Words from Gracie

So I had my Gracie all to myself this Friday night. Momma went to see a movie with Jen and Gracie and I were off to spend the evening together and have a little fun. I took her to see her girlfriend at "Johnny Chans" Chinese buffet and we had dinner. After that we went to go get Pink. Gracie wanted "Pink" (Pink is a pink lemonade Sno-cone.) I called a friend on the way because "Pink" is in the old neighborhood. Once I reached Ms. Lisa on the phone I asked if I could kidnap her kids for about 20 minutes and take them all to get "Pink" This was accomplished, but Ms. Lisa's kids ordered first and they got "blue" so Gracie decided to get "blue" too. Once I took the now blue mouthed kids back home we hung out and I got to spend about 45 minutes visiting with my friend while the kids played. Gracie was so happy to see Ms. Lisa's' daughter because they get along so well and it had been at least 6 months since they spent any time together. This made Gracie happy and she asked if she would come out to our house and babysit for us, Gracie said she would let mom and daddy go do grown up stuff and they could play together. This will work out well at some point, not that we need to go do adult stuff (we do, but its not the priority) but it will work out because Gracie needs an older girlfriend she trusts and likes to fill this roll. The previous occupant of this roll doesn't have time for Gracie anymore and this has made her sad. Gracie has lots of friends in the new neighborhood that are around her age, but it takes a while before you can trust a young teen to take care of Gracie the Hunan Hissy Fit Queen.

Anyway, I digress.

After this welcome visit we start the 20 minute drive home with a brief respit at Mejiers to pick up some cleaning supplies. After meijers we only have a few minutes left before we are home. These few minutes driving contained a Word from Gracie that I will attempt to quote exactly.

"Daddy, why does those go up, and then down, up, and down, up and down, and up and then down, daddy, why does they do that like that..............Tell me WHY.!!"

"Why does what do what where?"

(she is in the backseat and I am driving but as she repeats the exact same words as though it would clear it up for me I catch her body movements out the corner of my eye. She is pointing at electrical lines and her hand is going up and down between the poles, aha, I figured it out)

"oh, Gracie, those are electrical lines, they say as they go from pole to pole."

"whats sag"

"It means they go up and down sweetie"

"Oh, Why does they sag?"

"They, well, its, uh, gravity sweety, its a thing called gravity"

"Oh, what sits on sags?"

"What?, oh, I see, bird will sometimes sit on the wires sweetie"

"Why?"

(Reaching for my spoon now to pluck out and eye)

"Because its convenient for them to do so"

"Oh, does anything else sit on sags?"

"Sometimes a squirrel will sit on the sag, I mean wire sweetie"

"How do they get up there?"

(Reaching for spoon, headed for other eye, blind driver alert)

"They climb up the pole and walk across the sag" ( I give up on calling it a wire now, its a sag, we all must just accept it)

"Can people climb up and sit on the sag?"

"No sweetie, if a person did that they would die"

"Would they fall down?"

"Yes, they would fall down"

"Then who comes to pick them up once they are dead?"

(Remember that I am now blind so I don't see this one coming)

"The coroner honey, the coroner comes to pick them up"

"NO HE DOESN'T, JESUS COMES TO PICK THEM UP"

(she is indignant that daddy could be so stupid, try and save this one daddy)

"Your right, Jesus comes to get them, after the coroner"

"Oh, will Jesus take them into the sky with Him?"

"Yes baby, Jesus will take them to the sky with Him in good time"

(She leans over and looks up at the sky which is lightly clouded and beautiful at 8:30 PM just starting to get a hint of pink going, but brace yourself for this one, I 'bout ran off the road)

"Does Jesus have a bathroom up there in case he has to go potty?"

(Snort)

" I suppose so, He has everything he needs"

" Does He have food?"

"Yes sweetheart, he has food"

"What does he like to eat?"

"Bread and water mostly" (Okay, that was just wrong but what would you do?)

"NO HE DOESN'T, Does he like strawberries?"

"I dunno"

"Does He like Chocolate?"

"I dunno"

"Does He like applesauce?"

"Honey, I don't know, I just don't know, I guess he would like applesauce and chocolate and strawberries, but I think he prefers bread and water. "

"Why does he like bread?"

"His Dad gave it to Him?" ( I know, I know, cut me some slack)

"Does He eat cheeseburgers and fries and macaroni and corn and grapes................?"

" Honey, I just don't know"

"Oh, can I have a goodnight snack when I get home?"

Just that quick the conversation moves on to goodnight snack, goodnight show, cuddling and what time will mommy be home. I would love to spend just 5 minutes inside that brain. Just five minutes to see the wonder of it all.

Answer number eight

My SIL Kristie has asked me to write about my in-laws. She called me to ask this after reading answers 1-5 because she forgot how to comment on the blog to pose her question. I will oblige her by making her question 'Answer number eight' although I question why is she not smart enough to comment on the blog since she used to be able to. Bless her heart.

So, I guess I cant pass up a chance to discuss my in-laws, since I was asked to do so and all.

"Here's a little story 'bout a man named Jed, poor mountain er' barely kept his family fed....................................................."

No, really.

I respect my in laws and can tolerate all of them, I get along pretty well with most of them. I get along just peachy with the over 50 crowd both male and female. I struggle more with the ones from my generation and under. Having said that, there is no relationship there, at all. I cant relate to them on many things, and they cant relate or understand me at all. None of them, with the exception of my two SIL'S, even really knows who I am, but I kinda prefer it that way.

So, I promised my wife, since these are her gene pool, that I will omit names. The first random generalization is that most of the men on both sides of the family are either truck drivers or farmers. While these are respectable professions, the agriculture and transportation industries are more of a rural thing that this urban manufacturing guy doesn't know anything about. Me and thee are from opposite sides of the world. The predominate crop, next to weed, in the area of Kentucky these people reside in is tobacco. (pronounced tah - back - uh) I don't think I had ever seen a crop outside corn or soy (raised in Ohio) until I was in my early twenties. There are two sides to this family, dads side has a few republicans who own tobacco farms, work on road crews, or work for local utilities and rock quarries, moms side is almost exclusively Democrat, truck drivers, and government employees. I will make some random commentary now to appease my slightly slow sister in law.

