The Children Are Bored On Sundays.

There's nothing I don't love about this:

I love this pairing. These two people.

I love Shirley Manson and her red hair.

I love Elijah Wood.

I love that Shirley is almost forty-four years old. Yes, I said 44.

Elijah is twenty-nine.

I love this song, entitled "Just You And Me," by Zee Avi.

I love golf balls.

I love Oliver Peoples eyewear. Who knew lenses could be so sexy?

I love every frock Shirley wears.

Look at Elijah rocking a skinny tie. And a bow tie.

We are big Garbage fans in this family.

We are big Lord of the Rings fans, as well.

I want to go on a picnic.

I long to drink champagne while in my pool. In a dress.

I probably need a zebra skin for my dining room table, as well.

I love the Stepford quality of this video.

Clearly, I love it all. Please...love it with me.

Summer Lovin'

What I'm listening to:

I want Grace's hair, her voice, her body...her hair...

this CD is the soundtrack of my summer.

Gayngs' "Relayted."

I can't even begin to tell you all the artists on this album,

or describe its sound.

Just. Listen. To. It.

And love it.

'Member last summer when I was all,

"OMS, I LOVE Florence + The Machine???"

Now she's on the Eclipse* soundtrack & people are all, "Yeah, I love her, too!"

Right.

Anyway, my new power voice of choice is Marina, of Marina & The Diamonds.

She is so hard rockin'. Go love her.

She's an old friend...

Her new album is a bit of a twist from her typical fare...

...makes me wanna dance barefoot 'round my yard,

or run through the sprinklers. Naked.

Go 'head Sia. You make me happy.

I read REAL books!!!!! (Love you, Janet!)

This shall be made into a feature film,

starring Carey Mulligan & Nicholas Hoult.

I decree it.

I also decree that Jason Reitman shall direct it.

I've only read 50 pages of this,

but can hardly stand to put it down.

CAPTIVATING!

Quirky. Dark. Fascinating. Heartbreaking.

This has been reviewed as, "A contender for Great American Novel" status.

I agree.

Finished this one a few weeks ago...it's a beach read.

It's all romantic, with a lot of history and mentions of the University of Virginia.

Which is to say YOU MUST READ THIS!

(Also, I'm saying it here & now--this one BETTER be made into a movie.

I would also like to produce its soundtrack. Of course.)

Diggin' On My TV Screen:

I love an angsty teen drama,

and this one's surprisingly good.

It's filling the hole left in my heart by Chuck Bass...

...I mean Gossip Girl.

Please.

Like I need to explain this.

Y'all know I've been a fan since the very first episode.

What are you watching/reading/listening to? Do share!

*It's good, as far as soundtracks go.

Things I Never Needed.

It's been almost two years since Kristen, who is my people, introduced me to Grace Potter and the Nocturnals.

Grace is also my people...her voice is all her own, yet I hear twinges of Janis Joplin, Stevie Nicks, and Carole King in it, too. And I don't care who you are, that right there is good programming.

When it's Autumn, this music makes me want to curl up with a warm blanket and a mug of coffee, and watch the leaves fall to the earth. Then summer rolls around and I'm sitting on my front porch, tea in hand, rocking the evening away...while Grace serenades me and the crickets. Yes, I dig her a whole dang lot.

"Take the mistakes I haven't made yet...they're all I have left..."

That reduced me to tears. And it's a rare song which moves me to weep.

"Grace Potter and The Nocturnals," their first album in 3 years, will release on June 8. I highly recommend it, along with their 2007 offering, "This is Somewhere."

You're welcome.

I Say It Every Day.

But is it original recipe, or butter-flavored?

That's what I want to know.

My Love Letter.

Has there ever been a program that so seamlessly united science fiction, literature, philosophy, religion, medicine, metaphysics, comedy and drama, along with helpings of romance and fantasy? An hour of television not only critically acclaimed, but also a pop culture phenomenon beloved by a completely fervid fanbase?

Doubful.

The zeitgeist known as Lost began on September 22, 2004, and I was hooked from the moment Charlie Pace questioned, "Guys...where are we?"

