I Love You. Goodbye.

Do you remember my brilliant cousin, K.C.? She's the singer/songwriter. (I mentioned "brilliant," right?) Today's her birthday. And, it made me realize I never told you about her new album: The Tag Hollow Sessions. It's awesome. Duh. But, guess what? One of the songs on the album... IS MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. (I'm a little possessive.)

Maybe I should tell you the back story.

When she produced her last album, Orchid, she did it by asking her friends and family to become her record label. She explains it better here. If you contributed at a certain level, you could choose for her to write you a song. Like I wasn't going to choose that, right?! Well, it turns out, you can't just flip K.C. to "on" and watch her crank out a song. Who knew? So, I patiently waited for my song... 

Then one day she sent me a message saying she was writing my song. Yay! As it turns out she had read this blog post. Go ahead. Read it. I'll wait... Finished? Good. Could you write a song out of that?! Me either. We suck. But, K.C. doesn't. She took that blog post, coupled it with my real life, and wrote this:

"Just in Case" (Click the song title, you can hear it on iTunes. It's song #13)
I don't wanna answer the phone.
These days are taking their toll
'Cause it's never good news calling.
And you. You are my port in the storm.
You're what I'm waking up for.
You remind me the sky's not falling.

But, just in case there aren't any more tomorrows,
Let's not waste one drop of our love on sorrows.
Just hold me close, knowing our time is borrowed.
Just in case there aren't any more tomorrows.

I was never fond of surprises.
I like the way the sun rises.
You can count on it every morning.
But, now, so many people around us,
They ain't got nothing but sadness.
And it came without any warning.

So, just in case there aren't any more tomorrows,
Let's not waste one drop of our love on sorrows.
Just hold me close, knowing our time is borrowed.
Just in case, oh, just in case

The hands on all the clocks have stopped.
The life that we once lived is lost.
I don't want to be full of words
I wish I'd said,
I wish you'd heard.

So, just in case there aren't any more tomorrows,
Let's not waste one drop of our love on sorrows.
Just hold me close, 'cause baby our time is borrowed.
Just in case there aren't any more tomorrows.

..........

Holy crap it's good, huh? And, it's MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. MINE. (Well, and Shawn's, too. But, mostly. MINE.)

She's brilliant.

And, that leads me to this:

I just heard another song. An oldie, but goodie. And, it sums up how I feel about this blog.

"Too Busy Being in Love" by Doug Stone

Songwriters: Gary Burr, Victoria Shaw
If I had taken the time

To write down a few lines

Every time you crossed this heart of mine,

I'd put them all in a book.

How much time would that have took?

The words and years have a way of slipping by.

Oh no! Too bad. There goes the chance that I had.

I could have written a play so sweet and so funny.

Given old Mr. Shakespeare a run for his money.

Written the words to the prettiest tune

That would never leave a dry eye in the room.

My only excuse for not doing enough...

I was too busy being in love.

Yes, I was too busy being in love.

Brand new phrases appear every time you are near.
All these words you inspire after all these years.

But I never reached for a pen.

Break the mood that I'm in.

Before I knew it the words were gone again.

Oh no! Too bad. There goes the chance that I had.
I could have written a play so sweet and so funny.

Given old Mr. Shakespeare a run for his money.

Written the words to the prettiest tune

That would never leave a dry eye in the room.

My only excuse for not doing enough...

I was too busy being in love.

Yes, I was too busy being in love.

I could have written a poem to make young lovers crazy.
Could have written a movie for Hepburn and Tracy.

A beautiful song and it starts with your name.

Written my way into fortune and fame.

But I have no regrets for not doing enough...

I was too busy being in love.

Yes, I was too busy being in love.

..........

Y'all. I love my family. I love my life. It's not perfect. By far. But, it's mine. And, I love living it. And, right now, I don't want to write about it. I just want to live it.

I've lived long enough to know to never say never. So, I'm not saying I'll never come back here to post. The next time I find a potato chip that looks like Abe Lincoln, I am so coming back here to write a post about it. But, until that earth shattering occasion occurs...

I'm too busy being in love.

Bye, y'all.

My Sister Got Married this Weekend

She is adored.

And, so is he.

So, now.

Let the happily ever after begin.

Oh, wait.

I think it already has.

Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.

-Robert A. Heinlein

I love you, Brandy. Your happiness has always been essential to my own.
I am, and will always be

Your adoring little sister -Ali

Thanksgiving Recap

So. Thanksgiving.

It began Friday when the kids got out for the holiday after the special Grandparents' Day chapel service. Shawn and I started preparing for all the family that was willing to come to us, to come to us.

But, then we realized they weren't coming until Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving. And, my step-sisters and their families would be down at my mom and step-dad's come the Saturday before Thanksgiving. There really wasn't anything keeping us from going down for a little visit save a two-hour car drive. But, we can make that interstate drive with our eyes closed by now.

We did have to stick around for Lulu's finger check on Monday. But, come Monday evening, we were a-visitin'! And, Tuesday, we had Thanksgiving. (My mom is so good about "the date on the calendar doesn't matter. We can celebrate whenever we're all together!") And, so, we all stood around the kitchen on Tuesday and cooked a Thanksgiving meal together. It was awesome.

