Victory.

I don't know what she's going through...

...but I do know how she's handling all of it. Because I know the One who holds her heart.

I can't imagine the millions of tears she's shed...tears that will continue to fall for a while...

...but I can imagine the One whose arms are wrapped tightly around her, even now.

Over a year ago I didn't even know her...

...but she soon became a bloggy pal-turned real life friend. And I, along with many others, have been on this journey with her ever since. The greatest joy I've found via blogging has been the friends I've made because of it. I'm blessed.

Kori & Me, November 2008

I love you, my dear!

On Wednesday, August 26, 2009, Richard McCulley won his battle over cancer and cystic fibrosis. With tears in my eyes and a very heavy heart, I praise our God and cry "Hallelujah!"

Please pray for Kori, Jacob, and Calob.

Thank You, Lord, for Richard...and his ultimate healing.

And with your final heartbeat

Kiss the world goodbye
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side...
And fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus
Fly to Jesus and live!

--From "Untitled Hymn," by Chris Rice.

And Yet Still More People Who Are Funnier Than Me...

I was going to explain to y'all how I first met Kathy, of the famous Mama Losin' It, but she did a much better job at it. Really, all it boils down to is Jared Leto. Yes, I said Jared Leto. Did y'all know he was reading our blogs around this time last year? Well...he was. Ahem.

Kathy is one of my favorite people because (a) she's seriously hilarious, (b) she makes beautiful babies, (c) she runs a daycare in her home (I admire her sanity!), and (d) she's exactly the kind of person I'd hang with in "real life." And by hang with, I mean we'd stand on the street corner in matching bandanas (are we Crips or Bloods, Kathy?), tossing out such pick-up lines as "Hey baby, you want a date?"

Yeah. That's totally me and Kathy. We're partners in crime like that. Don't judge.

I love you, Mrs. Mama's Losin' It! Thanks for guest posing at Lulaville today. I owe you. In Vegas. Of course.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lula asked me to guest post. I feel privileged. Lula and I bonded a
long time ago when Jared Leto befriended me in blogland. Mmhmm, that's
right. Jared LETO. He wanted me. Bad. Real bad.

Anyway, before Lula and I became official fans of one another, a mutual
bloggy friend emailed me about my relationship with Jared and asked me
if I really knew if it was him or not. We began an amateur
investigation and long story, short, the friend was all, "I'm ccing Lula
in on this because she's gonna die and she can help us investigate and
she's just a kick in the pants." And that was it. Lula and I "met" and
she was all, "Hell no, that's not Jared Leto...if it IS him I never said
that and I'll gladly make out with him, but hell no, it's not him."

From that moment on it's been a match made in bloggy heaven. I love
Lula.

So when she asked me to write a post for Lulaville I was all, "OK
Lula...just this once, but you have to give me a topic. I don't want
to go off and offend Lulaville and what-not!" and she was all "Poop."
and I was all "What!?!" and she was all "I want you write about poop."

I don't get it either, but Lula knows Lulaville better than I do and
if you guys are all about poop then darn it, you're getting a post
about poop courtesy of Mama Kat....and here you go:

It was our last trip to Hawaii.

Maile was three, Laina was one and a half and I was six months pregnant with
Kainoa.

Pat was off galavanting around the island in a grass skirt and swinging fire
torches at the base of a volcano, so I was alone with the girls....and
Laina was not so pleasurable to be around.

I decided some time at the school playground would cheer the girls up so I
packed up screaming Laina and smiley Maile and took them to the park.
No idea if that's ok to do, but I like to play "dumb tourist" when we
travel so I opened the gates and escorted my children into the
schoolyard.

No less than 45 seconds later Maile turns to me and says she needs to
go potty. Of course! Doesn't it always happen like that? The thought
of packing screaming Laina BACK up so that Maile could go potty at the
house and then coming BACK to the park again...blech. I didn't want to
do it. I didn't want to deal with Laina. Sooooo...I did the easy
thing. I found a nice little private corner right next to a lovely
classroom and I told Maile it was ok to just squat down and do her
business.
Boys do it all the time, right? I kept hurrying her along because the last thing I
needed was for someone to spot Pat's wife instructing her daughter to
cop a squat next to a lovely classroom. But she was taking way too
long...and then I saw The Face. It's that face she makes every time
she's got a little more in store.

