Some sayings just defy explanation

We celebrated a birthday last night and, on the drive to the restaurant, we updated our list of quirky sayings by my husband's family.

I just added this one to my running list:

"Somebody ought to take a pine top and a bucket of slop and run her out of town."

That's what you say about somebody who has really gotten on your nerves. I mean really. I get a life-sized picture of that angry woman with her enamel bucket in one hand and a switch in the other.

The word "ass" is frequently used to add spice to the old family sayings. For instance:

"I'll kick your ass and the horse you rode up on." (Another one put to good use when you're mad. I think this one should be attributed to John Wayne and just stolen by the Gholsons.)

or

"Aren't you just the cat's ass?" (You can use that one in both the positive and the negative, depending on tone of voice.)

and our favorite and most frequently used:

"She just makes my ass hurt."

There is one old family saying that mystified me for years. In order to appreciate it, you have to understand the circumstances of its use.

Here's how it goes. You are waiting for a friend to show up and they don't. Or you expect a finished product to end perfectly and it doesn't. So you lament loudly: "I just thought surely the Perrys would be here by now." ... or "I thought my cake was going to turn out so beautiful and delicious."

At that moment, this very appropriate saying is uttered and you discover that:
"You thought like Parker's dog."

For years I wondered: Who is Parker and what in the heck was Parker's dog thinking?

I mentioned this recently to my friend Susie on the tennis court. "I know. I know what Parker's dog thought," she said.

Susie was the first person I encountered who had ever even heard that phrase and now she was going to solve the mystery for me.

Amazing. Drum roll please ....

Parker's dog thought a dog turd was a dog biscuit.



------
Just one example of thinking like Parker's dog -- with no incrimination, I mean attribution.

Happy birthday Bob!

Aren't you just the cat's ass!

Just old enough to be cool

"Mid-century" is the trendy name for the decor of the 1960s. You know, the squared off sofas and leather bars.

And those adorable silver holiday trees with the fringed branches you keep stored in paper sleeves until next Christmas.

To get a full dose of mid-century style, check out Samantha and Darren's home in the classic TV show Bewitched. We've been watching episodes featuring Sam and Darren and the ever-endearing Endora -- thanks to the magic of Netflix.

The girls were horrified when our beloved Samantha said "Darren is the master of this house." It felt like a terribly sexist remark. Then we realized that Sam was just working her magic of humility and humor.

Everybody knows that Samantha fixes countless messes and can even stop time, if need be. She rescues Darren from his blunders on the job. She takes an orphaned kid to visit Santa. She smooths the feelings of slighted grandparents and even keeps the doddering Aunt Clara from injuring herself and others.

The mid-century magic goes beyond the television for us -- thanks to daughter Mary Katherine's business. She sells reminders of a simpler era at her Green Room in Fondren and her online store. You can visit by clicking here: Queen of the Universe Vintage

When Darren makes Larry a drink,
 I bet he uses this vintage
ice bucket.

Click on over for a look and a truly Bewitching experience.

Brown leather pumps suitable
for a trip to the Tate and McMann
ad agency.

Vintage Edmar  brass face plate
straight out the Stevens home
in suburban New York

And the perfect ensemble for a good witch like Samantha!

We will remember

There was a lot of "new" this holiday season.

Great Pandora Christmas radio. Wayfarer Raybans for Marcia Gran. A fresh bottle of Angel perfume for Mary Katherine. A cool Bible for Rachel with the hip and cutting Message version on one side of the page and a more traditional version on the other.

But it's funny how the "something old" we found entertained us as much as the reindeer games or the gifts.

My Aunt Earline died three years ago during the holidays. She left us a lot, because she was a collector and a saver.

She also was a journalist. 

This historic entry from Nov. 23, 1963, is from her journal -- a school teacher's look at the death of a president.

