Words Get in the Way

I have to start this post with a Birthday shout out to several people --

Happy YesterBirthday Borba!
Happy Today Birthday to Grandad and Britt!
And an early Happy Birthday to Mamabel!

(Note on Mamabel: that wonderfully stubborn woman will be 89 on Wednesday. I spoke to her on the phone today and she is doing remarkably well. She decided that she would never get her strength back if she doesn't get out of the bed once in a while so she was sitting in the room with my mom waiting to fold some laundry. How crazy is that? She even talked about how she wants to play with the kids when we come home to visit this summer. Quite a jump from when Amie gets here I'm checkin' out, huh? The hospice nurse has said that if she continues doing this well, they will reevaluate her and may have to take her hospital bed away. Aw, bummer. ;-) )

Okay back to our Words Get in the Way title--

Some people count sheep to get to sleep. My brain creates silly word games which actually don't help me sleep at all since once it starts I have a hard time turning it off.

You are familiar with idioms, yes? Well, I have a tendency to inadvertently confuse my idioms and sometimes combine idioms that are similar into longer idioms which may or may not make sense. And it was one of my late night-brain cell wasting-idiom confused moments which prompted this post which prompted this...

doot, doo, doot

BLOG CONTEST!!!

That's right. It's our first ever, true to life, real prize awarded blog contest.

Here's the challenge: Come up with the most creative, funny, or interesting mixed idiom and submit it in the comments section of this post. (A tutorial/reminder of how to do that is below.) Here are a few of my own examples to get your juices going. And don't go whining that I stole all the best ones. There are plenty out there.

Don't count your chickens before you put all your eggs in one basket.

When hell freezes over my dead body.

People in glass houses shouldn't throw in the towel.

That's the pot calling the kettle the black sheep of the family.

Now that you've got the idea; you will be playing for a
$10 Barnes and Noble gift certificate

Myself and a distinguished panel of non-biased judges (okay, it's just Tim) will choose and post the winner on Wednesday. You have two days to get your idioms posted!

Go ahead --give it a shot in the dark! :o)


To post a comment, click on the comments link at the base of this post. Type your comment in the space provided. IF you have a google account, simply sign in where indicated and press "publish comment." IF you do NOT have a google account, you MUST sign in as something. Choose anonymous and then press "publish comment" but be sure to include your name in your text or I won't know who you are. Also, NOTE that comments are moderated and won't appear immediately. If you have any trouble you can email your idioms to me at amiefamie@myembarq.com

She Drives Me Crazy

She...He...They...take your pick.

This is the conversation as it occured at the breakfast table. Oh, and to help you visualize -the part of Amie will be played by Jennifer Lopez. Tim will be played by Will Smith. They were the closest matches we could find on such short notice. :o)

Amie: Guys, grab your cups and have a seat at the table.

A few moments later while attempting to pour chocolate milk.

Amie: Nathan, where is your cup?

Nathan: Right there.

Amie: Isaiah, where is your cup?

Isaiah: Right there. (indicating the same cup)

Amie: Okay people, there are three of you and two cups. Who actually brought their cup to the table?

Nathan: I did.

Isaiah: No, you didn't!

Nathan: Yes, I did!

Amie (and Tim): Hold it! Now, let's figure this out. Nathan, did you bring a cup to the table? Yes or no?

Nathan: Yes.

Amie: Isaiah, did you bring a cup to the table?

Isaiah: Yes.

Amie: Really?

Isaiah: (crying) No, it's a lie.

Amie: You did NOT bring a cup to the table?

Enter Mamoune stage right (she's the needy actress-type, just has to be in every scene. ;-))

Mamoune: I saw Isaiah bring a cup to the table.

Tim: (perplexed) You saw him bring his cup to the table?

Mamoune: Yes.

Amie: Isaiah, did you bring a cup to the table or not?

Isaiah: Yes.

Amie: Why did you say that you were lying?

Isaiah: I don't know.

Amie: WHAT?!! If you did get a cup, then Nathan you did not get a cup.

Nathan: Yes, I did!

Amie: uh....but...i...ah...(no longer able to think or speak coherently)

Tim: (with his SuperDad cape flapping in the nonexistent breeze) Okay, people. Let's start over, shall we? (removing the cups from the table) Kids, each of you, please go and get a cup and bring it to the table.

Sigh of relief. Order is restored. Global decimation averted. YEAH SUPERDAD!!

A final thought. Could it be that senility in old age is just your body's way of returning to the state of being with which you are most familiar? If so, I am doomed.

Beep Beep

Now, that we are crawling out of the trenches, I have a few words regarding car alarms.

Having a car alarm that sounds because someone actually touched your car perhaps with the intention of thievery -okay. Having a car alarm that sounds every time the wind blows harder than 2 miles per hour ---WHY?!!!! And how is it that it takes a full cycle of beep-beep-beep-beep-whir-whir-whir-whir-deedeet-deedeet-deedeet-deedeet-wheehoo-wheehoo-wheehoo-wheehoo-beep-beep-beep-beep... for a person to press one stinkin' button on their key ring. It's like the ONLY person on the planet capable of sleeping through that racket is the owner of the car. Craziness.