First I will address one of my favorite people in the older category from moms side of the family. This women is in her 70's I think and has as much energy and opinion as Grace, but Grace is four. She enters a room like a tornado with a megaphone and if there is work to be done, stand back 'cause all your gonna see from her is heels and elbows. I didn't have that much energy when I was 18 and she executes more verbiage in half an hour than I have uttered in my entire life. She is high energy, high opinion, high self esteem, and most notably, high volume. Nice and respectable older lady all in all, but there is one feature that stands out, literally, more than others. She girders on one of the 18 hour bras she picked up from a second hand Madonna outlet. They are pointed, and they don't point down, they don't even point out, they point up, its disturbing really. She will fold her arms (and lift them up a little further to do so) and pull one wrist out and waggle one finger while saying, " Now, just let me tell ya" right before some opinion spurts forth. The visual on this is priceless, I have almost wanted to say to her, " please tell me, but please please stop pointing those things at me and making them jiggle while your finger waggles"

Next we will go to another fav of mine from the middle generation of moms side, by marriage. This guy is a pill. He, as I pointed out is married and has children, but comes off as gay as the day is long. I know he doesn't prefer males, but he is the stereotypical gay male in appearance and behaviour. He is the well dressed and jewelry wearing, perfume smelling, metro with a very feminine lispy voice. He also happens to be an awesome cook and great hair dresser.

Next we have the evil twin. She is a little smarter than some of the others and uses this slight wit advantage to ridicule her siblings. She is one of those people who does little things that are subtle just because she knows they irritate somebody. If she walked into your house and knew you were OCD she would quietly de-alphabetize your canned goods and turn the labels upside down just to aggravate you.

Next we have daughter of the high energy granny. She did inherit moms boisterous voice, but not her momma's energy. Garden snail comes to mind, garden snail with a government job and a serious case of camel toe. No, no make that moose toe. Size sixteen tightly packed into a size nine package. yum yum. Keeping with this line of genes, she also has a daughter, who has the figure for the tight pants, but energy level still is being held at the top of the family tree. You put all three generations of them in one room and give them a topic you might just be able to solve the energy crisis 'cause these three get talking and the sound waves alone could boil water.

We musn't forget Auntie. Auntie is a strange bird. She loves gold lame' shoes, polyester pants, and drinks a diet Pepsi from a can...........with a straw, one of those bendy straws please. Its like a sippie cup for seniors. Auntie reminds me of an old sitcom character in the worse way. Let me sing for you," Green Acres is the place to be, faaaarm livin is the life for me......................." Here is the part that fits best...." Fresh air....Time Square........ you are my wife...........good bye city life,.... Green Acres we are there................" She just doesn't fit country folk if you know what I mean. Oh, and heaven forbid you stir her nasty green beans for her. She gets more agitated than Rosanne Barr in the Twinkies aisle.

Now we will flip to dad's side of the family, fewer targets but easy fodder for this city boy either way.

First we will pick on the younger than me crowd. I was in attendance at a wedding and in a slightly ornery mood. The bride clomps down the aisle like an oxen in a stony field. Her dad following behind her. Why behind and not next to you might ask, well, how do I say this delicately. The bride did not receive the wedding dress rule memo. This rule, rule number 12 if you want to look it up, says the girth of the dress should INVERSELY proportional to the girth of the bride. She either didn't get the memo or didn't look up the term inversely. What that means is that a large hooped dress does not work well with a large bottomed girl. Minimize the junk in the trunk on wedding day. She must have misunderstood that to mean that the larger the bride the bigger the dress 'cause there was not room for dad to walk next to here. Now, I had not been to a wedding in a while in which communion was observed, so this caught me a bit off guard, but I decided to have a little fun and cause some trouble. When the bride took communion I leaned over to the person next to me, who shall also remain nameless, and whispered, "Is she gonna ask for a second cookie?" The snort that followed from my victim immediately got me kicked in the shin by my spouse. Before you go getting all offended by my obvious irreverence here, there is a background story about her saying, " but I haven't had my second piece of meat yet" when there was not enough meat on the table to feed the farm workers who had labored in the hot sun all day. She had earned a little intolerance on my part, and I had earned a nice bruise on my shin.

Next we have the father of the bride, a good man, all in all a kind soul. I just get the feeling that he is the kind of guy who just wants to plod through life one step at a time until its over, some beer along the way would be nice, but not exactly the type to think outside the box.

The next one in the cast of characters is the oddest duck of all. She reminds me of Miss Piggy from the Muppet's in all the wrong ways. She inherited some money someplace and kinda lost her raisins as they say. (translation for other cityfolk, she forgot were she came from) Her personality is just as comically aloof as Miss Piggy, but the odd thing is her face is a dead ringer for the stuffed pork chop.

There is one more brother who I can only describe as Raymond, from 'Everybody loves Raymond' The biggest difference with this comical troublemaker is that he seems to have some really odd attraction to really really scary ugly women. That's all I got to say 'bout that.

Now its time for my sisters in law.

First I will go with the 'other sister'. (she is going to kill me after readin this) Well my other sister has a few habits that I find amusing. One is that she is a really nice and attractive women with a really strange taste in men. If men can possibly cause her some issue and heart ache, she is after them right now. Man number two was the stereotypical rich married guy, no shock here, it didn't work out. Actually the first guy was a bit immature and a bit inbred and she ended up marrying this one. No shock here either, it didn't work out. Next we have a long period of manlessness. A period in which she decided that she wanted to be self sufficient and raise her child all by herself. At some point in this season her sister suggested she leave this home town area because she needed to find a different class of men, something besides the local 'toothless pig farmers'( and that's a phrase from a country girl) Well, she didn't leave just yet, but she did move farther south and hook up with a toothless horse farmer instead. She got a good job with the state and things are looking up all over. She got married less than a year ago after spending many a year shacked up in a trailer first. (love ya sis)

Last and not least is my sister Kristie. I can use her name 'cause she asked for this post. Kristie has led an interesting life. She has seen it all and done it all. She has been in jail with no shoes. She has lived and loved her best friend, she swears she not bi- , but I still have my doubts that she wasn't experimenting with the possibilities. She has gone to a couple different colleges, mostly looking for her MRS degree. She lived with us once and 'stayed' with us once. I taught her how to drive, I will never do that again because I am obviously a lousy teacher. Her cars tend to look like recycled cans with wheels. Kristie has a good heart, but I wouldn't trust her with keeping $5 safe for me for a week. In fact, I have noticed that none of the girls have any clue how money works. Anyway, it is with this that I must bring this request to an end. Love ya Kristie.

Hope you got what you were looking for.

Answer number seven

This time I am going to go with a serious answer. (no, really)



This comes from Amy, Amy says:



* Write about something you learned while reading your bible.



