An Award? For Me? Thanks!

Kimberly, at Words4jp’s, has kindly given me an award: Sisterhood of the World Bloggers

sisterhood-of-world-blogger-award1
It’s always nice to receive an award, and I haven’t had one in months, which makes it even more appreciated, so thanks, Kimberly!

Nominees for this award are expected to:

1. Provide a link and thank the blogger who nominated you for this award.
2. Answer 10 questions.
3. Nominate 10/12 blogs that you find a joy to read (yes, one can include gentlemen….)
4. Provide links to these nominated blogs and kindly let the recipients know that they have been nominated.
5. Include the award logo within your blog post.

You don’t HAFTA accept the award, of course.

My answers are:

1. Your favorite color – Yellow
2. Your favorite animal – Giraffe
3. Your favorite non-alcoholic drink – Coca-Cola
4. Facebook or Twitter – Either or, one is for people I love, and the other is for people I don’t even know.
5. Your favorite pattern – I’m a sucker for patterns; floral or paisley must be my favorites.
6. Do you prefer getting or giving presents? – Definitely giving
7. Your favorite number? – Four
8. Your favorite day of the week? – Thursday
9. Your favorite flower? – Tulip
10. What is your passion? – My home, husband, and children, mainly.

My nominees are:

1. http://unpackedwriter.com/
2. http://carrierubin.com/
3. http://mistergkids.com/
4. http://ramblingsfromjewels.wordpress.com/
5. http://lindaghill.wordpress.com/
6. http://wvtallchic.wordpress.com/
7. http://iambeggingmymothernottoreadthisblog.com/
8. http://thedimwitdiary.com/
9. http://completelydark.com/
10. http://aussalorens.com/

As I list my fabulous nominees, I can’t help but think there should be ten more. I find I am a bit saddened by bloggers who now so rarely post, or who’ve shut down their blogs since I came to WordPress. I miss them, dammit!

 

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We’re All So Wretched

The Mister and I are terrible parents on Christmas. Really, we’re the worst.

First of all, Santa doesn’t come to our house. We boycott Santa. We do our best not to lie to, or disillusion our children about anything. We also try to control the behavior of our children by encouraging them to develop a conscience. That means whether or not some creepy fucking elf, or some old man in a red suit can see your behavior, you do, and God does, too. An omniscient Santa is far too powerful for our house. Plus, Santa doesn’t work hard to provide for this family: The Mister does. And while Santa doesn’t mind providing bicycles and baby dolls, he’s not even the slightest bit interested in bringing iPads to ten-year-olds.

Second, we sleep in. Mhm. None of that five o’clock in the morning crap.
We let them get at their stockings while we coffee, but that’s all.
We do pancakes in pajamas on Christmas morning.

Third, in order to open presents, everyone must be ready. Ready translates to being dressed, hair groomed, teeth brushed, rooms clean, and beds made. We are cruel, and we delight in their anticipation. We enjoy exercising our power and dominance like that.

Fourth, we don’t measure out the quantity of gifts so that if Moo gets four LaLaLoopsies, Sassy gets four books, Sissy gets four Pandora charms, and Bubba gets four Xbox games. Haha! NO. Also, while what Bubba wants might cost hundreds, it doesn’t mean we’re going to ply all the girls with hundreds of dollars worth of gifts. We’ve never played into tit-for-tat with gifts, or compulsory “so-everything-looks-even” presents, because generosity of spirit has nothing to do with math.

Fifth, we don’t go anywhere. We don’t go to Grandma’s, or to the movie theater, or anywhere else. For us, it’s a day to spent at home with family. Initially this almost killed my MIL, but she adapted.
I would say it’s a day of rest, but like most mothers, I work harder on Christmas than the average day. The children are trapped at home, where they are forced to watch movies, play games, eat yummy food, and get lots of snuggles.

I like to think I design Christmas…

I’m certain the children dread it every year. You can see it on their faces.

xmasb6

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Put Yer Hand Clothes On

During the seven years I lived in Georgia, it snowed once.

