No, I'm not referring to that parody by Weird Al. Besides. NKOTB? Totally had the Right Stuff.
No. I'm talking about that powdery, white, wet, fluffy goodness that seems to have found its way into my yard again.
I'm talkin' snow, y'all!
Here's the thing. I think EVERYONE (ok, maybe not everyone. But everyone except for, like, three people) I know is totally sick of snow. Tired of winter. Wishing for spring. Longing for sunshine.
I do miss those bright rays we've been missing as of late, but I welcome the snow. Because we don't have a spring here. We go straight from winter to 80 degree days. Then to 90 degree days with like 97% humidity. And, me no likey.
Here's the thing. If it's going to be cold and wet, I would rather it be cold and wet with snow. I despise cold, rainy days. Nothing makes me want to crawl under the covers and sleep away the day more than cold, rainy days. But, snowy days? They mean playing outside with Ansley. Staying home from work. Throwing a snowball at the hubby. Hot chocolate with marshmallows. Hats. Scarfs. Sweaters. And brightness.
And a reminder of what was done on a cross for me so many years ago.
But soon, in just a couple weeks, really, the word "snow" will no longer be a part of local vocabulary for about 11 months.
People complain of the snow. The frustration that comes with travel difficulties. Of the cold. My opinion? I can always put on more clothes. I can snuggle.
But, when it's hot? There are only so many clothes you can take off. And then, my friends, you are naked.
And risk getting your booty sunburned.
So, I ask you, in all honesty. A sunburned booty, or a cozy scarf, some hot chocolate, and a fuzzy blanket while enjoying a day off of work.
Exactly.
Showing posts with label Southern Comfort. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Southern Comfort. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
I let my child eat McDonald's
And, frankly, she liked it. Of course, her favorite part was the French fries, so we paid special attention to that and only let her enjoy just a few.
It was her first Happy Meal. And, regardless of the fact that she will rarely *enjoy* another one, she had her first, and it was certainly a happy meal.
It was her first Happy Meal. And, regardless of the fact that she will rarely *enjoy* another one, she had her first, and it was certainly a happy meal.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
A lesson on faith, and the church. At least, my thoughts on the subjects
My faith is very important to me. At times, it seems that it got pushed to the back burner because I knew where I stood, and I was surrounded by people that knew that as well.
I made some dumb mistakes. SO DUMB. But, I am thankful for what they helped me to learn regarding my faith.
Every day, I'm touched by the miraculous work of the Lord. When I get to see a little baby's heartbeat on the screen, and get to rejoice with those who choose life, I am reminded of the huge God I serve.
But every once in awhile, I get so frustrated. I used to think I was getting frustrated with God, but, recently, I think I realized what the true root of it is. It's the church, and, subsequently, followers of Christ.
DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT A POST TO GOSSIP, SPREAD LIES, AND TEAR APART THE CHURCH. IT ALSO ISN'T REALLY A POST ABOUT MOMMYHOOD, THOUGH, HONESTLY, I THINK MANY OF THESE REALIZATIONS WERE BROUGHT ABOUT BY BECOMING A MOTHER, AND FINALLY UNDERSTANDING WHAT IT REALLY MEANT FOR GOD TO SACRIFICE HIS ONLY SON ON MY BEHALF. IT'S A BIT OF A SOAP BOX, SO CONTINUE READING AT YOUR OWN RISK.
I grew up in a small, Southern Baptist church. Being the granddaughter of a preacher, and a daughter of parents who taught that faith was important even if it wasn't lived out all the time, it only made sense for me to accept what I was given.
And, I grew at that church. From Sunday School, to Children's Church, to even meeting my first crush, I loved that church. I can remember "walking to the alter," and being led through the Roman's Road by a lady that had really bad breath. Isn't that such a great conversion experience?
So, I accepted it. And I was dunked the next Sunday. And I sat and shivered with my wet hair and a smile through the rest of the service. Cause my Grandpa was proud.
Looking back on it now, I think I developed a very legalistic view of religion, and more importantly, faith. Don't get me wrong, I still believe there is only one way to enjoy eternal fellowship with the Lord, but I feel as though I was instructed to believe that the only way was to follow the rules set forth by the Southern Baptist Convention.
I'm not hating on baptists. Trust me, I'm not. They have their flaws just like every donomination. And there are some things from my time in that church that I treasure. Like singing old hymns. And understanding my brokenness. But, every church has it's problems. And that, more importantly, is what this is about. It's about man getting in the way of God's work. It's about the church being seen as something that sparkles and is just surface level.