Our car stereo is not worth being hated by our neighbors. Maybe yours is. shrug.

You Dropped a Bomb On Me

Ode to Amie

by the Flu

I don't give a &#%@! what you think you need to do.

I'm going to turn your insides outside and

make your head pound with fever until you want to be shot.

Stupid flu. He doesn't even bother to rhyme. He does however, hold true to his word. Fortunately, we only have a BB gun so I'm still here. And no, I didn't "shoot (my) eye out."

Tim is taking Nathan to the doctor today for what we think is an ear infection. He's complained with some pain but mostly the boy is suddenly deaf. I don't know when his last bath was and I have some fear that it will turn out he just needs the wax cleaned out of his ears. "Well, Mr. Sexton, it appears that Nathan cannot hear you because he is currently hosting a small honeybee colony in his ear."

I have switched myself to a treatment dose of tamiflu -so much for prevention. And what's worse this flu monster is completely unfair. I alone have had the great privilege of visiting the yuck bucket. What's up with that? While Tim's at the doctor, I will be laying on the couch fighting off waves of nausea and glaring harshly toward any loud noises coming from the other children. If the mean faces don't work, I will pull out the big guns...Shrek trilogy, anyone?.

Back---to---the---couch.

Fever

Tim's temperature this morning -102.1
Mamoune's temperature this morning -101.8

Ode to the Flu

by Amie Sexton

Oh, the flu, the flu

Poo-poo on you;

Get out of my house, you sorry louse

I have too much to do

to be sick with the flu.

There are two lumps in the house so far. One is the larger lump in our bed who used to be known as our kids father. He is now only recognizable by his occasional grunts and cries for drugs. He went down Thursday afternoon and aside from a couple of bed to couch to bed transitions, he has remained down. We got his first dose of Tamiflu today and we are hoping we squeezed into that 48 hour window.

I went in to check on him a few minutes ago and he was laying in bed in his "drawahs" because he keeps fluctuating between hot and cold. There pressed into his thigh was a shiny quarter. Apparently, it fell out of his pocket when he undressed and got back into bed. (sorry for the imagery, it will pass soon enough) I was like, "Dude, if you are paying me for taking care of you --you owe me a lot more than that!" He was not amused. shrug.

The lesser lump is Mamoune. Remember, that she is the one who rarely gets sick. When she laid on the couch last night, refused her dinner, and then went to bed at 7pm without any argument, I knew she was done for. She, too, is on tamiflu and round the clock Ibuprofen. She's been sitting up for almost an hour -this is progress!

I am coughing and have a mild headache. The doctor went ahead and put me on a preventative dose since my symptoms are/were mild. Hopefully, that will be enough to keep me going until this works its way through the family.

I think it's time to go and turn Tim -maybe I'll find a twenty on the other side. =)

Pressure

Back from a quick trip to the library. Now, where was I? Oh, that's right, the weight of my grandmother's death was resting squarely on my shoulders. ;-) (side note: this incident has gone a long way toward eradicating any God-complex I may have had -life and death and the millions of details in between...I am WAY under qualified for that job; application withdrawn!)



I spent most of Saturday night with Mamabel. Sitting beside her, holding her hand. I got in the bed with her for a few hours but was afraid she may roll over in the night and I'd find myself tangled up in her oxygen tube. Tim and I sang to her. "Swing Low Sweet Chariot." This will be the title post when she passes, btw, so you'll know if you see it. I don't know if that's a favorite of hers but I'm sure that every child who ever crossed her path heard it. It was her default lullaby. Only thing was, she never said chariot. She always sang "cheerio." It's slightly harder to imagine her being swept up by a glorious, uh, cheerio but hey, if God lets her go out that way, so be it.



I can't tell you the number of times I watched her breathe and thought "was that the last one? Nope. Was that the last one? Nope. Was that the..." You can imagine how old this had gotten by Tuesday.



We had several great conversations with her. She's ready to see Jesus, my Pawpaw, Patricia Jane (the daughter she lost as a baby) and lots of other loved ones. We've been joking all week about getting her to give us an estimated time of departure so that we can all plan accordingly. Truthfully, I think she's just as surprised to still be here as the rest of us.



Leaving on Wednesday was very hard. It is horrible to say good-bye knowing that it could be the last time we see her here. Those last squeezes are priceless. I just hope that if she insists on waiting for somebody next time -she'll pick my sister instead of me.



I did think of you all while we traveled home. So, here are a couple of photos and commentary that I thought you'd enjoy.

