Careful what you wish for

It's been 2 weeks since our grass has been mowed. The Ocho isn't taking her training seriously and Handiman hasn't been getting home from work before 7:00 most nights. And it's been raining non-stop.

Why don't I cut it, you ask? Ummmm. Yeah. That's not what I do.

So, on Saturday morning Handiman had intended to plow the field. But, again, the rain. So he was looking around for something to do. I said in my typical joking fashion "Why don't you remodel the bathroom so I don't have to clean it." Ha Ha Ha.

Approximately 15 minutes later, this is what it looked like:


But wait! The pictures don't capture it all! There is that lovely drywall dust haze settling in, not only in the bathroom but the adjoining master bedroom. And there's the burning smell from his saw permeating everything in it's wake. Nice. Very nice.

Once I heard the familiar sounds of hammers and saws, I rushed in to pile all of my essentials (toothbrush, make-up, hair dryer, etc.) in a basket and whisk them to safety. This ain't my first rodeo, people.

It was hours after the destruction began (and drywall dust was settling) that Handiman realized his toothbrush was still on the counter. Ha. Ha. Ha.

So, it looks like we're getting a new bathroom. If it keeps on raining I'm terrified that our master bedroom might be in danger as well. Of course, pretty soon our entire house will be eaten by our yard. So, no biggie.

Granddaggy

Today is my step-dad's 80th birthday. My Mom has a big shindig planned for this coming weekend. Family and friends are coming in from all over to help celebrate. In preparation for the party, I was given the assignment of creating a video montage of his life. My Mom and I poured over pictures and I eventually laid them out and set them to music. But it just didn't seem to do him justice.

He was born dirt poor in rural Alabama. He lied about his age when he was 16 so he could enlist in the US Air Force early. He was stationed all over the world, from Hawaii, Japan, Germany and England to Vietnam. He was a part of the Atom Bomb test crew in 1958. He drove a jeep in President Eisenhower's inauguration parade. He became an accomplished pilot and flew on Air Force One curing the Nixon administration. He was awarded The Bronze Star for bravery. He suffered hearing damage while serving and today is severely hearing impaired.

After retirement, he became a cattle farmer. That's who he was when I met him. He married my Mom and moved us out to his farm, with chickens and cows and eventually 2 horses that he would buy especially for me.

Jim Massey is an American hero. And he's been a pretty amazing father figure to me throughout my life. But you know why I love him today more than ever? Because of the way I've watched him love my daughter.

I never knew either of my grandfathers growing up so I have no point of reference. But I'm pretty sure Jim's been doing everything just right.

When she was first born he would hold her and feed her a bottle. As she got older, she'd sit right beside him in his recliner and watch his favorite old westerns. When she started to talk she called him "Granddaggy" and it stuck. In fact, that's what we all call him now.

Sometimes she would ask Granddaggy to sit in the closet, and he would. Sometimes she'd ask Granddaggy to wear a hat with a pink bow, and he would. Sometimes she'd ask Granddaggy to crawl around in a pile of leaves, and he would.

He helped her catch her first fish. He let her "drive" his truck while they listened to old Hank Williams songs. And about a year ago he started giving her $2 every time he'd see her.

In other words, he's everything a Granddaggy ought to be.

As I was going through all his pictures, I knew I couldn't include all of the ones of the two of them so I decided to make a special one just for my blog. I hope he likes it.

He's been a hero to many people in this world, but no one more than her.

Make video montages at www.OneTrueMedia.com

Happy Birthday Grandaggy. We sure do love you!

Wicked Fun

Saturday was one of those days we've been counting down to for months. Back in June, I found out the touring company of "Wicked" was stopping in Nashville. I informed Handiman that he needed to find a way to buy 3 tickets. I didn't care what he had to sell or how many days we didn't get to eat, we were going.