Also, while we were there. We stumbled upon Uno Attack. Do you people have this game?! Well, you should! It's plan ol' Uno but instead of a "draw pile" there is a machine that randomly shoots cards at you - it will give you no cards up to, well, we got twelve cards one time. So fun for kids 6 to 96 to be able to "attack" their loved ones!

Quote of the visit: "Come lick my finger and tell me what it tastes like."

We awoke Wednesday to hit the road home and welcome our own guests: Shawn's cousin, David, his wife, Anna, and their little girl, Cora; Shawn's aunt and uncle, Reda and Bill; Shawn's brother, Will, and his son David; and, of course, Shawn's parents live here, David and Marie. (Notice there are three Davids? One would assume this would cause mass confusion. But, somehow we manage. I guess because there's Little David and the two Big Daves have different last names. Or we, as a collective family, are brilliant and not very prone to confusion. One of those...) Shawn's other cousin (Reda & Bill's daughter) and her boyfriend would have been here but there was a little too much vomit coming out of them to make for a pleasant car trip... wait... I've probably said too much... And, Will's wife and daughter, Cynthia and Kristen, didn't make it this time either. We'll give everyone a pass... this time... but, we expect bright, shiny (vomit-free) faces at the next family-gathering!

This little group of Shawn's family have always been so gracious to come to our house for Thanksgiving the past... four... or is it five?!... years. And, they made no exception this year even though we moved the party two hours further away from them!

They kept saying we were the best hosts. But, seriously. They are the best guests. Case in point: I tried to rescue this mangy, little, mean, rat dog that was wandering the neighborhood one night. But, it wouldn't let anyone touch it, so I just lured it into the garage with a piece of turkey and trapped it there. However, by the time we figured out it didn't belong to anyone to whom we thought it belonged and was really just a mangy, little, mean, rat dog, it had torn open all the bags of Thanksgiving trash that were in the garage with it. However, somewhere in the time that I was told of the mess and turned around to deal with it, Shawn's uncle and cousin had cleaned up every ounce of the mess. Now those are good guests.

And, that's just one example. That doesn't include the hostess gifts, the laundry, the counter cleaner because they noticed we were out, the cooking, the taking us out to dinner, the fun games of Uno Attack (Oh yeah. We bought our own.), the black-Thursday night/Friday shopping adventures, or Anna, the professional photographer, taking our family's picture as a "thank you" again this year...

I'm telling you. Good guests.

And, cute kids.

Quote of the visit:

This one needs a little background.

We needed bread to make sandwiches from the Thanksgiving leftovers. So, after Anna took our pictures, we stopped by Walmart. I ran in while the kids, Shawn and Anna waited in the car.

I came back and announced to Shawn and Anna, "I think I made a new best friend. He was wearing a skull cap, had a crazy eye and I think he was a little bit drunk. But, we had a great time in the check-out line together."

Shawn asked how I knew he was drunk and I told him that he was buying mixer and, when asked (by me) if it had reached the point of Thanksgiving when it was time to start drinking, he replied, "Oh it already reached that point a long time ago."

Spencer piped in, "What's mixer?"

I said, "The stuff you use to make 'grown-up drinks.'"

Spence said, "What's drunk?"

I said, "When you drink too many 'grown-up drinks.'"

And, I truly believe Spence's next statement was meant to demonstrate how he could use his new-found word in a sentence. But, what came out sounded for all the world like he had just figured out his mother. Like all his many, many questions were answered when he looked right at me and said,

"You're drunk."

Whatcha been up to? Well, funny you should ask.

It's been busy around here. What's new, right?

Well, for starters, Spencer had a project due the week before Thanksgiving. It was the student's choice for a subject of Thanksgiving, Indians^★, or Pilgrims. But, it had to include a visual project, a written report, a cover page and an oral report. Parental help was encouraged. Because the teachers hate parents.

Also? I'm pretty sure I didn't do a project with so many components until I was in college.

But, we got it done. We're diorama-making fools around this house.

And, although I didn't get a picture of it (because I was exhausted), Spence's cover page was a Comanche Indian with yarn braids down each side of his head, tied with leather straps and a feather. And the part in his hair was even colored with white "clay." Oh, yeah. We brought it.

But, I think Shawn and I were both most proud of how many times our shy boy practiced his oral presentation until a) he knew it by heart; b) he could speak up; and c) he could look up and make eye-contact occasionally while speaking. Quite an improvement for the boy who hid his face two-inches behind his paper for the entire oral report he presented last year in first grade.

I made a Thanksgiving treat for the kids' classmates. I mean. We all knew I would, didn't we?

That's just a mini Reese's peanut butter cup upside down on a
fudge-striped cookie, stuck down and decorated with frosting.

There was Grandparents' Day at the kids' school. My mom and step-dad drove up. And, Shawn's mom had to jump through hoops to get time away from work. But, she did. So, the kids had two of their three sets of grandparents there. They got to show them around the school, and take them to a reception. And, there was a special chapel service. It was all very sweet and special to the kids.

