Stuff my kids say #1

Dirty Larry comes out in his nearly floor length black leather coat.

Pateriko: Dad, you look like Morpheus.
Dirty Larry: Why can't I be Neo?
Litkia: Morpheus is cool. Neo is a whiney-butt.

That's not right.

My friend and I went to dinner the other night and when we returned home, she noticed a large Styrofoam package under the tree that wasn't there when we left. Apparently, a delivery was made while we were gone. I picked it up and realized that it was the steaks that my sister sent to Dirty Larry for his Christmas present. Now, Dirty Larry couldn't have known that there were steaks inside the package, but it WAS labeled in big red letters "HIGHLY PERISHABLE - REFRIGERATE IMMEDIATELY". I asked him what part of high perishable made him want to put it under the tree, but he didn't answer me.

I went ahead and opened the box. I feel like the packaging might have cost more than the meat inside. What a fancy, huge Styrofoam box! My friend immediately asked what I was going to do with it and I told her I was tossing it. She was indignant and begged to take it home with her, which I certainly didn't mind. I have no idea what she'll do with it, but it seemed very important to her that it NOT be thrown away. Also inside this box was a bag of dry ice, the obvious source of refrigeration for shipping. I put the bag into the sink and noticed the words "DO NOT TOUCH! CAN CAUSE BURNS!" I left the kitchen after that, but later realized that Dirty Larry and Litkia hadn't followed me out. I kept hearing them giggling and laughing in there and I finally couldn't stand it anymore and went to see what was so funny. They were poking holes in the bag and adding water, making smoke and watching it boil away. THERE'S a great parenting picture for you. When I walked in, they were both smiling and laughing until they looked up and saw me. Dirty Larry sheepishly said, "Look! The whole kitchen is full of smoke!" I ordered them out.

I have no idea what these steaks are going to taste like but I'll have you know that the gift was MUCH more than the steaks. Even the packaging brought Christmas joy to all and nobody was injured. It's a Christmas miracle.

Perhaps a bell this time?

I am a fan of being creative. I love to MAKE stuff. I like to sew, embroider, needlepoint and crochet. I like painting and drawing although I'm not so talented in those areas. I like using my hands to produce something and then looking at it later and saying, "I did that. I must be very smart." Or even better, showing YOU what I did and letting YOU say, "You did that? You are very smart!"

I believe I got this illness from my mother. She was always sewing something or making a huge embroidered wall hanging full of color and crazy chain stitches and whipped stitches and french knots. And for Christmas, my sisters and I always got something under the tree that was crafty. Almost always, we got a beaded doll kit. Those dolls lined a shelf in the den with their chenille pipe cleaner arms and their sequined, beaded dresses and increased in number by the year. If it wasn't that, it was a loom on which to weave potholders or a kit to make jewelry or pom-pom animals with little googly eyes.

I'm foggy about the exact year, but I think I was about 7 years old when my mother did something new and different. She made a stained glass candle holder, only it wasn't glass, it was made of tiny, melted, clear, colored, plastic pellets of some kind. I will never forget the smell, but likewise, I will never forget the resulting product. It was the shape of a cathedral window and the picture that she formed in the window was Mary, kneeling. The air around her head was a clear midnight blue and the cloth on her head was white. The dress she was wearing was the most amazing color of blue I have ever had the pleasure to drink in with my eyes. The candle was placed behind the window so the light shining through made it even more amazing to look at. I loved that thing with all my heart and I would watch that candle flicker behind the mother of Jesus as long as I was allowed. I don't remember the year it was retired from our Christmas decorating, but I do remember that it was broken and I was so sad when I saw it tossed into the garbage as if it was old and dirty and not made of pure unadulterated goodness and light like I knew to be so.

About 13 years ago, I was in an antique store and I came across an iron, stained glass Christmas tree candle holder. Although it was mostly all wrong in appearance, it tugged strongly at my heartstrings and I had to buy it. It was a symbol of something I had long ago lost. I was very excited and it held an important place in my Christmas decorating. Two years later, I had a garage sale. My neighbor asked if she could place some things in my sale and I told her that she was welcome. She came over with a pile of stuff and amongst it was an iron, stained glass wreath that was absolutely the brother of my tree. I bought her trash and made it my treasure.

Since then, I have acquired four other relatives of the tree, including the tree's twin brother. You may find this to be excessive. It may be. But dear gussy, it makes me happy. And don't think for a second that when I saw another vintage, 1970, iron, stained glass candle holder on eBay this afternoon, I didn't bid immediately. I know Mary Poppins says that enough is as good as a feast, but I tend more toward the more the merrier.