You've probably figured out by now that I'm all about "life experiences". Of course, I want my daughter to be well educated and I'm glad that she's interested in softball. And I'm grateful that she's enjoyed taking dance & piano lessons. But I know that at the end of her life she'll remember and appreciate the special moments like seeing her first Broadway stage musical with her parents more than she will any spelling test grade she ever got.

Granted, at the age of eight she's already experienced more in her life than I had by the age of 30. She's walked across the Golden Gate Bridge, been acknowledged by Miley Cyrus on a movie set and skipped school for a Jonas Brother's concert. And I love that for her. But I love even more that I've been right there with her enjoying every expression of amazement and wonder. Our family's made some sweet memories together and Saturday was no exception.

You must understand that The Ocho L-O-V-E-S "The Wizard of Oz". She's watched the movie a million times and is already in the planning stages to make it her next bedroom decorating theme. So, when I found out "Wicked" was coming to a city near us, I was all over it. Obviously I'm a big musical lover and although the HSM franchise is all kinds of awesome, I want The Ocho to have the full experience of watching something come to life on the stage.

Most of the theater musicals I've seen have been high school productions or community theater. But there was that one time when I was about 26, I went on a business trip to New York City with my boss. As a treat, she bought us tickets to see "Beauty and The Beast" on Broadway. It was an experience I will never forget. I was sitting 3rd row center and it was the most spectacular thing I'd ever seen. Hopefully, one day we can take The Ocho to Broadway but in the meantime, Broadway was coming to us and we weren't going to miss it.

Thankfully, we didn't have to sell anything or skip any meals. Our seats were more near the top of Dorothy's cyclone than the edge of the yellow brick road, but we were mesmerized nonetheless.

From the staging to the costumes to the music to the story to the flying monkeys, it far exceeded my expectations. And as much as I loved production, the look on The Ocho's face the moment Glinda made her grand entrance flying out in her giant bubble was worth the price of admission. Later she said it was way better than any movie she'd ever seen.....and a theater lover was born.

If you ever get the chance to see it, you must go. And if you can take an 8 year old girl with you, that would be even better.

Since she's already following in my footsteps in so many other areas of her life, I informed The Ocho yesterday that when she's older I'm going to enter her into a beauty pageant where she'll preform a Broadway classic for her talent. Thankfully, "Wicked" provides one with Ocho written all over it. And it happens to be her favorite. Go figure. : )

Kanye comes to the grocery store

Taylor Swift and I have a lot in common. We both like music. We both like to write songs about people we know. And we've both had a crush on at least one Jonas Brother.

But last Saturday I could never have guessed how our lives would become forever intertwined.

It was around 10:30 am and I had just finished grocery shopping. I found myself in the longest line in grocery store history, just like always, when a cashier graciously opened up another station and offered to show me mercy and kindness. It was just like winning your first VMA! I couldn't believe that out of all the shoppers waiting there, I had been chosen! I quickly hurried over, extended my heartfelt gratitude to her and began unloading my filled-to-the-brim cart.

I only had about 10 items on the conveyor belt when this lady appears out of nowhere, pulls up behind me and reaches over me to grab one of the placeholder things. I figured she either wanted to congratulate me on my good fortune or wanted to be ready when her time came. But then the unthinkable happened. She plopped it down right beside the items I'd placed on the belt and began to unload her ENTIRE CART before I've made even a dent in mine. There was literally no room left for my remaining 40 items.

Both the cashier and I just stared at her in confusion. But she didn't budge. And she didn't apologize. She just stood there with a smirk on her face as if she's really taught me a lesson.

The cashier looked at me anxiously and said "I'm sorry". I think she was sure I was about to slug the woman right in the gut. Or at the very least unleash a tirade beginning with "who do you think you are?" But I didn't. I couldn't. I had never in my life been the victim of such outright rudeness. I was stunned. I was also very aware that for all I knew everyone around me attends my church and knows I sing in the choir. So, to preserve my dignity and Christian testimony I simply said "that's OK." and began handing my items to the cashier. One at a time. Very, very, very slowly.