*We found Lulu's lost splint. In the Barbie basket. Duh. Where else would it be? So now we have a spare (that the darling Occupational Therapist made us for no charge)! This is a good thing. The original splint has been lost again on no less than four other occasions for varying amounts of time on each occurrence.

Speaking of that broken finger and splint: we had a check-up last week on that little ol' bone. It's healing well, the doctor said. But, there is still a missing bit in the center of the bone that needs time to knit itself back together. One more week in the splint. She's such a responsible little trooper about it, though. She's the first one to say, "I don't have my splint on!"

There was Thanksgiving. But, in order to keep this post under a thousand words, that post will have to wait until tomorrow.

And, then there was church yesterday.

Here's what's funny. I can drive myself insane worrying about where we should go to church. We've tried going to a mega-church. But, all of our friends that are members there are a part of a "small group/Bible study" that is "closed." So, we never could figure out how to feel "plugged in" - not that the church doesn't try. They really encourage you to come to a once-a-month "Get Plugged In" meet and greet where they'll match you up with like-minded people so you can start your own "small group." Shawn and I just couldn't do it. It felt like a weird speed-dating session to make church friends. And, Lulu straight-up didn't like Sunday School there. I don't think they did anything wrong. I think it was just huge - four classes for Lulu's grade alone. We never knew who her teacher would be or who would be in her class. She would see some friends she knew... but then they would be assigned to a different room. And she told us she didn't know the songs they sang. But, when Little Miss Congeniality with the most confidence in our family is uncomfortable somewhere... it might not be the right fit for our family. Spence liked it. But, Spence liked it because he had a friend from school who was in his Sunday School class - a security blanket.

And, then my great friend Springer sent me a book by Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies. It was interesting. Clearly Springer thinks I'm a whole lot deeper than the usually fluff I read (Note to self: Send Springer a copy of The Hunger Games). But, it was worth the read for even just this one concept I took away from it. I'm sure I will paraphrase this badly, but Lamott said she was told, when praying to God for the answer to a problem, don't look for the big billboard announcing the final answer. Look at the small spotlight He's shining for you to take to the next step. Then, once there, look for the next spotlight. Just keep stepping from spotlight to spotlight until, the next thing you know, you've arrived at the solution.

So. I took a step into the spotlight yesterday.

We have other friends. (I know. Shocker.) They go to the lost-my-child-church (which we didn't know at the time of the "Lost Child" incident). They were talking about their awesome Adult Sunday school (that's open to new-comers)! They helped us figure out where it was, what time it started and were excited that we were there. And, y'all? The Director of Young Adult Ministry that teaches the class? Amazing. A-maz-ing.

We dropped Lulu off at the playroom - where there is an extensive new check-in procedure complete with sticker identification for each child. Holla! (All of our friends really do say to us, though, "Ummm. So. We hear we have you to thank for this." They don't seem so thankful, though... ;) After Sunday School, we went to ask Lulu if she wanted to leave the playroom to come sing songs with us in Big Church. She did not. She wanted to stay and keep working on crafts.

Spencer has one classmate who goes to church there that he knew of before we arrived. He wasn't there yesterday. But, lo and behold, his very best playmates from down the street go to church there! And, they did go to church yesterday, much to Spence's delight. Then, during the Children's Service portion of Big Church, Spence realized that one of his buddies from flag football goes to church there, too.

The church service was just non-liturgical enough to remind Shawn of the Bible Church in which he grew up, but just traditional enough to feel "like church" to him, too. Shawn does not like "rock bands" in church. I don't mind them. This church has a guitarist with singers. Shawn is okay with that. We both agree that the service really is a perfect mix for us.

As we drove home yesterday, Spence said, "I want this to be our church."

You know what, son? I think I do, too.

^★It seems that we can say Indian again instead of Native American. Who knew?

So much going on and so little desire to type...

We went back to the old hometown for a wedding this weekend. While there, we saw some of my friends who were visiting from out of town. When we were together, we may have scared a few... offended most... but we had a great time. (And, FYI, unless, "I'll just have a cheeseburger instead of a Navajo" doesn't make you spit out your drink with laughter, you just might not "get" us.)

The kids spent Friday and Saturday night with Nanny and Pop (my mom and step-dad). Nanny and Pop live on a lake. You might not think a drought is a "good" thing. But, when it makes the lake drop so low that there's a "beach" at Nanny and Pop's backyard... well... my kids are going to vote "drought" every time! Granted, you have to use a ladder to get down to the beach from the dock. Uh huh. That low.

But, the real joy? A Slip and Slide. Laid out on a downhill slope. Hours, people. Lulu and Spence slid on that thing for hours. Do you remember when it was fun to hurl your body at the ground and see how far you would slide? No. Me either. Thank goodness it's clearly marked "For Children Only. Not for Adult Use." Someone (Pop) would have been coerced down that thing for sure. What an embarrassing injury to have to explain to the orthopedic surgeon: "Well. You see. I was on a Slip and Slide..."

We came home and our cousin David is back in town for a visit. (Someone said the last time I talked about "Cousin David" that it reminded her of Cousin Oliver from the Brady Bunch. Now I can't say it anymore without thinking it! Get out of my head, "Sparkling.") I spent four and a half hours with all the kids at the swimming pool today trying to wear them out sufficiently so G'Ma and G'Pa could have them all spend the night at their house while Shawn and I go to an event tonight. I don't know if it worked, but I'm tired and sunburned.