Amy, will do.



God is the man with the plan. He knows what he is doing, and I need to just follow along with the program. Specifically, he puts people in your lives to accomplish tasks in you. This people usually have no idea what it is that they are doing, but God put them there. These people don't even need to believe in Him, they are still serving His purpose, just not in the capacity of His servant. For example, he may put a rude, nasty, crude, stinky person in your life to teach you patients and tolerance. He may put a Muslim, a Jew, an Atheist, and a Mormon in your life to teach you how to Evangelize. (Note, the lesson implied is that you witness through you life and behaviour to some and teach through the Word to others)



Even Ancient China knew of this principle, to them it comes from Buddhism instead of Christianity but Gods principles make them selves known without you necessarily believing in the true source. The Legend says:



An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. The thread may stretch or tangle, but never break. Ancient Chinese Proverb



This is called the Legend of the Red Thread.



I am going to run through a list of people now, those people whom it seems obvious to me in retrospect why God put them in my life. If you expect to see your name on the list, don't get your feelings hurt, maybe it seems obvious to you but I haven't figured it out yet, or maybe I just wasn't thinking about it today.



God put Angie in my life to be a guiding and prayerful force to drag me, the lost sheep, into his flock. He put two old women in the back pew at church to become prayer warriors together with her so that she and I both began to learn the power of prayer. Angie has also been put into my life and I in hers to form one complete person in His eyes, as each of us alone stands in sand, but together we stand on stone.



God put Pastor Mark in my life to teach me the basics. He taught me to seek and not just accept, he taught me to question and not just agree. He feed me from milk up to applesauce. He was put in my life to provide me with these things and provide me with the confidence to step out and seek more. He Pastored the church that was put in my life to provide me with opportunity to grow in an environment that allowed for this expansion and provided both acceptance and rejection in equal measure. Mark taught me as I was a child and now that I am growing God has told me to put away childish things. It is with this in mind that I regretfully had to move on from this church and MY Pastor.



God put a list of kids in my life, I will not name them here in respect for there parents. These kids today run in age from about 9 to about 21 with a heavy number being between 13 and 16 years old today. They were put in my life by God to teach me what it is to be a kid and their parents were in my life as well to show me the good and bad sides of parenting. I watched many of them turn from young ladies into teens and much of the drama that went with it. These are lessons I hope to remember long enough to apply to my parenting when the time comes. They also taught me how to let go of things and just be.



God put a few other Pastors in my life who have become greatly important to me. They have taught me, Charlie, pay attention, this is you, that it is important to encourage each other because its impossible to tell just how much somebody needs to hear a positive word. Charlie seems to have a sense of things that always tosses just the right word, or Word, my way when its needed. Gene, who unlike Charlie I have met in person, keeps rememinding me that its a big big world run by a huge huge God and I need to keep my eyes and ears open to the possiblities my heart might be led towards.



My best friend from childhood to present, I will call him Dawg here because, well just because, has been in my life to act as a lighthouse. Whenever I get too far off course with things his steady pace can just seem to bring me back to earth. I doubt he knows (well, I think he will now) just how much I have needed his strength in the past. I only hope I have been of some service to him along the way as well.



Dawg has a momma, who I will call momma D. Momma D. was the other mother, she was the greatest to all of us when we were kids. She cut me no slack and that was a good thing. Few women are as strong as Momma D. and there were times I needed that.



Pastor Tim at the church I am currently attending is a different sort of pastor than what I have come to be used to. He is much more demonstrative than any other people I have come accross in this setting and his preaching style is more of buffet. He tosses out the meat, and the pasta and urges you to eat up. I will be here for some time eating until I am full of this understanding. Tim and I had a rough road at first because I wanted to question everything. We finally came to an agreement that questioning was fine as long as I was open to learning and not just condemning things. Learning is my purpose so we have an agreement.



I have many other people in my life that have brought great blessings to me and I dont want to just skip them so I will say thank you here to all those who have mentored me, taught me or just been there. I want to go on to one last person.



God put Grace in my life so I could learn about love. I could talk about what that means for days and days but you either get it or you dont. When I look at Grace I know what love means. I know I love her and I know God loves me. I can say with complete convinction that I love my wife, I love my family, and I love my Grace. I love my friends and my brothers and sisters but it is Grace that has taught me what this means.

Answer number six

And we are now officially on a roll of silliness with the latest edition brought to you at the request of Cathy.



Cathy said:



*Can you please come to my job and explain the cologne rule to a coworker?



I would love to come visit you and explain things to your coworker, but Chicago is a long way from here so I will explain things to him here and you can just slip him this blog address and he will get the picture.



Attention all cologne wearing men, specifically you over there with the shmarmy head and drunk flies circling around you while they sing 'ring around the rosy' Yeah, Ima tawken ta you. Lighten up on the fragrance my brother, its not good, no really, its just not good. I know you think is smells good, I know it reminds you of your grandpa and he wore the same stuff when you were growing up. But you forget, gramps was a depression era pig farmer, anything smelled better than that and he had an excuse for using the stuff a pint at a time. You don't, you work in an air conditioned high rise and have your own cube. Your causing sinus pain to the rest of us. I know you most likely don't believe me, so let me give you a list of things that have been observed about you that may help convince you to back of the co - log - nee.

1. Chicago does have a smog problem at times, it can be a bit polluted on occasion, but smog and pollution are things that live outside. The reason your cubical is smoggy all the time is you. You bring your own air quality index down everyplace you go.


2. Chicago has clouds and cold winters. I know you may not have noticed this due to the hole you create in the ozone directly over your head everyplace you go. This hole allows unfiltered rays from the sun to warm your immediate area and is also the reason you have a perpetual sun burn going on under that thinning hair of yours.


3. The fact that your neighbor in the apartment complex where you live enters and exits the building in a really cool big yellow hazmat suit is not evidence that E.T. lives on your floor, nor is it because you had sauerkraut and burritos for lunch, although you may want to stop that as well.


4. Not every women in Chicago has terrible allergies. The reason your dates always have itchy watery eyes and frequent nose bleeds is because you put on the Olde English with a garden sprayer.


5. Every time a person turns up missing for a while, CSI shows up at your apartment and asks to look around. This isn't because they like you, its because the cadaver dogs brought them your way.

So my brother, if you have gotten a clear picture of things now and want to mend your ways, I will give you some standards to go by.

