Not So SAHM

Friday 13: Things I Love About the South

13 days and counting until the big move. I will be heading home. Not to my place of birth or childhood home, although those will be within a morning’s drive. I will be heading south. I love moving and I love living in different areas of America and the world, but when the time comes to head to the South there’s a feeling of comfort and calmness. I’ve never lived in the city we’re moving to, but I know I’m going to feel at home. It was the same feeling I got when we moved from New Mexico to Virginia. I had stepped foot in Virginia once, maybe twice, before we moved there. But as soon as our truck pulled into the driveway of our new house I felt like I was where I was meant to be–not necessarily in that part of Virginia, but in the South in general.

I didn’t know what I would be missing when I first moved away. I couldn’t wait to leave the small town where I grew up to head to Atlanta to college. Atlanta was awesome and I didn’t mind the busyness. From Atlanta I went to Germany and didn’t realize what I had left. Germany is just as green as Georgia and I was fascinated with the culture. It wasn’t until I headed to New Mexico that I realized what I had taken for granted all of my life. The West is just different, in looks and feel. Now that I’m in the Midwest I feel the same. It’s just different. People are nice here and the customer service is much better than in our area of VA, but I think it’s because we’re in a small town and they haven’t learned how to be rude yet.

The desire to go home is fairly strong. I’ll give you 13 reasons why. Naturally there are many more, but I’m playing along with the theme of the day.

Friday 13: 13 Things I Love About the South

Sweet Tea There’s a reason why it’s first on the list. Because no one outside of the South knows how to make it properly. Tea is not tea unless it is chilled and loaded with sugar.
Barbecue Many regions boast great barbecue, and Kansas City has some pretty good meat, but where else in the country do you have barbecue restaurants lining the streets like churches and car dealerships? Only in the South people.
Moon Pies A marshmallow type filling sandwiched between some type of cake substance all dipped in a chocolate coating. Yum. Apparently fish like to eat these, you’ll have to ask Du about that.
The rest of the food Fried chicken, black-eyed peas, peach cobbler, fried green tomatoes, seafood, “mashed” potatoes, and on and on. I, however, HATE grits and I can’t say that enough. Why someone decided to mash up corn kernels and call it good I don’t know. God did not mean for this to happen. I’m sorry if I’m offending some of you, but they are just nasty. And I’m probably the only southerner that will ever admit to that. I did try them last year to see if my taste buds had changed. They did not. And so grits will not be on the menu at our house, even while we are in the South.
The accent(s) There is more than one southern accent. You have two main types: the genteel type and the redneck type. We’ll see which one I pick up. I tend to pick up whatever accent I’m around most. That will be hilarious if we ever move to England or Australia. When I left Warner Robins to go to college in Atlanta I must have left my accent behind as well. Even in Germany people couldn’t tell I was from Georgia, I had lost it so quickly. I pick it back up when I’m on the phone with my mom or the friend I’ve had for the longest time (not my oldest friend), Angie. In Alabama both types of accents are heard. We’ll see which one I pick up.
Humidity Did I just write that? Yes I did. I can’t stand the dry air. Bloody buggers are not my idea of fun. My skin and hair will go through their own Hell readjusting to the southern humidity, but I can’t wait. I know, ask me if I love it in August when I’m breathing water and the heat waves bouncing off cars are visibly shaking the water particles in the air.
Gentility There’s a thing called Southern Hospitality that you may have heard of. It’s alive and well in the South. In the smaller cities at least. There is racism, reverse racism and poor customer service in areas, but for the most part people are nice. They wave at you when they drive by. You wave at them when they drive by. You look your cashier in the eye and have an actual conversation about how your days are going.
Atlanta I love Atlanta. It’s a big city with a southern heart. It’s green. It’s got culture. It’s got history (and Du has a piece of it. Leigh Anne ask Du about Margaret Mitchell’s house. We will not divulge secrets in the blogosphere.) It’s got attitude. What’s not to love. Except the traffic and crime.
Other southern cities Charleston, Savannah, Richmond, Macon, and on and on. They each have their own atmosphere and they’re each unique. The history, the people, the food, the sites, the sounds, the music, the antiques…ahhhh.
The beaches Nothing beats the perfectly white, perfectly smooth sand of the beaches of the Gulf Coast. I remember summer after summer of burning my feet while making a mad dash from the car straight to the ocean. The Atlantic beaches are made out of bits of shell (especially as you go farther south). This hurts to walk on. Can’t speak to the Pacific beaches, but they can’t beat the pure white Pensacola beaches.
Georgia Tech Football Go Jackets! Not what you’d normally hear from a Southerner. Of course, I could be like a sheep and blindly root for the Dawgs like you’re taught to do as soon as you’re born here, but where’s the individuality and self-respect in that? (and I’m not just picking on Lula. If my aunt, uncle and cousins knew I was writing this they’d probably disown me). Or, I could be a lover of all things Bama, like my dear brother who never even went to the school. But Bear Bryant’s a legend down there and there is something cool about houndstooth (our uncle did play for Bear Bryant). I’d much rather root for a yellow jacket than a hugea$$ elephant or a drooling dog about to die of a doggie heart attack. Oh, them’s fightin’ words, I know.
The music And I’m not talking about Elvis. Don’t make me vomit. (Can you tell I’m not a typical Southern Girl? I don’t care for Gone With The Wind either. Boooring). I’m talking about Southern Rock. Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Allman Brothers Band, Charlie Daniels… You know, where in the middle of the song they just break out into this guitar playing (or a fiddle) that will make you jump up and start gyrating, clapping, moving your feet, and you’re not even drunk. Country music’s ok too. Nothing beats Sweet Home Alabama or The Devil Went Down To Georgia and I’ll be singing both daily for about a year.
Family Saving the best for last. Although I have relatives in Indiana and Arkansas, most of my kin is in Florida, Georgia and Alabama. I’ll be less than a day’s drive from all of them. And just a flight away from the others that we’ll be farther from.