Me: what are you doing???

Maile: (just making The Face)

Me: Are you POOPING!?!!

Maile: (just making The Face and nodding)

Me: Oh Maile!

But it was too late. She shat right there in the school yard next to
that lovely classroom. I took a giant palm leaf and swept the poop
beneath the building. It only seemed right.

And for the rest of the trip Maile desperately tried to share her
adventure with her aunties and uncles.

Maile: I POOP! I poop atta park!!!

Her claims were met with misunderstanding faces. Nobody knew what she
was talking about. Did she have to go to the bathroom? Should they
help her??

Me: No. No, she's just talks about poop when she's excited about
something. Tourettes.

Aunties: How was the park, didn't you go play at the park today???

Maile: I POOP!! Poopy park!! I poop atta park!!!

Me: Yes Maile! Wasn't that exciting to go to the park??

Maile: I poop!!

And wouldn't you know, that even though Maile was too young to fully
explain exactly what she meant at the time, she remembers it to this
DAY! She STILL talks about pooping at the park and how it's ok to poop
at the park because HER mom let her do it.

What was a mother to do do? I hang my head in shame.

Because Other People Are Way Funnier Than Me.

Do y'all know what a 7 Clown Circus is? If you've ever read Angie's blog, you do. If not, then seriously...why aren't you reading her blog?

Over a year ago I "met" Angie and she quickly became one of my most favorite bloggers in the world. Then we became friends and my life has been all the better since knowing her. Angie is beautiful...her husband is beautiful...her 17 children are beautiful. (OK, not really 17...just five. "Just" five, I say. Two of 'em are twins. Angie is my hero.) And I covet her glorious red hair. More than anything, Angie has a beautiful heart. She is also ultra-chic and stylish, as evidenced by her post below. Read on...

I've been thinking lately.

Don't worry. It's not that shocking. I think sometimes.

I've been wondering what makes people wear the same style of clothing for decades.

First, I wonder how they even find the same styles in the stores, because clearly, some of the pieces are not as old as they are outdated.

Secondly, why do they continue to wear outdated items? Is it because they are more comfortable than newer styles? Do they truly LIKE what they are wearing? Does that older style define them in a way newer styles don't? Could it possibly be that they just don't care about what they wear and just go for what they know?

I ponder these questions. Yes. I do.

Let me give you two examples. Let's talk jeans first. I know a few women who wear elastic waisted jeans. They aren't the most stylish (at all), but I can see that they are probably comfortable. I wouldn't know. I wore elastic waisted jeans when I was pregnant and I can't say they were comfortable. But. That's the only reason I can come up with for wearing elastic waisted jeans.

Next, high waisted jeans that really ARE 20 years old. The ones that actually come to your "natural waist line", or your belly button. It could be that they are comfortable, but I doubt it because it usually looks like the jeans are biting into their middle section. It could be that they want to accentuate their pear shaped body (why does everyone have a pear shaped body that wears high waisted jeans?).....because that's what it looks like to me, but I figure it MUST be that they used to wear that type of jean in their heyday. It has to be that they feel like high waisted jeans define them, right?

And don't even get me started on Christmas sweaters/blouses. Tell me it's all nostalgia for those days when wearing Christmas sweaters with Santa Clauses and gold trim was in. Wait. Was that ever in?

Speaking of blouses.......did that word for shirt go out of style with banana clips?

I've moved a lot and been pregnant and then not A LOT and so I've purged lots of clothing. I can honestly say that most of my clothing has been purchased in this decade.

I'm just saying. I'm young (OK, OK. I like to think I'm young). I'm hip. And, I've been thinking. And looking. How about a little giveaway? Simply follow the rules outlined below for the chance to win this cache of goodness.

*ONE pair of lovingly worn polyester culottes.