The experience stuck with me all week. I couldn't get over how it felt to be the victim of such bad behavior. I relayed the story to my family when I got home and a few friends over the next couple of days and they were outraged as well. Still, I longed for somebody to commiserate with me on a personal level. Then I awoke on Monday morning to hear the news of what happened to Taylor Swift.

Few people can know what it's like to have your moment of glory stolen away by someone so vindictive and hateful. But I can. And Taylor can. And I'm sure if I could share my story with her we'd become the best of friends.

In a few hours I'll head back to that same store and get stuck in that same long line. But Taylor has given me hope. Hope that another register will open and Beyonce herself will be waiting to give me another shot at speedy check-out.

The unexpected

This post won't amount to much, but there are a few things that occurred this week that I feel I need to document.

For instance, Monday night's dinner. I entrusted my family's nutritional provision to Kraft Food & Family magazine. They rarely let me down. I will state for the record that I was a little skeptical of this particular recipe from the get-go but The Ocho liked the picture so I decided to go for it. It was a tater tot casserole. How could you possibly go wrong with the words "tater tot" in the title?

I'll tell you how. By mixing ground beef, cream of mushroom soup, mixed vegetables and cheese. Then topping it with tater-tots. That's how. Because the result? Disaster. It smelled horrible. And it tasted just like it smelled. Lesson learned. We all took one bite and Handiman headed for the Wendy's drive-thru. I totally didn't expect to be repulsed by tater tots.... but I will forever be.

Next up, Wednesday morning's workout. I got a little side-tracked when I got up and knew I wouldn't have time to complete my torture-by-Jillian DVD so I decided to take a quick walk around the neighborhood, just to feel like I had done something exercise-ish. After a few minutes I picked up the pace (partly because it was still dark and there was a man walking right behind me). Then I must have lost all sense of who I am and what I'm on this earth to do, because I started jogging.

You heard me. I said JOGGING. Once I started, I wanted to see how far I could go. And I went farther than I could have ever imagined. I supposed I should stop and give thanks to Jillian. She can work wonders. And I will give all glory to God, because there is no way I was jogging by my own power. And since it might not ever happen again, I wanted to write it down here.

The third unexpected surprise came from my friend Big Nanny. You might have noticed the button at the top of my page. It would seem that my friend who some might consider to be a little high maintenance has decided to go on a mission trip to Africa. I've known her for a while and consider her one of my closest friends and I totally did NOT see that comin'. I'm so proud of her and excited to see how God uses her and changes her through this experience. Pray for her & those she'll be working with.

So, what have I learned this week? Tater-tots do not equal good food. Jogging will not kill you. And Big Nanny is willing to spend a week of her life in a country with no Cracker Barrel.

Unexpected indeed.

Wordless Wednesday

Back to where it all began

Today I took a break from scanning and spent the Labor Day holiday with my 2 favorite people. Rather than leave the day to chance I decided to make a plan for us a few days ago. We would be making a pilgrimage back to the spot that marks the beginning of the Wood life as we know it.

(I'm not sure why I chose Labor Day for this monumental event. It certainly would have been better suited for Valentine's Day or our wedding anniversary but the thought came to me last week, so Labor Day it was.)

Handiman & I took the Ocho to Percy Warner park in Nashville for a hike. Our destination?

This was the spot where Handiman and I would come when we were dating. We would picnic in the park then hike up the trail to Quiet Point. There's a ledge with a wooden bench overlooking the hill. This is where we would sit and talk. Sometimes we'd pray. One time he carved our initials in a tree. Another time he pulled out a diamond and proposed to me. We only went back a few times after we were married and our last trip was at least a decade ago. I thought it would be fun to visit with The Ocho and with any luck, maybe we could find our initials in the tree.

