Another day

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About two months ago, Gulley and I were talking on the phone making plans for our annual Christmas shopping weekend when she asked, “Is Caroline going to want a Zhu Zhu Pet for Christmas?”

“She hasn’t mentioned it. Why?”

“Well, I’ve heard it’s going to be the hot toy this season. You might want to go ahead and get one if you think she might want one.”

And then I think I may have made some comment about kids in America needing to spend more time outside and not becoming consumed by fake hamsters made in China because I like to make bold, sweeping generalizations about topics that will come back to haunt me.

Fast forward to two weeks ago when I was looking through the Sunday ads at Mimi and Bops’ house. Caroline climbed into my lap, pointed to the front page of the Walmart circular featuring a prominent picture of the Zhu Zhu Pets milling about in their little plastic hamster house and said, “That is the NUMBER ONE THING I want from Santa this year! The NUMBER ONE THING!”

Dang.

I headed to Walmart the next morning fully expecting to purchase a Zhu Zhu Pet and all the faux hamster accoutrements. In fact, I even threw out a breezy Twitter update that said, “On my way to buy a Zhu Zhu Pet because everyone knows a battery-powered hamster is better than a real one.” Imagine my surprise when I perused the toy aisles at Walmart only to discover that there was nary a stitch of any sort of Zhu Zhu Pet merchandise to be found.

The same can be said of my visit to Target and three other local Walmarts. All I managed to come up with was a lone Zhu Zhu Pet exercise ball which I promptly snatched up even though I do not currently own a fake hamster that needs to get fake exercise. In the midst of my desperation, I turned to Amazon.com only to discover the travesty that is Zhu Zhu Pet price gouging. Those hamsters are being sold for upwards of $50.00 online and while I may be naive enough to pay $9.00 for a pizza at the Rollercade, I refuse to shell out $50.00 for what was originally an $8.00 hamster.

So this past Monday, I went back to Walmart to see if some Zhu Zhu Pets had made their way into the store over the weekend. There were none to be found so I wandered over to a Walmart employee and asked in my most polite voice, “Ma’am? Do you know if you’ll be getting in any more Zhu Zhu Pets before Christmas?”

“I don’t know. And even if we do I have no idea when they’ll get here or how many I’ll have.”

Because I’ve always been told that you catch more flies with honey, I replied “Thank you so much! I can’t even imagine how crazy things are around here right now.”

And with that, I caught her.

“Honey, I’m going to tell you something because you’re a lot nicer than the last twenty people that asked me about those Zhu Zhu Pets. I put in an order on Friday and I should be gettin’ them in sometime next week but they’ll go fast. And I’ll tell you somethin’ else, I don’t know much about computers but we sell them for $8.00. Don’t go buyin’ one off of that google or yahoomail or whatever because they’re sellin’ them for $50.00 and, Honey, those things ain’t nothin’ but a battery-powered rat. If I saw that gray one in my house I’d stomp on it.”

Preach, sister. PREACH.

However, it’s the NUMBER ONE THING on my six-year-old’s Christmas list. I thanked her profusely for her time and her wisdom and then went on my Zhu Zhu-less way.

On Tuesday afternoon I made Gulley go with me to another Walmart (the one where I’d found the exercise ball) to see if they might have any in stock. As we walked away empty-handed, Gulley said, “Well you could always just get a real hamster if you can’t find the Zhu Zhu.”

I stopped short and made her look me in the eyes and vow that she would not let me stoop to that level of desperation. I said, “If it gets to be Christmas eve and I start talking crazy about going to PetSmart and buying a real hamster, YOU HAVE TO STOP ME.”

Then as we were walking out the door of Walmart I was busy messing around with my iPhone. I’ll be the first to admit that I have become a little obsessed with it and all the apps that make life so much easier than it was in the olden days when I had no way of playing Frogger anywhere I went. Gulley glanced over at me and said, “Too bad your fancy iPhone has an app that will tell you when you’re about to start your period, but not one that’ll help you find a Zhu Zhu Pet.”

I don’t know when I’ve ever laughed so hard inside a Walmart.