I can remember seeing the piano player from church out in town, and seeing him smoking. Not because he was on fire, but because he had a cigarette that was. And, even today, so many years later, I can remember the judgments that flooded my mind.
That was 4th grade. We stopped attending that church about a year later. Fast forward to high school, when I started attending a youth group with a bunch of my friends. CHANGED.MY.LIFE.
I think I'll stop here for the time being, and turn this into a bit of a series. I have a feeling it can go on for a while, and in order for me to articulate my thoughts, it's best if I break it up.
So, to be continued...
I made some dumb mistakes. SO DUMB. But, I am thankful for what they helped me to learn regarding my faith.
Every day, I'm touched by the miraculous work of the Lord. When I get to see a little baby's heartbeat on the screen, and get to rejoice with those who choose life, I am reminded of the huge God I serve.
But every once in awhile, I get so frustrated. I used to think I was getting frustrated with God, but, recently, I think I realized what the true root of it is. It's the church, and, subsequently, followers of Christ.
DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT A POST TO GOSSIP, SPREAD LIES, AND TEAR APART THE CHURCH. IT ALSO ISN'T REALLY A POST ABOUT MOMMYHOOD, THOUGH, HONESTLY, I THINK MANY OF THESE REALIZATIONS WERE BROUGHT ABOUT BY BECOMING A MOTHER, AND FINALLY UNDERSTANDING WHAT IT REALLY MEANT FOR GOD TO SACRIFICE HIS ONLY SON ON MY BEHALF. IT'S A BIT OF A SOAP BOX, SO CONTINUE READING AT YOUR OWN RISK.
I grew up in a small, Southern Baptist church. Being the granddaughter of a preacher, and a daughter of parents who taught that faith was important even if it wasn't lived out all the time, it only made sense for me to accept what I was given.
And, I grew at that church. From Sunday School, to Children's Church, to even meeting my first crush, I loved that church. I can remember "walking to the alter," and being led through the Roman's Road by a lady that had really bad breath. Isn't that such a great conversion experience?
So, I accepted it. And I was dunked the next Sunday. And I sat and shivered with my wet hair and a smile through the rest of the service. Cause my Grandpa was proud.
Looking back on it now, I think I developed a very legalistic view of religion, and more importantly, faith. Don't get me wrong, I still believe there is only one way to enjoy eternal fellowship with the Lord, but I feel as though I was instructed to believe that the only way was to follow the rules set forth by the Southern Baptist Convention.
I'm not hating on baptists. Trust me, I'm not. They have their flaws just like every donomination. And there are some things from my time in that church that I treasure. Like singing old hymns. And understanding my brokenness. But, every church has it's problems. And that, more importantly, is what this is about. It's about man getting in the way of God's work. It's about the church being seen as something that sparkles and is just surface level.
I can remember seeing the piano player from church out in town, and seeing him smoking. Not because he was on fire, but because he had a cigarette that was. And, even today, so many years later, I can remember the judgments that flooded my mind.
That was 4th grade. We stopped attending that church about a year later. Fast forward to high school, when I started attending a youth group with a bunch of my friends. CHANGED.MY.LIFE.
I think I'll stop here for the time being, and turn this into a bit of a series. I have a feeling it can go on for a while, and in order for me to articulate my thoughts, it's best if I break it up.
So, to be continued...
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
In the blink of an eye.
Last weekend? Super crazy. And now, it's over.
Friday: Trip to town to look at some cars in hopes of solving single-car frustration.
Car lot closed. Settle for a great dinner at O'Charlie's. All in all, not a bad day. Except upon arriving home and noticing a huge hole in the center of our guest bed's mattress. Luckily, it's just a foam mattress, so we weren't out too much.
Saturday: The hubs wakes up with a scratch in his throat. Progresses through the day. Fantasy football draft, which found Peyton Manning on my team. Score. Oh, and, we traveled to visit the in-laws, during which time my wonderful dog had 6 puppies. Probably explains the mattress.
Sunday: Hubs worse than the day before, and Ansley really is a little booger. Skip church to nurse my family back to health, all while fighting it silently myself. One puppy dies. Cried a bit, which didn't help the sore throat or congestion. Day ends with a trip to my parents for dinner. Solid.
Monday: Early trip to car dealership, only after having discovered a bestie was in labor... on labor day! Laughed at the irony for a bit (ok, honestly, still laughing about that). Leave dealership after about 3 hours to think about the proposed deal. Visit friend in hospital, meet new baby. Glorious gift of life. Return to dealership to sign papers, only to discover after 2 more hours that they had prepared them wrong and the original amount they quoted us would have to increase by about $50 a month. Turned around and walked out. Bummed. Dinner out with hilarious little girl (Ansley), followed by some emotional shopping. After trying on my normal size of jeans, bought the next size up. That's never good.