How about you? What do you love about the area of the country you live in?

Craftastic!

Part of this vacation has been feeding my inner craftiness. I love crafts. My craft interests run wide and deep. Starting a business where I get to exercise my skillz for the babies isn’t enough. I’d love to try everything, if at least once. Enter my mother-in-law. She is crafty too and has a lot of the tools I don’t. So we’ve played. And played. And played.

Before:

After:

This is fused glass using dichroic glass. I’m realizing it looks like the anarchy symbol. Whatever. I like it. AND I put a pendant doodad on the back so I can use it as a pendant or a key chain. I’m all for multipurpose.

This is the second dichroic fused glass pendant/key chain I made. If your screen is at just the right angle you can see that there’s something happening underneath the glass with the coloring. It’s turning grey…It was so cute before that and I was thinking of giving it away on the ol blog.

I couldn’t get a great picture of this one. Granted, I didn’t try very hard. This is a pink glass with iridescent zebra stripes. Also a pendant/key chain. I’m already putting this one to use. You can see that the clear top glass slid when we put it in the kiln. I liked the size so I didn’t want to file it down. And who’s perfect so I wanted to leave it that way.

This is a pendant I made for Reagan. Rhonda made the glass stone. I wrapped it with wire and added that bead. That’s about as right-brained as I get.

This is a different type of glass fusing. I used a piece of base glass, sticks of glass and sand-looking glass. The sun center is dichroic glass that I sanded down into a circle. It’s got ridges on it that are hard to see in this picture. There is no top clear glass on top. I’m planning on making this into an ornament either by drilling a hole in it or wrapping it with wire.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with this. My idea was to create a pendant for Reagan with her initial and then wrap it with wire to put on a necklace. This didn’t turn out like my mind envisioned it so I haven’t messed with it again.

Alright, so diversity in the craft room hasn’t been my strong suit here. However, I have done other things:

These are two 12″x12″ stepping stones that I’m in the process of making. Nicole, this is where you’ll be proud of me. I picked out the natural stones and glass tiles, placed them in patterns, glued them on, then grouted them. I’m now waiting for the grout to dry before I apply sealant. The glass tiles are amazingly clear now that the grout is in place. Here is where you can tell how my mind works. I’m realizing I’m more right-brained than left-brain. I like lines, symbols, geometry (as much as I don’t like the math) rather than random patterns. Let me reword that. I like random patterns, but my mind doesn’t create them. I have to enjoy them when someone else does it. The only thing I would change is to make the four corner stones on the right a darker color. They kind of blend in with the grout. These will look nice at our house in Alabama.

