word spoken.  You could hear them crying out from great distances for the boneless chicken.  It was a primal sound.  A sound of desperation. 

They thirsted for lemonade with bits of real lemon.  They craved chunks of peaches in their shakes.  The little biscuits.  The perfectly sized nuggets.  The seasoned, grilled chicken with bacon.  Ketchup packs that didn't require teeth.  The classy touch of the after dinner mints.   

The longings were many and yet all unfulfilled. 

Yes, it was a happy month for the chickens.  They strutted around like they were invincible......getting all cocky with the humans.  They took cruises, beach vacations, and taunted the cows.  They let their worries fall by the wayside.  For the first time since hatching, they began planning for the future.  A future that didn't include a heat lamp and a foil bag.                         

February came and went, but still no sign of the boneless chicken anywhere.  The masses grew impatient and irritated.  Cars circled the parking lot like a flock of buzzards searching for a dead, bloated goat in the sunshine.  They were looking for a sign.......any sign of progress....any posted announcements......any promise of hope.  They were looking for an end to this madness.  

Construction workers looked over their shoulders and felt a tinge of uneasiness.  They found new comfort from their hard hats.  People were hungry.  Hungry for a #1, no pickle, with a Coke and there was just no telling what they'd do to get it.   

Alas........today, the darkness was lifted.  After 6 long weeks, the chickens returned to town from their vacations....in a bag and deboned.  Word spread quickly.  Cars lined up.....around and around and around the building, they wrapped.  People walked with an extra quickness and bounce in their step.  They whistled happy tunes.  The light had returned in their eyes.  Children, who hadn't eaten since January, were satisfied once more.  Peace and contentment fell across the land.  All was well again.    

The boneless chicken was back in town.

The power of poultry on a buttery bun.

Never underestimate it. 

Hope your Thursday is delicious. 

    

      

Well, we got home late Sunday night from Atlanta.  It was a most successful trip and I can't wait to get into the new store with all the finds! 

Blair is my usual market companion, but it was her spring break and she had plans and they didn't include me.  She went to New Orleans, so Davis tagged along with me.  He worked from his computer at the hotel during the day, while I shopped and then we'd meet up for dinner each night.  It was good for him, because the only way for Davis to relax and rest is to get him out of town where he can't do much work.   

Each morning, we ate the $35 breakfast buffet together at the hotel and, even though it was included with our room, when one eats a $35 breakfast buffet, one feels as if one should eat $35 worth of breakfast.  So....I walked my legs off, but still managed to bring home a couple of extra pounds as a souvenir.   

I had to put down my fork and take a picture of our plates because it so beautifully illustrates the dichotomy that is Davis and me.   
    

Yes, on many occasions, waiters will instinctively place his grilled fish and spinach in front of me and serve him my filet and potatoes.

There's really little doubt as to who will meet our Lord first.    

Anyway, my sweet mother stayed at our house with Carson and our neurotic dog, Sugar, while we were gone.  Anytime she's over here for more than 30 minutes, she finds a way to make herself useful by cleaning something.  She's just like that.  The family can be here for her birthday party and she'll invariably slip off to the kitchen to start the clean up.  She has the most humble servant's heart and embodies the belief that "Cleanliness is next to Godliness".  I have to admit......that combination staying at your house for four days is not a bad thing.  Not a bad thing, indeed. 

I got a text from Carson Saturday saying that Grandma had dismantled the refrigerator.  "Yeah, she's cleaning the refrigerator and has taken out all the drawers, shelves..... everything."  Let me just assure you that he wasn't kidding either.  I think that our refrigerator was less clean the day that it was delivered here from Sears in its original box and plastic wrappings than it is right now this very minute.  It's the kind of cleaning that I, myself, would never dream of taking the time to do........unless maybe I was put under house arrest for 24 months and, even then, it would be iffy.