Tuesday: Got up for work. Those pants that I bought a size up? Yup. Still too small. Yikes. Had a friend over to help with decorating for fall (blessed season). Had my rear end kicked by Jillian Michaels. In fact, I couldn't even finish the workout. And she said she'd see me tomorrow. We'll see about that.
And, here we are. Catching up on all the latest social networking going on, listening to the workout DVD music playing over and over, and enjoying the miracle of life that's just 5 feet away in a box, 20 feet away in a nursery, and 50 miles away in a hospital.
Life is beautiful. Even when it seems to be colored gray.
Friday: Trip to town to look at some cars in hopes of solving single-car frustration.
Car lot closed. Settle for a great dinner at O'Charlie's. All in all, not a bad day. Except upon arriving home and noticing a huge hole in the center of our guest bed's mattress. Luckily, it's just a foam mattress, so we weren't out too much.
Saturday: The hubs wakes up with a scratch in his throat. Progresses through the day. Fantasy football draft, which found Peyton Manning on my team. Score. Oh, and, we traveled to visit the in-laws, during which time my wonderful dog had 6 puppies. Probably explains the mattress.
Sunday: Hubs worse than the day before, and Ansley really is a little booger. Skip church to nurse my family back to health, all while fighting it silently myself. One puppy dies. Cried a bit, which didn't help the sore throat or congestion. Day ends with a trip to my parents for dinner. Solid.
Monday: Early trip to car dealership, only after having discovered a bestie was in labor... on labor day! Laughed at the irony for a bit (ok, honestly, still laughing about that). Leave dealership after about 3 hours to think about the proposed deal. Visit friend in hospital, meet new baby. Glorious gift of life. Return to dealership to sign papers, only to discover after 2 more hours that they had prepared them wrong and the original amount they quoted us would have to increase by about $50 a month. Turned around and walked out. Bummed. Dinner out with hilarious little girl (Ansley), followed by some emotional shopping. After trying on my normal size of jeans, bought the next size up. That's never good.
Tuesday: Got up for work. Those pants that I bought a size up? Yup. Still too small. Yikes. Had a friend over to help with decorating for fall (blessed season). Had my rear end kicked by Jillian Michaels. In fact, I couldn't even finish the workout. And she said she'd see me tomorrow. We'll see about that.
And, here we are. Catching up on all the latest social networking going on, listening to the workout DVD music playing over and over, and enjoying the miracle of life that's just 5 feet away in a box, 20 feet away in a nursery, and 50 miles away in a hospital.
Life is beautiful. Even when it seems to be colored gray.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
One down, a few to go
So, we went to look at that house a few days ago. That one that seemed WAY to good to be true.
You know, 30K cheaper and 800 more square feet. Newer construction. More land. Wrap-around porch AND dormer windows!! All that comes to mind when I think "dream house." With a few exceptions.
I don't know you, mister listing agent, but "3 bedrooms" means three rooms with closets! Not two rooms downstairs, plus a HUGE bonus room upstairs. Bonus room=awesome. Having to divide the room to make more bedrooms=stab me with a dull spoon.
Wood paneled toilet lids, not cool. Textured wallpaper in the ENTIRE house, tacky. Particle board cabinets, cheap.
You know, sometimes, old light fixtures look pretty cool. In this case, they just looked like a flashback from the 80s. And it wasn't even a good flashback.
Plus, when you mention to someone who built the house and they say "Are you sure you even want to look at it?" Pretty good hint that the builder isn't known in a positive light.
So, I guess that means one decision has been made. We're going to stay put. Which, ultimately, I think I wanted anyway. We may not have the largest of closets, and our doors may creak a little, but it's character. And you always seem to cheer for the character that's been around the longest.
Welcome home, Soyster family. Welcome home.
You know, 30K cheaper and 800 more square feet. Newer construction. More land. Wrap-around porch AND dormer windows!! All that comes to mind when I think "dream house." With a few exceptions.
I don't know you, mister listing agent, but "3 bedrooms" means three rooms with closets! Not two rooms downstairs, plus a HUGE bonus room upstairs. Bonus room=awesome. Having to divide the room to make more bedrooms=stab me with a dull spoon.
Wood paneled toilet lids, not cool. Textured wallpaper in the ENTIRE house, tacky. Particle board cabinets, cheap.