Yesterday, I began to work on my ace in the hole strategy, otherwise known as calling Walmarts all over town trying to get insider information. P, who so far has been oblivious to this whole thing, walked in the back door in time to hear me on the phone saying, “Well, my first choice would probably be Mr. Squiggles, but at this point I’ll take Chunk or Num Nums or even Pipsqueek. I really don’t care.” I looked up from the phone to see my beloved husband looking at me with a mixture of pity and fear, so when I got off the phone I explained the seriousness of the situation and he gave me all the sympathy that any fake tragedy involving a fake hamster deserves.

Gulley even went to Toys ‘R Us yesterday and asked them if they had any Zhu Zhu Pets and they just laughed at her. THEY LAUGHED. I believe that Toys ‘R Us and their employees make Santa Claus sad.

Finally, in the ultimate act of desperation, I remembered Gulley’s words and searched my iPhone apps for Zhu Zhu Pets last night. And you know what? THERE IS A ZHU ZHU PETS APP.

SO THERE!

Unfortunately, it’s just a game where you can guide Mr. Squiggles, Chunk, Num Nums or Pipsqueek through a maze by moving the phone in different directions. I can’t help but feel that the app will be of small comfort to Caroline come Christmas day as I sit and explain that Santa couldn’t fit one more battery-powered rat on his sleigh, but if she’ll just wait until January we’ll finally see the day that Chunk will be able to work out in his new exercise ball.

I smell the beginnings of a Christmas we’ll always remember.

Which is still better than the smell of cedar shavings and real hamster.

**Edited to add that many of you have pointed out that they are available online at Toys ‘R Us and it appears that way until you actually try to buy one and then it tells you they are OUT OF STOCK. Which brings me back to my point: Toys ‘R Us = Santa Claus sad
Because I am a culinary optimist

My trip to Nashville was fairly short in the whole scheme of things. I arrived on Thursday night and was back home by mid-afternoon on Saturday. Caroline was so excited to see me that she elected to stay at Mimi and Bops’ house and help them finish cleaning their garage instead of riding to the airport with P to pick me up. I’ve never felt so loved.

The LifeWay Women’s Forum was great. Sophie picked me up from the airport and we arrived just in time to hear Travis lead worship. We saw a couple of sweet friends, ate some delicious tomato basil soup and grilled cheese sandwiches (shout out to the chef), and called it a night because we were both exhausted.

We headed over to conference the next morning to teach our sessions and tried to mentally prepare ourselves because we’d been told that they were going to put us on the live webcast around 2:00 p.m. to do some “witty banter”. Live. Witty banter.

Adding to the stress was the memory of the last time they asked Sophie and I to do some “witty banter” after a Living Proof Live event in San Antonio or as we like to refer to it “Remember the Alamodome”. It was the most painful eight minutes of my life as we struggled to come up with even ONE THING to talk about and ended up discussing how we slept the night before which is always a riveting topic. The silence was deafening but you could hear every woman in that place saying a silent “Bless their hearts”.

But for some reason they thought it would be a good idea to give us another try and we spent all morning throwing out potential topics we could revert to if we got desperate. Our list consisted of Thanksgiving foods, Christmas shopping, hair and the dress that Priscilla Shirer had on that morning. And because we are extra nerdy and obsessive, we also had a super secret list o’ conversation topics that we didn’t share with each other so we could create the illusion of spontaneous conversation if times got hard.

Fortunately we ended up getting to interview the delightful and talented Kelly Minter about her new Bible study on Ruth. I think it went pretty well although I did have a moment of desperation and panic where I asked her about her favorite Thanksgiving food. It was turkey by the way, which I find fascinating because you don’t really hear anyone talk about how much they love turkey at the Thanksgiving meal. Personally, I could just get rid of the turkey altogether and just carb load on the dressing and broccoli-rice casserole. And the pies.

And then eat a whole bowl of whipping cream.

Anyway, after our portion of the live webcast was over, we went back to the hotel to recuperate. I had a raging headache (probably from concentrating so hard on my list of super secret conversation topics) and just needed to lie down for awhile. Eventually Sophie called my room and we decided to venture out in search of dinner.