Anyway, she is one of the cleanest, most conscientious people I know.  Growing up, our house smelled like a Pine-Sol, Lysol, lemon Pledge cocktail.  Everything was so clean and always smelled so fresh. 

So, just a little background information to my story.....she's never been an animal person either......doesn't like to touch them or be licked by them or have them jump up on her.  It's not that she wishes them any harm, they're just not her thing.  So, you can imagine Sugar's excitement when we told her that her grandmother was coming to stay with her for a few days. 

And also pertinent to the story, there's Carson, who's not known for his strong stomach.  He's one of those.....if you vomit, he vomits kind of people.  I've already started to worry about him being in the delivery room with his future wife.  He'll be that husband on a gurney with a cold rag on his head, while his wife is mumbling under her breath about what a lot of help he is.  Yeah, I don't think he's going to make a doctor as we say here in the South. 

So, all that being said, my mother and Carson got up early Sunday morning to get ready for church.  She cooked him a batch of rich, buttery pancakes from scratch and goodness knows what else.  Causing people's eyes to roll back into their heads with her cooking is one of her many spiritual gifts.  Anyway, his stomach was so full and happy and he was headed back to his room to get dressed when they found it.  Sugar, who was nervous wreck in our absence, had pooped and peed in the dining room of all places.  She's getting old and likes a routine and I suppose she was revolting against the deviation from it by way of her excretory system. 

Ok, so picture this.  You've got a woman, who could be described as the poster child for germaphobia awareness, who doesn't like to touch animals and a weak stomached teenager who gags at the sight of any bodily fluid that doesn't belong to him.......all alone in a house with a dog puddle and a poop pile in the dining room floor.  What in the world are a germaphobe and a gagger to do?   

So, as the story was told to me, they devised a plan.  Carson, the gagger, was to be in charge of the removal of the excrement and his grandmother, the germaphobe, was head of disinfecting the area, another one of her spiritual gifts.  The gagger completed his part without incident.......that is, until he lost his rich, buttery, made from scratch pancakes in the laundry room floor.....leaving yet another area in need of disinfecting.   

Miraculously, they did make it to church.......even though the Devil was clearly at work here that morning. 

I'm not sure why, but when we got home at 10:45 Sunday night, my mother's car was turned around, parked halfway down the driveway, and pointed toward the road.......and Sugar, well, she seemed more than eager to walk her out. 

But, not to worry.  Carson and his grandmother enjoyed a chance to spend some quality time together.  Our dining room and laundry room have been sterilized and could now be used for surgical purposes if need be.  Our frig is all new-like and sparkly.  Bathrooms, never been so shiny and fresh.  Our clothes are all washed, ironed, and starched to the point that Carson probably had trouble sitting down at school today.  And Sugar is at ease, once again, now that everyone is home.  

And we were careful to bring sweet Grandma a nice bag of appreciation gifts for all her troubles.

So good to be back with y'all! 


 

I've been shopping for comfy shoes, because.......well, market could be equated to walking the Tour de France......in 3 or 4 days.  I always leave home thinking I've found just the shoe that will do the trick and carry me the distance.....but, somewhere along hour 7 or 8, I've made the determination that my feet have to go.  By hour 9, I go into the nearest restroom and begin to contemplate if gnawing them off at the ankles or sawing them at the knees with the nail file in my purse would be the least painful method of removal.  So, yeah.....in all of my trips, I've not yet taken a shoe that has ever been invited back for the next trip.  I'll report back to you on this year's nominee and its performance.  I can report, though, that practice runs have proved promising.   

Last year, I wore a pedometer, just out of curiosity, to see how many steps a typical day at market required.  At the end of the day, it had registered around 1,200 steps.  Either it hit its max number and had started over or that was just its way of saying, "You know what?  Count it yourself....this is ridiculous".

And, sadly, the heat arrived here today.  One day in the mid 70's with 85% humidity and I'm over spring/summer already.  Check, please.  I was out running errands all day and that sick feeling of dread came over me as the looming heat breathed down my neck and pressed down on my shoulders.