*TWO puffy painted sweat shirts. These are in near perfect condition. Artfully designed by my fourth grade self.

*THREE incredibly bedazzled T-shirts. With shoulder pads.

*FOUR pairs of leg warmers, AND a pair of moon boots, size 7.5.
Rules of the Game.

Come visit me on my home front.
Come back and tell me what fashion piece you can't live without.
Follow me on Twitter.
Blog about this incredible contest, but be sure to let me know about it so you can get extra entries.

And lastly, good luck. I have a feeling this is going to be a very popular giveaway, so you'll need it. Contest ends September 1st and winner will be notified via singing messenger.

Lula, would you mind taking the giveaway part out of my post? I've decided that I can't part with the items listed above. I just realized that I need something to wear to SITScation that will knock their socks off. Since I'm on the panel and all.

Because I Was Meant For This...

Season 2 of Gossip Girl came out on DVD just a couple of days ago, and my non-parenting hours have been spent glued to the TV, devouring each new-to-me episode. I am not ashamed to admit this, because what Beverly Hills, 90201 was to my generation (Class of 1993, represent!), Gossip Girl is to teens of today. And by "teens of today," I clearly mean adults over the age of 25, or more specifically, married gals who are aged 34.

Seriously. Have you seen Gossip Girl? It makes 90210 look like Romper Room.

So yeah...it's a nighttime soap for adults (and I guess teens watch, too), and I got suckered in a couple of months ago when I watched the entire first season in 1 weekend. My husband and girls were gone, so it was just me and the chips & salsa...and Chuck Bass. Y'all know I love the bad boys, and Chuck is probably one of my favorite naughty fellas of all time.

He just said something totally tacky here. Guaranteed. 'Cause he's Chuck Bass.

Gossip Girl is filled with witty dialogue...sexy snark, quick come-backs...all wrapped up in a peek into the lives of Park Avenue's uber wealthy families. It also features some pretty incredible music in each episode. (Alexandra Patsavas, I feel you...I get you...I love your work as GG's music supervisor. But girl, what happened with the Twilight soundtrack? Shudder. Please redeem yourself with New Moon's music. I'm still fasting and praying. Amen.) Yet what I really love the most about Gossip Girl is the fashion.

Each episode is like a walking, talking version of Vogue or Elle. It's pure escapism. I love Chanel and Chloe and Marc Jacobs and Marchesa. I'll most likely never wear these designers myself...well, except for Chanel. Dude, I will own me some Chanel one day. It's my life's goal.

So I live vicariously through the gals of Gossip Girl. Most especially, through one Blair Waldorf:

This creation made me want to hunt down my vampire boyfriend,

(Alexander Skarsgard, thankyouverymuch!)

while channeling my inner Roxie Hart.

It's dark, it's delicious, it's flirty, it's retro...and I want it.

Sans the headband.

**********

I gasped.

I audibly gasped when Blair wore this frock mid-way through Season 1.

It's like a contemporary version of

Grace Kelly & Audrey Hepburn, all in one gown.

Pretty much my dream come true.

Le sigh...

**********

I love her lace tights...her prim, sailor-esque dress,

the blouson sleeves, and that grey coat.

I just love me some Blair.

And I want her entire closet.

That is all.

The end.

Now if you will excuse me, I still have over half a season of deliciousness to enjoy. Oh, and would somebody please nominate the show's stylist/wardrobe person for an Emmy? He/She deserves a mantle full of trophies for such visual delights.

p.s. For some silly reason, Lauren (one of my favorite people in the world) felt I should guest post over at her place. I hated to lame up her blog. Regardless, I'm hanging there today. Please stop by and tell Lauren hello. And look at how utterly fabulous she is:

That's my Lauren...giving Blair Waldorf a run for her money.

1982.

My eldest is now in second grade. Second grade. How did we get to second grade overnight, seemingly?

I loved the second grade...it was my favorite of the early primary school years. Why?

*My parents took me to Disney World for my 8th birthday. I got to miss several days of school...yippeeeeeeeeee! (And Disney was fun, too.)

