Please tell me it's not just me...

So I promised pictures and a full recap of what I've been doing the past couple of weeks...but y'all...I just cannot find the time to sit at this laptop and devote an hour to uploading pictures for a post.

That sounds ridiculous, I know...who doesn't have an extra hour for blogging?

Well, I don't.

How are y'all doing it?  This summer, I mean?  I cannot remember ever being as busy as we've been over the past two months.  Those of you who are blogging daily, being as witty and entertaining as ever...I beg of you...HOW?

"Well, you're at the computer now, Lula..."  Go ahead, say it.  I've said it to myself.  

But then I looked at the clock and realized I have to get my girls out of bed, feed them breakfast, go to the bank, darken the doors of the dreaded Walmart, pack their bags for the weekend, wash/iron/fold for about an hour, take them to have their hair trimmed, check in on Scott's great-grandmother, feed the outside kitties, backwash and shock the pool, water my ferns on the porches, mop the laundry room floor, and vacuum the entire house.  All before 3:30 pm.

And I just now had a mini-nervous breakdown.

Tomorrow Scott and I head to Texas for our yearly trip to Austin.  Some of you may remember what I was doing there last year.  It was kind of a big deal to me.  

A long weekend of sitting poolside in the sun, eating delicious Tex-Mex, enjoying live music, catching the latest must-see at the theater, sleeping in, and not having any responsibility is definitely what I need.  I'm praying it will be a healing balm to my over-worked soul.  

But before I can relax it seems I must spend the whole of today running around like a chicken with its head cut off.  

Trust me when I tell you that I miss blogging regularly.  More than that, I miss each of you.  It sounds lame and trite, but it's the absolute truth.  I just need to get my act together, allow life to settle down a bit, and have y'all love me through it.

Will you please love me through it?  Thanks.  

XOXO

And on a completely unrelated note, I must own this t-shirt.

Jim Henson is my hero.  

I totally identify with Animal. 

I'm Not Dead.

Last week I took an unscheduled bloggy hiatus.  Why?

Because this Mama Is Losin' It.   Lately I've been a Not So Stay-At-Home-Mom.  And for the past few days I've been Buried With Children.  My life feels as if it's been a Seven Clown Circus. All the Mindless Junque in my life has kept me from being able to Escape Into My Thoughts.  I literally stand on my front porch, shouting, "Welcome to the Nut House!"  That's what this place feels like right about now.

I'm Not Your Average Soccer Mom.  Not by a long shot.  

All I really wanna do is stop for a moment.  Enjoy some Sunshine & Lemonade.  There's this desperate need to celebrate my Handful of Life.  (OK, my 2 girls are not really a handful.  Most days.)  And I really want to return to My Version of Sanity, which is hanging out with my blog pals, of course.  I want to Live. Love. And Eat.  And surely I have enough Pocket Change to make this happen.  Heck, I've earned it over the past week.  

This morning I woke up and said, "This is the Day..."  Because it is.  Psalm 118:24 tells us "this is the day that the Lord has made.  Let us rejoice and be glad in it."  I am taking the time to rejoice and be glad, because it's a welcome change from all the whining and sighing and busyness of late.  

I've missed all of you.  I really and truly have.  Tomorrow I'll post pictures of where I've been...what I've been doing...whom I've been hanging out with.  Because in between the whining and sighing and busyness, I've also had a lot of fun.  

In the meantime, please head over to Heather's and read this post, if you haven't yet.  She explains, with such grace and clarity, what I am unable to at this juncture.  

I hate being too busy.  And the harder I work, the worse I look.  

(I think her vitamin is really a martini.  Is all I'm sayin'...)

Authentic.

There are things you do 

because they feel right

and they make no sense

and they make no money

and it may be the real reason

we are here:

to love each other

and to eat each other's cooking

and say it was good.

This, y'all, is friendship.  And I just wanted to share it with each of you this week.  Thanks for hanging out with me, virtually.  