This week I've read brilliant summaries of the show, written by minds far sharper than my own, printed in publications such as Vanity Fair, Time, TV Guide, and Entertainment Weekly. I'm not going to do the same, because my efforts would fall embarrassingly short.

Instead I'm going to say thank you to the cast and crew of the show. Thanks for giving me six years of pure entertainment. When it comes to the heart of the matter, I don't care to know all the secrets of the island: polar bears, Dharma food drops, or all those notebooks sent via pneumatic tubes. Nah! I don't need to know every answer to every mystery.

My devastation at the completion of this series is that I'm bidding farewell to some of the most brilliantly written characters to ever grace the screen, big or small. These deeply flawed, hurting people, all of whom are seeking some form of redemption, all of whom have made me laugh, cry, scream, sigh, and applaud...all of whom I've grown to love these past six years.

I will miss them.

My favorite moment in Lost occurred in Season 3...

This clip, more than any other, embodies what Lost means to me. It begins with a huge measure of confusion, which rapidly becomes terrifying, before turning into an overwhelming release of joy and relief. ELATION! That, my friends, is the perfect summary of my Lost-viewing experience.

(Also...Three Dog Night. I mean, come on..."Shambala" is only one of the best, classic rock songs ever and perfectly synced in this scene.)

Thank you, Carlton Cuse, Damon Lindelof, and the entire cast and crew (both in Hawaii and California) of my most favorite television series of all time. Whether you go out with a bang or a whimper, I'll never be ashamed to admit that I am a Lostie! It's been a heck of a ride...and I'm glad I was there for it...hanging on with all my might.

Edited to add THIS:

"It's just a show but it feels like losing a friend."

Indeed.

Nickelodeon Vampire

I love Rachelle Lefevre's gorgeous red mane:

I thought she did a fine job portraying evil, nomadic vampire Victoria (as shown in the above photo) in the screen versions of Twilight and New Moon. If you're planning to see Eclipse next month, know that Victoria has a new face (and much less lustrous hair), as Ms. Lefevre was fired by the suits at Summit Entertainment and replaced by Opie Taylor's daughter, Bryce Dallas Howard. Sad.

I'm willing to give Richie Cunningham's daughter a fair chance, however, but only because Rachelle Lefevre has found an even bigger audience than the Twilight crowd:

The Fresh Beat Band!

We love us some Fresh Beats*.

And cropped leggings.

Wholesome.

She's going by the name "Marina" on this half hour of song, dance, and zany fun for kids and adults, but she can't fool me. Marina is really Rachelle Lefevre.

And...check it...she got Marissa Tomei ("Kiki") to join in the good times, as well as Don Cheadle's younger brother ("Shout"), and some white guy ("Twist").

I love a great comeback.

*No, that's not really Rachelle Lefevre playing Marina. But I do think that's really Marissa Tomei. Is all I'm sayin'.

What A Wonderful World...

The magazine is screaming, "MEET MY BABY!"

But I prefer the more subtle title...the one just above their heads..."World's Most Beautiful People 2010."

Because I do find Sandra Bullock to be beautiful both inside and out. Witness:

*Her Academy Award acceptance speech=Class.

*The manner in which she's maintained her dignity during her husband's reported infidelity=Class.

*How she's rightfully guarded her privacy during what I'm certain is a very painful time in her life=Class.

*That she adopted this gorgeous child, without anyone knowing. At all. And that she's obviously been enjoying him...loving him...mothering him...for the past few months=Class.

Yes, Ms. Bullock. You are C-L-A-S-S-Y and I wish you nothing but the best.

Also...THAT BABY, y'all. He is altogether delicious. Let's discuss his name: Louis. Let's discuss that she adopted him from New Orleans.

I think you know where I'm headed with this. Louis is clearly a vampire.

No, not a blood sucker. Please. As if I'd say that about a precious wee one. No, a sucker of cute, as my friend Kelly (not the hater!) so eloquently described sweet baby Louis.