That. And, I'm still waking up at 4:45 to go to 5:30 exercise class.

That. And, the market sucks a little bit right now. Have you heard? Oh. You hadn't? Yeah. Shawn's wondering why he chose this career when there are so many others out there... like post-hole digger... and human test subject.

Corpus Vacation

So. After all the talk, I really didn't get that many, or that good of, pictures.

Spencer did take this one:

We all know what I look like anyway.
You get a good enough idea with just the half of me.

We did have a busy, fun-filled visit. I just didn't document it with pictures very well.

We saw 4th of July fireworks shot off of the deck of the USS Lexington as we sat atop the tallest building in Corpus Christi.

The next day we actually visited the USS Lexington - a World War II era aircraft carrier that is now a "Museum on the Bay." (This was the only place I remembered to bring the camera with us... and use it.* Turns out it's a two-step process. Who knew?)

Starting on Wednesday our cousins Abby and Megan got to hang out with us. We visited Kingsville, Texas; ate at the Harrel's Kingsville Pharmacy Soda Fountain (Where my dad had a strawberry/banana milkshake that tasted suspiciously like jam. In a cup. We'll never be able to explain it. But, we were all mystified... and a little disgusted...); saw the King Ranch Museum; and shopped at the King Ranch Saddle Shop (Ok. That last one may have been more for my step-mom and me. But, give us a break. It was hot. We deserved it.)

Thursday Papa and Uncle Mike presented a viewing of Diary of a Wimpy Kid for all the kids and Uncle Mike popped popcorn for one and all. I went over to my sister, Brandy's, house and helped clean her garage so she could get ready to move. And, that night, my step-mom honored us with her famous fried chicken, mashed potatoes, cream gravy and green beans. Give me moment... I've gone to my happy place...

Ok. I'm back. 

Friday was a day at the pool for the kids and we were back on the road come Saturday.

So, my pictorial documentation sucks. But, you know what? Visiting Grandparents isn't about the pictures.

It's about memories.

I'm 37-years-old and I can still remember, like it was yesterday, walking into my dad's parents' house as a little girl. Each and every time there would be two metal tins on the washing machine - one of Toll House chocolate chip cookies and one of oatmeal raisin cookies. My Grandpa made them. every. time. I remember the step-stool that served as the extra chair at their kitchen table. I remember the blue bedspreads on their twin guest beds where my sister and I slept. I remember the Ripley's Believe It or Not book in the bookcase (where I learned all about the Loch Ness Monster) and the twisty-block puzzle that would occupy us for hours. I remember how sweet my Grandma was to us - even when I scratched her brand-new refrigerator with magnets.

And, since we've been home? My kids have had "Grandmomma's Cinnamon Toast" every single morning. And they're obsessed with "Propel [Fitness Water] like Papa drinks."

So, memories?

I think we've got them covered.

*And, now. I present to you: The visit to the USS Lexington. (Be prepared to be completely underwhelmed by my photographic genius.)

Elizabeth and a Torpedo
I don't care if it's been disarmed.
This should make us all very nervous.

Spencer the gunner.

You can't tell anyone thinks Uncle Mike is cool, can you?
And, I don't know why, but I think Elizabeth in mid-air
in the background is kinda hysterical.

Uncle Mike is pretty sweet, too.

I think most pilots would tell you "ribbon in the face"
is a very real concern while piloting their crafts.

Lulu in a wheel-well.
Grandmomma ready to catch her before she plummets to the deck.

In the Brig. I asked about bringing this home. They said no.
Notice Elizabeth in the cell on the right.
She's pretending to be "sad [she's] in jail."
Spence takes a more furious view of incarceration.

Grandmomma, Papa, Elizabeth and Spencer at the "Lady Lex"
(and a stranger woman's behind)

Oh wait. Here's a good one:

Papa, Grandmomma, Spence & Lulu

Here's to happy memories.

JOHN "CARTER"!!

I had a lot of things to tell you about our road trip across the state; how much fun we had with our family; a few pictures to show you; etc., etc., etc...

Then.

Someone else decided he would like to take center stage. The. day. after we left. Who should decide to arrive? My brother, Mike and sister-in-law, Heather's baby boy!

(My sister, Brandy, summed it up perfectly: "Can you even believe how Heather [cheated] you out of meeting Carter!?!" Seriously, Heather. I thought we were friends. ;)

Anyhoo.

Introducing...

John "Carter"

Ya'll? I know I'm biased. But, that is a beautiful baby.

Old School Road Trip

We're on the road driving our kids from the north end of Texas to the south end of Texas to visit the Grandfolks. For those of you unfamiliar with the size of Texas, my Google map tells me that it's a twelve hour drive. We plan to break it down into a two-day trip and already have our reservations at a hotel about halfway. (Why do I feel like Clark Griswold all of a sudden?)

This is the stuff childhood memories are made of, right?! So, this should be fun, right?!