Sat., Nov. 23, 1963

A dark day in our history and one I never thought would be brought about. Yesterday about 1:15-1:20 Miss Reynolds called me to the hall outside my room and called also Ethel Swett, Sarah Harris and Betty Sellers to tell us all at once of the news someone had called in and she'd tuned in on radio to hear that President Kennedy and Gov. Connelly of Texas had been shot in the motorcade in Dallas and that there were conflicting reports that the Pres. was killed. 

We were shocked. When I went back in my room, the full impact hit me and I had to sit down and cry a minute while trying to keep my composure and getting up, walking around to go on with the arithmetic lesson that had been interrupted.

I could hardly call on anyone and didn't know whether to tell the children the tragic news then or not. It was quite evident that something was wrong, and I couldn't keep the tears back. So I just told them something very bad had happened, but not to anyone in Davis School, Hattiesburg, or Mississippi.

Right after that, Miss Reynolds announced the news over our intercom system and said she was putting on the radio news for us to follow. The announcer reported the events and said there were contradictory reports coming in. In a minute or so, he said there was unofficial news that the president was dead and asked everyone to bow for a minute of prayer.

We did, tearfully, and then the reports came in -- conflicting again. But in about another minute, he reported that the two priests who gave the last rites said the president was dead. He again called for prayer.

By this time, several of the children had gotten upset and were crying aloud, so I had to pull myself together and get them under control. I apologized for crying and told them there was nothing we could do except pray and there was no use crying. Danny Dickerson was especially upset; also Charles Hobby, Martha Chambliss and Jimmy Herrin, who'd already been crying about a sore place in his mouth.

The afternoon recess went on late, helping relieve the situation. We spent the remainder of the day listening to reports as they came in of how a sniper had fatally wounded the president, shooting him in the brain. He had slumped over and Mrs. Kennedy had held him on the five minute ride to the hospital. The governor was shot in the chest but is recovering satisfactorily. 

I went on to have my hair done after school and there was a little talk about it.

As much as the South disagreed with the president, I thought he was a good, sincere man and was doing what he thought best. Too young and holding too revered a position to be so cut down -- just to hear of the president of the United States being asassinated in 1963, supposedly a civilized time, is unthinkable. And so tragic for his wife and two young children.

Television and radio programs were discontinued and only news about the late president and now President Johnson have been on since the event and up until 10 o'clock tonight.
We've had TV on almost constantly and the coverage has been most extensive.

A sad, sad thing.

Today will soon be gone -- be thankful!

I am thankful for …

The opportunity to work with high school kids and be a part of their lives. There are so many: Ashlyn and Sam,  Cassie and Rehema and Summer and Janna are just a few!

The coolest old friends in the world – Mays, McIntoshes, Sally and Terry Caves, Judith, Jim and Tracie Gulley, Joy and Norm, Andy and Kitty, Gina and Mike...of course, Rhonda!

and new and different ones that I hope to get to know better: Krista McKenzie, Beverly and Stuart Harmon, Charlie and Mark DeLoach, Jessica and James Welborn...and all those in between... Like the Rasberries with all their crazy sayings and love of Elvis and Conway.

I am so thankful for the chance to go to Nicaragua and experience the humility, love and genuineness of the people there. I am thankful I met Jurielka and watched her special folk dancing. I am especially thankful for the wonderful 100 year old man I met there named Perfecto. He WAS perfecto! (Don't you think?)

I’m thankful for the meals at the Treehouse Restaurant and the Planter’s Punch in St. Martin, and the island beaches with my girls and then my husband. I'm grateful I married a good cook and a football lover and tennis player who doesn't like to hunt. Now that is something to be thankful for.

I am thankful for little things like lemon trees and peanut M & Ms and the fun of being a tennis team captain. I am thankful for Twitter and Ya Ya’s Yogurt and the thrill of estate sale shopping. I am thankful that Gran can text and Marcia Beth can drive. I am super thankful that Rachel Beth has made so many friends at Ole Miss.

I am thankful for MK’s success on Etsy and at the Green Room and how she has met so many cool people through her job … and that she got to be in Southern Living this month!