It was a random Friday in February. The Mister was deployed, the kids and I were out shopping. Moo kept coming over to us, declaring that it was snowing. We’d stop and go over the the window. “No, baby, that’s rain.” She insisted it was snowing.
Finally, Sissy said, “Child, I know snow when I see it, and that ain’t snow!”

Bubba was at a different shop, but when he got done, he joined us, and said, “It’s snowing outside.”
We looked again.
Behold, snow.
Moo shouted, “I told you!”

As we left the shops, I heard a man on his cell phone. He stood under the overhang, somewhat panicked, “No, man, you don’t understand. You gotta come get me. I cannot drive in this.”
I giggled to myself.
It was tiny snow that wasn’t even stickin. Ah, the natives, they never could cope with precipitation.

Driving home, in the snow, in Georgia, was exhilarating. The snow came at the windshield like time warp in a Star Wars movie. The children were thrilled.

snow4

They had to play in it immediately.

I made the wee ones put on pants and boots. Of course, the only boots we had were Sissy’s old rain boots from Indiana, and they were too big. They didn’t understand why I wouldn’t let them play in dresses and bare legs and Crocs. They had no memory of snow.

Sassy flopped down in it, snow angel-style, and declared, “Mama! Snow is cold!” Then she tried to pick it up, but she grabbed her hand with the shock of pain, and shouted, “It’s too cold! I need hand clothes!” That’s right, y’all — HAND CLOTHES!

snow14
I went in to drag out the basket of warm weather gear, hopin we had enough to fit everyone. The truth was, Bubba wore The Mister’s, Moo wore Sassy’s, Sassy wore Sissy’s, Sissy wore mine, and I wore my nephew’s old ones. Everyone had grown, and we’d never purchased new hand clothes.
Moo’s watermelon hat was Sassy’s baby hat. Sassy’s hat was one Auntie Drew had sent “for fun.”

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Moo about froze to death, but that didn’t stop her from playing.

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When we lived in Indiana, she was only a toddler. She would beg and cry to go outside to play snow with the big kids, but despite her snowsuit and her boots and all that, she would freeze. She’d wander over to her brother, crying, reaching for him. He would bring her in, I would strip her down, and within minutes, she’d be standing on the chair, face pressed against the window to the back yard, tiny hands bangin on the glass, beggin and cryin to go back out again. So I’d bundle her back up, take her back out, and the cycle would go on until the bigger kids finally came inside.

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Our older kids were snow-pros, and it’s important to note, that while my son is obviously too cool for snow, he did put on his hand clothes before snow play.

collage

Within a few hours, the snow disappeared. But it was a most memorable night for all of us.

I want a white Christmas. I’ve been dreaming of a white Christmas for a very long time. According to the forecast, if we get any snow, it would be a Christmas miracle.

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Things I Don’t Miss about Georgia

1. It was hot, almost all the time, a good three hundred days of the year. What people commonly refer to as “golf weather.” What I commonly refer to as “hotter than Hades.”

2. It was tropically humid about two hundred days of the year. Translation: When you opened the door at seven in the morning, the air slapped your face like a hot washcloth and dared to take your breath away.

april in georgia

april in georgia

3. It rarely rained. When it did, it rained weird. It might have rained on one side of the street, but not the other. Or it might’ve rained for two minutes in two weeks. When it did rain properly, people did not know how to drive, and they stayed inside, recounting the horrors of water falling from the sky.

4. Palm trees.

5. Fire ants. If there is one species of life which should be eliminated from the planet, it’s the fire ant. I do not hate. “All creatures great and small” and all that. But OMFG, not fire ants. I read they came over to the zoo with rhinos in the 40’s, but my suspicions lead me to believe they originate in Hell. Again, I don’t believe in Hell, but fire ants make it a much more likely scenario.