Braces and Brothers

Litkia got her braces today. She was very brave and didn't do a lot of complaining until a few hours after the visit to the orthodontist. Luckily, we were told that this would be the case and the Advil was handy. She pointed to the place in her mouth that was most uncomfortable and told me that she thought the bracket on that particular tooth was too low. I told her that I felt like the orthodontist knew what he was doing when he put it there. She apparently thought about it for a while and came back to tell me that maybe I was right and possibly the bracket was low for a reason. She explained her revelation like this:

You know when you're pushing somebody in a swing and you push them by the head, they just fall out on the ground? But when you push them lower their whole body moves with the swing. They are probably just trying to get my whole tooth to move instead of making it just fall over.

This was good logic, but I seriously had a hard time getting past the part about her pushing somebody out of a swing by their head. How does she know the physics of toppling someone out of a swing by their head unless she's done it herself? Well, the obvious answer to that question is that someone has done it to her. I'll give you three guesses who might have done such a thing. Better yet, I'll just tell you it was Pateriko. He denies it vehemently but I don't believe him for one second.

It takes quite a bit of badgering to get Litkia to react. If she ever really yells, I know that whatever has been happening has gone way past the point of good natured pestering. I keep thinking it's a good thing she doesn't hold a grudge easily or the piles and piles of wrongs that have been done to her by her brother would have long ago come around to haunt him. But, having said that, I won't be surprised when it does. (Nor will I let it bother me in the least.)

Things that I haven't forgotten

Today I present a list of things that grownups said or directly told me when I was younger, that have somehow stuck in my brain. I'm not saying they were important things, or even helpful things. I'm just saying I remember them.

1. "When your grandfather and I owned a grocery store early in our marriage, I used to steal half dollars from the register and put them in my shoes so I'd have spending money. Your grandfather was stingy with his money." Paternal grandmother

2. "If you swallow watermelon seeds you'll grow watermelons out your ears." Maternal grandfather

3. "One day you'll learn." "One day you'll understand." and other variations on this same theme. Daddy (and he was right).

4. "Girls do NOT call boys". Guess who said that.

5. "I couldn't see the words", was my paternal grandfather's response, when my Daddy asked him why he wasn't singing the hymns in church. It made me very sad because I was the one holding the hymnal too low.

6. My maternal grandmother reacted to everything with the words, "Dear Gussy". My older sister says that all the time now. Makes me smile.

7. "If you haven't seen a little slip by now, it's high time you did." High school choral director, speaking to a male member of the choir who was pointing out that someone's slip was showing to another male member of the choir.

8. "This is the tiniest record player in the word (holds up thumb and index finger together and rubs them together) playing 'my heart bleeds peanut butter for you'." Ronnie McCall

9. "My Aunt Minnie, she died last night. She died a right way and she died a wrong way." This is a very long story and I never DID figure out this stupid game that Jay Hollowell was trying to play with me.

10. "We're healing". Overheard because the adult that said it knew I was within earshot and wanted me to hear it and to take it back to my parents (more than likely)...which I did.

11. "I don't mind giving shots, but I won't let anybody give me one. That scares me to death." This was said by the nurse who just given me a vaccination. Ruth Ruffin.

12. "Feel these!" Aunt Betty after having reconstructive breast surgery due to a mastectomy for breast cancer. I was horrified.

13. "I'll tell you when it's time to worry." Mother told me this all the time. Apparently I was a worry-wart. She only told me that it was time to worry ONCE. She was right about that.

14. "Will you bring me a lock of your hair the next time you get it cut?" I had no idea at the time how creepy that was coming from the Dad of a friend of mine. I was a child. I did it. I found out recently that he still has it. Ick.

15. "THREE LICKS" Said to me by my junior high principal as he stuck out three fingers toward me. He saw me toss a pencil to the person sitting in the desk behind me and used me as an example for the class. I didn't get the licks, but he sufficiently scared me into never throwing ANYTHING again.

I know this was pretty random. But hey, it's me. That's what I do.

That is all.

All Hallows Eve

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, in a land called Mississippi State University, there was a group of kids who decided to have a haunted house at their dorm. The Beej was part of this group and she thoroughly enjoyed being involved in such an undertaking, and took her part very seriously.

Okay, no more third person stuff. Too hard.

So, I was ready for this haunted house, because I had always been the type of kid who would put on a sheet and make my face look horrible and pale (-er than usual) and scare the kids in the neighborhood who came by to trick-or-treat. When I was in grade school, I had a friend with an older brother who scared the devil out of me EVERY STINKING Halloween, by sitting on the porch, very still, dressed as scarecrow. As soon as I got close to the door, he would jump up and run toward me in an effort to KILL ME DEAD and I would run away screaming and begging for my life. I never forgot that and decided that every kid in my neighborhood should suffer the same fate. I was just passing along the joy, you know?