1. As previously mentioned, if the cologne is expensive, use it sparingly, if its cheap, use it more sparingly.


2. Most companies discourage if not flat out forbid inter office romance. Therefore, do not wear cologne to work, take a shower, use deodorant, wash your head, no cologne is needed. Save that for weekends and evenings.


3. Do not buy cologne without assistance. Take a female with you, let her apply a small amount to your inner arm and render some judgement. Hint: don't take your mom, that's just weird. A sister or a friend would be fine, or if there is something in the store that interests you give a stranger a shot, she will understand.


4. Choose from a selection of modern classics Drakkar Noir, Grey Flannel etc. If is says Faberge on the label, walk away. If it says Axe on the label walk away, I mean really, no amount of smell good is going to make a bunch of horny co-ed's chase you down. Stay away from the true classics as well, no Olde English, no Old Spice etc.


5. Avoid the fragrances that can substitute as mosquito repellent. Those would be things with the words Brut or Musk in them. These things are made by a subsidiary of Black Flag.


6. Aftershave is just cheap cologne with extra Bourbon added, skip it.


7. If your approved choice comes in a spray bottle, use one mist on each pectoral muscle before putting your shirt on. If it comes in the other style bottle turn bottle upside down with your finger over the hole and then rub finger on each side of your neck, hard to believe, but that's all you need.

Now Mr. Smarmy head, clean up and hose off, go shopping and try again. You might find you can make new friends now.

Answer number five

Answer number five is brought to you, again, at the request of Charlie. Charlie requested:

* The joys of cooking...........with squirrel.

This will take a minute, so hang on tight and be patient.

I got a phone call from my mom the other night (slight interruption here, back in my rant warning post I whined about nobody ever calling me except mom and Angie, my sis in law called, yeah!!) and mom is feeling a bit depressed these days. This is not unusual, she has been on dialysis for years, heart problems, etc etc. This call came with a purpose however. She called to tell me to go to the store and stock up. Silly little ol' me had to ask, I knew better, but I had to ask, uh, why mom. Well, son, with the (deep breath) earth quake in China, the typhoon in Burma, gas prices at $4 bucks a gallon and climbing rapidly towards $10 to $15 bucks a gallon, North Korea, Pakistan, Iran, India, Israel, and Syria all joining the nuclear bomb club, global warming, polar caps melting, raging wildfires in the west and now the south getting worse each year, war in the middle east, the creation of the European union, banking and housing market collapses, tornado and hurricanes getting more common and stronger each year, the Dali Llama refusing to be re-incarnated, bird flu pandemics, anthrax scares, the entire continent of Africa is starving and has no clean water, Hillary running for president, cancer rates and aids rates are on the rise, the government is going bankrupt and has already become corrupt, this can only mean one thing.

Okay mom, tell me, what does this mean and why do I need to go to Kroger's.

You need to (I am 100% serious with this so I will put it in quotes) "stock up on canned fruit and vegetables, and buy lots of flour while you still can. You can freeze the flower, and even if your freezer doesn't work you can just keep it in a container. You can always strain it through a window screen to get the bugs out if need be. The end is near and you need to be prepared to take care of your family."

I gotta give her credit for the window screen thing, that's pretty McGuyver like if you think about it. So, in an effort to not be foolish and to not dismiss my mothers words as the rambling of the severely depressed and mentally exhausted, I decided to think this through. Its always better to be prepared, just in case. My first thought was, theologically, I shouldn't be here for the end of days, but lets just say I am wrong and must live through the end times. I have often wondered, why would you, if you are a believer, even attempt to survive a tribulation and make it to the end. I suppose you could argue that there is unfinished evangelism to do, so I will go with that and contemplate survival of the end. What do I need to survive:

1. Direct TV, okay not really
   
2. Water. I live within a few miles of a good size river, I could boil it to purify it and strain it through a sheet. Lots of wood around to burn as long as I have my trusty axe, just in case the power is off.
   
3. Shelter. If my house is taken or flattened, the same river has bridges we could move under one and keep out of the elements that way.
   
4. Food. I have all that canned fruit (anybody bring a can opener) and bug infested flour. (what exactly do you do with flour?)
   
5. Self defense and tools for food acquisition. Got it covered.

That brings me to a thought. I have the ability to hunt food if need be, but I am guessing the bigger game (deer) will thin out pretty quick so I might have to get used to hunting smaller game. What small game is prevalent in my area and something I could hunt, find, shoot, and eat. Something that is plentiful enough it wont become scarce quickly and easy enough to find and shoot. Rabbits? Plentiful yes, but they live in tall grass and without a hound to help out, not going to be efficient. Raccoon? nope, nocturnal, cant find them when its light enough to see. Possum? Nope, in the end of days these nasty little evil creatures will all have jobs and be wearing suits. Ah, I know, squirrel. They tend to sit still in the tree tops and don't know your lookin at em' so they make easy targets. They are plentiful in the woods around the river. I can fry them up in a skillet over an open fire to provide meat for my family. I now have a survival plan. Maybe I better stock up on some lard for that frying too, or maybe just go with the squirrel rotisserie plan. Now I am back to trying to find a use for all that flour.

So, remember, the end is near and if your hungry its always a joy to cook a squirrel. I just hope they don't ever figure out how to shoot back.

Answer number four.

And the roll continues, this time with another request from Charlie.


Charlie asks for:

When Elvis Leaves the Building (not a photo essay, please)


First let me explain what this phrase means in this context. Elvis Presley was a hugely popular singer in his day. He had crowds of extremely excited and overly agitated young women following him everywhere he went, pulling at his clothes, tossing their clothes at him, fainting etc. Leaving a venue while on tour got to be a pretty serious hassle so Elvis and his team came up with this plan. Elvis would do his concert and then walk off stage, a few minutes later an announcer would walk out on stage and say something to the effect of "Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis Presley" and Elvis would run back on stage and do another song or two as an encore. Elvis would then leave the stage again and the announcer would come back on stage and the process would repeat with another encore. This would happen some random number of times until the announcer would come out and say, "Ladies and Gentlemen, Elvis................has left the building." This would allow Elvis to escape. This process has become, to me anyways, a metaphor of vomiting. Think about it, wave after wave of nausea hits you, each time your struggling to constrict every orifice and sphincter in a southbound motion as food or drink keeps making an 'encore' appearance in the back of your throat until finally it makes its way 'out of the building'. Usually upon leaving the building it makes a grand announcement. I think its a rather apt metaphor.