Shut your nay-saying mouth. I have convinced myself this will be fun. I have told the rest of the family this will be fun. This will be fun. Damn it. Now sit there and be quiet and don't say another word until you start having some fun. (Oh. I so have the Old School "Mom Speech" down! I'm ready!)

I don't know what blogging capabilities will be "on the road." So, don't take any radio silence as a sign that we're all sitting, weeping on the side of the road.

Or do.

Whatever.

This could go either way...

I Don't Like to Complain. BUT...

...well, where should we start?

How about the car?

It started with the popped tire. But, that's okay. I was in front of a Firestone.

Then I locked my keys in my car - again. While a wildfire was raging all around our house. And, this time the "top window" (aka, sunroof) wasn't open. I had to pay a guy to break into my car. And, you know? He may work for a "business" of "locksmiths," but he's still really good at breaking into cars and that's just really disconcerting.

I tweeted all of that and posted it on Facebook.

(See? That's why you should follow me on

Twitter and Facebook, too. Just sayin'.)

Then I got a ticket for having an expired license plate registration - the renewal for which was sitting on the desk at home. (So Shawn told me after I got the ticket.) Awesome-sauce.

But, I was too busy to blog about most of that because I was getting the kids through their last days of school and getting all of us ready to depart for our annual Memorial Day family gathering.

And, well, you might have heard what happened while we were there... And, y'all? I'm trying to be a good sport. But, THIS. REALLY. BITES. I mean. Have you ever thought about how you would put your underwear on if you couldn't put any weight on your left foot? Have you?! It involves your bare butt having to touch stuff.

Thus, began the journey of physical catastrophes for the Johnsons.

The very day we returned from the Emergency Room in Austin, Elizabeth shrieked with pain if you so much as tried to tuck her hair behind her ear. Well, I absolutely know what that means when a kid has been spending every waking moment in a swimming pool. Swimmer's Ear. We tried to treat her with the home-remedy of 1 part white vinegar/1 part warm water in her ear for five minutes twice a day. That did... absolutely nothing. The night we returned home, Shawn went to check on her before we went to bed ourselves. She was whimpering in her sleep. So. heartbreaking.

So, off to the pediatrician's office we go the next day. Me on crutches. And, no pain medicine because then how could I drive?

Subsequently, this update:

The Johnson boys were walking around pretty cocky about their grasp on physical well-being. Until... Spencer jammed his thumb so badly riding his bike that it swelled up to twice its size.

Ok. That's it. What more could possibly happen? Oh, funny you should ask.

This morning Elizabeth was putting on her shorts and something on the inside of her knee caught my eye. It was a huge boo-boo. I'm sorry. Did I say boo-boo? I should have said abscess. With red, puffy swelling about an inch and a half around the infection. Awesome. Let's just say she wasn't a fan of me knocking the top off of that pus scab and dousing it with hydrogen peroxide for about 15 minutes.

Oh, yeah. And, then? The ankle surgeon we were hoping to see here in town? On vacation for the next three weeks.

All these things? They led to this update this morning:

So. That's it. My big complaining post. Thissucksthissucksthissucksthissucks.

I'm done.

Now. Off to find some silver linings, some half-full glasses, some this-too-shall-pass. Because, somewhere? There is someone whose health is being threatened with things that won't mend. Worse. There are people whose baby's health is being threatened with things that won't mend.

So, this cross of mine? Not quite so big after all. (But, I do need to figure out how to pay that ticket. Because, I'm not going to be able to run very far if they come after me with a warrant for my arrest.)

I'm going to live! Hooray!

Checking in! Thanks for all the laughs, thoughts and prayers. So far we know that my ankle is not broken. I have a splint and crutches for the time being. When I get home, I'll see some doctors to see if I have torn ligaments, tendons or just a bad sprain.

For those of my friends who have know me for a lifetime, this IS my bad ankle. Poop. For those of you who don't know my medical history, I had my ankle reconstructed when I was 12-years-old. If I was bound to take out an ankle on vacation, you KNOW it would be that one, right?

Anyhoo, as much fun as a football-team-worth of morphin is in the moment, it has a tendency to make you feel horrible as it wears off. Double-poop. So, I'm off to let my awesome family wait on me hand and foot a little longer. (And, speaking of them... I'll put my family up against any family for BRINGING IT when the chips are down. You have never seen a family rally in the moment like mine did today. I really, really love you guys. Thank you for the ice, for the support, for keeping the kids calm and entertained, for running errands... well, for everything.)

As always, I'll keep you up to date with all the over-sharing I can!!

Updates on Spanish, Exercise and Fascinators

There's not much to report around here.

In fact, there's so little going on that I took my obsession with the royal wedding to a whole new level and put a fascinator on my head.

Yeah. This is me taking a picture of myself and my
fascinator in the bathroom mirror. Don't judge me.

I like my fascinator. But, my sister probably said it best when she responded with, "London - yes. Amarillo - no." *sad*

I took a week off of Spanish. But, I'm back at it now. It's making me learn past and future tenses and it's just hard! *Imagine me stomping my feet and whining* I'm pretty sure that I almost told the Spanish-speaking housekeeper that I was going to "sell" her instead of "pay" her, too. I'm guessing she might not come back after that. Some people don't like human trafficking.