There you have it! My craftastic vacation. And I believe there’s more to come…

Giraffe Kisses (with tongue) and Elephant Poo

Wow, that will get me a lot of weird Google search responses! I’m working on a post about what kind of searches lead people to my blog. Can’t really post about that when we’ve got vacation to talk about, right? Especially when it comes to kissing giraffes…

As you might have guessed we did make it to the zoo today. This zoo is one of the more natural I’ve seen. And it seems small because you don’t have to walk very far to get anywhere. This is the first zoo I’ve been to that’s on the side of a mountain. So, you’re zig-zagging up the mountain as you’re visiting different exhibits.

(looking up the mountain)

As with the Olympic Training Center (and every other money making venture) the first thing you enter as you go into the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo is the gift shop. Reagan, Du and I get hats because as opposed to yesterday, today is hot and sunny. I’m also sporting a new pair of sunglasses when it’s all said and done. But my most favorite purchase, and pretty cool to boot, is elephant poo. In the form of a notepad. No kidding. Someone has come up with the clever idea to take elephant dung and rice paddy, boil them until the poo’s not gross anymore (really, is that ever? Unless it’s cute–see below), produce paper pulp, and make little notebooks. Now I have some elephant crap to write all my crappy blog ideas on once my Hello Kitty notebook is crapped out. Yes, I keep a little notebook in my purse to write spontaneous ideas on when I’m on the move (read, all the time).

(Hello Kitty to be replaced by elephant poo)

Enough of elephant poo. The next area you’re ushered to is the giraffe feeding exhibit. You get to feed specially made “giraffe crackers” to the giraffes. Please, tell me what’s cooler than this. The platform you’re on is up in the air, because you know, giraffe necks are llloooonnnnngggg. And giraffes are ttttaaaaallllll. They’re so used to this they’re up at the railings begging to be fed the crackers.

Here are some things I learned today about giraffes:

Giraffe eyelashes are super long. (click to enlarge)
Giraffe eyes are super big.
Giraffe tongues are about the longest thing you’re ever seen to move around like that. They’re considered “prehensile” and can wrap around and grasp things.
Giraffe tongues feel like sandpaper. How do I know? You’ll find out.
Giraffes don’t like to be petted. Even if you’re feeding them yummy snacks.

We spend all our cash on giraffe crackers and so must move on. This is the way out of the zoo, so we’ll be back… Throughout the rest of the zoo we got to see all the requisite animals.

Even a monkey with ADHD who apparently was really excited that trainer person was there to give him his mid-day snack. Click to play.

And we even saw something you don’t normally expect to see at a zoo. Someone from our past. We ran into a friend from Germany who now lives in the Springs. We weren’t going to be able to get together with her this trip, so God gave us this meeting. Even before we liked kids we knew enough to study the way our friend and her husband were raising their kids.

After our jaunt around the zoo the time came to leave. And we were heading back through the giraffe feeding grounds. Let’s feed them again! This is where the tongue comes in. I love animals. I love crazy pictures. Put the two together and sometimes there’s mayhem:

So, how do I know his tongue feels like sandpaper? I touched it, people, with my finger. And for those of you who are following me on Twitter you know I mentioned I had pink in my hair this morning.

See it! That tiny sliver of pink! I know, I’m a rebel. It’s not permanent, although it is real human hair, just not mine. That’s the best way to get your rebel on. Make sure it’s not permanent. And not sure what’s up with the right side of my hair. Maybe Melody cut my hair into layers the other day.

We Almost Went to the Zoo…but Had Lots of Fun Anyway

WARNING: Picture heavy. We’re on vacay and I tend to take lots of pictures anyway.

This morning we woke up having every intention of going to the zoo. Someone forgot to tell Colorado Springs that it’s late spring (might as well be summer), because it was more like fall/winter on the drive up the mountain. The rain was supposed to commence later in the day giving us enough time to feed the giraffes and clean the spit off our hands. We at least got to spot the giraffes (haha) as we circled the parking lot, making the decision that meandering through outdoor exhibits in the rain when it’s 57 degrees isn’t a good idea…for the chillins…or for Mommy…or for Nonna. Du and Reagan played tough guys saying that they weren’t going to melt and neither were the giraffes so lets go see them already. We all know they would have been miserable though. Reagan really would have hated the cold rain (while demanding to try to share Ashlyn’s stroller and blanket) and Du really would have hated listen to me bitch and moan lightly complain about how I’m cold natured and would soon develop pneumonia and he’d have to make the move south all by himself.

So, we took that opportunity to head to the US Olympic Training Center.