If you’ve read this blog for any length of time then you know where this is heading.

We drove towards the Vanderbilt campus in search of nourishment but we were both totally indifferent about what we wanted to eat. Then all of a sudden we spotted the San Antonio Taco Company and we were powerless to resist. We were compelled to carry on our time honored tradition of eating the most mediocre Mexican food that the Southern United States has to offer. It’s like a sickness.

Exhibit A: Huevos Rancheros in Woodstock, Georgia

Exhibit B: Restaurant with a rat on the sign in Charlotte, North Carolina

But I thought this time might be different because the restaurant had San Antonio in its name. I felt that it lent an air of credibility.

After one bite of the guacamole (and I use that term loosely), I immediately regretted our decision. Yet, I pressed on and finished eating my beef fajita taco.

Later that night I was talking to P on the phone and said, “I don’t feel so good”.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Well, Sophie and I ate at this Mexican restaurant and the food wasn’t very good.”

“Why do you do that to yourself? I can’t even feel sorry for you.”

“But it was called the San Antonio Taco Company! I figured it might be good, but I think the city of San Antonio should sue them for defamation of character.”

“I think you have only yourself to blame. Anyone who actually lives in San Antonio should know better than to eat at a restaurant in Tennessee called the San Antonio Taco Company.”

He is a fount of sympathy.

By the time I made it home on Saturday I was in dire need of real Mexican food to cleanse the memory from my palate so we picked up dinner from Teka Molina and all was well.

Now I’m just glad that I’m home to stay for a while. I’ve traveled about once a month for the last four months and I’m ready for a break. It’s not that airline travel isn’t glamorous, I mean where else do you get the opportunity to take off your tall black boots and reveal to the world that you’re wearing white tube socks with your black leggings? It will just be nice to unpack my Ziploc full of 3 oz. toiletries and enjoy my people.

Even though some of them would rather clean the garage than meet me at the airport.
Fashion Friday but without any fashion

Did I mention that I left for Nashville yesterday? Because I did. I boarded a Southwest Airlines plane to Nashville at 4:25 p.m. yesterday and as of this moment I’m in a very comfortable king size bed in my very own hotel room. It’s delightful, especially because they have fitted bottom sheets which is the standard by which I judge all hotels.

Well, that and if their continental breakfast includes more than a piece of rubber masquerading as a bagel.

Anyway, I’m here with Sophie for the LifeWay Women’s Forum. We’re teaching a class on how social media can be your friend.

(I don’t think that’s the official title.)

If you want to see some live footage from the conference, it’s being streamed live all day long from 9 a.m. until 9 p.m. and you can watch it by clicking here. There’s no telling what you might see in the span of those twelve hours, but I’ll bet there will be a little bit of Travis Cottrell and Priscilla Shirer in the mix.

One more thing, if you read one thing today, make it this post that Shaun Groves wrote from El Salvador yesterday about spending time with his sponsored child. It’s the perfect picture of what Compassion does.

Y’all have a great Friday.
Sometimes life is full of rainbows and bad cotton candy

I had to drag Caroline out of bed yesterday morning and when I finally got her in the kitchen she informed me she was too tired to go to school. And I knew just how she felt because I would have loved nothing more than for us to get back under the covers and spend the entire day in our pajamas. However, I know her well enough to know that the tiredness would wear off eventually and she’d begin demanding things like food and forms of entertainment more involved than watching Phineas and Ferb. So I drove her to school.

The weekend was exhausting. P was hunting and I discovered that being the head soccer coach is much harder than it looks. There are just so many times that you can yell “THAT’S NOT OUR GOAL! KICK IT THE OTHER DIRECTION! KICK IT THE OTHER WAY!” before you’re ready to pop a Valium and call it a game.

Normally P handles most of the coaching responsibilities and I serve as what I have come to believe is a crucial element of the game, the sideline hostess. I open Gatorades, hand out snack items, take out earrings that have come loose, and fix ponytails. Occasionally I’ll pipe up with a rousing “Come on Rainbows! Follow the ball! Get the ball!” but then I go back to sorting grapes in preparation for half time.