6. Palmetto bugs. WHATTHEFUCKISTHAT?OMGKILLITKILLITKILLIT!

7. Spiders so big, my dog felt compelled to bark at them.

8. Armadillos. Like possums, but uglier.

9. Alligators. Down the street, in the swamp. In the ponds, at the park. Running across the street, in the woods.

10. Mosquitos, but for nine months of the year, or eleven, if it was a mild “winter.”

11. Flies. Good Gawd, the flies. When I first got there, one of my neighbors had fly paper IN her house. I thought that was so odd. AT FIRST.

12. Sand. Looks tan. Is black on the floors indoors. Sand is what makes up the first foot of the ground, then it’s clay.

13. Nothing I love to grow can grow in that sand, or in that climate.

14. Ground cover, not grass. Prickly ground cover. Every time we came “home” to visit, we slipped our shoes off and walked barefoot in real grass. Our wee ones thought soft green grass was a miracle.

easter in georgia, mid-march

easter in georgia, mid-march

15. Pumpkins rot outside in less than 48 hours.

16. You could not store refrigerator items on your back porch, because it was never cold enough. You couldn’t even cool a pie outdoors most of the time.

17. No sort of wet wipe could be kept in your car. Not for the console, not antibacterial, not baby wipes, because they all dry out immediately.

18. If you couldn’t find a shady spot to park in, you found you could actually drive your car with two fingers: one at ten o’clock and one at two o’clock.

19. Everything had to be sealed, because fire ants like to come inside and bite things other than people, but they’ll bite people inside, too. Before we got the fire ants under control, hahaha, I spent an entire summer bleaching my floors and floorboards daily. I spent a small fortune on baggies. I had to buy cereal containers. I never did stop storing my sugar in the freezer…

20. When we left Georgia, between the four of us, we owned twenty-six bathing suits, twenty-nine pairs of flip flops, six pairs of jeans, three warm sweaters, no woolen socks, and more sun hats than warm ones. Because whose ears were ever cold? and sunburn in the part of your hair is a real thing, yo.

hotness

21. Sassy and I had to wear sunscreen every time we were in the sun more than thirty minutes. I wore sunscreen every time I left the house.

22. This time of year is a major allergy season. Right around Christmas, the pine trees (we lived in a pine forest) go fertility berserk and we all had to be medicated, Moo the worst. I’m talkin Zyrtec, on top of Benadryl, on top of Flonase, on top of cough suppressant. Then in the Spring, everything gets coated with pollen (called gold dust) so thick you can write in it, so the allergy-free months are October and November. I own 18 medicinal dosing cups. Ten times that number have been killed by the garbage disposal, or the writing wore off.

23. Hurricanes. We were far enough inland that we didn’t have a hurricane, but we were close enough to the shore to need an evacuation plan. Collecting all of your outdoor items to secure your house is a major chore, and hurricane winds are NO JOKE.

24. There is a church every ten lots or more. They are almost all protestant churches. People be proselytizin like whoa. All the time, every day. Can’t go a day without someone mentioning Jesus, or worse yet, makin reference to being washed in the blood of the Lamb, and freakin out your heathen five-year-old. Tryin to buy a vacuum and some guy wants to save you. Pushin a kid on a swing and some woman wants to introduce you to her personal savior. The Bible Belt is a real thing, nearly tangible.

discipling

25. People in southeast Georgia love bass fishing. There is a megastore dedicated to bass fishing. People retire from the Army, and stay for the bass fishing. Veterans love to tell bass fishing stories, at length, without being prompted, in any possible social context. Odds are high that they will include Jesus and an alligator in the story about bass fishin.