I am thankful for my book club and authors like Lisa See and Lee Child. I am thankful for tennis opponents who don’t cheat and who compliment you when you get a good shot.

I am thankful that I have never been in enough danger to need a gun.

I am thankful for mementoes that remind me of people I love: my great grandmother's class ring, the mermaid sculpture from Mary Katherine in my bathroom, Rachel Beth’s and Miss Patty's artwork, a sweetgrass basket from my childhood best friend Joy, MawMaw Tressie’s “wisdom” plaque over my kitchen sink,  the gold metallic vintage purse from my Aunt Earline’s closet.

I am thankful for my crazy sister who does the craziest, insane movements and hand gestures in public  for my entertainment and my equally crazy brother. He showed up immediately when Rach was in a hit-and-run accident. I am grateful that he survived a scary bathroom encounter with cinnamon air freshener. I love that he is always sweet to and protective of my children, Peter included.

I am thankful for the absolute best and most resourceful brother and sister-in-law in the world... my dad who keeps me updated on the political scene and shares his love of being around people with me. My mother-in-law who is ready with comfort food. My handsome nephews. My prince of a son-in-law who just gets better like fine wine.

And my mom! Who does not complain even when we ask her to do impossible things. She is like that amazing rubber cement scrapbook glue -- always holding precious and beautiful things together and never getting wrinkles.

I can’t help but be super grateful for our third grandmother Frances, who gives sacrificially to Young Life and shares my passion for teens. I am also grateful for my friend Linda who is always ready to help and who likes my cooking! I am thankful for her adorable 4-year-old grandbaby Zi who told everyone that Rachel Beth was her “cousin” and  that “she will fight you!” (Just for explanation, Zi is black and Rachel is white but somehow they are cousins -- in the sense that your cousin has your back!)

And how could I forget our extended family dogs: willful Shorkie Sis and princess Jessie and Toby, who has the love of God in his heart. And only because I am commanded to be thankful in everything, I am thankful for our satanic cat Jake, who prowls around like a roaring lion seeking those he may find to devour!

Go with God

What do I love about my house in Peachtree Bend? Let's see: indoor plumbing, air conditioning, warm showers....

So why am I thinking about a place that has not one of those necessities? And dreaming of going back there?

I spent last week in Muelle de los Bueyes, Nicaragua. It cost me $1,900 to go to a place without a pool or a swim-up bar or a tennis court .... or drinkable water. But honestly, it might be the most unforgettable vacation I've ever taken.
It wasn't "fun."
It was "rich."
What a weird way to describe this experience among the poor.

There was Julisa, who badgered me for candy or chapstick or tiny plastic bracelets. Man, that kid's hug would knock you down! She ran so fast to reach you that you could feel her little heart beat against you as she hugged and would NOT let go.

Julisa, center, holding her red bag of goodies.

Then there was Perfecto. Age 102. What a lovely, smiling angel of a man, waiting outside the eyeglass clinic and grabbing my damp hand with his cool, strong tanned one.

Perfecto, left, with Blake Lawson

And teenagers? My favorites! Senorita Jurielka painted my toenails in vivid white and coral and invited me to her home. She took me down to the river, where the brown water creeped in rain forest beauty, contrasting with the crowds and litter of the village.

Teens Jurielka, left, and Jury, on the veranda

My friends said I would be forever changed by this trip.
May it be so, hermanos and hermanas of Nicaragua.
May it be forever so.

Happy Angst Day!

It's Mother's Day. I know whoever created the event had good intentions. But, for me, it's usually just a day to feel inadequate.

I'm not the mother you see in Highlights magazine wearing the cute flared skirt and serving up a tray of lemonade. I'll never rank close to my own beautiful mother, who birthed me at age 21.

So, just to clear my troubled mind as this chapter of motherhood ends for me, here are the ways I have missed the mark.

1. I did not donate a kidney to my baby girl -- her dad did that. (I could have. I really could have.)

2. I hated breastfeeding. It's supposed to be healthy and bonding and wonderful in a home-school, mom-of-the-world way. I refused. (I could have done that too.)