(Thanks, Sun, for the card...it's the sweetest sentiment ever.  Now...come make some guacamole for me!  You know I'll say, "It was good!")

Oh, But We Will Whistle...

The excitement level in this house has increased exponentially over the past few days, building to a frenzy heretofore unmatched.  Why?  Oh, because we're going to the one place my girls have dreamed of visiting for the past year.

*It's not Disney World.

*It's not the American Girl headquarters in Chicago.

*It's not F-A-O Schwartz.

*It's not Mr. Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory.  (Though Libbey & Caroline do feel as if they have the golden ticket.)

We are traveling to a place that has been deemed more exciting than Disney, American Girl, Schwartz, and Wonka, combined.  My friends, we're headed to Mt. Airy, North Carolina.

Yes, I said Mt. Airy, North Carolina.  

For the uninitiated, that would be the birthplace of one Andy Griffith.  As in The Andy Griffith Show.  As in the one program my husband and daughters are obsessed with and watch every single day.  Mayberry recreated, for all to experience!

Why, it's none other than Andy, Opie, Gomer, and Barney!

My children quote dialogue from the show.  They can name every single character in the Mayberry universe.  Libbey's heart's desire is to sit at Andy's desk (he was the Sheriff of Mayberry, ya know!) and prop her feet upon it.  Caroline wants to be locked in one of the jail cells.  Scott will take 927 pictures while his eyes well with tears and his heart bursts with pride.

I. Am. Not. Joking.

Honestly, I'll just be along for the ride.  'Cause while Andy Griffith is a good, classic, wholesome television show, it ain't Designing Women.  

Happy weekend, y'all--what are your plans?  Will you be in Mt. Airy?  Stop and tell us "HEY!" if you are!

*I appreciate whomever created these 19 seconds of genius.  'Cause I get the quirky:

*DUDE...I'm so honored. The Mt. Airy Visitor's Center commented on this post.  That's so hard rockin'!

Turn Around

Yesterday she looked like this...

and there was nothing better in the world than snuggling with her for a nap.

Today she tells me she's going to live with me forever.  She's going to take care of me when I'm old, just as she took care of me earlier in the day, when my stomach was upset.  

I love that my 7 1/2 year old brings me a small cup of Coke, "Cause I thought it would help settle your stomach, Mommy."   And I do not take her for granted.  

So she says she's going to stay with me forever.

But I've seen her at weddings.  The one we attended yesterday is still fresh in my mind, and in hers, as well.  I saw how she memorized the flowers, the cake, the bridesmaids' dresses, the colors, and the music, in all the detail her young mind can contain.  I watched as she stared at the bride and groom, dancing their first dance, unable to take their eyes off each other.  I obliged when she asked, "Will you take a picture of Kailey?  And of me and Kailey?"

So I did.

Libbey and the new Mrs. Kailey Woliver

I have a feeling her promise of forever won't extend to me much futher than another 15 or so years.  Because tomorrow I'll be singing...

"Turn around and you're tiny

Turn around and you're grown

Turn around and you're a young wife

With babes of her own..."

Please excuse me while I go sob and wail for a good day or two.  While Caroline looks on, making no promises, announcing, "Mommy, I'm going to Georgia!"

Yeah, she cut the cord a long time ago.  

Sometimes I'm Kind of a Big Deal.

In my previous post I mentioned a little thing I had to attend.   An important event, if you will. Wanna guess what it was all about?  Why did I feel the need to get gussied up?  Where did I go that required me to wear these sassy shoes?
OK, start guessing...was I:

*At Michael Jackson's funeral?  (In yellow slingbacks, no less.)

*Attending a private party with my close, personal friend?  You know the one.

*At a casting call for Lost's final season, which resumes filming next month in Hawaii?  Producers are looking for a thirty-ish southern belle to play an ex galpal of Sawyer.  In a flashback, of course.  Um, hi...that is so ME!

