What Does This Tell Me?

I'm honestly not a procrastinator. But, in order to write Finley and do so without hating what I churn out, I have to immerse myself completely in that world, in that era. I manage to almost get there and then there's a toddler singing, "Mommy! I have poopie in my ba'gina!" or a teenager wanting to talk or a little girl who desperately needs me to listen to her rendition of the new Hannah Montana song. And they always come first, no matter what.

I will post it. I just don't like it, yet. And for those who've asked about the Chronicles, yes, they are finished and I will post those when the time is right.

In other news, I'm a finalist. And it's for the Guilty Pleasures category. Blogs you love to hate. And hate to love. I'm looking in the tea leaves, here. What does that mean, exactly? Maybe I'm just being overly sensitive (me??? NEVER). Or maybe I just have poopie in my ba'gina.

The winner will be announced at the Chicago Blogher. I won't be there because we can't afford it, but good luck to all the finalists and thanks, again, for giving me a shot at an award.

I DOOO Like Belly Laughs!

A storm blew in last night and the ferocity of it woke me up at 4 a.m. As I was checking the national weather service website, Chris woke up to pee.

"Baby, can you check on Harmony?" I asked.

"Mmph."

When I was crawling back into bed, he came into the room, clutching V's interactive Pooh and cursing (Harmony adopted him a few months ago). "Well, I figured out part of the reason she's probably been waking up in the middle of the night." He threw Pooh in the corner where the bear chirped, "Good morning, Virginia!"

"What happened?"

"The house is quiet as a tomb. I'm trying to be stealthy and check on Harmony without waking her up and as soon as I leaned over to touch her forehead, that sonofabitch piped up." And then, in an eerie impression of Pooh, "I dooo like dinner!"

No one expects to hear a spot-on Pooh imitation at 4 a.m. And the funniest thing was that he was honestly angry at this harmless bear. I burst out laughing.

"It's not funny," he chided me. "I almost fell over on Harmony."

For some reason, that caused me to laugh even harder.

"You'll be blogging this, won't you?"

You would think by now he'd have learned.

Interview with Dennis Ferrier

Here is the interview with Dennis Ferrier that my brother-in-law did regarding Camp U-Grow (thanks, anonymous!). The publicist apparently issued a statement at the last minute claiming liability and the homeowners insurance facing termination because of the climbing wall and ATV's on the property.

Really? Why weren't Chad & Leslie just given that reason instead of the story about the bus barn?

I'm an insurance agent. I do home insurance and liability policies all day long, and, yes, for homes worth millions and with all sorts of bizarre exposures.

All I'm going to do is cough.

Cough*bullshit*cough.

Updates and Miracles

EDIT: For those of you not on the update list, I will now be putting various links or causes, people I want to help who maybe just need a kind word in their comments, over in my left sidebar. Today is Someone Spoil Me. If you hate that part of my blog, DON'T LOOK. SERIOUSLY. LOOK AWAY!

Miracles:

I came home the other day and heard a strange noise coming from the laundry room. I followed the noise and stopped dead in my tracks when I came upon my teenage son doing the unthinkable: laundry. Loading. Drying. Folding.

I stared, open-mouthed, and my eyes followed his movements like it was a tennis match as he picked an item up, deposited it in the washer and then turned around for another. I would have been less surprised if there had been leprechauns in there, doing keg stands, smoking cigars and wearing togas.

Finally, he noticed me and my dumbfounded expression. "Nah," he said, "don't be impressed. My motivations are totally selfish. I'm out of clothes."

Whatever. Most boys would just re-wear something dirty. HE DID LAUNDRY. Y'ALL. LAUNDRY. I called everyone in my phone to come and see the unicorn of teenagers but no one was home. HE DID LAUNDRY.

_________________

If you're in the Nashville area, tune in to channel 4 at 6:00 for an in-depth look at U-Grow, it's kids and an interview with it's founders. Dennis Ferrier reports.

Still Going

My sweet blog friend, Paul, donated some more DS's for the kids and they are en route. One is going to South Africa and won't be there for a bit, but the others are here in the US. Go see Brooke and her adorable boy, Xander, who received his yesterday.

Oh, and Paul is having some really hard times of his own and I'd love for the kids who received a DS to send him a note or homemade get well card. If you're interested, please email me and I'll give you an address to mail them to. Thanks to his efforts and yours, we almost have every single child accounted for. By my last count, there are only three left.

Woe

A customer called me, frustrated. "You have to do something about this premium!"

"Let me take a look, ma'am."

"Gah! High! We're broke! You have to do something about this!"

I was stunned. "You have a million dollar house."

"I know! Do something!"

"Two hundred thousand in jewelry."

"Really, only about one-eighty. This is so high!"

"And eight cars."

"Economy! Shot! Broke, I say!"

"There are just the two of you, correct?"

"One income! Broke! What can you do?"

"Go outside and have my co-worker run over my head with his truck. That's about it, really."

Hope

I have been sick.

Sick is a word that can encompass a lot of things. You can have a cold, you can have cancer or you can feel like the sun coming up one more day is a mockery of the way you feel.

I have been called many things, but the one that bothers me most is the word "good". In my meager relationship with the bible, I learned that good was a word reserved for Jesus and Jesus alone. He was called that because he was flawless.

You can wear medals of honor and be dishonorable. You can cover yourself in decorations of bravery and be a coward.

I am verbose, but today, words escape me.

There is always someone who can't get out of bed and run.

There is always someone who has to take one more pill or suffer one more treatment that makes them so sick they question their God.

There is someone, tonight, sleeping in the heat of the unforgiving desert, protecting us and wishing they had smelled their baby's scent. Just once.

There is always someone who is longing for a blade and the release of blood.

There is always someone in a motel room alone, feeling as though their life is unremarkable.

There is always someone who can inspire hope. Be that person, today. My God, you are so needed.