Anyway, this particular Halloween at MSU was no different than usual, except that I was getting to try to scare people on a larger scale. (This part of the story doesn't have a good ending by the way.) I remember vividly, getting ready for the festivities that night, looking in the mirror and painting my face to look like a skeleton, when the phone rang. It was my Daddy. I was still looking at my ghoulish face in the mirror when he told me that my Grandfather, his Dad, had just died. I will never forget the feeling of looking at myself in that moment, playing around with the idea of death, and suddenly realizing how very NOT FUN it was. I went on with my part in the haunted house, but that was a very hard night for me.

I never wanted to deprive my kids of Halloween, but I would never let them dress as anything scary. Luckily, they never really wanted to. I'm glad I didn't eschew it completely like I thought I would that night, but I can promise you I never looked at it the same way again. This year, Litkia will be some strange version of the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland and Pateriko will help his grandmother man a booth at the church's fall festival with the sleeves that make him look like his arm is tattooed. I'm good with that.

As always...click the pics for a bigger version!

Phood Phor thot

Since yesterday was a holiday, my kids didn't have to go to school. That's always a happy time, especially when it's pouring rain outside (not that my children enjoy the great outdoors all that much, but you know...). There is usually quite a lot of whining about being bored and bugging me as I sit at my desk, working away and trying to tune them out. It can be exhausting.

I'm sure it can't be a reflection of me as a mother that I forget to feed them when they're here. I think it's just more of a habit. I'm in the habit of not feeding them lunch during the week because they aren't here. So when they're here, I sort of forget that I should see about getting them some lunch. Pateriko is pretty good about fending for himself. That doesn't help the situation. I just assume somewhere internally that all is well. However, yesterday, around 1:00 PM, a paper airplane landed on my desk. I turned around, but nobody was there. Upon further inspection, I found that the plane carried a message written in Litkia's handwriting and in her normal incorrect spelling. The plane said:


I would like to pause here to say that hungery should be a word. If adding a 'y' to the end of a word means 'having', then why can't we say hungery? That would mean having hunger. It's legit. She is as brilliant as her mother. And while I'm on that train of thought, I think that there are many hundreds, nay thousands of words that should be considered legit that we mock and say are incorrect. I also think that if we can say PH makes the same sound as F or that the letter E or the letter A can make 74 different sounds based on what's around them, we can do whatever we want. I've often thought that English is just a mixed up mess anyhow.

So anyway, the kids got fed and all was well. Again, I don't think it's a reflection on my status as a good mother that I had Pateriko make a box of mac and cheese to feed himself and his sister. I think it's just good parenting that I'm teaching him to cook....only I wasn't in there. Still counts.

I think.

For shame, for shame...

If you pass by my house on foot or on your bike, or if you drive into my driveway in your car and check my meter, or if you come to my front door to visit, there's a very real possibility that my dog, who will be in the back yard, may start talking to you. And of course by talking to you, I mean barking incessantly and in the very most obnoxious way until you want to throw something at him. I'm not sure what he'll be telling you. It could be any number of things. For example "Hello person! I don't think I've made your acquaintance. How are you today? Do you have a tennis ball handy?" or maybe "Please go away kind sir, you do not belong here and I may have to do you bodily harm if you get any closer." I have no idea what he's saying because he is a dog and I do not speak dog. When the mailman comes, I'm pretty sure he's saying "Mail's here! Mail's here! Mail's here!" and when he sees a squirrel, I think he's saying "It's a squirrel! Squirrel! Hey! A squirrel!" Those are the only two that I think I understand for sure. At any rate, my promise to you, friend, is that he will bark.


What my dog will NOT do, however, is jump on you. If you are walking on the street, my dog will not come racing out to you and try to eat you because he will be locked up behind a gate. I have been frightened by too many dogs to ever allow my dog to scare you or your children when you're out for a walk or a bike ride. If I invite you into my home, my dog will not jump up on you and try to lick your face off due to extreme happiness at your presence because he will either be shut up in the laundry room or again, in the back yard, safely behind a closed door. If you venture into the back yard, I can't help you there. I will however, warn you of the dangers of dirty dog paws on your good pants if you choose to go out there, but I will STILL do my dead level best to keep him away from you.