I think the guy who gave us the tour said there are three training centers in the country and one of them is here in the Springs. Of course, when you enter the visitor’s center, you’re ushered directly into the gift shop. They’re really pushing this 2008 Olympics in China thing.

(They’re luring in the kids)

I had forgotten the Olympics were coming up this summer. And honestly, I’m boycotting them because I don’t care to give China any more props or credit than they deserve, which, in my opinion, is about none. How about give your citizens the freedom of religion? How about stop putting poison in all of our products from kids’ toys to dog food to medicine? How about give more worth to a woman so then maybe there wouldn’t be so many unwanted girl babies. Then maybe I’ll support you. I support you enough by buying all your crap stuff that you shove down our throats (which is probably poisoned) because you make it at the lowest possible price…. Whoa, did I just write all that? Can you tell that’s been weighing on me some lately? Just some.

We start the tour, which is an inspirational couple of videos about the Olympics and the driving spirit that all the athletes have. It’s amazing how much dedication these people give to their sport…their lives really. After the video in the nice, dark, warm auditorium we’re ushered outside to the cold, somewhat wet outside. The Training Center used to be an Air Force Base (hooah!) and you can so tell that. They’ve definitely spruced it up for the athletes. The best bit of info I got all day, I think, was that the Training Center is not supported with government money. What? You mean a great program that can actually stand on its own with privately donated money? You bet. It can happen folks. We got to see the areas where the gymnasts, wrestlers, weight lifters, shooters (I think it’s awesome that shooting is an Olympic sport), swimmers (what am I forgetting?) get to train. The girl gymnasts don’t train here because the minimum age of residency here is 15 and we all know that to be a great girl gymnast you have to be prepubescent and stunt your growth for life. Wow, I’m on a roll tonight. Where’s my happy pill? To be able to actually reside at the Training Center you have to be in the top 5 to 10% of your sport. Talk about competitive.

(we would not be good bobsledders…notice the horrible ducking stance)

We left the Training Center and went to lunch at Meadow Muffins. Yummy, greasy food. What could be better? I hope there’s a hospital or at least some kind of clinic nearby. It’s not a four star establishment so Ashlyn displayed perfect behavior. I dared Du’s parents to take us to the Broadmoor. We’d see how perfect that angel would act in the place where President Bush just stayed before he bid the latest batch of Air Force Cadets farewell.

(Ashlyn acting all perfect)

Du’s parents were angels and took the girls home so Du and I could have some couple time. Forget Date Night, we had a whole Date Afternoon! And where did we go but to the mall. Does he know how to please me or what? Browsing books while sipping an iced chai latte is about the greatest thing. We also got to see the latest Indiana Jones movie. Can I just say that I called the spaceship? I so did know that it would show up. It wasn’t as cheesy as I was afraid though. Overall a great Indie movie. Couple of age jokes. I laughed at each one. What else? Oh! I found a mug for an upcoming project. The main feature this mug had to have was that it not be made in China (reference above). This one is cute and made in Portugal.

Ok, I can hear some of you snoring now. I’ll have to be brief about what we’ve been doing the last couple of days. Lets just say it involves crafts and highlights. Pictures of both will be coming soon. Well, you can see the highlights in the pic at the top. Oh! And we went bowling. I must mention that during the second game there were four frames, count them, four, where yours truly was in the lead. The others must have been bowling with their eyes shut.

Ashlyn wanted to bowl too so she took a couple of toys and threw them at the bowling lane.

Daddy’s the Word

Du’s been a daddy now for over 6 years. I’d say he’s pretty much perfect at the job. With the girls he’s the yin to my yang. And on the days when I yin he’ll yang. There are areas where he could improve, like not falling asleep as soon as he starts rubbing my back, but I really can’t think of any improvements that need to be made in the Daddy arena. I know the girls agree with me here.

I remember the first time I told Du he was going to be a father. We had been trying for a while to get pregnant and things just weren’t happening. I was doing everything possible within my realm to make it happen. It was stressing us out. That’s when we decided to just stop and relax for a while. It was a classic case of “let go and let God.” Does that really work for people? Yes. It finally worked for us.

I took the pregnancy test in the morning (you supposedly get more accurate results). I couldn’t even stand to wait until Du got up. I had a suspicion I might be pregnant because my temps hadn’t fallen like they normally do before my cycle. I was a couple days late. A huge smile spread across my face and it was all I could do to keep myself from leaping onto the bed and jumping up and down. Du was just beginning to wake up and he wouldn’t understand the excitement. I gently sat next to him and whispered, “are you ready to become a Daddy?” His smile matched mine and we couldn’t have been happier. I was four weeks pregnant.