*Hobnobbing with entertainment industry insiders at a swank event filled with all manner of famous folk, musicians, supermodels, and the occasional 500 pound, tattoo-covered bouncer?   Man, I signed so many autographs that my Sharpie ran out of ink.  Sigh...

*Sitting in on a symposium with 200 other people, all begging the 5th dentist to reconsider his apathy for Trident?  (This "four out of five" deal has been going on far too long, people.)

*Networking at a job fair for the FBI?  You know they're looking to train stay-at-home mothers in field work...taking down drug cartels, meddling in European espionage, busting brothels.  It's all about the serious, covert operation, and who better to handle a brothel than a SAHM?  Oh...just so you know...Mama Kat may or may not have been with me at this particular job fair.

This may or may not be the result of being shunned by The Bureau.

*Learning to pole dance?  Mama Kat was with me, too.   She's so talented.

Anyone?  Anyone?

Take a wild guess.  I'll reveal the answer...the real answer, that is...in a bit.

Two things to note:

1. One of these scenarios is real...yes, I've embellished a bit.  But me and the yellow shoes did experience one of the above events.  

2.  A few of you know where I was on Monday night.  I know y'all won't be telling.  Because you fear me.  And love me, too.  

*Mourn with me that the above scenarios do not include a personal sighting/touching/drooling over my boyfriend.  Y'all...I don't even joke about possibly meeting my Jason.  But when I do have that moment, because it will happen, there will be no game playing in Lulaville.  No guessing, no beating around the bush.  Oh no, I'll be posting all about it.  For at least 2 weeks.  Ahem.

Keep Smiling, Keep Shining...

...knowing you can always count on me...for sure...that's what friends are fooooooor!

You will now be singing this cheesetastic bit of greatness for the rest of the day. Oh Dionne...Stevie...Elton...and Gladys Midnight Train to Georgia Knight...what a memorable collaboration ye have wrought.

Yes, there is a reason I'm quoting fluff from the 80's.  Because last night I was having a "What Not To Wear" moment.  I think.  I've never seen that show, but I understand the premise behind it.

Anyway, I have this thing to attend and it's kinda at a hip location.  And I don't want to roll up in the MomVan, sporting some mom jeans, wearing a pair of Clark's and a t-shirt from the softer side of Sears.  Even though that sounds really comfortable right about now.

I digress.

No, for this thing I must have some semblance of fashion...a modicum of hipness.  I need to appear semi-trendy without trying to come across as one of those annoying thirty-somethings who refuse to accept the fact that they are, indeed, thirty-something.  I have long relinquished my twenties as a dream that once was. Heck, we all know that 34 is the new 21, anyway.  Ahem.

And this is where I keep smiling...keep shining...

because I can ring my sweet friend, Kelli, and leave a breathless message on voicemail that goes a little something like this:

"Oh my stars, please come over here and help me get my act together so I can look "DID!" and not frumpy, and be my barometer of all things sassy and fabulous."  

Because Kelli is twenty-something.  And very fashionable and fun and fantastic and all those other "f" words.  Well, except that one "f" word.  

What does Kelli instantly do for me?  (Other than phone while I'm in church...in the midst of a dead silence.  Her ring tone is The Black Eyed Peas.  Yes, the church peeps loved hearing, "I got that boom boom pow..." in the middle of the service.  Word.)  She shows up at my house.   And gets to work.  I so love her.

Here's Kelli trying on my shoes.  They're yellow.  And so sassy, no?

She said the shoes are "a definite."  Yay!

We then bypass fashion for a good hour and discuss music instead.

Because, you know, priorities.

We're both kinda sad we missed Bonnaroo this year.  Sigh...

Getting back on fashion track, we peruse the accessories aisle...

...and by peruse, I mean Kelli tries on some of my hipster hoops.

And then tells me not to wear them.  Okey-dokey, then.

After all this Sunday night mayhem, I believe I just might be prepared for the little shindig I have to attend later on this evening.  Of course I'll blog about it.  And maybe post a picture of me wearing my sassy yellow shoes.  We'll see.

