Friends

Well, this weekend was very educational for me. I learned that y’all are fans of the giveaway, especially one that involves $300 worth of clothing for your little ones.

I also learned that Girl Scout Cookies have different names and selections depending on what part of the country you live in. And now all I can think about is the cookies I may be missing out on. I have never heard of this cookie called a Caramel Dee-Lite.

However, it is hard for me to believe that anything could surpass the Thin Mint in pure delicious-ness. Which is why I’ll be hitting the local shopping centers around 4:00 today in search of little cookie pushers.

I’ve got a fever and the only cure is Thin Mints.

But all of that educational information pales in comparison to the biggest event of my weekend.

I got to meet FryDaddy, also known as Travis Cottrell of BigBoo Podcast fame, live and in person.

As it turns out, the annual Women of Faith National Conference was in San Antonio this weekend and Travis was part of the line-up. Do y’all see how I just call him Travis now and not Travis Cottrell? Or Mr. Cottrell? Or the man who is married to the beautiful woman with the most fabulous trouser jeans in the history of modern fashion?

And really, I need to send a special shout out to those Trouser Jeans because had they not existed, Boomama never would have called me from The Deeper Still event in Nashville to tell me about them. If she hadn’t called me, then we wouldn’t have begun our quest to figure out what brand they were and where we could acquire this denim phenomenon for ourselves. She never would have written about them on her blog and, thus, we never would have communicated with FryDaddy.

Here’s to you Trouser Jeans and here’s to you, Angela, for wearing them well.

Anyway, Women of Faith was great. I didn’t get to attend the entire weekend, but Gulley and I went both Thursday and Friday night. When we arrived, we picked up our tickets and I was tickled to see that we had floor seats on the third row.

The last time I had floor seats on the third row was at a Genesis concert when I was a sophomore in high school and that’s only because I worked at Sound Castle Music and was able to buy them the minute they went on sale. Which I did. Because I loved me some Phil Collins and had wept many teen angst-filled tears to “In Too Deep”.

So, we made our way to the floor of the Alamodome after asking several ushers how to get there because, like I said, I have never had floor seats. We finally located the third row, sat in our seats, and opened up our plastic bags filled with various pamphlets AND a chocolate chip granola bar.

Sweet. I love a bag with a free snack treat.

Everything was great until some women came up and told us we were in their seats. We put the granola bars back in the bags and went in search of an usher who could help us out. We wandered aimlessly as we passed by seats that all had neon green signs on them saying “MAX LUCADO” and “MANDISA” and “PRINCE”.

Oh I kid. There wasn’t a seat that said “PRINCE”, it just had that symbol he likes to use.

I kid again. Prince was not in attendance at the Women of Faith conference.

And then I saw a neon green sign in the third row that had my name on it. Seriously. It said BIG MAMA. No, it actually had my first and last name on it. Just like I was Max Lucado, but without all the best-selling books and phenomenal ministry.

Of course I played it totally cool and nonchalant and took out my camera and took a picture. Of the sign. With my name. Because my inner dork will win out every time.

Please note my awesome photoshop skills that I used to erase my last name. I think I might benefit from an instructional pamphlet.

After I took the picture, we actually sat in the seats as opposed to just staring at them. And right about the time I had regained my composure, Gulley grabbed my arm and said, “IS THAT MANDISA?” It was. About five feet away from us. And here is where I feel the need to share that her skin is flawless.

We watched her walk up on stage in possibly some of the coolest jeans I have ever seen (do y’all see a denim thread here?) and began to sing “Shackles”. And I cried. I did.

I cried because “Shackles” is one of the best songs ever. I cried because Mandisa was ten feet away from me singing it. And I cried because God is just so awesome.

Here’s a picture of the lovely, talented Mandisa. I realize you cannot really see her jeans nor her flawless complexion because my photography skills? They are limited.

But at least y’all have an awesome view of half of the woman’s head who was sitting in front of me.

And here’s a tip. If any of y’all are planning on attending a Women of Faith event, it might be a good idea to pack some Kleenex in your purse because odds are good that at some point you might shed a few tears and wiping your nose on your sleeve isn’t really an option unless you’re four years old and think sleeves are disposable.