We started out grabbing our picnic lunch from Subway. (Once upon a time we would buy gormet pasta salad and pack it in a fancy picnic basket. Those days are long gone.)

Once we finished our eating we headed out on the trail. As you will notice The Ocho was taking this hiking thing very seriously. She came well equipped with everything one would need to survive in the wild: A box of kleenex and her Teddy Bear. They were safely packed away in her Build-A-Bear backpack.

You'll also notice the orange ankle-band. I'm not sure what purpose that served but I think it made her feel more rugged.

Once we found Quiet Point we searched for our tree. The problem was that it's been 16 years since he whittled into it with his pocket knife and it wasn't visible anymore. Because of that, I suggested he pull out his knife and do it again. I was not met with the same romantic whimsy as in days gone by.

Before heading back up the trail we took a few more photos:


On our hike we enjoyed all that nature had to offer. The tall trees, the sounds of birds and bugs, the squirrels in their nests and a baby snake that slithered right across the path in front of me. Handiman attempted to swing from a vine only to hurt his elbow. And occasionally he would stop to try and push over a dead tree trunk. The Ocho demanded he "stop destroying nature!" (I think she's seen that stinkin' Disney Channel "Send It On" video one to many times myself.)

I have to give her credit though. She hiked the whole way without whining or complaining. In fact, she would have gone further but the 2 old geezers she was with demanded to turn around and head back down.

Our trip back to Quiet Point made for a fun day. Not only was it nostalgic but I can sound really outdoorsy when I tell people I went hiking on my day off.

To be fair, I'll go first

I'm sitting here with a new toy and it's clear that I'm not going to be able to control myself. The fun and enjoyment it provides me is too enticing and addictive.

I. CAN'T. STOP. SCANNING.

Here's the deal. My mom has been busy planning my stepdad's 80th birthday party. In preparation she's asked me to help put together a little video montage of pictures (If you know me at all you know I'm kinda obsessed with the whole pictures put to music video montage idea). Of course, I jumped on it but I warned her it would require scanning lots of pictures. So this weekend she made me an offer I couldn't refuse. She handed me some cash and said "go buy a scanner. We can share it!"

And so, here I am. For the past couple of hours I've been scouring old photo albums from high school, college and Fruit Bowl outings that were made pre-digital camera looking for any embarrassing, humiliating photos I could find in order to reek havoc on all those Facebook friends I love and hold dear to my heart. And I've found a few. ; )

But I figured in the interest of fairness, I should perhaps volunteer to dive under that bus myself before hoisting anyone else in it's path. And so, I've decided to offer you a look at me through the years. As we all know, nothing can inform you about a person's history like their hairstyle choices and so we will examine a few of mine and what they meant to me. I must warn you, it will not always be pleasant but it will be at least mildly informative. And entertaining. So, here we go. May I present:

"The Pixie"

This happens to be my Mom's favorite haircut on me of all-time. She would love for me to wear this style even today and has on more than one occasion suggested have The Ocho try it out. (That's NEVER happenin' by the way.)

"The Mistake of Epic Proportions":

If anyone has ever wondered why I never have short hair, here's your answer. Of course, the purple vest with pink puffy shirt didn't help things. I might have been able to salvage the hair with some decent wardrobe choices. Really disturbing.

I call this one "Wings with Woodwind"

Ahhhh. My middle school band portrait. I could rock both the feathered bangs and the clarinet. Good times.

"The Mullet":

Yes this is my high school senior portrait. And yes, it is the picture I despise most on earth. But I included it because I'm secure in who I am today. And to prove that even I fell prey to The Great Mullet Plague of '86.

"The Pageant Years"

This was a photo taken for the Miss Alabama Pageant program in 1988. The 80's obviously provided me the perfect opportunity to make up for that whole Pixie thing. Back then I never met a hot roller I didn't like.

So there you have it. I've allowed myself to be transparent before you. There are no more secrets between us.

Let the scanning begin.....