I've also begun acting like English is my second language. The greeter at Wal-Mart told me to "come back soon," and I had to think of the proper response because I knew it wasn't, "You, too." I asked the checker at Hobby Lobby, "Where is framing?" because I couldn't think of the pleasantries that should surround that statement.

In other news: I joined a gym. Even sweet Shawn agreed that I was probably asking more of my pants on Sunday then they were able to give. Sad. I guess I can't pretend that carpool pickup is exercise anymore. I haven't "officially" exercised now for four months. That's a third of a year. I should be ashamed. But, really. I hate exercise so much, I'm not.

However, getting out of shape has made my joints hurt. This is the beauty of my aging body: If my muscles aren't strong, my joints do all the work and they hurt. If I get up from sitting too long, I walk just like my 66-year-old dad. (Sorry, Dad, but it's true. My gross heels look like yours, too. Thanks for the DNA.) My hip hurts so badly at the moment that I think I had better get a Life Alert button. There's a chance I might fall and not be able to get up.

But, wait. Maybe I'll ditch exercise altogether and get a scooter! A scooter and a Life Alert button. And a fascinator. I'd be the hottest 37-year-old on the block!

Wedding Weekend Update

I must check in with you all. Although, my head is so deeply buried in the 900 page epic Pillars of the Earth, I'm now just desperate to finish it so I can go back to being a productive member of society. My Kindle tells me I'm 70% through it. So, that means, what? I only have 270 more pages to go? Great. See you next month.

Anyhoo...

I'm completely overwhelmed by how many of you have told Shawn or me that you've been thinking of us and that you prayed for a peaceful weekend. Truly, I just don't have the words to express my gratitude.

And, I'm happy to report that absolutely nothing blog-worthy happened this weekend other than a beautiful bride married a handsome groom. I adore my new sister-in-law. Heather is beautiful, smart, gracious and funny. Well done, Mike.

And, that bump of Heather's? That's Carter! I'm way more excited about him than I am about Heather - and I'm really excited about Heather! He should make his debut mid-July.

Other than that, we had some great times visiting with family and making new friends. The Easter Bunny had been to every house we went to yesterday, so I'm pretty sure my kids are going to start insisting we travel on Easter - just so they can stock up on the loot!

So, that's it. Thanks again for all the thoughts and prayers. Throw a few more up for Mike and Heather's new marriage and their life together. Like I told Mike: I am a better person because of the person with whom I chose to spend my life. I pray the same blessing for them.

These Women Are CRAZY

Not really. But, some of them read this blog and I thought I would freak 'em out for a second. Don't worry, girls, I rarely tell everything I know. You can pay me later...

So, I'm back from hanging out with Shawn's mom and aunts, and one cousin. Y'all, I'm hard pressed to come up with any reason to let twelve human beings come out of your body. But, when I see these eight sisters in one place; and how much they love each other; and how much they laugh... well, then? Then, I can understand. The love is multiplied exponentially. And the laughter? Let's just say I really wish I could bank some of that laughter.

Now, I'm getting the family ready to go to Corpus on Friday. I've begun moving on auto-pilot. I get up in the morning and get the kids to school because there is just no other option. I buy the things we need to pack for the trip because it needs to be done.

And, I'm so tired. I'm physically tired, but I'm also more tired of family drama than I could ever begin to put into words. My ex-brother-in-law will be at my brother's wedding of about 30 guests. And, to say that situation continues to be filled with drama would be the understatement of the year.

So, Shawn and I keep putting one foot in front of the other. We smile and laugh (instead of cry). We pray (instead of worrying how it will all play out). The Johnsons will do our damnedest to do what God would have us do in every situation. We'll look at our nieces' and our kids' faces if we start to lose our focus.

And, we pray. We pray. We pray.

Stop the World. I'd Like to Get Off, Please.

I'm going to El Paso with my Mother-in-law on Friday... for business, not pleasure (as in, "getting down to business" helping to organize her late mom's house).

In order to use free airline passes, our flight leaves Friday at six forty in the morning. Since I feel fairly certain that no pilot could possibly operate a 42 ton plane that early in the morning (Seriously. People are awake, dressed and functioning that early in the morning?! How is that humanly possible?!), I should probably bid you adieu right now. There is no way we can survive taking off and landing before God is even awake.

We get back on Monday and Shawn, the kids and I turn around and leave again on Friday to go to Corpus Christi for my little brother's wedding. I'm not sure how the boy I still think of as five-years-old could possibly be getting married... But, I haven't gotten any calls from CPS about underage marriages in the family, so maybe I'm a few years off on his age.

Regardless to say, the next few weeks will be a little busy. I'm going to be singing an extra loud "Hallelujah!" come Easter Sunday when The Johnsons are back on a plane headed home to resume "life as usual."

I'll try to keep in touch. But, just in case... miss me!

A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words (in Therapy)

My childhood pictures keep appearing on Facebook (Brandy!). And, it has led me to a couple of conclusions about my girlhood.

#1. Evidently, the only way anyone could get a young me to look at the camera was by yelling, "Alison! BOO!"

It looks like it made my older sister, Brandy, a little nervous, too.

My mom on the other hand... quite pleased about people startling her toddler.