Now, why would somebody, namely me, put quite this much thought into something most people would rather not think about. Simple, everybody is good at something, I am very good at the art of vomit. Not a skill I would encourage anyone to try and perfect mind you, but if your going to do it with regularity, you might as well get good at it. I have perfected the art over something like 30 years. In my youth and teen years I suffered from a nervous stomach and stress issues related to insecurity, in my late teens and early twenties I had the stress issue and alcohol issues that caused my in depth education, and for the last 15 years or so I have had the stresses associated with marriage, beginning a family and buying and maintaining a home etc. The doctors call these things by different names than those I just told you, they say things like GERD, Ulcer, Reflux esophageal disease, etc. Mentally I have usually handled stress just fine, physically is where I pay a price. I don't let stress bother my brain, so it eats my body for breakfast instead.


So, back to the humorous side of things. My best friend (we shall call him Dawg here) also left a request that I write about those times I was "strugglin". I will now address his request as it overlaps nicely with Charlie's. Strugglin is that process that takes place as you fight off wave after wave of nausea. It is that time when you have chills and you keep swallowing and constricting muscles in hopes of keeping the food (or drink) down. It is an acquired art form to know just when its time to give up this struggle and proceed to someplace where you might let 'Elvis leave the building' Dawg seemed to always find it fascinating that after obviously strugglin for an hour or better I could calmly stand up and walk, not run, to someplace that was safe to permit exit of struggle. It is simple really, you just allow that last wave of nausea to do what it has been attempting all along, just stop strugglin is all that is required. I remember (surprisingly) one night I spent in Dawgs apartment in Columbus when I was strugglin for hours. We were both away at college and I had consumed several too many Hudy Delights that evening. I remember coughing, once, and knowing that 'the end is near'. I stood up and walked calmly over the dead bodies lying all over the floor of his apartment on my way to his bathroom. Apparently my moving didn't awaken anybody, but the noise of the adoring fans resurrected the dead as Elvis left the building. Everyone was awake when I was done.

Some of the tricks I can share:

1. When nausea strikes, avoid the reflex to cough, when you notice the reflex is strong, you are short on time, proceed to a receptacle.
2. Walk to a receptacle, don't run, running requires deep breaths which increase that cough reflex.
3. Never let your face go parallel with the ground or worse yet let your forehead tilt lower than your chin. Always keep you forehead slightly higher than your chin so that Elvis may leave without his fans running up into your nose and sinus cavity. Nothing nastier than warm acid in you sinuses.
4. Breath through your nose, lessens the gage and cough reflexes.
5. Plan ahead for a receptacle, Toilets are great but require you to get into a kneeling position that bunches up muscles that might later spasm depending on how big a hurry Elvis is in. Standing up is usually a more comfortable position. Leaning over a railing is my personal favorite to minimize discomfort, when a railing is not available I prefer the kitchen sink, garbage disposal side of course. (run cool water if you need to do this one, warm water increases the olfactory sensations, not a good idea if you want Elvis to go and stay gone)
6. If your doing something that has a high probability of you meeting Elvis, do not eat spicy food.
7. If you can vomit in a cup while driving a car and other cars don't notice and you don't get any on you clothes, your doing this too often and need to seek medical assistance.

Well, enough tips, lets move on to other names.

1. Ladies and Gentlemen, Elvis has left the building.
   
2. I leggo my eggo




3. Technicolor yawn




4. Fertilizing the bushes


5. Modifying the landscaping
   
6. Chunder (just sounds foul doesn't it?)
   
7. Barf
   
8. Hallelujah chorus
   
9. Feeding the fishes
   
10. Spunkmeyer.

I will end this silliness with a short story explanation of number ten. I warn you now that its cute but bordering on offensive. Spunkmeyer is a brand name. Otis Spunkmeyer is a food producer. I have only heard this term used once in this context but it is a favorite of mine. I was at a party in my mid twenties, and a lady friend who was around 20 was there with several of her girlfriends. This lady was drunk and goofy, but safe as she was surrounded by friends. She was dressed in a skirt that was a little to short to be a good idea and was sitting on the couch when she began strugglin' The hostess of said party suggested to her that she get up off the couch, but when she leaned forward to do so, she coughed. The cough had volume and mass, which she promptly deposited in her lap, mostly missing her skirt due to the extreme shortness of it. Still drunk as can be she leaned back on the couch and while looking down made the following statement. (you were warned)

"Ohhhh noooooo, I just Spunkmeyered my muffin"

Told ya that was gonna be bad. This young lady got tossed in the shower to sober up and clean up. (the hostess and her friends took care of this while the guys took care of Elvis)

Public service announcement: This story is in no way meant to glamorize vomiting or drinking. I do not get drunk these days (Thank you Jesus) and I would just as soon avoid concerts with Elvis if my body permits.

Answer number three

Now its Amy's turn on the stage of Normal Chaos. Amy asks:

Fashion tips for guys over 30 (like...stop dressing like a teenager and other such stuff)

First thing Amy, there is very little maturity difference between 16 and 36. Seriously, we still think farts are funny, we still notice the length of the skirt that just walked into a room, we still think big guns, big ships, fast cars, and big machinery are cool and want to play with them. There is an old Cliche' that says "the only difference between men and boys is the price they pay for their toys" There is some truth to that. The typical teenage boy has some sense of what is appropriate dress and what is not, but they are just rebellious (or lazy) enough not to care. Men in their thirties have the same knowledge level as they did as teens, but a bit more concern since we are judged more harshly on our choices now. So I will provide some advice to the men and some clues/explanations for the women at the same time.

1. Guys, if your 30 or 40 something and married, and your wife tries to pick out your clothes for you, let her. She is doing this for a multitude of different reasons. First, your not doing it right and she wants to help you out. Second, your a reflection on her and she doesn't want to be embarrassed by you. Relax and go with it, she knows what others are saying about you and you don't. You think you look fine, she knows better. Go with the wife on this one.


2. A word to the ladies, men can't see wrinkles. We do not have the visual acuity to focus on them, in our world wrinkles are something that only exist on the face and hands of the elderly grandparent types, not something that happens to clothes. We do not know they are there and if you tell us they are there we will look, not see, and therefore not believe you. Guys, I don't think its wrinkled either, but it is a universal law that women see them and we don't, so, again, if a woman says you cant wear that shirt cause its wrinkled, just put it back in the closet, hung properly, and let her pick out another shirt.