And if he's not a vampire, I hope he plays the trumpet when he grows up.

The Nuance of Shade and Color.

It's the time of year that women, particularly southerners, live for all winter long. Clutching pages torn from magazines, carrying color swatches, photographs, and sample books, we prepare for our mission. This all has to go down before Mother's Day, because everyone knows that all the good stuff is picked over before Mother's Day weekend. Of course.

I'm always armed with my husband's truck, as well as an old pair of clothes and flip-flops, because I need space to haul my purchases, and ease of movement. I take this job very seriously, as all well-bred women should.

Of course there will be the requisite ladies-who-lunch, resplendent in their Burberry trenches & Tod moccasins, lugging their Balenciaga totes, sunglasses perched artfully upon perfectly coiffed manes. I, however, shall grab my lunch at Pal's (Sauceburger with cheese, please!) and won't mind a bit when it spills on my bleach-stained yoga capris, and/or my favorite pink Piggly Wiggly t-shirt, the back of which reads, "I'm Big On The Pig." Word. Just keepin' it classy.

So I'm primed, I'm fueled, I'm properly outfitted, and I'm ready...

As soon as I enter the doors, the sights, sounds, and smells overwhelm me and it's all I can do to contain myself from breaking into song.

I come to the garden alone...
while the dew is still on the roses...

Yes, friends...for the next few weeks I will spend my afternoons digging in the dirt. Verbena and Angeliona and Hydrangea, oh my! I will purchase ferns from Kitten's Green Thumb in Jonesville, Virginia, because everyone who's anyone knows that Kitten (yes, that's her real name!) has the most beautiful ferns in the Tri-state area.

I'll also buy out Kitten's stock of hot pink Geraniums, too. As well as raspberry-hued Verbena, dark purple Angeliona, and hot pink Vinca.

I'm pretty much unstoppable at Kitten's Green Thumb. Nanny-nanny-boo-boo, you ladies-who-lunch. Shoulda got up from the table a little earlier.

Next I'll head to Evergreen Nursery in Kingsport, Tennessee, for purple Vinca. It's particularly lovely when paired near yellow Lantana. See?

Y'all know how I feel about The Mother Ship (more commonly known to some as Sephora), so it should come as no surprise that I approach the beautification of my yard in much the same manner. Certain colors will always find purchase in this soil of mine (all shades of pinks, blues, and purples, with yellow for contrast and white as a "filler,") whereas no hint of orange will ever see light of day up in this piece.

Please. I was raised with a modicum of dignity and taste. I know better.

Years ago my grandmother--who never wore a pair of "britches" in her life, and would never dream of leaving her house without first circling her neck with either pearls, diamonds, gold, or a combination thereof--told me that gardening was something all southern women "just did." My favorite Aunt Doris would spend hours snipping, clipping, and pruning away at her azaleas and wisteria. And even my own mother taught me the difference between annuals and perennials, proper spacing, shade lovers, and which flowers could "take the heat." I never dreamed I'd be one of those women who'd find immense joy in spending week after week covered in dirt, caked in manure, (not my own!) and drenched in sweat.

I love every minute of it.

I feel as if I've earned my birthright...honored my heritage...accepted the legacy that was genetically disposed to me, courtesy of my Mississippi born and bred parents. While the rest of the world is digging the new spring fashions, I'm happy to be digging in the dirt. And rolling around in it, too. What else would one do while wearing a Piggly Wiggly t-shirt?

Doctor Decade.

'Member when we were dating and we used to talk about our love of southern names and southern homes with columns and front porches, and sweet tea and Coke in a bottle?

'Member when we got first married and dreamed that one day we'd have children with family (read: southern!) names, and live in a house with a wide front porch and columns, and drink Coke in a bottle while sitting in a rocking chair, watching those southern children playing in the yard?

'Member how we did just that? Just this past weekend?

Fifty years from now, I pray we're still on our front porch...watching our children play in the yard. With our grandchildren. And plenty of Coke in a bottle.

