Friends

Saturday night fever

Well.

So this happened at our house this weekend.

Oh yes it did.

(Don’t get excited, ladies. This isn’t eHarmony or one of those dating sites. He’s taken.)

We spent much of last week deliberating over what to dress up as for the Halloween party on Saturday night. I took all your suggestions to heart and was really tempted to go as Coach and Tami Taylor. But the problem is that’s not much different than how we look every day. And when it comes to Halloween parties I like a little more flair.

Caroline had decided over a month ago to be a disco queen. In fact, she loved the costume so much that she slept with the catalog every night until I finally broke down and ordered it. So it seemed to make good sense to continue on with a seventies theme for the whole family. Like our own little version of the Partridges. But without the bus.

Only because we couldn’t get a bus on such short notice because, otherwise, OH YES A BUS.

Once we decided on a seventies theme we quickly realized we might have a key component of P’s outfit at our disposal. A rust-colored velour jogging suit complete with a pullover top with a half-zip feature.

Why? Why did we have access to such a thing?

Because my dad has had it in his closet since some time in the late 70s. And he’s kept it all these years. AND I know for a fact that he’s worn the pants at least as recently as 1994 because he had them on when a blind date came to pick me up at his house and I was mortified. As it turned out my blind date was a guy who wore a gold pinky ring without a trace of irony so it was probably for the best. Although he probably felt like we were meant for each other after he noticed my dad was wearing some sweet rust-colored velour pants with a slight bell bottom.

So I called to make sure dad still owned the jogging suit and Mimi confirmed it was safe and sound in the VERY BACK of his closet because I think we all live in fear that he might wear it if he could find it. I asked if P could borrow it and Dad agreed, as long as we were very careful with it. After all, it’s a family heirloom.

The fit was questionable, but we decided that only added to its charm. And then I spent Friday scouring vintage and costume stores searching for all the other parts of our costumes. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt the thrill of shopping satisfaction I felt when I found a pair of sweet zip-up boot shoes for P for only $11.00. And that wig with the lamb chops? God loves me.

So here we are before we left for the party.

We’d just barely walked into the party when P saw a guy he’d gone to high school with that he hadn’t seen in twenty years. And it gave me great joy to see him have to reintroduce himself while he looked like the love child of Tony Manero and Gabe Kotter.

Then a few minutes later, Gulley and her husband arrived.

If you ever wonder why Gulley is my best friend, you need only to look at this photo.

She can kick. She can stretch. She’s FIFTY.

That’s right. Sally O’Malley. And her husband is More Cowbell. It made me so happy.

The best part is there were times in the night when I’d look across the room and see P engaged in a serious conversation while wearing that jogging suit and that huge wig while he talked to Gulley’s husband who was also wearing a huge wig and holding a cowbell and it would make me laugh all over again.

And then Gulley would hike her pants up and stretch and kick and announce, “Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Sally O’Malley. I’m proud to say I’m 50 years old. I’m not one of those gals that’s afraid to tell her real age and I like to KICK, STRETCH and KICK! I’M 50! 50 years old, 50 years old.”

Meanwhile, the kids bounced in the bounce house, got soaked bobbing for apples and ran around and played soccer and tug of war.

Honestly I’m not totally sure which age group had the most fun, but I think it may have been the adults.

Y’all have a Happy Halloween.

Let it shine

Some of y’all may remember that I occasionally talk about my friend AJ. I’ve known her since she was just a freshman in high school and I was still in my twenties. In other words, a long, LONG time.

Many years ago she traveled to Zambia and the country and the people found a forever place in her heart. And so she started her own non-profit organization called Arise Africa to provide Zambian children with food, education and shelter in combination with meeting their spiritual needs.

When I was AJ’s age I was working in pharmaceutical sales and trying to figure out how I could fill my entire closet with suits from Ann Taylor. Which is to say that I am beyond impressed with what she has done in Zambia.

Several years ago she began the process of creating a photo book with the dream of all the proceeds going straight to support the children of Zambia. After a lot of hard work and waiting on all the pieces to come together, that dream has become a reality.

That’s the gorgeous cover.