3. Men in their late 30's and early 40's. You used to wear shorts that were short when you were a teen. Teens wear long shorts now, and so should you. A little too much thigh is not sexxy no matter what you think. Swim trunks should almost reach your knees unless your French. If your French, speedo's are fine, just know that the rest of the world is laughing at you, but you should be used to that by now.


4. The tie, this is were men and women part company. Men, do not let women pick out your tie and by all means do not let them tie it. Rule number one, if a women ties your tie, other men will know and laugh at you. Rule number two, the tie does not need to match unless your going to a job interview, or a funeral. Otherwise, anything you find pleasing is perfectly suitable because this is the one and only item that is a boys only club. Women may make fun of your tie, but you know they can't wear one properly and would look silly in it.


5. Men over 30 something, two words, loose jeans. I don't care if your a stacked body builder, Olympic swimmer or a marathon runner with rock hard shaved and sexxy legs. Tight jeans are forbodden past your mid twenties, period.


6. Men and teens, if your underwear can be seen they must be boxers. Nobody, and I mean no body, wants to see the fruit of the loom tag on your tighty whities. Men over thirty, really, nobody wants to see your boxers either. Its not too bad if your wearing casual shorts, etc, but with jeans or dress pants, wear a belt.


7. Next we have hair for men. Repeat after me. Bald is good, bald is beautiful, bald is sexxy, bald is functional and easy, bald is clean. Men, don't worry about your hair, if its thin shave it off, if its grey and still thick, just clip it short, the shorter the better. Rule of thumb, observe 10 teen boys, look at their heads, go in the opposite direction.


8. Next rule is one I oh so want to violate. Bright and strong colors coupled with big suits only look good on men of color. I so want to own a sage green zoot suit and wear a bright purple shirt with a magenta and shocking safety yellow tie. My skin, although my Greek heritage does show up in the summer, is too pale for this. So, my Caucasian brothers, we must look upon this fashion with envy because we cannot pull it off. And know this my African American and Hispanic and Islander brothers, yes we are jealous.


9. White socks only go with gym shoes, not dress shoes, not sandals, not flip flops, just gym shoes, got it.


10. Cologne, if its expensive use it sparingly, if its cheap, use it more sparingly.

Answer number two

This post is in response to Ruth, or "Ruthless" as she is known to the YMX community. She asked:

I would like you to write about, "Why I need to take my family on a trip to Texas to visit Ruth and her family." And feel free to add something nice about enjoying our porch swing and a glass of sweet tea.

Ruth

Okay here we go:

I came home from work one day, tired and a bit cranky which is not at all unusual, and found my wife a bit misty eyed sitting at the kitchen table. When I asked what was the matter she said that she had received a gift in the mail. Now, understand this, its not her birthday, Christmas, Anniversary, or even Arbor Day, this is just one of those gifts that show up from friends because someone was thinking about you. Turns out, (I think I remember) that one of Ruth's' Granddaughter made a little photo album (or brag book as they are sometimes called) that had a little Chinese princess caricature on the front of it to send to Angie and Gracie. This has become one of those precious little gifts that remind us of just how blessed we are. Ruth is a lady whom I have never actually met, but let me tell you what I know of her. First and foremost I know Ruth is a lady, by definition a lady, by geography a Southern lady, specifically a Texas lady. If you don't know what that means, I haven't words to explain, but lets just say its special. I know she is a wonderful wife and marriage is a special and respected thing to her. I know she is also a very loyal and marvelous mother who has made every effort to be a good mom and prepare her children for life, not just raise them but teach them and prepare them. I also know she is the kind of Grandma every kid wishes for, one who is there, active with them and caring for them. Ruth has also been and is a long term servant of God. She has shared her giftings with many many a kid and I think she still misses that sometimes, but God is working something else in her right now. My impression of Ruth's personality is also that she carries many a scar on her tongue because she knows when she can say something and when its best left alone, but she is a women of strong opinions who will share them if its at all appropriate. She is the person from whom I have adopted this phrase, "they just needed killin' "

This mighty woman of God lives in Texas, where everything is bigger. I yearn for the day that we can drive to the Texas border at which time we will be half way there. I look forward to sitting on her porch swing with a cool breeze blowing through sipping on some sweat tea and listening to Angie speak in her Kentucky drawl and Ruth in her Texas drawl while I just listen to the words work their magic in the fresh night air. I would also enjoy bringing hurricane Gracie to Texas to hang out with her and the grand kids. I think this hurricane would be welcome because even though she might bring in some rain and a storm or two, she will leave things warmer than when she arrived and clean up her own mess before departing.

Yes Ruth, I can think of many a reason to visit Texas.

Answer number one.

I put a call out to my fellow bloggers and readers for suggestions of things they would like to see me post about. The response thus far has been amazing. I will attempt to address each one I have received in time, but I will address one from "Charlie" first. He asked about:

" Curious George Meets Spuds MacKenzie and Mr. Whipple"

Okay Charlie, lets see what damage I can do with this.

First, lets do some introductions. Curious George is a character from children's books beginning in 1941. George is said to be a curious little monkey who has difficulty staying out of trouble. George, however, is not really a monkey at all as he has no tail he would really be an ape. This story was created by H.A. Rey and Margret Rey of Paris France. The only other recurring character from the original series of books was the "man in the yellow hat" who found / kidnapped George from Africa. "the man in the yellow hat" is the one who keeps getting George out of trouble. There are those, however, who question whether or not this story is actually a story of oppression. I reprint this section of Wikipedia as evidence.:






the Man with the Yellow Hat. It was he who brought George from Africa, and it is in his house that George lives. The Man often facilitates George's adventures by taking him somewhere, and even more often resolves the tension by appearing just in time to get George out of a tight spot. He is always seen wearing a bright yellow suit and a wide-brimmed yellow hat.
The Man is never mentioned by name in the original adventures, or in any subsequent content over more than six decades. He is always called either "the Man" or fully "the Man with the Yellow Hat". When people speak to George about the Man, they often refer to him as "your friend."

Obviously George has been victimized and is now being patronized by "the man".




Next we have good Ol' Spuds MacKenzie. Spuds was the spokes stud for Bud light beginning in a 1983 Superbowl ad appearance. Spuds was an extremely popular and well know animal actor for most of the late 1980's. His employer, Anheuser-Busch marketed his likeness so well that they actually began to draw fire from temperance-oriented groups such as M.A.D.D among others. They claimed that Anheuser-Busch was glamorizing Spuds as a sexxy too-cool-for-monogamy-and-sobriety dog to sell alcohol to children. Spuds was frequently shown hanging out with skimpily clad beach babes and the sexual innuendo was ever present. The real controversy, however was the the oft glorified stud Spuds, was actually a girl. That's right, Spuds real name was "Honey Tree Evil Eye" and she was a Bull Terrier.