I came home and decided it was time.  The thermostat was ceremonially switched from heat to cool. The flannel sheets are out of here because last night I almost combusted in the bed.  The heavy blankets are put away and the sweaters...........gone.  Any cool weather from this point on, we will brave it alone.       

Yep, I've turned the page. 

Facing my enemy head on. 

Bring it, summer. 

Let's get this over with.       

I have a haircut appointment tomorrow before I leave on my trip and, with the humid heat today, I'm inspired to go ahead and commence the summer grooming.  I considered taking my chances as a walk-in at Petco, but I'm not sure about that leash. 

I have this extremely thick hair.....like that of a woolly mammoth......in winter......and when it gets any length on it in the warm months, it feels like a barbell has been strapped to my head.  A hot, scalding barbell.  I prefer not to have hot, scalding barbells strapped to my head, so just as soon as spring blows it warm breath, the hair has got to go.  I was looking online for some possibilities and came across this virtual hairdresser site.  Let me know if you think any of theses are me.

A)  Reese Witherspoon.                                      B)  Joan Jett...but would
      Be very afraid, Reese.                              "I Hate Myself for Loving You"?



C) Dorothy Hamill                                               D)  Laura Bush.... 
Me if I cut off my ears and took up skating.       Who doesn't love Laura?    
                      
Davis got curious, so we did him. 
                                                                  

So, I think I've mentioned that Davis and I are white noise addicts when it comes time to go to bed.  Put us in a quiet room to sleep and there might as well be a dozen jackhammers in there with us.  The silence is deafening.  We won't sleep a wink. 

We've had the same noise machine that has provided our nightly "fix" for 14 years now and, well, the other night, I climbed into bed and, after a few minutes, I noticed that our smooth, lulling noise sounded more like an old Pinto trying to climb its way out of the Grand Canyon on a cold, winter morning.  There was a straining sound mixed with a hint of tiredness and a pinch of surrender.  It was losing its ability to put me to sleep and, clearly, it was time to find a new supplier to feed our addiction.

After a few clicks on Amazon, our shipment was on its way.

Imagine my excitement when it came Friday.  I couldn't wait to go to sleep....but, really, that's kind of a chronic longing I have.  As a matter of fact, I will challenge any one of you to a sleep off....anytime.  There aren't many things of which I can boast, but my aptitude for sleep, well, it is simply undeniable.  I'm one of the best there is.  Oh, listen to me.  I'm sorry.....I'm just bragging now.      
Anyway, that moment had come that I had dreaded since I clicked "Place Order" for our new machine.  It was time to lay our old, faithful friend of 14 years to rest.  There almost seemed to be a knot in my stomach.  After all, it had logged in almost 46,000 hours in its 5,110 nights on duty here.  Working the night shift at our bedside with such loyalty and tenacity called for a proper send-off with some long overdue honor and recognition.  
The only casket we could find was the shipping box of its replacement.  I know that was a little insulting, but what else were we to do?  It was such a good fit.  After a few words of gratitude and a tear or two, we said our goodbyes, sat it by the trash can, and came inside to try out our new sleeping drug.  In its two nights of service here so far, we couldn't be more pleased with its performance.  We're back to sleeping like babies on Benadryl.  I highly recommend.     

And this has become a common sight around my house.  Carson and Davis love to get in the floor at night and wrestle.  There is a lot of grunting, screaming, gasping for air, and turning various colors.     
I am intrigued with the things that men find to do to pass the time.  I mean, when was the last time you had the urge to say to one of your friends, "Katherine, would you like to get down in the floor and roll around while I try to swing my leg up over you and pin your head to the carpet until it turns the color of a plum?"

Some things are not meant for us, women, to understand, I suppose.

This week is our long awaited spring break and we're predicted to get up to 6" of rain by Friday.  I'm not sure what we're going to do for fun, but it will most likely involve a lot of waiting inside for our dove to return with an olive leaf.       
 