Period In Private.*

So my family and I went to Disney World and I did this whole post about it and blogger ate it (bad Blogger!) and now it's Spring Break and all I've done is sit in the sun with my girls and run through our Pablo sprinkler and eat popsicles and I have no time to write a new post, let alone read blogs, but I do have time to hang out on Twitter intermittently (bloggy pals--get on Twitter!) and this is quite possibly the longest run-on sentence I've ever written, and I wish you could see the perfectly pink shade I've just painted my finger nails.

Also...

Have you seen this?

BRAVO, Kotex!


*Thanks to Heather, for coining this phrase. It's one of many that I've stolen from her. Don't we all just wanna period in private? In our comfy, cozy beds with a few good books, Seasons 1 and 2 of Gossip Girl, a few Snickers, and several Caramel Macchiatos from Starbucks. YES.

Not that Aunt Flo is visiting me or anything. In fact, she's not. But I'll be stocking up on my Kotex supplies, at any rate. I'll switch from the cheerleading brand. (Hi, Tony!)

I Only Have One Answer.

Last week a pal of mind wondered, "How can anyone believe that Jerry Falwell is in Heaven and Gandhi is in hell?"

It's an interesting question, and one that could potentially spark a calm, rational conversation between people of varying beliefs. Or ignite the flames of passionate opinions and, probably, religious diatribe.

My reply to this friend was, "I don't know much about Gandhi, but I did know Dr. Falwell personally, and I know he's in Heaven."

I know this because I know what Dr. Falwell believed. I know in Whom Dr. Falwell believed. Because I believe the same.

Me, Beckie, and Kelley--on our alma mater's seal, 2003. We rule.

Now, I'm not one to write a controversial, pot stirring post. (The mere mention of Dr. Falwell's name seemingly causes people to squirm.)

It's why I don't write about health care reform.

Or being a stay-at-home mother versus a work-outside-the-home mom.

Breast fed or bottle.

Pro Life versus abortion rights.

Red states and blue states.

Gun control advocate or staunch supporter of 2nd Amendment rights.

Attachment parenting or Ferberizing.

Coke or Diet Coke.

Hank Williams Sr. versus Hank, Jr.

Natural nails or acrylic tips.

Target and Wal-Mart.

SPF 45 versus the tanning bed.

Lost or...well...any other television program out there.

Ahem.

The truth of the matter is I know very little about Gandhi. So I'm not one to pronounce that he is "in hell." Oh sure, I'm aware of those in our world who are filled with a piousness to rival the Pope's. Those super holy types who love nothing better than to sit around all day, pointing fingers, placing blame, and declaring, "Well if anyone's in hell, it's _______________."

Really?

Here's the deal.

My belief system is firmly rooted in God. Not God, "whomever you deem that to be," as it is politely worded in certain circles. Uh-uh. I believe in God and His Son, Jesus.

Respectfully I ask that you do not call me a Bible thumper. (The Bible I'm currently using is on my BlackBerry. Like I'd thump that modern marvel. Please.) I'm not "religious." I'm not holier-than-thou. In the same vein, I am not some intolerant, ignorant, small-minded, backwoods conservative who can't see the forest for the trees.

I don't have all the answers. And let's be honest here...I don't have many answers, period. Here's what I can attest:

"I know Whom I have believed, and am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him for that day."--2 Timothy 1:12

Simply stated--I know in Whom I believe and what these beliefs entail. I also know that God "has my back," and is protecting me forevermore.

Do I have strong opinions on controversial subjects? Yes. As I told my friend who pondered about Dr. Falwell and Gandhi, I do have my views. And I don't apologize for these beliefs I hold deeply within my heart, because to do so would be to go directly against my God.

Do I love and embrace those with a different set of morals, worldviews, standards, political and religious beliefs? Absolutely. Because to do so means that I'm fulfilling precisely what Jesus asked of me..."Love your neighbor as yourself." (Mark 12:31)

I'm not perfect. I've never claimed to be. My feelings are very easily hurt. My tongue has a life of its own. I whine and complain more often than I care to admit. And sometimes I cry to God, "Seriously? Are these people FOR SERIOUS? Will You do something about these people?!?"