And lastly, and possibly the most disturbing character is Mr. Whipple. Yes, we all remember that annoying voice of Mr. Whipple. Mr. George Whipple was a grocery store supervisor in Charmin toilet paper advertisements from 1964 to 1985. Mr. Whipple loved to squeeze the Charmin and told us so for over 2 decades. If you take a close look at Mr. Whipple you may feel that something about him is just not right. You would be correct. See, the part that you may have suspected but never been told is that Charmin was actually the name of Mr. Whipple's 15 year old nephew. I need not elaborate on this any further.



So, the situation proposed is that Curious George, the oppressed monkey, Spuds the boy/girl terrier, and the pedophile Mr. Whipple meet. What might bring this strange crew together? Nothing less than Berkeley California of course. A person named Medea Benjamin who co-founded a protest group called CodePink put out a call to any and all "celebrity types" to come to a protest rally she was organizing on the Berkeley campus. The query requested that anyone who has a beef with the establishment and a recognizable name or face should come to her rally and they would be given time to speak to the crowd. This protest was to be a "down with the establishment" rally. She was overheard to have said that she wanted this to be the biggest protest since the "summer of love." This sort of call to the Hollywood elite is going to bring people out of the woodwork's of course. Ms. Benjamin set up several stages in a rainbow shape and put several speakers on each stage. The crowd that gathers was a crowd of about 10 thousand people and about 8 thousand more camera men from Fox news and CNN. On stage one was Forest Gump who expressed his concerns that the food companies in this country were deliberately making kids fat so they couldn't run, Keith Richards spoke in support of national availability of medicinal herb, his talk was briefly interrupted by his need for a blood transfusion, but he finished strong. Also on stage one as the third speaker was Al Gore who said he walked to Berkeley to reduce his carbon footprint and thus delay the inevitable catastrophe of global warming, but was seen getting into a limo that was kept running behind stage during the entire talk. When asked about it by CNN he simply stated, "I walked here, they follow me where ever I go, and I need to be in Oregon in 3 hours to give the same speech so now I have to ride. " On the second stage you would find Kevin Costner dressed as an Indian expressing his concerns about our shrinking national forests, and Tom Cruise selling the Church of Scientology. On the third stage you will find Mr. Whipple who was there representing............(wait for it)............NAMBLA. That's correct, Mr. Whipple is still at it, but now he is representing the North American Man Boy Love Association. Next to him you will find Spud MacKensie, speaking on behalf of the Rainbow Canine Co-alition requesting tolerance for Lesbian and Gay dogs everywhere. Also on stage Three you would find non other that Curious George. George was later accused of plagiarism because he took the stage and simply read the last sermon from Rev. Jeremiah Wright and then exited the stage. He was given time to express his concerns about oppression and how "the Man" was keeping him down. But he never credited his source. Barrack Obama was seen in the crowd but when questioned he said he was listening to Gumby talk at the time and heard nothing of what George had to say.


The whole protest seemed to go well until Mr. Rogers showed up, pulled an AK out of his gym bag, lite a Cigar and began screaming "not in my neighborhood you bunch of freaks" followed by "Let me introduce you to my little friend"




So, this has been the story of how Curious George, Spuds, and Mr. Whipple met, by sharing a stage at a CodePink rally in Berkeley California.

Rant warning

Is it just me or have people no idea how to use a phone? First let me clarify that the only reason I am expressing this rant is because my friend Jenny (in a comment on last post) asked me to hurry up and make a new post because the picture on the last one was a bit scary. So, even though I don't have anything terribly productive to discuss today I will just vent and lay out a new post to scoot that picture down the page a bit.

Anyway, back to phone calls. I have two, yes count em', two cell phones. I have no home phone so both Angie and I have our own cell phones with our own number. I also have a work phone that I carry most all the time as well. My rant is this. If the phone rings, I know who it is. Its not because of that cool invention called caller ID, its because no body ever calls me. If I am at home and it rings, its my mom. If I am not at home it is Angie. Who needs caller ID with that logic. With only one exception, every person I know, I was the last one to call them. One friend called me to thank me for helping him sell a car (he does it for a living so I sent a coworker there) Other than that exception, my phone doesn't ring, and here is the kicker, even he called

Angie's phone to reach me because he hadn't called in so long he couldn't find my number, his wife, who never calls me either by the way, has Angie's' number. So, here is the question, should I call every person I know next week just because I havent heard from them since the Carter administration, or should I just save money and reduce the minutes on my cell phone to the number that Angie and my mom use?

Another useless item:

I ha vent had any good Gracie stories to share lately and I have been having difficulty in coming up with topics to write about. So, to the handful of people who I think read this I will put out this request. You know I have a somewhat odd sense of humor and a quirky writing style that comes from a peculiar outlook on life. Having said that, is there a topic or idea you would like to see me undertake as an assignment from you? I make you no promises, but if you will submit a request I will attempt a response. I will accept anything, serious, painful, comical, nothing is off limits. I will address any social situation, any theological query, or personal issue that you may toss to me. That is my invitation to Amy, Digger, PK, Adam, Jen, Mark, Charlie Tuna, The Minton clan, Patti, Kristie, Deneice, or anybody I may have missed.

Peace.

Potporri

Well, last night began the first step toward losing weight by going green. Gracie and I took a walk to the pond to feed the ducks. The ducks were not interested, but the fish reacted like piranha eating two hamburger buns in about a minute. Gracie fell down and skinned both knees on the way down, new flip flops. It is only 50 degrees or so outside and pouring down rain, so I doubt we walk tonight, but I think maybe we can wonder around Krogers for a while and get some walking in that way.

Next topic:

I got an email today from one of my friends in China. I sent her an email checking up on her because of the earthquake. She is doing fine thank goodness. Here is the email she replied with:

Dear Chris:
Thank you soooo much for you concern,both my family and I are fine ,but lots of school buildings collapsed ,so lots of kids were buried there ...it is crazy there now ....the whole China is donating money ,clothes ,food ,ect to these areas....we all hope that more and more alive people can not found,love,Ann

Next topic:

I posted a new link on my blogroll the other day. Its called "afterstories" These are stories about adoptions that have not gone exactly as planned. I found the site quite by accident but I have read it completely because it lets me know just how blessed we have been with Gracie.