Hope the week gets off to a good start for y'all!

See ya soon! 

                
      

Well, this week has had me thinking about friendship. 

Tuesday, I got up earlier than usual and drove to Jackson to be at the hospital for my friend's surgery.  It was kind of serious in nature, so I really wanted to be there for Julie.  Let it be noted that my love for someone can most accurately be measured by how early I am willing to get up for them.......but I digress.  No, to best sum up our friendship, I'd say that if Julie and I are in a room together, chances are everyone else in there is wondering what in the world we're laughing about.        

She and I go way back.  All the way back to elementary school when several of us, girls, would sit in the balcony together during church and whisper and write notes back and forth, that is, until one of our mothers would spot us from the choir loft and shoot death rays through the sanctuary with her eyes.  That balcony was a long way from the choir loft, but not too far to pick up what their eyes were putting down.   

At that point, we'd all commence doing something more spiritual in nature like thumbing through our Children's Living Bibles to find the pictures......or writing Bible verses on the back of offering envelopes in elegant bubble letters....or filling in all the those blanks in the front of our Bibles like Presented To, Birthdays, and Special Occasions.  As long as it was Bible related, we were safe.     

It's funny how several of my closest friendships to this day started out in that church building.  Many of the relationships that took root there have stood the test of time.  They've been around as far back as my memory will take me.  We've pasted magazine pictures onto construction paper while sitting in little wooden chairs......we've helped each other with super tough decisions like who to take to the dance......we've had more sleepovers than we could ever count......we've worn less than ideal bridemaids dresses on each other's behalf......we've thrown graduation parties for each other's kids.....we've even grieved the loss of our fathers together.     

Yeah, little girls, who I drank red Kool-Aid with at Bible school, while putting butter ring cookies on each of our fingers, are still my friends today at almost age 47.  That's a long time.  It's been a while since I tried, so I'm not even sure a butter ring cookie would go around any of my fingers now except maybe the pinky, but it's obvious that friendships that formed back in white knee socks and black patent leather shoes are very enduring, indeed.

There are other friendships that start later in life and they're just as precious in their own way. Friendships from childhood sometimes come about from decisions made by our parents, but the friends we have later in life are often those that we seek out ourselves. They are some of the very first major decisions we make on our own......and some of the most important.  They can shape who we are and which way we're headed.

We've all got family and that's a wonderful thing, but friends.....well, they're for us to decide. There is a world full of potential candidates and it's all up to us to choose who we want to surround ourselves with.....who we want to travel along with us as we pass through life.  Our paths randomly cross with all sorts of people each day, but the roads to our friends....well, those are deliberate.     

I got word from one of those friends today that she's received a cancer diagnosis.....very treatable, but still not what I was expecting to hear this morning.  Having her permission, I'd like to tell you about Amanda.  She and I became friends during our teenage years.  We've soaked up a lot of sun together on beaches and piers....really anywhere our chairs and boom box with its eight D batteries could find a sunny spot.  We passed notes in class, even spoke our own little language, carpooled to school in our cars that were so memorable (not in a good way) that they were given proper names, and we may or may not have even stolen a traffic sign or two.           

She lives a few hours from here now and, while we try to visit when she comes home, we don't talk as much as we'd like.  But, when I heard from her today, it was like I was transported back to her pier, slathered in baby oil, with Cyndi Lauper and Tears for Fears blaring between our two chairs.  She was, is, and always will be my friend.  I guess if you ever deeply connect with a person, it's always there.  It never goes away.  No matter what.                           

I suppose it must be my age mixed with the events of the week that have me in a more sentimental frame of mind when it comes to my buddies.  Some of us are scattered and some are close by, but we all get busy in our own little lives....running the same trails everyday.  Our circling, repetitive days start to create deep ruts that we get comfortable in and before you know it, a lot of time has passed since you've spoken or visited.  I guess as I get older, I realize how much I need them and how much concentrated effort it takes to keep them in our crazy, busy world. 