I know you think your dog is sweet and would never hurt a fly and that he's only a puppy (even though he seems a lot like a horse to me) and that he would never bite (even if his bark sounds pretty harsh). The problem is that I am completely unaware of any of those things about your dog, and when he comes flying off your front porch at me growling, showing his teeth and acting like I'm lunch, it scares me. Heck, when he comes flying off the porch towards me and doesn't bark or show his teeth it scares me. Shame on you for letting him scare me. Shame on you for letting him run the neighborhood chasing me on my bike while I scream and worry about him nipping my ankles. Do you know how stupid I look when that happens? It's humiliating. Shame on you for making it difficult for me to have fun with my family in my own neighborhood. Shame on you for not honoring the leash laws of this city.


What you do in your own home is your own concern. If you let your dogs jump on the company, that's completely up to you. It's your house. I can't make you do any different, and if I don't like it I suppose I can steer clear. But please, let me be outside minding my own business without your dog interfering. Kthx.

A Little Princess

You may already know that I got a spiffy new iPhone not too long ago. I have since downloaded and deleted many interesting applications for said phone. One of the happier ones that managed to withstand my furious deletion was BeamItDown iFLOW Reader. The version I got was free and the books that came with it were all children's classics. Of course, there are plenty of books to buy, which I'm sure I'll never do, but in the meantime, I'm reading all these children's books while I wait to see the doctor or wait in the car for the kids to come out of wherever they are. I've finished "The Secret Garden" and "Aesop's Fables". Last night I finished "A Little Princess". I have to admit that it smacked a lot of "The Secret Garden", but they were both written by the same person, so maybe that's why.



At any rate, I just need to talk about it. That sweet little precious love of a girl behaved so beautifully through her adversity that it made my heart twist up in a knot. She was so strong and kind and amazingly in control of her little emotions. I am fully aware that her behavior was the key to everything working out in the end. However, I just have to admit that I kept hoping that she'd just haul off and kick that horrible old Miss Minchin right in the shin. I really wanted her to eat ALL SIX of the hot buns instead of giving FIVE of them to one hungry, little, dirty member of the populace, leaving only ONE for her own starving self. I wished for her to smack that hateful Lavinia right in the mouth for once, but she never did. I know the author was trying to make a point. I get it. But sheesh. Thank heavens this book was written for children and these lessons were lessons that children should apply to their lives. I figure if she wanted somebody as old as me to learn something she would have named it "A BIG Princess".

Comforting Cornbread

Let’s talk about cornbread.

I love cornbread. Alottabit. Cornbread is one of those things that I can cook and actually cook well. When I make cornbread, the smoke alarm never goes off like when I make cookies, because somehow, cornbread is more important than cookies. I very rarely ever get it wrong anymore. It’s crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, but firm enough to stay together with no obnoxious crumbling. Cornbread is great for crumbling in your soup, but YOU should be the crumbler. It shouldn't do that on its own accord.

My mother taught me how to make cornbread, just as her mother taught her. She tells the story of her brother stealing the good crispy outside of the whole skillet of bread by stretching out his long fingers over the top and giving it a good twist. Up it came in a big circle and then he’d run away with it. He ran because he knew my grandmother would be directly behind him, mad as a hornet about his bad behavior. It was always too late for her to do anything about it. He was too fast and the damage was already done. That is a BIG, BIG no-no around here. Everybody should get their fair share of the top layer. Of course it’s not even the top layer, it’s the bottom layer. When you take the skillet out of the oven, you turn it over to get it out so, the top becomes the bottom. If you don’t know cornbread, there’s a good chance you don’t even know what I’m talking about and that just makes me very sad for you. This picture is a close representation of what cornbread SHOULD look like, only it's obviously a little crumblier than I like and has some peppers or something in it. People really shouldn't mess up good cornbread with extraneous stuff.

If you live anywhere North of Tennessee or have only eaten cornbread in a restaurant, I’m willing to bet you are one of the deprived. Cornbread should NOT be bright yellow. Jiffy has a corn muffin mix, which should never, no never, be confused with cornbread. Jiffy is for the weak. Jiffy leaves a bad taste in my mouth. No, I’m serious. It really does. It’s a pasty bitter aftertaste. Gives me the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it.

Cornbread is best when served with soup or pot liquor. Cornbread was meant for soaking up the juice left in the peas or the turnip greens. My grandmother believed that cornbread crumbled in buttermilk and eaten with a spoon was the cat’s pj’s. My eldest sister does the same thing, only with milk. Those wouldn’t be my favorite uses for cornbread, but I certainly don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. Field peas and fresh tomatoes with hot cornbread…sigh. Comfort food is what that is. Just comforting.