All the photos were taken by AJ and the accompanying stories were written by my dear friend Jennifer. In other words, this book is near and dear to my heart. It is a beautiful way to teach your children about Africa and the joy these kids find in the midst of struggles we can’t even imagine.

Each book is $25.00 and all proceeds go directly to benefit the children of Zambia. There will most likely be limited copies available so order soon if you would like one. They will ship in early November.

To order, you can visit the Arise Africa site. And while you’re there, click around and check out the amazing things that Arise Africa is doing in Zambia.

AJ, I am so proud of you. Way to finish strong.

Third World Symphony

Isn’t that the best title?

I only say that because I didn’t come up with it. But, oh, I wish I had. And please make sure you watch the video at the end of this post. It’s one of my favorite hymns ever.

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Third World Symphony is the title of my friend Shaun Groves’ new album. And today is my day to host him (hostess him?) on his tour of blogs. Right after he was featured on Pioneer Woman’s blog on Monday and Michael W. Smith’s blog yesterday. So basically I’m here to tell the last three remaining people on Earth who haven’t heard about it.

Ree? Regularly featured on The Today Show and The View. Has her own show on Food Network and millions of blog readers.

Michael W. Smith? One of the greatest Christian artists of our time. Known by millions. Has performed for Presidents and Billy Graham.

Big Mama? Drives carpool on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Can occasionally be seen in line at your local Starbucks and maybe at Target if she’s feeling adventurous.

One of these things is not like the other.

Way back in early 2008 I received an email from someone at Compassion asking if I was interested in taking a trip with them to Uganda. No. No I was not. Because Uganda is far. It’s in Africa and there are scary things there. But, aw, thanks for thinking of me and keep me posted on future trips.

Well, Shaun Groves took me seriously. And in May of 2008 he emailed me to ask if I was interested in going to the Dominican Republic. No. No I was not. Because the Dominican Republic is farther away than Target. But, “OH THAT’S SO NICE”, thanks for thinking of me.

And that was the end of that. Until I woke up one night in late July and felt like God was telling me I was supposed to go to the Dominican Republic with Compassion. Dang. Then I received, I KID YOU NOT, an email from Shaun Groves the very next morning asking if I was sure that I didn’t want to go on the trip.

DANG.

Sometimes God whispers and sometimes He has to hit you over the head with an email from a Christian singer with funky hair. I think that’s in the Bible. Check 2 Kings.

Anyway, I reluctantly agreed to go on the trip to the Dominican Republic with Shaun Groves and then might have possibly prayed I’d get some sort of stomach bug and be unable to go. But the departure day rolled around and I found myself on a plane. Then I found myself in the Dominican with these incredibly precious Compassion kids and my life was changed forever.

And I owe that change to Shaun Groves. And Compassion. And God.

Shaun Groves showed me a world I’d only read about. He showed me kids who have found hope through the work of Compassion. He showed me lives that have been changed. He showed me what it looks like to use the gifts God has given you to serve Him and His purposes.

Because Shaun could just make albums and make money and wear expensive, tricky worship leader jeans with fancy pockets and drive a Dodge Stratus, but he chooses to live out his faith by serving the least of these. It’s not about the money, it’s about saving a child’s life. It’s not about the fame, it’s about touring for free as long as he can talk about the work of Compassion.

I just finished reading Same Kind of Different As Me by Ron Hall and Denver Moore (I know. I’m the last person on the planet to read it.) and it made me question what I’m doing with my life. What am I doing to help others? What am I doing that makes God smile? And who do I know who really lives like that?

I’ll tell you who I know that lives like that. Shaun Groves.

And that’s why he recorded Third World Symphony. It gave him a chance to record new music. And new music gives him the opportunity to tour more. And touring more gives him the chance to get as many children sponsored through Compassion as he possibly can. See how that all works out?

So go download Third World Symphony for only $9.90 on iTunes by clicking here or you can by the real live CD for $10 + shipping and handling by clicking here. Because it is AMAZING. Because it’s powerful. And because there’s a bunch of little faces like these that will be forever grateful.

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Best of all, after I listened to Shaun’s album I felt like there was something missing. It needed a hymn with a little more passion. Something to help me through my darkest times. And while it was too late for the album, Shaun helped me out in the following video. You have to see it.