You know, sometimes, old light fixtures look pretty cool. In this case, they just looked like a flashback from the 80s. And it wasn't even a good flashback.
Plus, when you mention to someone who built the house and they say "Are you sure you even want to look at it?" Pretty good hint that the builder isn't known in a positive light.
So, I guess that means one decision has been made. We're going to stay put. Which, ultimately, I think I wanted anyway. We may not have the largest of closets, and our doors may creak a little, but it's character. And you always seem to cheer for the character that's been around the longest.
Welcome home, Soyster family. Welcome home.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Not the brightest crayon...
This weekend, we decided we wanted to get Ansley a little pool.
Since our dogs LOVE the water, we knew we didn't want to get one of the blow-up pools in fear that the pups would pop it or snag the soft plastic bottom. Like every other child in middle-class America, we decided we would get her one of the classic hard plastic pools.
We ventured to Wal-Mart and wondered around for a little while, finally deciding that we wanted to get her one of the bigger ones with the slide.
We make our way outside, where the plastic pools are kept, and stand there looking at the two available with the slides.
Finally, a guy comes over to help us.
Guy: "Can I help you with something?"
Paul: "Yes. We were wondering if you had any more of these plastic pools with the slides."
Guy: "Nope, those are our last two."
Me: "But they both have holes in the bottoms, and the support for the slide is gone."
Guy: "I'll sell it to you for half price. $15."
Me: "You want me to pay $15 for a pool with a hole in the bottom?"
Well, at least he was offering us a discount.
Since our dogs LOVE the water, we knew we didn't want to get one of the blow-up pools in fear that the pups would pop it or snag the soft plastic bottom. Like every other child in middle-class America, we decided we would get her one of the classic hard plastic pools.
We ventured to Wal-Mart and wondered around for a little while, finally deciding that we wanted to get her one of the bigger ones with the slide.
We make our way outside, where the plastic pools are kept, and stand there looking at the two available with the slides.
Finally, a guy comes over to help us.
Guy: "Can I help you with something?"
Paul: "Yes. We were wondering if you had any more of these plastic pools with the slides."
Guy: "Nope, those are our last two."
Me: "But they both have holes in the bottoms, and the support for the slide is gone."
Guy: "I'll sell it to you for half price. $15."
Me: "You want me to pay $15 for a pool with a hole in the bottom?"
Well, at least he was offering us a discount.
Monday, February 1, 2010
My Little Snowflake
We enjoyed our wonderful snow this past weekend. Well, at least, Mommy and Daddy did!
We ventured back to our childhood, complete with snowballs, snow angels, and a super cool snowman!
Why use words when I have a plethora of pictures? Enjoy!
We ventured back to our childhood, complete with snowballs, snow angels, and a super cool snowman!
Why use words when I have a plethora of pictures? Enjoy!
Our drunk snowman. Please ignore the spare tire. We made our snowman in front of the neighbor's.
Snow angel, take one!
My snowflake!
Our Narnia Lamp!!
Friday, January 29, 2010
Southern Comfort
I freakin' love the south. No joke.
I mean, what's not to love? We've got sweet tea (THE nectar of the gods, btw), lightnin' bugs, Civil War battlefields and country music.
Only in the south can you make millions of dollars singing about your best friend, a dog. Plus, you can enjoy Nascar and monster truck rallies. We get to say "ya'll," and "fixinto" is part of our language.
I live in a beautiful part of the south. Mountains on one side, and a river on the other. This place is absolutely amazing in the fall. The temperature is wonderful, and the rich oranges, reds and golds brighten even the gloomiest of days.
I can walk to work. Downtown closes at 5 p.m. We're a dry county (no liquor by the drink, sorry). I can get across town in 10 minutes, if I'm stopped by every light.
We have one high school, and practically the whole county comes together on Friday nights in the fall, to help cheer along our football team. Got that? OUR team.
Children still play in their yards, dogs still sleep on porches, and you can leave your car unlocked at Walmart.
Many people don't seem to share the same sentiments. "You mean you have to drive 30 minutes to see a movie and have a good mudslide? And you don't have a Chic-fil-A?" Yes, my friends, tis true.
But I love it.
I love knowing that my kiddo will attend the same school through 8th grade. I love knowing that she'll have the accent of a good southern belle, and she'll understand the beauty of Gone With the Wind. She'll drink sweet tea, maybe take a hunting trip with Daddy, enjoy family vacays in a tent, and chase lightnin' bugs in August.
She'll appreciate a cold glass of lemonade, always say please and thank you, and learn that the AC doesn't come on before June.