The next night was equally as good. Max Lucado spoke on John 3:16 and I was overwhelmed with his picture of what God’s love truly means. Then FryDaddy sang and it was awesome. And I got to meet sweet Kimberly, who is Travis’s assistant.

Hi Kimberly, do not feel the pressure to leave a comment. I love lurkers and commenters equally.

Finally, it was all over and Gulley and I began the long walk back to my car. The length of this walk was compounded by the fact that we both had on our Target suede boots. Boots that I recommended y’all buy because they were so cute and such a good deal. But as Gulley told me about 48 times on the walk back to the car, they are the antithesis of comfortable. In fact, walking in them is an experience akin to hopping on a pogo stick covered in nails.

It made me want to take “these shackles off my feet so I can dance”.

We limped our way to the car and sat in traffic. And here’s another thing I learned. If you are leaving an event that has been all about the love of Christ and are driving a huge van with SAVING THE LOST spray-painted on the side, you might want to help a sister out and let her in the line of traffic instead of cutting her off completely. I’m pretty sure the only reason “Thou Shall Not Cut Off Thy Neighbor and Be Rude” isn’t one of the Ten Commandments is because Moses and the Israelites didn’t have cars.

It was 11:15 at night. Gulley and I were both starving in spite of the granola bar in our plastic bags and discussed going to eat chips and queso somewhere. I was so eagerly anticipating the Mexican food goodness, but Gulley decided she needed to get home since she was hosting a birthday party for three-year-olds the next day.

And like I told her, the dry Smart Start I ate was really just as good as the chips and queso would have been. Except not.

But considering I’m the one that encouraged her to buy those Target boots that will henceforth be known as Instruments of Torture and Suffering, I owed it to her to let her go home guilt-free.

Which is more than I can say for how I feel after eating all those Girl Scout cookies.

Friday morning, P and I went to the doctor so that they could look at his incision and make sure everything was okay. The recovery from this surgery hasn’t been nearly as easy as his previous recoveries, so I’ve been a little concerned.

We met with the nurse and she told us that everything he’s experiencing is normal. In fact, she said every day the herniated disc was putting pressure on his nerve equals a week of recovery. So, good news! Recovery should only last about 33 weeks, which is about the same amount of time it takes me to balance our checkbook.

She also read the doctor’s report from P’s surgery. She said (and I quote) “Patient had a tremendous mass of spinal material removed”. I’m no medical expert, but I feel fairly certain that the words TREMENDOUS MASS in reference to any medical condition are just not good. Like P said, “If they removed a tremendous mass, how much do I have left?”

So, after having the fear of God and spinal fusion drilled into us, we left the office and headed home. The good news is I get to keep putting P’s socks and shoes on him for at least the next month and, fingers crossed, I may get to cut his toenails.

It’s really everything I imagined as I stood at the altar and pledged to be his for all eternity.

As for the rest of the weekend, my friend Jen came in town for a visit. Friday night, all the girls went out for Mexican food and Jen surprised us by bringing a cake to celebrate all the summer birthdays in the group. We ate huge bowls of guacamole, enjoyed a few margaritas, laughed until we cried and then, the band started up.

Nails scraping on a chalkboard are less annoying than this band. And really, I’m using the term “band” lightly. There were maracas, drums and LOUD, LOUD singing. We were literally screaming at each other and couldn’t hear a word. The final straw was when they sang a cover of “Smooth” that would have made Carlos Santana and Rob Thomas curl up in the fetal position. Needless to say, we asked for the check and got out before our ears started to bleed.

Saturday night we all went over to Gulley’s and ate a spread of food that can only be described as health-free. It was essentially the bizarro equivalent of the Atkins Diet. There wasn’t a protein to be found, not even a summer sausage. We had Mississippi Sin Dip, Fritos, cheese and crackers, chips and salsa, and topped it off with this.

In case y’all can’t tell, that’s a large bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough with four spoons. Otherwise known as magic in a bowl.

I’m not even lying a little when I tell y’all that I finally had to put a piece of gum in my mouth to keep me from eating anymore.

I’m not proud to say that, 5 minutes later, I spit out my gum so that I could have another bite.

And one last note from the weekend. Look who learned to ride her bicycle.

She’s getting so big.

I wonder if I can teach her how to cut P’s toenails.