*E.T. came out during the summer before 2nd grade, yet we were still talking about it well into the school year. Oh, and don't get me started on Tron. (Who's excited for Tron Legacy? I mean, other than me and my brother? And Greg, of course.)

*I read Judy Blume's Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret in 1982. It's only the standard, right of passage story for young girls. So yeah, maybe I was a little young to be reading it, but still...I love it to this day. "We must, we must, we must increase our busts!" Classic!

*My passion for music was officially kindled in the 2nd grade. Joan Jett and the Blackhearts were loving some Rock & Roll, The Motels got all kinds of angsty in "Only the Lonely" (the meaning was completely lost on me back then!), and "Tainted Love" by Soft Cell was played over and over again. By me. On my little Fisher-Price record player. Yes, I bought that song on 45...at Zayre's (Warner Robins peeps, represent!)...and wore it out.

*I rocked the pigtails. No, really...check it out:

Look how much my Mama loved me...she sent me to school on picture day

in a sundress, my beloved panda necklace,

and my hair securely fastened...with elastics, barrettes, and ribbons.

That is some tender loving care right there.

As Libbey learns and grows and enjoys the second grade, I promise to never send her to school with more than 2 varieties of hair accessories. Coco Chanel was famous for reminding the ladies to remove one accessory before leaving the house each day.

Mama, why didn't we heed Coco's sage fashion advice back in 1982? Seriously! And is that a white shrug I'm wearing over the red sundress? Yeesh...

New Favorite.

I have a new favorite website to share with y'all.  It has but a mere two pages, but oh!  Those two pages are so very worthy.  

Please head your merry selves over to Old Rock Dudes With Meg Ryan Hair.

Tell me that's not the BEST site name you've ever heard.  'Cause it is.  Do not debate me, as I will win this battle.

Let me give you a little taste of the brilliance:

"This is Rikki Rockett from Poison, but when I look at it, I think of

Carnie Wilson from Wilson Phillips."

Seriously?  That is truly the best ever.  And this is coming from a gal raised on Poison and Wilson Phillips.  Children of the 80's, unite!

I feel certain the site owners, April & Millie (neither of whom I know), are meant to be my new BFFs.  I get them.  I get their humor.  And I completely dig it.

Nope...there's nothing I love better than making fun of aging, white rock stars.  With their Meg Ryan dids.  (Nikki...girl, there's even a Quacker Factory reference on this site.  WIN!)

Rock on, y'all!

Nosy Rosy.

I am not, by nature, a nosy person.  Well, not since I became an adult just a few years ago. Ahem.

I don't have a hankering to know all of the town gossip, nor do I snoop through medicine cabinets.  

Yet curiosity does get the best of me when I'm at the house of a friend, for a Tupperware party, a cook-out, a baby shower, etc.  Specifically, when I'm a guest in someone's home and have to use their "powder room."  If the community toilet happens to be in the same room as a shower and/or bathtub, you can bet your bottom dollar I'm going to peel back the curtain to take a peek at the toiletries contained within.

Now, I don't open shower doors.  Come on, that makes too much noise.  But a curtain is whisper quiet.  So I peek.  I admit it.  

If a particular friend has especially fabulous hair, I want to know what kind of product she's using.  Does she smell delicious?  Well, I have to know what kind of shower gel she's lathering with.  If said friend has an unfortunate 'do that is not crowning her glory, I want to judge her shampoo & conditioner.  Maybe the fault lies therein!  And then I can say, "Have you tried L'Oreal Ever Pure?  It really helps your color resist fading!"  Gee, I'm so handy to have around!

Please don't be afraid to invite me into your home.  Rather, into your bathroom.  To prove that I'm not a  too shady a character, I'll invite y'all into my shower:

Look at all these wonderfully named beauty products...

"Glaze," "Naked," and "Ain't Misbehavin'"

Now that's what I'm talking 'bout.

I rock.  Clearly.

Because I believe in equal opportunity nosiness, 

I give you Scott's shower shelf.

Ho-hum...it's rather boring.  