But this week I was on my own. I recruited Bops to serve as sideline hostess but he’s not one to sit around and serve Gatorade while there is any type of competitive sport being played, although in terms of this game I’m using the words “competitive” and “sport” very loosely, so he helped me yell out helpful strategies from the sidelines such as “YOU HAVE TO KICK THE BALL!”

We only had five players which left us with just one substitute. By the second half the girls were all exhausted. One of them begin complaining that her leg hurt so I pulled her out. Then about that time Caroline fell and scraped her knee. Both of them were on the sidelines and neither wanted to go in so I launched into a passionate lecture about MENTAL TOUGHNESS while they searched the cooler for any remaining bottles of blue Gatorade.

When the game mercifully ended, I gathered the team around to give them a little inspirational pep talk and let them know how much I appreciated their efforts. I was halfway through my impassioned speech when one of the little girls looked at me and asked, “Where’s that guy that’s usually here?”

I think it’s safe to say that P and I made a lasting impression on the mighty Rainbows.

On the way home I drove through a Mexican restaurant (I didn’t actually drive through a restaurant although I would have been totally capable of it at that moment. To clarify, I went to a Mexican restaurant with a drive-through) and ordered some self-medication in the form of two breakfast tacos with beans, egg and bacon and extra green chile sauce. If you haven’t ever tried that combination then I feel bad for you. I first discovered it at La Popular (emphasis on lar) Bakery in Pearsall, Texas back in 1996 and my life has never been the same. Colors are brighter.

Caroline and I spent the next two hours lying on the couch until it was time for Jackson and Will to show up. Gulley and her husband had to drive to Dallas and back for a funeral on Saturday and since you never hear anyone say, “You know what’s a great time? A ten hour roundtrip road trip with two kids to attend a funeral!” I offered to keep the boys. They spent the morning with some other friends since they had soccer and football games, but came to my house around lunchtime.

I talked to Gulley a little after lunch and informed her that everyone was pretty tired. I believe my exact words where “I’m not sure if Caroline and Brother (Will) are going to be loving or hating today”. Because that’s what those two do. They are either in love or uninviting each other to their birthday parties. There’s no in between which is why we will forbid them from ever dating because the drama would kill us all.

But we made it through the day with only a fair amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth. Late in the afternoon I told them we could go out to eat for dinner. When we arrived at the restaurant I told them we could sit outside. Will asked me if he could please sit at a table by himself and since we were the only ones there enjoying a 5:15 dinner on a Saturday night, I told him he was welcome to sit by himself.

So he did.

Will is his own person and every now and then he likes to be a loner. A rebel. A renegade on the loose with his orange Fanta.

Meanwhile, Jackson and Caroline were eating their dinner and contemplating the merits of an EZ’s milkshake for dessert vs. candy from the video store.

Sidenote: Caroline’s necklace is an original Caroline design made exclusively with the finest plastic beads that Target has to offer.

Ultimately, they all decided on candy from the video store. Will and Caroline insisted that they wanted that compressed synthetic cotton candy in a foil bag, but young Jackson chose wisely and picked Sweet Tarts. Once we arrived back at the house I got them all bathed and in their pjs, then they piled up in my bed with their cavities in a bag.

After a few minutes Will and Caroline regretted their cotton candy purchase (just like I warned them they would) and wanted to horn in on Jackson’s Sweet Tarts. I told them that Jackson made the better choice and they needed to live with their decision.

So I guess the theme for the day was MENTAL TOUGHNESS.

And I also may have slipped them each a few Gummie Sours LifeSavers because when it comes to choosing the wrong candy, mental toughness can be overrated.

Make sure to read Kelly’s post from today about their first visit to a Compassion Project in El Salvador. And don’t miss Keely’s amazing photos. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow it just means I’m on my way to El Salvador to see about adopting one of those beautiful faces.
A quick lesson from the weekend

I had plans to write about our weekend and my coaching experience but I have a little girl that just informed me that she needs her mama because she had a really bad day and could “use some snuggles”.