Go buy a copy of Third World Symphony today clicking here. You won’t be sorry.

When The Stars Burn Down

Okay.

I am so excited for y’all today. And I’m also excited for my dear friend Travis Cottrell.

And now you may be wondering why. Why all the excitement?

Because this releases today.

It’s Travis’s new CD, When the Stars Burn Down, and it is SO, SO GOOD. In fact, it’s been on constant rotation in my iTunes since the day I got my advance copy about two week ago.

I just wanted to tell you about it because it’s important to me that y’all know about good stuff. And this? IS GOOD STUFF.

You can download a copy on iTunes for only $9.99 by clicking here. Or you can get yourself an old-fashioned CD by clicking here.

Have a lovely day.

Ain’t no party like a beach trip party

You know how sometimes you have a great weekend with your girlfriends and get home and someone immediately asks, “What’s for dinner tonight?” and you kind of wish you could get back in the car and go back from whence you came? Or at least hand someone the menu for Papa John’s Pizza?

Re-entry is tough. Just ask an astronaut. Granted, you probably don’t know an astronaut in real life and I don’t really know that re-entry is tough for them, but it might be. All of this is just my way of explaining why I didn’t bother to write anything yesterday. After a wonderful weekend away, I had a re-entry fraught with drama levels rarely seen outside of Southfork Ranch.

It wasn’t really that bad. Just piles of laundry and a family that hadn’t seen me in two days and a daughter who likes to be attached to my hip at all times and no food to speak of in the refrigerator.

But I’m not complaining. (It sounds like I’m complaining. I’m not. I’m just observing.) I had the best weekend away with my friends and Tropical Storm Don turned out to be a bigger dud than several people who sat next to me in the Finance 201 course I took in college.

On Thursday night I was a little concerned about Don and P didn’t help by throwing around words like “storm surge” and “widespread power outages”. Fortunately, he packed me an army green tactical bag full of flashlights and glow sticks and even a head lamp in case I needed to reenact a scene from Coalminer’s Daughter.

The girls and I headed out around 11:00 a.m. on Friday in an attempt to beat the storm and get at least a little time on the beach. We made it there in record time, grabbed a quick bite to eat and checked into the condo.

Then it was time to unload the cars which was precisely the time we discovered none of us have the gift of minimalism. We are a group that believes it’s not worth the trip if you can’t bring your own blanket,fan, and sixty-eight bags of various types of potato chips.

And down the next part of the sidewalk.

Embarrassing.

But not as embarrassing as it would have been if I’d actually lost my grip on the luggage cart and it flew into the parking lot with suitcases and fans flying willy-nilly. Which was almost a reality save for my cat-like reflexes.

After we unpacked our eighty-two bags of assorted chips and forty-nine cream cheese based dips, we made our way to the beach.

The sea was slightly angry that day, my friends. Less like an old man trying to send back soup in a deli and more like the mildly irritable feeling you might feel if you really wanted to watch The Bachelorette this season but couldn’t deal with the way Ashley says everything is “PAR-FACT”.

But we sat around in our beach chairs while it sprinkled occasionally and discussed a variety of topics including, but not limited to, the debt ceiling crisis and our hair. Eventually we made our way back inside because we thought Don was on his way. The storm, not some random man named Don.

We changed into pajamas and settled down to enjoy our dips and that’s when four of the girls left the room and came back singing Happy Birthday to me. But it wasn’t just any birthday song, they sang it while holding up these masks.

Those would be images bearing various hairstyles and time periods throughout my forty years. There is a lot of perm solution represented there. And then it was Julie’s turn to be haunted by the ghosts of hairstyles past.

After that they gave us each a darling hand-painted wine glass with our initial on one side and 40 on the other. Which will help to remind me how old I am when I drink to forget how many gray hairs I have now.

It was just the sweetest thing and confirmed what I already knew. I truly have some of the best friends in the world. Our little group has been together and drama-free for over six years and that’s a gift I don’t take lightly. Not to mention that we make each other laugh until we cry. I adore them.