It also got me thinking about the wacky way we do things nowadays.  Social media tricks us into believing it's all we need to have a friendship.  Texting tells us it's just as good as talking only quicker and easier and less restricting.  Our packed schedules make us believe that we'll have more time for them just as soon as......fill in the blank.  Pinterest convinces us to wait and have company when we have time to make our house look like this and our food and table look like that.  Our relatively young age assures us we have plenty of time.......things will settle down one day.  But, what I think is that technology has hijacked the art of friendship and warped our sense of responsibility towards our friends.       

I'm as guilty as anyone of descending the spiral staircase of more impersonal communication and getting stuck in the deep ruts of busyness.  So, I decided to pick up the phone and begin a conscious effort to start calling my friends more frequently.  I got started today.  There's no device or means of communication that can take the place of hearing your friend's voice.  "LOL" can never be as warm as listening to your friend laugh.  Likes and comments and favorites don't mean near as much as telling them yourself.  Let me just say that I had a most delightful afternoon hearing the beautiful music of my friends' voices on the other end of the line.

Friends are part of who we are.  Whether they've been around for 40 years or 6 months, whether you talk to them everyday or once a year, they're all gifts.  They are given by God, but they don't come without responsibility.  They require time and attention and effort and sacrifice.     

And they're worth every single drop that you put into them. 

Life is hard, y'all.....and it's passing quickly.  We need each other. 

So, do yourself a favor and call a friend or do lunch. 

And do me a favor and pray for my friends, Amanda and Julie. 

Thanks so much and y'all have a great weekend!     
 
             

                                 

Well, it's March.  This weekend, we'll move the clocks forward.  Days will be longer.  School will be out for spring break.  Baseball season will be in full swing.  Store shelves will be laden with Easter fineries and chocolate bunnies. Crickets will start to chirp again.  Trees will begin to leaf out and green will start to spread across the earth.     

I know I'm in the minority here.  No, I take that back.....perhaps, I stand all alone here, but I'm not scared.  This changing of seasons does not stir any level of excitement within me.  There....I said it. 

Sure, I'll admit that those early spring days are enticing.  Those mid-60's, low 70's days with their tweeting birds and budding flowers and gentle breezes.  They're just bait.  Don't fall for it.  They're kind of like the sketchy man handing out candy from his blue van with no windows....the one that our mothers warned us about.  Sure, the candy looks good, but the long, bony fingers of the southern heat will have you in a sizzling grip as soon as you get close to it. 

My disdain for the hot weather is nothing new.  Even as a child, I dreaded the heat.  My head would pound as I'd pedal through the neighborhood.  I could feel my pulse in my eyeballs.  Riding on the white, vinyl seats of our Ford was just slightly more comfortable than sitting on a bed of hot coals.  There wasn't enough Kool-aid on the block to quench the thirst of that Mississippi heat.....even the water from the hose was hot.  There was nowhere to escape it.  If you went inside, you'd be asked to vacuum, so you stuck it out in on your scalding banana seat in your cut off blue jeans and red Keds, all moist with sweat.               

I know that most of you feel quite the opposite.  I've seen your derogatory posts about winter.  Your death threats against Elsa.  Your attempts to have her arrested have not gone unnoticed.  I've seen the phrase "Over it" written across more winter scenes than I can count.  I've heard your laughing as Madea cocks her gun and dares us to say "Snow" one more time.  You're so tired of dreary, cold days.  You're ready to move past sweaters and boots and snow.  I can understand that.     

Yeah, I see your endless postings of beach chairs, flip flops, drinks with umbrellas, and blue water.  I see the countdowns to your beach vacations.  I see the cute swimsuits you share.  You can't wait.  I know.  I know.  I know. 