Then He gently reminds me, "Child of mine, I love 'these people' just as much as I love you."

And that, my friends, is the only answer I have.

Just thought y'all might need to know where I'm coming from. It's not all about me. Oh, I usually try to keep it centered upon me, me, me. But it's not.

(Vulnerable, at 1 am.)

P.S. Thanks, Jordan, for sparking this conversation. You know I think so highly of you...and your intelligence...and your love of Twilight. Dude, did I just out you? xoxo

Honey, Don't Patronize Me.

Here's the preface:

-There are zero sponsors on Lulaville, as well as zero advertisements.

-I don't make a dime off my blog, nor has it ever been my intention to do so. Many of my fellow bloggy pals do earn revenue from their blogs, and for this I salute them. "Go, you!" is my mantra.

-If Lulaville has a "brand," it's certainly hard to sum up...is my brand...

*Random musings from this head full of useless information?

*I love Jason Statham more than you?

*Is there a bigger Sci-Fi lover than me?

*How is it even possible that you don't watch Lost?

*Southern belles who have tattoos and wear blue nail polish and hot pink Converse high-tops?

-I have no problem with Lulaville being viewed as a "glorified, electronic scrapbook."* Because...guess what? IT IS!

Got it? Good. Let's move on, shall we?

Two years ago I met the women whom I now consider to be my best friends and confidantes. At the age of thirty-three I found my sister soulmates. Women who, at the risk of sounding utterly and shamelessly cheesy, complete me. Women I've flown across the country to visit. Women with whom I've vacationed. Whose husbands I've met. Whose lives are entwined with mine, as we grow, live, love, laugh, cry, and celebrate the bond of friendship.

I met Heather Blair and Tiffany Romero because of blogging. I knew Heather and Tiffany before they started their wonderful site, The Secret Is In The Sauce, a community which fosters support and friendship amongst women (and a few men!) in the blogging world.

How thankful I am for SITS and the women I've met because of a simple website. Living in a small, very rural mountain town, I'm surrounded by wonderful people who are very much like me: caucasian, married, a parent, and evangelical Christian. Through SITS I have met women who are beautiful and intelligent. I'm honored to know ladies who labor at home as full-time mothers (such as myself), and women who are mothers and employed outside the home.

Because of SITS I have friends who are Evangelical Christian, Jewish, 7th Day Adventist, Mormon, Agnostic, and Atheist.

Because of SITS I have friends of all ages...single gals navigating their twenties, young mothers with new babies, women who have not yet become mothers, ladies who never plan to have children, and grandmothers who blog alongside their daughters.

Because of SITS I am friendly with Democrats. See, we all really can get along!

(I do jest...friendship is bipartisan.)

Because of SITS I am proud to be known as a "mommy blogger."

Rather than refute an article written by a New York Times author, about the recent Bloggy Boot Camp held in Baltimore by Tiffany and Heather, I choose to use this post to declare my love and support for my friends and fellow bloggers. Whether you're part of the "minivan crowd," or a mama blogger such as my friend, Fran, who happens to hold an M.B.A. (and uses this degree to be one excellent mother!), I salute you.

Regardless of whether I know you "in real life," or if we've only "met" via our blogs, I salute you.

To those of you who make a living off your blog...rock on! Have a particular brand, such as the brilliant Kathy, of Mama Kat's Losin' It, or Jill from Scary Mommy? (Two ladies I'm proud to call "friend.") Awesome!

Those of you who could care less about building a "brand" and instead use blogging as a creative outlet to celebrate your life and your loves, I applaud you.

I quote Kathy, in her post where she addressed this same subject, "We're women, and we're amazing, and we don't need a newspaper to validate us."

Precisely.

And to my family, particularly my husband and my daughters, who've supported Lulaville from its inception, I say to you..."Feel free to interrupt me at any moment...because you, my loves, are far more important to me than this blog."

But they already knew that.

*Quote from the article written by Jennifer Mendelsohn, published in the New York Times, March 12, 2010.