Saturday morning we attempted to hit the beach early until Julie’s car got stuck in the sand and she had to be rescued by a group of families that call themselves “The Pigs”. The Pigs ended up right next to us on the beach that day and we became honorary pigs for a day. And they even gave us all matching straw cowboy hats that we wore proudly. I’d post a picture but we’re all in our swimsuits and, PLEASE, never gonna happen.

When Sunday rolled around, we all hated the fun had to end so we decided to eat lunch before leaving Port Aransas. And then we made the ill-fated decision to take the ferry which is always a bad decision. NEVER take the ferry. The ferry is for children and people who enjoy shutting off the A/C in their car when it’s 108 degrees outside. In other words, it’s for people who lack good sense.

But we got in the ferry line and one of us who will not be named in order to protect the innocent got a ticket for allegedly getting in the ferry line when it wasn’t her turn. Even though it TOTALLY was her turn and the officer had even motioned for her to go. As it turns out, he was motioning her aside to give her a ticket.

And that’s how we all ended up in the Port Aransas jail.

Not really.

But that would be such a good story.

Instead we took the ticket and spent the rest of the drive home vowing to fight for our legal rights. Just like Norma Rae. Except we weren’t trying to unionize a mill. We were just wanted to get on the ferry.

And get home to our families.

So they could ask us what’s for dinner.

Because we are very spontaneous, especially when the ocean is involved

So last week was supposed to be our week of nothing. This wasn’t an official designation or anything, just a vague plan that we would spend the week doing nothing but sleeping late and listening to the occasional refrain of “I’m bored” since Gulley’s boys were out of town along with most of our other friends. Not to mention that I front loaded all our VBS and Day Camp activities for the month of June and we’re officially out of scheduled/paid fun for the rest of the summer.

But then we got a call on Wednesday morning from some friends asking if we’d like to drive down to Port Aransas and spend a few days with them at the beach. Umm. YES. It took us all of ten minutes to pack up like the Joad family heading for California.

Caroline was so excited that she engaged in a little truck dancing while we made the trip.

That would be my body pillow that you see on the seat next to her. Because, yes, it has come to that. If I had my way I would never travel anywhere without it.

We made it to Port Aransas in record time. Not even one bathroom stop which has to be some sort of personal record. Our sweet friends had a little gift bag waiting for Caroline filled with all the beach essentials; a towel, a small net, a starfish necklace and a Port Aransas koozie.

After a quick change, she was ready to head to the beach to enjoy what was left of the day.

I had the nerve to ask her to stop and pose.

She and P spent a few hours on the beach while I sat and visited. Once they made their way back, we changed clothes and went for a little evening walk.

Umm. When did the fifteen year old start posing with her hand on her hip all the time? Has she been watching the Kardashians behind my back?

We spent the next few days playing in the waves.

Including the day P went fishing and I had to be single mom at the beach. But I pushed down my memories of Jaws and Shark Week on the Discovery Channel and forced myself to go into the ocean beyond my comfort zone. Which, by the way, is somewhere between my ankles and my knees. After all, like our friend Stewart was so sweet to remind me, if a shark decides to eat you for dinner there’s really nothing you can do about it.

Someone should stitch that on a beach-themed pillow.

We were also overjoyed to discover that a semi-shady ice cream man braved the sand to peddle his frozen wares.

Do you remember the snow cones you get from the ice cream truck? The kind with the piece of bubble gum at the bottom? I’d forgotten all about them and the fact that they just become one solid chunk of rainbow colored ice with a disintegrated piece of gum. Delicious.

Before it was all over, Caroline created her very own sea creature habitat.

And spent a large portion of her time doing this.

It was just the best couple of days. And I think it was made all the sweeter because it was totally unplanned and unexpected. I didn’t have time to over-think or over-pack (except for my body pillow, but that’s a necessity) or worry about rearranging things on the calendar. I just went to HEB, bought the necessary beach staples (Fritos and hot bean dip) and off we went.

We laughed and played and just enjoyed being with friends. Ultimately, we got home late Friday night a little sunburned and a lot grateful.

And the best part of summer is it means we have another week of nothing ahead of us.

Unless something better comes up.