I can see how you could be seduced by the mild warmth of spring, but let's review our glossary of warm weather terms that, perhaps, you have forgotten in all of your romanticizing of summer:

1) MOSQUITOS- large, birdlike, blood-sucking insects, known to grow as big as seagulls in the South, whose life's work it is to torment each person who enters their domain, the outdoors, and suck blood from multiple injection sites, leaving behind large, itching bumps the size of shooter marbles that will cause the victim to scratch all the way down to their skeletal systems.  Also known as the state bird in some southern states. 
  
2)WASPS- a stinging insect who offers nothing good to the world.  Nothing. They are flying servants of Satan. See also FLIES, FLEAS, AND FIREANTS.    

3) SNAKES- the most feared of all animals which wake from their winter slumber and dare you to step on them and, even if you don't, they'll claim you did.  Be careful in believing the lie that snakes are more afraid of you than you are of them.  Of all the animals, the Devil chose to appear as the snake. The prosecution rests. 
  
4) SUNBURN- a costly mistake that causes its victim to experience the paradox of a throbbing burning and relentless chills all at once and when finally healed, causes skin to fall away from the body in most unattractive patterns as a molting snake.  See also HEAT RASH, SUN POSONING, SUNSPOTS, AND RAZOR BUMPS. 

5) HUMIDITY- a condition of moisture in the air causing it to feel 100 times heavier and more oppressive than usual thus making it difficult for adequate respiration to occur.
 
6) SWEAT- moisture released from the body in extreme heat, rolling down faces, backs, necks, hair, bends of elbows, backs of knees, and anywhere else it darn well pleases.  It is also noted as the most overused and exaggerated bodily function in movies set in the South.  See also DEHYDRATION.   

7) POLLEN- the yellow poison of suffering causing its victims a wide array of symptoms such as itching, sneezing, watering eyes, sore throat, and longing for the sweet release of death.

8) POISON OAK- a flesh eating plant which spreads its rot by oozing and irresistible itching. 

9) GRASS MOWING- a chore required every six days from the very first hint of spring until Halloween in the South.  Failure to complete the task on time can cause whispering in the neighborhood.   

10) HEAT INDEX- how hot the air actually feels, which is calculated by taking the current temp, multiplying it by 3, and adding 20 additional degrees if in the South.  

11) SCORCHING PARKING LOTS-  also known as desensitization training grounds for those who wish to seek employment in Death Valley or Hell. 
     
12) WHITE LEGS DILEMA-  what to do with all the exposed whiteness to reduce its offensiveness, short of appearing orange or acquiring skin cancer. 

13) LONG DAYS- the seemingly incessant daylight, which causes its victims to ask, "Is it still today?" at approximately 7:00 pm each evening. 

14) UNRELENTING SUN- that blazing ball of fire located just under 2 miles from Earth during the summer months and recedes each day at a pace slower than cold molasses.

15) TORNADOES- also known as a Tuesday in the South.
 
16) TICKS- those large, gray, bulging, blood-filled creatures, which hang on southern dogs like moss on an old oak tree.

17) BORED CHILDREN-  that inexplicable irony when children, who hate school, get their long awaited break from it and can find nothing to do.    

18) SHAVING- an optional winter activity, which becomes non-negotiable in the hotter months, necessitated by shorter, less concealing clothing.

19) SAND- an abrasive, natural material which, in the summer months, creeps into places where abrasive, natural materials ought not to be. 

So, yeah, spring is coming.  Y'all enjoy its doting courtship.  Bringing you flowers.  Taking you on beautiful afternoon strolls.  Fanning you gently with its palm branches.  Feeding you its juicy fruits.  Whispering its promises in your ear. 

Just don't get too used to it.  It'll start taking you for granted before you know it.  Turning off its cool charms.  Making you hot under the collar.  Burning you with its indifference.  Ignoring your pleas. Making you a hot mess.

You'll be begging for Elsa before long.  Just wait and see.        

But don't say I didn't warn you.