Unexpected Moments. I'm just sayin'.

* Just a note before I start. Joey was gone last week which means I double and triple checked the doors each night and peeked in on the girls pretty much every time I heard the wind blow.


10:48 PM. The girls are sleeping (HAHAHAHA!!!) The girls are in their room. I'm in bed wondering why we pay for satellite if nothing is ever on. I decide to check on the girls one last time, then conk out.

10:49 PM. Unlock and re-lock all four doors - just to be sure. (I get a little psycho-cautious when Joeys gone. Don't judge!)

10:50 PM. I walk the hall and reach out for the knob on the girls bedroom door. My hand still two inches away, the door flies open.

-Blood-curdling screaming!
-The dog barking!
-I'm sure some where crystal is shattering!

I freeze - hand still outstretched.
Maddie backs into the nightstand and passes an incredible amount of gas.
Shelby staggers back, trips on the leg of her pj's and falls to the floor.
The 'security' dog, of course, runs to hide.

10:52 PM. The screaming has turned to shouting.
Maddie - "Why did you do that?"
Me - "I was just coming to check on you! Why were you up?"
Shelby - "I needed to go to the bathroom!"
Me - "Do you still or should I get a towel?"

10:53 PM. Shouting turns to laughing. Hysterically!

10:55 PM. We decide to break out the chips and salsa and watch a movie. Seriously, who's going to sleep after that adrenaline pumping ruckus?

You gotta enjoy the little things.

I'm just sayin'.

Dawn of the Dead-Looking

It's been one of those weeks! Seems like I'm saying that a lot lately. And from reading some of your blogs, sounds like I'm not the only one.

For me, last week started with a knock on the door.  At 6:30.  AM.  Are you kidding me? Forget it!
It wasn't yet time for a visit from my new special someone - the Orkin man. (What woman living in the country doesn't love him!) We weren't expecting anyone and Joey was already off to work. I figure if it's important, they'll call. I am not answering that door.

First of all, I haven't reached that highly evolved state of wifey-hood where my house is run so efficiently that it is pristine every hour of the day.
Secondly, we are not what you'd call 'Victoria's Secret' sleepers. All of my cutsie nighties were replaced years ago with maternity moo-moos and nursing pads, and have yet to make a comeback. I do no freshen my lipstick before my head hits the pillow, and I don't wake with my hair perfectly coiffed.

Three unanswered knocks later, these guys are stomping around on my back deck! The dog is going nuts, and I'm getting a little miffed! At times like this, vanity takes a back seat to the concerns of safety for my two little sweeties still snoozing away in their room.

I jumped up looking like an extra from a bad zombie movie. I turban a towel around my head to hide the rats nest, swish a little toothpaste around my mouth - after all I don't want to kill the guys - and grab the phone on my way out. After dialing 9-1 and firmly placing my finger again on the 1 key, I throw open the back door. Looking as fierce as one can while wearing Mickey Mouse pj's, I gave my best "here's Mama bear, don't mess with my cubs" look.

Turns out, it's the homeowner walking around with a painter discussing home repair.  Ok. I mean, they could have called to warn a gal, but Ok.

So that was the start of my week. Painters were her every morning by 7.
I also got a call around 11 am from Joe telling me we had a housing inspection at 2:30. WHAT!?!

And so it went.

In the end, we had a clean, freshly painted house. Joey was called to KY for a week. And the smell is wearing off of the dog. Still don't know what he rolled in, but it fit the week perfectly.

"Project Runaway"

Daddy was down to visit this last week! Woo-hoooo!!

He's been preaching since 1964  . . .

and is taking a much needed sabbatical.

The Dr. suggested  ordered one full year, minimum, time off. No preaching, teaching, revivals, no anything that could possibly bring on any type of stress. (You gettin' all this, Paddy?)

As the Doc so gently explained  flatly put it, if we want dad to be around another year, (we do), and if he eventually wants to get back into ministry, (he does), then this time off is crucial!

The 'rents currently live in their old hometown and attend dad's childhood church. Small town America is a great place to be, kind of like 'Cheers' - everybody knows your name.

They also know where you live.

So to really get away, daddy heads to our house. He can pack up his overly frayed nerves, over-worked pacemaker, and his sleep apnea machine, throw them along with a hefty bag full of prescription drugs into the old 'red Bomber' (more on that later) and high-tail it out of town.

As it turns out, Hattiesburg is a pretty good place to 'get lost'. Dad can go to church with us and just blend in. He's not a known pastor who could be called on at any time for anything. He's just another member lost in worship.

He can buzz all over town and remain anonymous. No one here knows him.

He can take a chair and sit at the beach all day, or splash in the waves with the grand kids.

Usually his visits go a little something like this;

or this

or this!

After all, relaxation is the main goal here!

This last trip however was a little different.

For years now, my dad has had a 'wish list' of sorts. Things he'd love to have, but wouldn't die without. The a fore-mentioned 'Red Bomber' is a prime example. In a previous life it was a Geo Metro. Why did he want a Metro, asked I? 50 miles to the gallon that's why, said he! A friend put him on to this particular little wonder a few months back, and daddy just couldn't pass on the deal. He saved it from being parted out, and after a few quick fixes, like getting the doors to close and putting tires on it, he finally had the car of his, ahem, dreams!

With that one checked off the list, daddy was on to the next conquest - a camper!

Up until now, practicality had always won out in the 'Great Camper Debate'. But this time the RV gods dropped a golden opportunity right in daddy's lap.

Just a few miles down the road from us, and auction house was having a big sale on campers. Crazy good prices!

Yeah, an auction house. I'm sure that's exactly the kind of calm, serene atmosphere the Doc was recommending. (smirk)

Anywho, when daddy heard about the sale he headed down for the week.

It wasn't as relaxing as usual, but he accomplished his goal. After 4 days messing around at the auction house, blood pressure through the roof at times, I'm sure, he was the proud owner of this little baby;

Did I mention he called an old preacher buddy (the one who sold him the Metro, of course) and told him about the sale? Yep. A quick nine hour drive later, he and his missus were here buying a trailer of their own! 

It wasn't exactly a laze-about week, but there was one quiet evening spent at the beach. And a new 'toy' to play with!  

The only thing missing was mom. She, bless her heart, was working. She has a wonderful job that she'd love to keep for a few more years!

Until then, daddy will be tweaking the trailer and, as he put it, 'frilling it up'. So that when mom does retire, they can runaway together - in style!