Peep-quence

A few weeks ago most of The Fruit Bowl and our families gathered for a birthday party, which happens to be our speciality. If there's one thing my Peeps know how to do, it's throw a birthday bash. Normally, there are costume changes, parody songs and themed t-shirts involved but this party was a little different.

First of all, the party was a Sweet Sixteen party. As I'm sure you are all aware, each and every one of my Fruits passed that landmark long, long ago so obviously the party wasn't for us. It was, in fact, for Taylor. She's what you might call a Junior Fruit.

When the Fruit Bowl started unoffically forming way back when, Taylor was around 3 or 4 years old. I can still remember the first time I layed eyes on her. I had just met her parents in Sunday School for the first time and I was watching them load her into their truck after church. She had a sweet white dress on and a pretty bow in her hair. She was so stinkin' cute that I thought I might not mind having one of those myself. It would be 5 years before I did.

As I became friends with her mom and a few other girls at church, we started getting together for pool playdays. Then circumstances, tragedy and providence started bringing more women with children into the mix. Eventually we ended up with the 9 of us and all our offspring. Since Taylor was one of the oldest in the beginning, she's been a witness to most of the silly laughter and most of the weeping too. She's watched us rehearse our dance numbers, take our pyramid pictures and plan our next big weekend get-away. She's also watched us walk through some pretty dark valleys. As she got older, she even accompanied her Mom on a few of our Girl's Night Out excursions. All the while, we knew she was seeing us. But we didn't realize how closely she was watching us. Or what it meant to her to have a group of families be so close and rely on each other so much.

When her Mom asked her what kind of party she wanted, she requested a pool party with all of us and our kids just like the pool play days she's had all her life. She also asked if there might be a chance I'd write a song for her the way I do for all the grown-ups.

A sixteen year old girl wants to hang out with a bunch of old people and their kids for her sixteenth birthday party? You'd better believe she's getting a song! It was to the tune of Taylor Swift's "You Belong With Me". Here' a sample of the lyrics:

You're at the pool on your cellphone lookin' cool
You're texting all your friends about some boy at school
But we remember when you used to wear floaties.

You might be old enough to get a job and drive
And listen to the kind of music that we don't like
But we remember when you used to watch Barney

You'll have boyfriends, we'll be watchin'
We'll let you know that we really don't like them
They'll do you wrong just to wake up and find
You don't have just one mom, you really have nine!

Me & the girls performed it with everything we had. Big Nanny wore her best country music outfit and she & Cool Shelly T strummed guitars. It was a sight to behold. The choreography wasn't up to our usual standards but we made due. It was all thrown together pretty quickly and wasn't really my best effort, but Taylor (and her mom) loved it so that's all that mattered to me. (Once upon a time, there was a video on YouTube. I'm really hoping that's not the case anymore. )

As the party drew to a close, Andrea had one last request. For years she has wanted a picture of all our kids in age-order standing by The Ellis pool which has been the home of so many eventful playdays in the past. Even though The Davis family didn't make the party, we managed to get everybody else in line for the photo-op. So here are (almost) all of our Baby Peeps in perfect Peepquence:

I encourage you to click on the picture to get a closer look at all those cute faces. (I personally love how The Ocho managed to distance herself from the boys all around her.) Andrea (the oldest, a college sophmore, is holding the youngest, Cruz, who's now 10 weeks old). Next to her is the birthday girl, Taylor. From there we have everyone from Brianna to Jonas. Well, almost everyone. Taylor, Colby & Clay didn't make it. And my heart can't help but ache for the spaces that Isaac & Rebekah would fill. But I love this picture. I love everything it stands for.

These kids might not all grow up to be the closest of friends, but they are a part of each other's memories & life stories that will go with them forever. They all have a pretty awesome heritage in Christ and I can't wait to see what kind of adults they all turn out to be.

And Taylor is living proof that they're getting there faster than any of us can imagine.