26. A number of social gatherings do not jibe with the represented climate. For instance, one should not need sunscreen at a hayride, on Halloween, or during a Christmas parade. Wearing August’s clothes while decorating the Christmas tree is strange, and there is no reprieve, because on Easter, your children will need sunscreen and bug spray before hunting for eggs.

on easter, late march, in georgia

on easter, late march, in georgia

27. Going to the zoo, or any sort of cultural venue was downright painful to me between April and December. Too hot. Too hot! I did not attend certain Girl Scout events or certain field trips because I could not bear to be outside when it’s 98 feels like 107 with 78% humidity and a 9 UV index.

savannah, georgia  was 105, feels like 112

savannah, georgia
was 105, feels like 112

28. The constant sun bleaches hair and darkens skin. Even those of us who are considered to be as white as specters or vampires will eventually take on a peachy hue. Even glow-in-the-dark redheads can get a tan between freckles if they live in Georgia long enough. I’m still tan. Despite Sunscreen. And that ombre hair color technique is a natural effect of constant, glaring sun. I don’t know what color my hair is anymore. I’m trying to let it go, so I can find out.
I thought I had a skin rash. I thought I might have had it before, because it looked so familiar. I would keep an eye on it, I said. No. I had forgotten I had a patch of freckles on my left hand.

29. I sweat like a whore in church. I sweat like a cold beer on a hot day. I sweat like no other woman you’ve ever known. If I’m not cold, I’m sweatin.
When I sweat, I turn beet red and people ask me if I’m okay.
NO, I AM NOT OKAY! I’M SWEATIN!

i'm NOT kiddin

i’m NOT kiddin

30. I do not like summer clothes. I’m particularly revolted by the fact that my hair touches my skin, and worse, there’s always that one long hair that will attach itself to your shirt sleeve and tickle the bejesus out of your arm, makin you think there’s a bug, or worse, a goddamned fire ant, climbin on the back of your arm!

31. In the high humidity, my hair takes on a crazed poodle-do. You’ve seen the episode of Friends where Monica goes to Barbados?

32. There were way too many times I’d be like, “It’s November/December/January/February/March, why the FUCK is it 86 degrees?!?”

october 18, georgia

october 18, georgia

33. When it does get cold in Georgia, you still can’t find clothes that are warm. You end up on eBay and LLBean, lookin for warm things, because you’re never going to find warm socks, footy jammies, or thinsulate gloves in your neck of the woods. It’s like Georgia doesn’t care that you’re going to Indiana for Thanksgiving, where you cannot possibly wear tee-shirts, capris, flip-flops, and a sheer quarter-sleeve cardigan for those chilly air-conditioned places.

34. Sunglasses become less of a comfort and style issue and more of a safety-first health issue because you’d like your children to keep their retinas well into their 20’s.

dam sun!

35. I have never wanted blackout curtains more. The sun went down in our bedroom and as a result, it was hot in that room every single night, despite the fact that the upstairs air conditioning was set on 62. That’s right, I said the upstairs air conditioning. Downstairs I kept on 68.
A furnace? Needed occasionally. Mostly at 6am in February. Never between March and November. Never upstairs. Never for a full 24-hour period. My children had no concept of static electricity, humidifiers, or how registers get too hot to touch.

thanksgiving night in georgia

thanksgiving night in georgia

36. When fall Fashions hit the magazines, you feel an immense sadness knowing that you have no place to wear patterned opaque tights, fur-lined boots, houndstooth jackets, or cashmere scarves. In fact, just the thought of wearing any of that makes you start to sweat, and idea of a scarf seems to restrict your breathing substantially.

once, in january, hell froze over and i had to buy some boots.

once, in january, hell froze over and i had to buy some boots.

37. Do you know what happens to mascara when it’s tropical hot? Or what happens to your lip gloss inside your purse? It’s a goddamned tragedy.

38. Unless you run your air conditioning at grocery-store-cold levels in the summer, you can’t keep wheat bread in the house for more than a few days without mold. I kept my house cold.

39. Christmas window clings melt, and become decidedly less festive.

40. When you’re a Northerner who hates to be hot, and you live in The Deep South, everything just feels wrong.

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The Back Forty

Good gravy! Didn’t I just blog?!?
Nine more posts will complete blogging for Every Damn Day December.
(I may take January off!)

Our property here extends beyond what’s within the yard. Beyond our fence, we own another acre, which we refer to quaintly as, “The Back Forty.” Apparently not everyone understands this phrase, but it’s an old expression for the least productive area of land on a farm, but it’s used to describe a far off place on a property, even sometimes, parking lots.