I actually added the next one to Facebook myself, with the comment,

"Holy $#!t! Do you see Grandma?!"

And, also?

#2. Someone should have stepped in and stopped all the neckwear!

WTH, people?! "Chippendale Dancer" and "Late Night at the Office" are not really "looks" we should be trying to achieve for our pre-teen daughters.

For all of the brilliant comments the following little beauty elicited, click here.

Forget the kids. This time I'm throwing the coins in my own therapy fund.

God Doesn't Like Vacations

And, here's how I know: If He did, life wouldn't be so chaotic upon return. It's like you have to pay for vacation by returning to a home that has completely fallen apart in your absence.

Case in point: the last load of laundry in the dryer that has been "fluffed" about 17 times since it went in last Wednesday.

To be fair, this could have less to do with God's feelings on vacations and more to do with "getting plugged in" to our new town. (I'm suspicious that this might be the case, since I tried to make a dinner date with some of our new friends and the first available date we could find was a Thursday in three weeks.)

Whatever the reason, this is what last week looked like:

Monday and Tuesday were deceptively calm. I took lunch to Spencer for making a 100 on his spelling test while we were gone. We got Lulu's hair cut in the "bob" she has been requesting. (Shawn has been requesting it, too, to be honest. I don't think he could bare to brush one more tangle out of his precious baby girl's head. :) Shawn had business dinners so I had to get the kids to bed by myself. (I really think he just does that so I'll appreciate him more... Ass.)

Wednesday began that elusive laundry. And, then...

Thursday my mom came to town. The kids had Fine Arts Night at their school. We saw their art displayed; Spence's class sang. (Well done. So proud. Got to bed late.)

Friday I tootled on down the highway a couple of hours for a friend's birthday lunch. I got home; took Lulu for a "girls' date" (that means we went to The Discovery Center and walked around the park) while I waited to pick Spence up from a birthday party. We took the kids for pizza for Family Date Night. (Got to bed late.)

The next day (Saturday) we awoke to hit the road back down the highway for a wedding. Came home the same day. (Got to bed late.)

We woke for church on Sunday, came home for some Sunday naps (hallelujah!), worked on Spencer's Flat Stanley project, and raced out the door - again - to get to my in-laws' church for a gospel quartet concert to which they had invited us (leaving the Flat Stanley supplies exploded around the floor and living room).

Last night, as we put the kids to bed (late again), stepping over piles of their toys, shoes, and clothes that hadn't made it to the laundry hamper, Shawn looked around and said, "Well, at least the upstair and the downstairs match."

Elizabeth was showing signs of wear this morning. But, I just kicked everyone out the door to work and school. Now I'm looking around at this house/mess/dump sight and wondering what it takes to get declared a Disaster Zone - I'm not so much interested in the federal funding as I am in the volunteer labor and National Guard forces.

Oh well, I guess I better get started. I need to go fluff the laundry in the dryer one more time.

Sí, Yo Estoy Aprendiendo Español

Yes, I'm learning Spanish because, well, duh. Why wouldn't I be learning Spanish?

Actually, I'm learning Spanish for Lent. I don't usually like to talk about what I'm doing for Lent*, but I realized it was a little odd to announce that I was learning Spanish without a bit of an explanation.

Anyway, I stole my mom's Rosetta Stone. And... I'm off.

I've finished Lesson 1. So, pretty much, if you need me say "hello," "goodbye," or tell you that he/she/they are eating/drinking/running/reading/or cooking... I might be able. If you gave me some time to think about it.

And, that Spanish title for this post?

I had to use Google Translator.

*(DISCLAIMER: The following expressed views, opinions, positions or strategies are Ali's alone and do not necessarily reflect the views, opinions, positions or strategies of any other religious and/or reasonable person in this universe.) I think Lent is our time to think about the sacrifice and gift God gave to each of us, personally, on Easter. Therefore, whatever we sacrifice or dedicate as a penitence to God should probably be kept between us and God, don't you think? I mean, I know someone might ask, or you might have to explain why you're passing on that glass of wine (so people don't accuse you of being pregnant and then you're all mad and that's not what God intended for his children...) - I mean, I don't hold it as closely a guarded secret as I would, say, my cherry pie recipe. But I don't know. For me, it's personal.

But, don't even get me started on the people who use Lent as their own personal kick-start to a diet every year... But, I'm not judging. Nope. I gave that up for Lent, too. Oh. Wait. Damn...

I think I'm probably on a "Watch List"

So. My maiden name. It's Selim. We pronounce it Salem. We got it from my Swedish great-grandfather. But, that name doesn't scream Scandinavian ancestry.

Couple it with my first name, Ali (really just the first part of Alison) and... well... growing up, people did not expect to see me walk through the door.

It really did take me two weeks longer than Shawn to get my passport approved. I'm just saying. My maiden name is misleading.

Well, last night I realized that this post ("I'd Like a Side of Cardboard with that, Please") is listed over there ---> as one of my most popular ones. ?! That doesn't make any sense. I mean it's clever (duh!), but it's nothing special. Then I realized it had the word "anthrax" in it.

Then, today they arrested a suspected terrorist in the town from which I just moved. The article even quotes the Assistant Attorney General stressing the "importance of vigilance."