And that takes precedence.

But I will share one quick thing I learned this weekend.

It may seem like a good idea to let two little yahoos eat cotton candy in a bag in your bed while they watch a movie, but it’s not.

Actually I knew it wasn’t a good idea at the time but I’m a sucker.

A sucker who had to change the sheets before I went to bed Saturday night.

On a totally different note, a group of Compassion bloggers are in El Salvador this week. I especially loved this post by Molly Piper yesterday.
The non-caped crusader

So we had a little excitement on Halloween that I failed to mention yesterday. And by failed to mention, I mean that I was coming down from my massive forty-eight hour sugar high and way too tired to find all the words. If you visit here on a regular basis then you know that finding the words isn’t usually much of an issue.

Whether or not they are words worthy of five minutes of your life is debatable.

Saturday morning started with yet another mighty Rainbows soccer game. As we near the end of the season we are so proud that our team has really come together and embraced all that is good and true about playing soccer, as evidenced by the fact that they are all highly concerned about whose mom is bringing snacks to the game and what the aforementioned snacks will be and when, OH WHEN, can they eat the snacks? How long, O Lord, until snack time? HOW LONG?

We came home after the game with big plans to spend the day doing absolutely nothing but resting up for a big night of trick-or-treating. It was a gorgeous fall day so I spread out a blanket in the backyard and prepared to spend a leisurely afternoon perusing the vast quantity of Christmas catalogs that arrived in the mail that day because heaven forbid we get even one day of rest between holidays before we are bombarded with reminders that time is running out to get ready for the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER.

While I looked at the catalogs, Caroline was busy serving fake tea to Scout and Bruiser and P was attempting to make a homemade windshield for his Polaris out of plexiglass.

On a side note, I do not have a good feeling about the stability of this homemade windshield and if I could ask Santa for just one thing this year it would be to witness the moment that the plexiglass windshield falls apart and the ensuing non-Sunday school words that will come out of P’s mouth as it shatters on a ranch road somewhere in South Texas. That may seem like a twisted wish, but even P knows that there is nothing that brings me more delight than seeing him on a tirade about any sort of mechanical failure. It’s a sickness.

I’d just stumbled upon a page in the Garnet Hill catalog that featured this darling Buckets of Joy Advent Calendar and decided that I would recreate that crafty idea all by myself. I was ready to declare it Christmas Project ’09. However, when I showed it to P so he could admire all its cuteness and my thriftiness in declaring it Christmas Project ’09 instead of just buying it from the catalog, he totally killed my Martha buzz by asking, “Where on earth do you think we have room to hang 25 buckets in our house?”

“They’re not buckets. They’re tiny pails.”

“Ok. Where do we have room to hang 25 tiny pails in our house?”

Christmas Project ’09 was dead on arrival. Probably much like a homemade plexiglass windshield.

Anyway, I’d just found the tiny pails of Christmas joy when the phone rang. It was my sister and I could tell when I heard her voice that something was wrong. She said, “I don’t want you to freak out, but Mimi and Bops were just in a wreck on the way to our house.” My heart stopped for about three minutes until I was able to get Bops on the phone and hear that everything seemed to be okay even though they were taking Mimi to the hospital just to be on the safe side.

Apparently, they were heading down the street and a car didn’t feel the need to yield to oncoming traffic so it swerved around the car in front of it that was yielding and hit the passenger side of my dad’s car. And then, AND THEN, tried to speed away from the scene of the accident.

But what Mr. Hit and Run didn’t realize was that he’d just rammed into the Texas roadway equivalent of Batman. My dad had the presence of mind to block the driver’s getaway attempt and force him to turn into the closest parking lot where he was trapped like a rat. A dirty rat.

Mimi and Bops actually made it to our house in time to do some trick-or-treating later that night and didn’t seem too much worse for the wear. Of course it probably helped that I poured them each a glass of wine in a plastic cup to drink as we walked door to door. It was purely for medicinal purposes.

Because nobody ever said it was easy to be Batman. Or his sidekick.

Even on Halloween.