My thoughts on the way to Atlanta were "Come on, Cracker Barrel, seriously! Carrots?! Is that really supposed to draw me off the interstate at the next exit? Of all the things they make and serve at Cracker Barrel...carrots? BUT then on the way home, after a week of eating absolute junk (thanks Granddad) those carrots were looking pretty tasty. You know your body is starved of nutritional value when this billboard speaks to you.

Okay, it looks like a simple white line but try capturing that image almost perfectly centered while doing 75 down the interstate. The girl's got talent -boredom and talent.

Just for you, Lisa Slater. Just for you.

Home on the Range

We are home. We had a great visit and got to spend a lot of time with Mamabel. She is still holding her own and has actually seemed to improve over the past week. Don't get me wrong, she is still dying but the timing is any body's guess. She is eating and drinking -good things. Her blood pressure is still soaring -bad thing. She is coherent and talkative during her awake moments -good thing. She is weak, tired, and in pain during her awake moments -bad thing.

Just to tell you how crazy the weekend/week was --here's the way things went. My sister drove in from Louisiana on Friday to assess the situation and hopefully give me some clarity about when/if we should head that way. By Saturday morning, the news wasn't good but we decided that we would wait for "the call" to come over the next few days because we didn't want the kids to see her swollen and struggling to breathe. Then by Saturday afternoon, it seemed that we were looking at hours. We assumed we would never make it in time to see her but that it would be best to head down there on Sunday morning and be with the family.

THEN...then, then, then...I get a call from my Mom saying "Mamabel is waiting for you." Come again? What do you mean she's waiting for me? Apparently, as she slipped in and out of consciousness, she asked if I was there. They told her we were coming soon and she asked, "Can I go home when she gets here?" ugh. My grandmother is a lot of things. Two came to mind: precious followed IMMEDIATELY by bull-headed!

I wanted them to tell her that I was on my way and that I was gonna kick her right in her tail when I got there for putting me in such a predicament. The way I saw it, if I didn't get there asap, it would be my fault that she was laying there in agony. And once I did get there, it would be my fault if she went ahead and died. Either way, we were prepared to be disinherited. :-)

Ten hours later, the time it took to pack six people and drive, we arrived "home." Tim took the first load in and then came back and whispered "they're all standing at the door." I was glad for the warning as I walked in to one of the most surreal moments of my life. Tim was right. My Dad, sister, brother, sister-in-law, uncle, aunt, cousin, aunt on my mother's side, and my mom were all there. I crossed back and forth hugging family before going into the room to see Mamabel. To say it was a heavy moment doesn't even touch it!

Continued in the next post...

From a Distance

Sorry to leave you all hanging for so long. My grandmother took a turn for the worse and we made an unexpected trip to Atlanta. I am posting from my parents house just to give you a quick update. On Saturday night, it seemed she wouldn't be with us much longer at all. It's Tuesday and she is still here. If there is no change today or through the night, we will head back home.

She has been coherent most of our visit though she sleeps alot. It's great to have this time with her! Continue to pray for our family as we are all juggling schedules and trying to "plan" around something none of us can control. Pray for wisdom and discernment. I'll keep you updated as much as possible.

Sweet Child O' Mine

It's official!

Isabella's adoption is finalized! I'll be taking copies of this document to my good friend Dr. Theraflu. PER ADOPTIVE MOM -no more! Which leads me to interject a solemn note: Judi is no longer with us. A moment of silence please.



Okay, we're over it!

Bella on the other hand is with us to stay! Woot, woot.

Nathan and Isaiah said, "Wow, Bella. You're really our sister now!" and Mamoune said, "Dad, look we got a gold star!"

That's right people. We are a gold star family. Not silver, not bronze ---gold, baby! oh yeah. ;-)

Our House

Maybe I've never pointed this out before (or maybe I have) but we live in a trailer. A mobile home if you want to dress it up a bit or if you are hillbilly ghetto like us...it's a tray-lah. I'm not ashamed of this and it turns out that seven percent of the US population lives in trailers. (according to the 2004 Population and Housing Narrative Profile.)

But I do sometimes forget that not everyone has the same appreciation for these homes built from the finest toothpick construction you've ever seen. While at a birthday party today I was introducing myself to a few ladies and one of them (who recognized me from the local park) asked where I live. I'll be the first to admit that my answer isn't usually what people are expecting. Do you know where the projects are? Instantly two of the three's eyes widened with a look of "Do we have those in our town? Oh my gosh." It only got worse as I continued with: "We're about one block in. In a double wide." Dead Silence. Followed slowly by obligatory head nodding.

Clearly, neither of these girls would have been caught dead in a trailer. Not even if a tornado picked it up and landed it smack on her head, which is quite possible. I politely excused myself from the sudden and uncomfortable lack of conversation. Go figure. Fortunately, several families from our old (and foundation secured) 'hood were there and offered a way of escape.

So, if this is new info for any of you and it shatters your image of me (whatever is left after that last post) ...I'm sorry. We love our trailer. No, that's not it. We love our home! And trust God not to let it get carried off by strong winds. :0)