Thanks, my dear KelliOtt.  You are a true friend.  I know of few other gals who, even though completely knackered, would drive the entire 2 minutes it takes to get from your house to mine. Especially after spending the weekend in Nashville with your fiance's awesome band. Hanging with famous musicians.   Making money.  Preparing for stardom.  You know, just doing your usual thing.  

"For good times, and bad times, I'll be on your side forevermoooooooore..."

Yes, that's what friends are for.

It All Adds Up.

It's the little things in life which make me happiest...

My parents & nephew visiting from Georgia...

...'cause they bring my beloved Blue Plate.

(Which will be fantastic on the sandwiches made from my homegrowns!)

When my parents stop by my favorite hometown locale on their way to Virginia,

just to deliver goodies that I'm unable to find in these parts.

Did you just hear that?  Listen again...

...it's a Heavenly Host singing "Hallelujah!"

Because of the Wilson's famous Flower Cookies.  

Amen.

That I have a husband who lets me fawn over this one guy I happen to dig a lot.

(Because said husband really digs Kate Winslet a lot.  And I'm OK with that!  She is rather hot.)

That I can admit, without fear of persecution or rejection,

that The Best of Chicago* is a really fantastic album.

Don't Judge.

(Oh, come on..."Make Me Smile" is so awesome.)

Because I live in a country which values freedom.

Because that freedom is not something I take for granted.

Because being an American is just flat-out awesome, y'all!

God has blessed the USA, and I pray He'll continue to do so.

Happy Independence Day, everyone!

*Thanks, Lauren, for the reminder...I rather love you for it.

He Was My First.

The other day a fellow requested me as a friend on Facebook (oh, that time waster!) and I almost ignored his request.  Because I didn't recognize his name.  Good thing I clicked on his picture, as he's going by a different (albeit sexier, I admit) surname.  Because this particular fellow was my first love.  The first boy I ever kissed.

True story.

We were six and it was on the playground at Koral Klassics.  (Ridiculous spelling, I know.)  I don't remember much, other than we were playing Dukes of Hazard.  He was Bo, I was Daisy. Nevermind that we didn't realize Bo and Daisy were cousins.  Cause we made them kissin' cousins.  I'm just sayin'.

So I wrote on his Facebook wall, "David--my first love--my first kiss!"  He replied, "I was smitten--and you looked like Brooke Shields."

Man, I always did love David.  I mean, come on...it's been 16 years since I've seen him, yet he still remembers a time when I had bushy eyebrows and kinda sorta resembled Brooke Shields in her earlier, pre-Calvin Klein days.  Plus he was "smitten," and that right there is just amazing. 

Someone was once smitten.  With me. 

Sigh...I can now die happily.

David was such a beauty, too...all pale blonde hair and enormous blue eyes.  He could draw like you wouldn't believe, and grew up to become a musician.  Oh, and one summer his mother took us to see Grease 2.  We thought we were Very Hot Stuff, lemme tell you.  David, do you remember all this?

So Facebook has proved itself worthy, and reminded me that back in the day, I had really good taste.  Because cute little David Cranford grew up to become David Black.  And he kinda looks like a southern version of Robert Smith.  Wanna see?

Here's Robert Smith:

Here's David:

Dude, that eye thing is awesome.  Is this your album cover?

And this is all dark and mysterious.  I love it.

You know what?  I take it back.  Robert Smith and The Cure may have blighted my adolescence, but nothing will ever take the place of a schoolyard smooch between two 6 year olds.

Thanks for the memories, David*.  I now wanna watch Grease 2 while wearing my magenta satin hot pants, with Bonne Bell Bubble Gum Lip Smacker smeared all over my lips.  Such good times...such precious, tender memories...

Who wants to share about their first love?  Their first kiss?  Come on.  Fess up!

*Yes, I did have David's permission to blog about him, as well as use his pictures.  I'm kinda polite when it comes to stuff like that.  Just so y'all know.