(PS: no thats not really me in the first picture, but it does give you a pretty accurate idea)

235

I stepped out of the shower the other day and decided to take a few moments to admire myself in the mirror. (stop laughing) First I looked at my chest, shoulders and arms. I still have better than average shoulders. They are broad and strong in appearance, not huge or well defined, just reasonably big and solid with muscles. My arms are not cut like they used to be, but they also are still solid and muscular. Larger than average biceps, strong solid lower arms, noticeable front deltoids, and hands that are strong and callused from use over the years of working with them. My chest is only a shadow of its former self, but even then its still perky and solid, no gravity affected zones as of yet. For a person of my age who doesn't exercise outside of work and daily chores, I am pretty happy with the state of these things. Next, I look down to my legs. My legs look now just as they always have. They are not the legs of a runner, nor are they the legs of a body builder or a power lifter. They are not cut or defined but they are rock solid. No jiggles here, no flab, no waste to be spotted. My thighs are packed tight with muscles and my lower legs are actually a little too small in appearance by comparison to the upper leg. They are a bit hairy but other than that they would look decent in a skirt. Now that brings me to the rest of me. I should use some caution here for both our sakes and be more specific, the rest of me in reference is below the chest and above the waist. I am not going to openly discuss any other attributes at this time. Anyway, that area below the chest and above the waist is what now has my attention as I have exited the shower and gaze at my physic in the mirror. My reaction to this midrift section of my body is as follows:

"what the.............................."

What has happened here? I have a large 'splot' of furry mashed potatoes hanging loosely below my chest and gravity is threatening to pull it below my waistline. When I turn sideways in the mirror I look like I am pregnant and about to birth the worlds largest loaded baked spud. Pregnant women are sexy, in my opinion, but pregnant men, that's a different issue. I spun around to take a peek from the rear and even my back has become a gravity afflicted zone. Hairy flopper's and hangers on back there as well. At this point I need something to boost my ego a little so I let my eyes wander a little farther south and look at my butt. I have always had a small and flat butt by comparison to the rest of me and I was a little happy to find it was still there, but it has grown its own tomato patch of wild hair.

So, I have discovered two things about myself in the post shower exploratory. One, I need some serious hair removal done. I need to bathe in Nair or something. Upon further examination, I have some serious hair issues, hairy ears, hairy nose, hairy legs, hairy belly, really hairy back and that's not even mentioning the butt forest I just found. This issue I can solve in a few hours with a razor, some tweezers, wax, and a yoga lesson. Issue number two, mashed potato removal is going to take a while. I am at the heaviest weight of my life. I checked in at 235 lbs. The biggest problem with that is that I am carrying it entirely around my middle. I have weighed between 200 and 215 for over 20 years so this is new territory for me. Uncharted and lumpy territory. Its no wonder I cant breath and have no energy.

Now I need a goal and some motivation.

Goal, 200 lbs by next Tuesday. Okay, maybe a more realistic goal would be better. I want be at 200 lbs by my 40th birthday, that gives me till September.

Motivation: I want to be able to go the pool and be the "Phat Boooooooooooooyyyyyyyieee" instead of the bald hairy fat man. I want to walk past the 20 something crowd of bikini clad chickadees and have them look over their designer sunglasses with a little grin instead of wheezing up breakfast like a dog who just licked the dryer lint filter. I want the 30 somethings to follow me into the elevator instead of deciding now is a good time to try and take the stairs, in heals. I want the 40 somethings to look at me and sign because they think they must be too old for me already. I want the 50+ crowd to remember fondly the days of their youth. Okay, that's a bit shallow and unrealistic. That wont motivate me. I am happily married and don't really care what bikini clad Chiclets think anyway. And if I did, I am still going to be scary ugly, just thinner and scary ugly. So, lets try this again.
Real Motivation: I want to be able to run and play with Gracie without turning green, collapsing and dropping to my knees while Elvis leaves the building (Elvis has left the building is one of those colorful ways of saying vomit) I want to live long enough to meet my grandchildren, which means I need to reach at least 108 years old. I want to live long enough to get that flying car that the Jetsons promised me when I was 6. I want to be able to see Gracie graduate from college.

Now I need a plan.

This is simple. Less grease, more green. I am going green. No more fried bologna sandwiches at 10 pm. (butter both sides of the bread, toast one side of each piece in a skillet. Fry two eggs in same skillet, fry two bologna slices in same skillet, toss one slice of bread back in pan, put cheese on top of butter, next the egg, the bologna, 3 pickles, more cheese, other piece of bread, count to 10 and flip to melt cheese on other side.) Sit eat and enjoy, then go to bathroom cause' that sucker has an express ticket, she'll slide in the front door and out the back door in about 3 minutes, but its good.

Please also note that I have not included pictures in this entry. I think this is best for now, but I will be doing a before and after shot that I might post later. In order to stay legal, but be as honest as possible I must be wearing something. I am trying to decide between thong or jock strap, any preferences?

"The Tea Party"

"The Tea Party" is a story printed on another blog. It is copyrighted therefore I cannot post it here. It starts with the line, "mommy, why didn't I grow in your tummy?" This article is written by Jean MacLeod and is reprinted on the Children's Hope website and newsletter. It is particularly timely for us because Gracie has asked just that question. I found her story enlightening and heart wrenching. If you need a good cry today, please check out this story.


http://adopt.childrenshope.net/E-News/May08/McLeod.htm

Pictures

Just wanted to post a few pics from the past week. Haven't had much to say lately that wasn't negative so I decided to just not say anything.

This is a picture of Gracie and Momma after Church this past Sunday. Momma already has her mothers day present because I couldn't stand it anymore. We got her a pair of diamond earrings. We also got her a Sapphire ring that is for her birthday (which as at the end of the month) and yes she has that already too.
Yes her hat is too big, but she is dancing, clapping and praising just the same. Jesus could heal her from her blindness or she could just lift that hat a little and she could miraculously see.
Grace is her name, not her skill. A helmet helps. Anytime I try to take a picture I get goofy faces. Drives her momma nuts.

I repeat. Grace is her name, not an acquired skill. Shiner compliments of preschool swing set. Cute owee, is that an oxymoron?

Gracie took this picture of me after church. It was supposed to be a picture of both momma and me, but I think mom had already made her mad by this time.

(reminder: you can click on the pictures to make them full screen. It is worth it for the close up of Gracies facial expressions)