I also remember the second time I told him he was going to be a father. We weren’t trying to get pregnant. Du was always ready for another child, however I needed a little more convincing. We finally decided that we just weren’t going to do anything about it. If it happened then it happened. I honestly didn’t think anything would happen since it took us so long to get pregnant the first time. No worries. God has a sense of humor like that. I think we stopped “doing anything about it” in January and this story is picking up in May. Prospective buyers were on their way to look at the house one last time. We were running around doing the last-minute things you do when you’re selling a house. I wasn’t diligently keeping track of my cycle, but I knew that I was off. Previously that week I had purchased the required test just in case. I couldn’t stand it any longer. With buyers coming over, us rushing around making the house look perfect, I take a potty break. I couldn’t believe the results. I headed down the stairs calling out, “Du” in a loud, not shrill, not excited, just low and steady tone. His response was, “You know that tone of voice makes me think I did something wrong. What did I do?” I wanted to say, “uh, you knocked me up.” Instead, all I could do was show him the stick. Both of our faces matched again. This time it was a shocked, oh Lord what are we getting ourselves into kind of face. Once again, about four weeks pregnant.

Du you’re the most wonderful father in the world. Even before the girls were born you were so attentive to their needs. God has given them not only a fantastic daddy, but a great role model as a person, friend, husband and follower of Christ.

So We’re In Colorado

We left for our trip after lunch and made the 10+ hour drive in, oh, about 10+ hours. I didn’t know, and nobody warned me, that if you have more kids you make more stops. I don’t like stops. It’s against my nature. When Du was on a business trip once, I made the trip from Virginia to middle Georgia (12 hours) with Reagan. She was about 2 and we stopped once, for about 20 minutes. No. stopping. aloud. Thankfully she was still in diapers and my bladder was akin to a camel’s ability to store water. Now that we have two kids we seem to be making more stops. And apparently having two kids adversely affects ones bladder performance as well. I’m just saying (I would never stoop to the astronut level to wear diapers on a cross country trip just to save time. I’m not that fanatical about not stopping).

So, we’re all still sane, which Ashlyn tried desperately to prevent. There were times when I could have jumped around the truck like a monkey and she still would have cried screamed her head off. And inevitably we would have crashed at that moment. There’s one thing you must know about Du. He thinks that if he just tells a 16 month old that she needs to quit screaming and take a nap that this 16 month old will comply. Honey, we have a 16 month old…and her name is Ashlyn…have you not been keeping up with her Modus Operandi? It’s her one purpose in life to make us pull out our hair. And she knows that we’re cooped up in an enclosed space with her. Why wouldn’t she pitch dozens of fits…right behind your head?

The one thing I should thank God about is the fact that there were no poopy diapers on the trip. Thank You God. And thank you fast food. Really. Because Kansas has apparently never heard of those baby changing tables. I actually did a “stand up change.” Ever done one of those? I made Ashlyn stand up while I took off her old diaper, prayed that she wouldn’t pee all over her pants that were pulled down around her ankles, and put on her new diaper. All while trying to make her stand still. This is Ashlyn we’re talking about. I should get a medal.

Here’s what we saw in Kansas:

And this was about it. Not ragging on Kansas or anything. In fact we’ll be doing something special in Kansas on our way home…

Here’s a frightful picture:

Yikes! That’s eighty-four dollars and five cents. Notice the 21 gallons. We must have been running on fumes. If we could harness that wind power a little better and somehow turn it into fuel I wouldn’t be paying these prices. And we wouldn’t be supporting OPEC (that apparently only spends around $21 to make a barrel of oil and then charges $138 for it. I know it’s capitalism, but I’d rather not give my money to them… and that being said, Du’s run the numbers and it would actually not be financially beneficial for us to have a Prius instead of a Durango…the Durango is paid off and it would take like a decade for the Prius to actually become economically cheaper for us. So the Durango it is…and just do the physics–a screaming kid has to sound louder in a smaller vehicle.)

And now, Sister Love:

Well, kind of. Ashlyn apparently doesn’t like kissing humans. She’s all over giving kisses to her dolls and stuffed animals and cats…but Mommy, Daddy and Sissy? Fugetuhboutit.

Oh, and I slept in until 9:30 this morning. So that’s 10:30 my time. I have such a great husband.