We'll have biscuit and gravy for breakfast, and read our Bible stories in the hammock.
There's something special about the South. We aren't better people than our Northern neighbors, but we see things a little differently.
For instance, snow.
Right now, there is a beautiful blanket of white covering the landscape. Just last week, I was wearing short sleeves and enjoying me some 60 degrees. Don't get me wrong. This snow. Beautiful. Peaceful. But not last night, or this morning.
You see, one thing about the South that our Northern friends do not understand is our uncontrollable urge to rush to the grocery store with the weatherman's grumblings of snow. It can be sunny and 60 out, and if the guy mutters "snow" or "ice," you better believe there's gonna be a rush on those absolutely-must-have-or-we-will-die essentials.
Like bread. And milk. Dog food. And tampons.
I kid you not. Go to any grocery store or gas station right now and the bread and milk will be completely gone. Even people that have three loaves of bread already will go and buy even more bread.
It's like it's engraved in our heads. We mindlessly wonder the store saying "Must. Get. Bread."
And we forget how to drive. It doesn't matter what the weather is like, people. The gas pedal is still on the right. You can still go through a green light. It's ok to drive carefully, but that does not mean traveling 5 mph on the main highway.
But, even though it drives me crazy to think that I actually need to go to the store tonight (I really am out of bread. And milk. And dog food), I love it. I love that schools were canceled last night, and it didn't start snowing until 2 p.m. I love that right now, we're preparing to close 2 hours early, just because we can. And no one will blame us.
Because it is snowing.
And this, my friends, is the South.
I mean, what's not to love? We've got sweet tea (THE nectar of the gods, btw), lightnin' bugs, Civil War battlefields and country music.
Only in the south can you make millions of dollars singing about your best friend, a dog. Plus, you can enjoy Nascar and monster truck rallies. We get to say "ya'll," and "fixinto" is part of our language.
I live in a beautiful part of the south. Mountains on one side, and a river on the other. This place is absolutely amazing in the fall. The temperature is wonderful, and the rich oranges, reds and golds brighten even the gloomiest of days.
I can walk to work. Downtown closes at 5 p.m. We're a dry county (no liquor by the drink, sorry). I can get across town in 10 minutes, if I'm stopped by every light.
We have one high school, and practically the whole county comes together on Friday nights in the fall, to help cheer along our football team. Got that? OUR team.
Children still play in their yards, dogs still sleep on porches, and you can leave your car unlocked at Walmart.
Many people don't seem to share the same sentiments. "You mean you have to drive 30 minutes to see a movie and have a good mudslide? And you don't have a Chic-fil-A?" Yes, my friends, tis true.
But I love it.
I love knowing that my kiddo will attend the same school through 8th grade. I love knowing that she'll have the accent of a good southern belle, and she'll understand the beauty of Gone With the Wind. She'll drink sweet tea, maybe take a hunting trip with Daddy, enjoy family vacays in a tent, and chase lightnin' bugs in August.
She'll appreciate a cold glass of lemonade, always say please and thank you, and learn that the AC doesn't come on before June.
We'll have biscuit and gravy for breakfast, and read our Bible stories in the hammock.
There's something special about the South. We aren't better people than our Northern neighbors, but we see things a little differently.
For instance, snow.
Right now, there is a beautiful blanket of white covering the landscape. Just last week, I was wearing short sleeves and enjoying me some 60 degrees. Don't get me wrong. This snow. Beautiful. Peaceful. But not last night, or this morning.
You see, one thing about the South that our Northern friends do not understand is our uncontrollable urge to rush to the grocery store with the weatherman's grumblings of snow. It can be sunny and 60 out, and if the guy mutters "snow" or "ice," you better believe there's gonna be a rush on those absolutely-must-have-or-we-will-die essentials.
Like bread. And milk. Dog food. And tampons.
I kid you not. Go to any grocery store or gas station right now and the bread and milk will be completely gone. Even people that have three loaves of bread already will go and buy even more bread.
It's like it's engraved in our heads. We mindlessly wonder the store saying "Must. Get. Bread."
And we forget how to drive. It doesn't matter what the weather is like, people. The gas pedal is still on the right. You can still go through a green light. It's ok to drive carefully, but that does not mean traveling 5 mph on the main highway.
But, even though it drives me crazy to think that I actually need to go to the store tonight (I really am out of bread. And milk. And dog food), I love it. I love that schools were canceled last night, and it didn't start snowing until 2 p.m. I love that right now, we're preparing to close 2 hours early, just because we can. And no one will blame us.
Because it is snowing.
And this, my friends, is the South.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