But at least he smells delightful!

Do you peek behind shower curtains?  Will you admit to it here?  Or are you just a regular ol' medicine cabinet snooper?  Fess up!  

*I actually had to look up the spelling of "nosy."  Is it "nosy?"  "Nosey?"  I usually spell it with an "e."  According to Miriam Webster, both are the proper spellings.  "Nosy" just looks better with "Rosy."  

Just love me in spite of my idiosyncrasies, please.

(For those who've asked--the nasal aspirator does have a purpose.  My husband is a doctor, aka extremely anal.  His sister is an audiologist, aka extremely anal.  The aspirator is used in place of Q-Tips.  Because my husband and his sister believe that Q-Tips are satan in the guise of cotton tips.  Um...whatever.  I use Q-tips every single day.  I don't flush my ears out with that blue thingy.  Just so you know.  Oh, and yes...Scott shares my razors.  Classic Daisy disposables.  They're his fave.  Don't judge.)

Go Ahead, Be Offended...

One of my favorite people in the world, Lauren, has this semi-regular feature over at her marvelous blog where she discusses the things she despises.  Things that the general population usually fawns over.  Lauren is brave, bold, and not afraid to be original.  

I so love that about her.

Over the past few weeks I keep seeing a particular topic discussed on Twitter.  A particular television show.  A show that I do not watch.  A show I've never watched, in fact.  It started me pondering about things not high on my "Oh my stars, I love this!" list.

So with Lauren's permission, I give you my first ever list of things that I consider lamespice.*

Here we go...

My Twitter pals are constantly going on and on about SYTYCD.

Until 2 nights ago, I had no idea what those initials stood for.  No lie!

My pal, Nikki, sent a text, stating, "At a taping for SYTYCD!!!"

I was all, "What's that?"

Nikki, I'm certain, wanted to break up with me on the spot.

Our bond is still intact, thankfully.

Seriously...I've never seen this show.  It's probably good. 

Or maybe it's completely lamespice.  

Whatever.

(Brooke, don't break up with me.)

I'm probably in the 5% of the population who could care less about 

Adam Lambert.

It has nothing to do with his sexual orientation.

Nor his style.  (I dig the guyliner and leather, always!)

Please understand that I know most of y'all love him.

But he murdered Tears For Fears' "Mad World" 

and people peed their britches thinking that was the best shiz ever.

Um...hi...it was TERRIBLE!

It pains me to say that, because some of my BFFs totally love Adam.  (I know, Heather.  I know.)

I'm sure he's a nice guy.  But I will never forgive him for ruining

one of my most favorite songs in the history of ever. ** 

This might make me unAmerican, but I'm gonna put it out there.

I don't like dogs.

Yours may be cute and precious and lovable and sweet, 

and that's all well and good.

But the fact is:  dogs smell.  

The end.

(Yes, I am a cat person.  Get over it.)

The Hills...

Really?  Seriously?  

Not for me. 

Plus, this Rolling Stone cover further proves my point

that Rolling Stone has ceased to be a 

relevant source of music information.

Yeah, I said that. 

But The Hills?

Who cares if they hate each other?  'Cause I supremely dislike them!

Cupcakes are all the rage now.

They're like...trendy and uber cool.

Yeah, they're sweet and fit perfectly in your hand.

But so do baby chicks, and I'm not singing their praises, either.

I'm just not a huge cake fan.

Now...chips and salsa...yep, that's what I'm talkin' about.

Give me the salty over the sweet.  Anyday!

(Bekah, I love you.  Please don't break up with me.)

I'm just sayin', y'all.  Different strokes for different folks.  That's what makes the world go 'round!

*If you see the term "Lamespice" across the intrawebs, please note that Lauren invented that word.  She should totally copyright it.  It's such a brilliant phrase...I use it frequently.  Thanks, Lauren!  

**Tears for Fears originally recorded "Mad World."  But Gary Jules' version stole my heart.  It's literally in my top 5 of most favorite songs in the wide world.  Not only is it hauntingly beautiful, the video is perfection. Check it out:

A Cautionary Tale. You Dig?