3. I forgot to pull out the Halloween and Easter decorations. And at Christmas, I sometimes hired a Christmas tree decorator. (It's true. Sad, but true.)

4. I never baked cookies. (I'm not apologizing for that.)

5. I rarely, if ever, sat down to dinner with my family. I was usually out playing tennis.

6. I never did homework or made posters for my kids and rarely asked about homework.

7. I haven't showed up for school events put together, hair perfectly fixed. I'm usually in exercise clothes that don't match.

8. I sometimes let my kids stay out too late and I sometimes made them come in too early.

9. I occasionally let them skip school or church for not a great reason.

10. On the first day of junior high, I forgot to pick up both Mary Katherine AND Rachel from school. (Different years, same school. Horrors!)

Ten confessions are enough for today. I could beat myself up a little more but I still have a sermon coming, so I'll leave room for that. Wouldn't it be great if the preacher said: "It's OK...you did the best you could...and you loved your kids' guts...so enjoy your day!"

It's easy being green

A facelift can be good for the soul. And one day I will probably boost my soul with one. But until then, I'm loving these trash to treasure projects.

The decor at our Oxford getaway is DIY chic thanks to my good friend Lori Burson, who can make a snap decorating decision in the time it takes to hang a picture.

Above left, Nanny's chair recovered with a geometric pattern. Not real comfy ... but real cute!

Above right: the table from my childhood house on Dixie Avenue, painted cream and roughed up with Lori's rotary sander. Some recovered club chairs I found in the attic give it pizzaz.

Right: Also from my grandmother's house in downtown Hattiesburg -- side tables, which were once an outdated maple, look so adorable painted lime green and placed alongside her antique iron bed.

My next project, once I figure it out, is painting an Asian-inspired lamp with bright colors like this one above, which I spotted in a store window in Oxford.

My lamp needs its youth and vitality restored ... a nip and a tuck of beauty that, yes, is skin deep and just what the doctor ordered.

I've come a long way baby

A man from South Central Bell came to my first grade classroom at Davis Elementary 45 years ago. Yes, it's been 45 years.

His name was Ott Brockman and I remember him predicting a future of robots and picture phones. He even showed us a model -- white frame, black screen, receiver perched beside it. George and Jane Jetson-style.

Fascinating!

But what if someone called when you had curlers in your hair, or worse ... what if you were walking through the house naked and your phone rang? Troubling.

All these years I've waited, expected. Other fantabulous things have come into my life. Televisions with hundreds of channels (then, we had two) and radio stations tailored to my whims (in 1960s Hattiesburg, everybody tuned into WXXX, affectionately known as Triple X, for the latest).

Now there are microwaves (no, we didn't have those) and voicemail (didn't have that either).

In 2012, we don't have to wait for a meal to cook or a boy to call

or a favorite song to play on the radio.

And now, thanks to an iPad with facetime, I have my very own picture phone.

As my grandmother would say: Oh my stars!

Life is like a game of Twister

So, what would you like people to remember about you when you die?

It kind of helps put New Year's resolutions into perspective.

Here's what they might say:

She had a great, comfortable house

She exercised every day.

She loved her dog.

She tried, unsuccessfully, to wear all the cute clothes in her closet but there were too many tee shirt/sweatshirt days.

Not too good, as funerals go.

I think I'd prefer:

She was generous.

She took on people as a project and really stuck with them.

She tried to just be ... before going out and just doing.

Of course the beginning of a new year is no time to think about funerals, but it is a time to consider priorities and think about the road you are taking or the couch on which you are reclining.

So what will this year bring? An abundant life or a retiring life? Here's hoping it's rich with activity, emotion, friends and strangers. Here's hoping it's difficult and challenging and a real stretch.

Reminds me of a phrase that harkens back to Nancy Ratliff's high school Latin class:

Non est vivere sed valere vita est

Life is more than just being alive.