Our back forty really is undeveloped. I have visions of goats and garden patches, not together of course, but for now, it’s just lawn and a few other oddities; scraps of wood and branches for bonfires, a horseshoe set-up, and the burial place of one unfortunate run-over squirrel.

Right now, it’s “The Back Floody!” I’d bet it’s knee-deep in some places. Yes, my knee. Yes, I’m short — but still! Shows me where I won’t be planting…

Kinda hopin some ducks will show up.

back403
Last night, my phone sent off an extremely loud and scary alarm, to let me know that there was a flash flood warning.

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This gave me a serious fit of anxiety. I’m not afraid of flash floods, but I’m easily startled by sudden loud noises.
(You’re so glad you don’t have anxiety disorder.)
I made a cuppa herbal tea and waited for my heart rate to return to normal, while my friends led me to the settings that would make it impossible for my phone to scare the shit out of me ever again.

Our house is not in the flood plain, our ground is a bit higher on this side of the street, and our house is on a crawlspace, so floods aren’t really anything to worry about.

The people on the other side of the street are living on houseboats, it seems. No damages, but certainly inconvenience. Someone joked about building the ark, but I thought it was raining far too hard to do any sort of outdoor woodwork…

back402

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Lil Hoosiers

I’ve taught them what a windchill factor is.

I’ve taught them that stylish leather boots are not snow boots.

I’ve taught them that snow gives more traction than ice.

But this…
This is my proud Mama moment.

snowgirls
(See how Sassy doesn’t zip up her goddamned coat?!? She says she not cold until it’s below zero.)

They’re becoming little Hoosiers, slowly but surely.

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All Aboard for an Arbitrary Adventure

I had a very busy, productive day, during most of which, I was out and about in the world, among other people.

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A man whooped and hollered from across a parking lot, and when I turned to see what all the noise was about, it was about me.
“What’s your name, Sugar?”
“Married.”

I saw a woman nearly drive over a homeless man in the middle of an intersection, because she couldn’t possibly wait the ten seconds it took for him and his cart to pass. I encountered him a bit later and we discussed how incredibly rude and reckless she had been. He wasn’t quite right, but he knows wrong when it happens to him.

girafferoad

Today, I shopped and haggled more than I had in months. I still don’t like shopping. I especially hate shopping in stores that are overheated. I think I may be dehydrated.

I drove all over the city, in the rain. Worse than that, it was that rain-a-little-rain-a-lot-rain-not-kinda-rain that makes your wipers screech.

drivin

I saw a man bend over, and he wore no belt, because he’s too cool for a belt, I guess, so his pants fell down and his drawers were all holey. He had rather large furry ginger ass, the memory of which I cannot eradicate from my brain. Please send brain bleach, stat!

I had dinner at MIL’s house, where as we began to eat, a story about people starving in Damascus aired, beginning with a sickly child screaming in pain, just from being touched.

taken

I tried mint M&M’s tonight, and they’re very tasty.

goat
I would probably write a less miscellaneous and more interesting blog if I had caught more than a few hours sleep before such a busy, productive day. Sometimes The Mister and I stay up chatting into the wee hours, because we’re too stupid to shut up and go to bed. Then when we do go to bed, sometimes there’s touching. And sometimes, I have insomnia. And sometimes? I’m not even sure I got past lucid dreaming long enough to do any actual sleeping!

What you’re reading now is a word purge from my head, because I am going to bed soon, and I cannot be bothered to write something charming and clever, but I will not miss a day of blogging Every Damn Day December, no matter how random a post may be!

caturday4

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Know Your Audience

I’ve got a small suggestion.
It’s one I practice myself.

KNOW YOUR AUDIENCE.