Have y'all heard about the mommy blogger who was alerted that a picture of her baby was posted on Craigslist?  In an ad for adoption?   Apparently the offending poster was running a scam and stole the mother's picture of her son off her own blog.

Yeah.  Frightening.  Right about now, we mothers are shaking in our boots, and rightly so.

Of course I learned of this story last Friday, while traveling to the airport with my husband...who immediately said, "That's it!  No more pictures of the girls on Lulaville!"  He also reminded me, "You know that if someone messes with either of our girls, I'll be calling you from jail.  'Cause I'll shoot first and make my one phone call later."  I reminded him to call George, our lawyer, rather than me.  Why waste it on someone who cannot help and will only cry and slobber and thank Jesus for a husband & his license to carry a weapon?  A husband who is not afraid to use said weapon, that is.  Amen.

But seriously?  No images of the girls on my blog?

 That means I cannot post about our fabulous trip to Mt. Airy, NC, also known as Mayberry.  (We only took 200 pictures.  In 2 days.  What terrible parents we are.)  Nor can I tell y'all about the Kelsey's visit.  Heather & her brood stayed with us for a few days and a fine time was had by all, including pedicures for the girls (sans Caroline--awww!), lots of food and drink, and a couple of quality hours of delicious vampire television for me and Heather.  Good, good times.  Which you'll have to trust me on...as I cannot share the photographic evidence.

No pictures means I can't show y'all my sweet Libbey's toothless smile...last week she lost 3 teeth!  Nor can I share about Caroline's way chic new hair "did."  The child is just a couple of months shy of her 4th birthday, yet the fab hair belies her age.

No photographs of the Litton girls on Lulaville?  OK.  We'll see how long that edict stands.  Ahem.

What can I share with y'all?  How 'bout all that's currently diggable in my universe?   Let's see...

Dear AMC,

Thank you for bringing back Mad Men in less than two weeks.

I've missed my ad men, specifically one Donald Draper.  Sigh...

(Joan Holloway...I love you.  Thank you for being my style icon.)

Love, Lula

(That's Joanie in the amazing emerald dress.)

If you're not watching Being Human on BBC-America, you're missing out.

Big time.

Hello!  It's about a hot vampire (Mitchell),

an adorkable werewolf (George),

and a cute-but-confused ghost (Annie).

All living together as flatmates in Bristol, England.

It's my new favorite show!

It's spooky but funny, combined with mysterious drama, and 

that snarky, sly British humor I love so much.  

Go watch Being Human.  Thank me later.


 Also...
It's David Tennant's last season as The Doctor.
Mourn with me, as I'll likely never recover.
TEN IS MY DOCTOR.

But do still love him with Donna Noble.
CATHERINE TATE, YOU ARE A GENIUS.
She's my favorite companion thus far.
(And she's ginger, and y'all know how I feel about the gingers!)

I love Band of Skulls.

baby darling doll face honey is so brilliant.

The bassist is female!  

(She shares vocal duties with the lead guitarist.)

Pretty much listen to this album all day long, so I highly recommend it.

("Blood" is my fave song.  No, wait..."Dull Gold Heart."  Or maybe "Honest...")

I'm also wearing this one out a bunch:

"My Boy Builds Coffins" is an amazing song title...and an amazing song, at that.

Love me some Florence.

It's now less than a month till September 1...

I've been waiting almost a year...

The sequel to The Hunger Games...

CATCHING FIRE by Suzanne Collins.

Remember how this time last year I was all, 

"Oh, you gotta read Twilight...yadda-yadda-yadda..."

OK, so forget that.  

I mean, I love Twilight and all...I still do.

But I looooooove The Hunger Games.  More than Twilight.

GASP!  I know, but it's true.

I'm so over-the-moon excited to read Catching Fire.

Go read it.  You will not be disappointed.

I want to know what's diggable in your world right now.  Please, do share.  Since I shared my current loves.  And since I can't share my forever loves.  Maybe I'll get Lizzy to draw some of her famous stick figure pictures for me...