Uh oh. I'm so on a "watch list." But, let's be clear. Unlike this suspect, I have never:

• researched online how to construct an IED using several chemicals as ingredients;
• acquired or taken a substantial step toward acquiring most of the ingredients and equipment necessary to construct an IED;
• conducted online research of several potential U.S. targets;
• or described my desire for violent jihad and martyrdom in blog postings and a personal journal.

Nope. Nope, Homeland Security. Just a simple ol' housewife here talking about my bizarro sunroom, roach encounters and how much I love my son and daughter; and, maybe, just maybe, every now and then I get hit on, just to keep it exciting.

So, perhaps I'm good. *fingers crossed*



P.S. Before I posted this I asked Shawn, "Will you come read this blog post and make sure I can publish it without getting arrested as a terrorist?" He answered, "I'm going to say, 'No. You can't.' just for the fact you think you have to ask."

Oh yeah. I signed up with bloglovin. Hopefully, I can be a better follower of all my favorite blogs this way. You can follow my blog with bloglovin by clicking here.

What I've been doing while I wasn't blogging

I know it's been long enough since I've checked in that some of you have started to worry that the reality of moving has finally sunk in and I've begun rocking myself in the corner. I haven't.

What I haven't been able to tell you is that Shawn moved me to a new city and then left town for ten days.

Rude.

I couldn't tell you because of the murderers and all... And, by the way, my fears were not alleviated by the fact that he took the time to reacquaint me with the handgun before he left. Awesome. He thinks he's moved me to a town of thieves and scoundrels.

But, I scored some really awesome roses out of the deal.

And, he's back now, being as helpful around the house and with the kids as ever. I can get back to blogging. Finally. Does he not know how his earning a living really interferes with what I want to do sometimes?! (His response would be: "Yeah. Turns out everyone in the family likes to eat.")

So, to catch you up:

Thursday, I traveled two hours to get my hair done. Excessive? If you think so, clearly you've never loved your hair colorist. That. And, it's Joyce who's taken care of me since I was fifteen. Sometimes you just have to travel two hours to get your hair done.

While I was there, I asked her to wax my eyebrows. Eyebrow maintenance has been very low on my list of priorities since moving. I just haven't been motivated to find "an eyebrow person." (I'm not sure how one gets oneself motivate to find "an eyebrow person," actually.) Joyce went to work and exclaimed, "Oh my gosh, girl! These eyebrows! No wonder you haven't made any friends up there!"

Rude.

And, right after she ripped the wax off she said, "That was probably like the first time!" Well, ummm, Joyce? I'm not sure what "first time" you're talking about, but,  no. No, it wasn't. At all.

I'm proud to announce that the last of the boxes are unpacked (well, except for the piles and piles and piles of boxes of china and crystal. Why, pray tell, do I own so much china and crystal? You would think I'm much fancier than I actually am. But, there's nowhere for it to go in this house, so, for now, it will stay in the boxes and I shall proclaim myself unpacked! And fancy...)

Back to the story: On Friday, I worked on actually decorating the house. My mom has a friend who is a decorator. And, if you think I'm too proud to take advantage of that relationship, you'd be wrong. That was slower going than I thought. And, of course I discovered that I needed to buy a few things because, well, duh.

Priscilla came to visit on Saturday. And, since she was here we asked her to babysit so we could go on a Date Night. We're awesome hosts like that. Seriously. We should write a book.

But, we all had fun while she visited. You would have thought by the kids' reactions that iCarly herself had come for a visit.

We all drove back to Lubbock together on Sunday. We had to clear some final things out of the house for closing (turns out the new owners don't want our broken armoir or ottoman, or all the miscellaneous crap that was hiding under said armoir and ottoman - weird). And, on Monday there was that shopping I told you had to be done for the new house...

But, anyway. We're back. The kids are back to school. I'm back to blogging. All is right with the world.

The house is a wreck. So, I'm off to get busy. A girl doesn't score roses around here for nothin', you know!



Also, for those of you who have been wondering, the divorce is final. Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition. I never want to experience anything like that again. as. long. as. I. live.

You Could Just Dream for Daughters Like Us

So, my sister's been getting divorced. (What?! No. Who knew? Ok. Shut up, there's a point here.) My mom was down visiting her last week. While there, they went out shopping. My mom saw a St. Francis of Assisi statue that was an exact replica, at the exact price, of one that she had talked herself out of buying here at home. As any good shopper would, she took this as a sign that she should come home and buy the statue for herself. But, she told my sister, if it wasn't in the shop at home anymore, she was going to send Brandy back to buy that one and ship it to her.

Later, when they returned home from shopping, Brandy came to my mom with money and said something to the effect of, "This holiday has been so crazy. Please take this and buy your St. Francis with it for your Christmas present. It will be one less thing I'll have worry about taking care of."

My mom thought it was fairly brilliant and funny and was recounting the story to us after she returned home.

I called my sister.

The next time I saw my mom I said, "My holidays are hectic and busy this year, too. So, I'm sending Brandy a check. Half that St. Francis is from me."

She laughed until she choked.

"Her children arise and call her blessed" indeed.