I had a neighbor who was a sincere bigot. Since she complained to me about how the African-American culture “had done took over Febberary.” and how “them Mexicans was takin over the country,” and how “icky” she found the idea that my father and his partner were coming to visit, I did not ask her how she felt about Sassy’s crush on the biracial boy, or if she enjoyed pressing one for English…
bigotry

I never agreed with her opinions, and initially, I tried to enlighten her ignorant ass, but ultimately, I couldn’t change the way she felt about any of it, so I had to agree to disagree and leave it at that.
Tolerance isn’t just prescribed for bigots, but also applies to those who must be tolerant of the intolerant.

When you’re talkin to an old white woman from The Deep South, maybe you stick to conversation about her cornbread fryin techniques. 

When you’re talkin to a old bearded fella from the country, maybe you ask him about his musket collection.

I do not agree with the statements made by the celebrities I’m alluding to, nor do I or did I watch their shows, but I do think too much is made over the bigoted opinions of a few minor celebrities.
Granted, I’d rather be pleasantly surprised by people who transcend their stereotypes, but I’m a realist.

Maybe it’s a writer thing: I just think it’s good to know your audience.

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Shoulda Shoveled

The other day…many days ago…I don’t remember when…snow fell.

Oh! Oh! Friday! Friday night, impending snow doom.  Mmhm. (I’m tired, you forgive me.)
The Mister made the comment that we could shovel on Saturday.
I raised my eyebrows.

Saturday, the snow was slushy.
I thought about shoveling, but then when I got back inside, I forgot about it.

Until I went back out. By then, the sun had gone down, temperatures had plummeted, and the slushy snow had frozen to a point past shoveling.

“Ah, well, it’ll melt,” I said to myself.

It did melt. Before freezing again. And some more snow fell.

By Sunday, the gate had frozen open, the ice had frozen three inches thick on the steps, and the back stoop was just plain perilous.

On Sunday, I took the pointy metal garden shovel out there and beat the fuck out of the ice. Barely made a dent in it.

shovel1

Monday morning, the back stoop and the dog joined forces in trying to KILL ME.

Tuesday, snow fell again. Moo thought she would go shovel. She came back in rather quickly, “Yeah, no, it’s too icy,” said Moo.
More snow fell last night.

This morning, I poured a kettle full of boiling water onto the back stoop, exposing a six-by-six inch square of wood, safe for feet. I tried, with all my might, to pull the mats up and crack some more ice, but my might was not enough to crack it. This afternoon, some more had melted, and I was able to pull the black rubber mat to the top of the ice.

Everything is an icicle. Now I wait for highs in the forties and some rain.

shovel2

Shoulda shoveled Saturday.

— Lesson learned, not to be forgotten.

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Things I Miss about Georgia

I’m sure you’re shocked. It’s a short list, but there are things:

1. My friends. Okay, so I only have like, five whole friends living in Georgia, but they’re the best five people in the entire state.

2. Cheerwine. If I want Cheerwine, I hafta go to Cracker Barrel to buy it in tiny bottles.

georgia1

3. As it never stayed cold, my skin never dried out. I didn’t miss applying oils and lotions several times over the course of the day. In the summer, I didn’t even need to use lotion. Now that I’m back here, it’s baby oil, followed by lotion, followed by another coat twelve hours later. And never, ever go outside without lip balm!

4. I rarely had arthritis pain, because the barometer was fairly steady and it was seldom cold while wet.

georgia2

5. Kids can play outside virtually all year, and mine did.

6. Playing tennis outdoors in February, while it’s 60-some degrees, is awesome!

7. Obviously there was no salt, sand, scraping, or shoveling for snow or ice required. (But the bridges still had freeze warning signs. *shrugs*)

8. I did not go into hibernation mode, because it was pretty much sunny and hot three hundred days a year. OR MORE.

georgia3
9. I could wear flip-flops about three hundred days a year as well. Proper shoes still feel weird.

10. I didn’t worry about accents, dialect, colloquialisms, or slang. I’ve decided not to worry about those things anymore. Ever.

I could write a list about all the things I don’t miss about living in Georgia, but I’m not sure anyone would enjoy reading me for an hour.

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