Lemon Broccoli

Oh, how quickly it can all go wrong! In the middle of cooking supper (read: cooking, chasing pre-schoolers in and out of the house, yelling at boys for wrestling like maniacs in the living room, monitoring neighbor children who are way too zealous about using the sharp knives to "help" me, and finishing up one young lady's science homework) I had a...well, what my grandma would've called a spell. Yep, I had a spell. I was suddenly hot, sweaty, nauseous with stomach cramps and a pulsing headache. No idea what prompted it (not counting the stress of the above mentioned chaos coupled with stifling heat as we try to save money on a/c).

I went down hard. An hour, a quickly cooled house, and two ibuprofen later, I woke up to my poor hubby trying to manage the hooligans and finish the dinner I had abandoned mid-prep. It was 7:15 pm. We don't usually eat that late. The domino effect. He had roasted the broccoli and cauliflower nicely but expressed concern that he hadn't put enough olive oil on it and it wasn't quite the way I make it. No biggie. He had also made a last minute decision to roast some chicken. So, we were waiting for that when Tim answered a phone call.

I decided to put on a pot of pasta to supplement in case the chicken wasn't ready until midnight. I reached up in the spice pantry for my sea salt and noticed a bright yellow can of "Lemon Scented Dusting Spray" (that's the super creative name for generic Pledge). I retrieved the can from the cabinet and handed it to Tim with what I thought would register as a what the heck is this doing in the spice cabinet? look. Turns out facial expressions do not translate nearly as well when one of you is on the phone and not really paying attention -justifiably so. Also turns out that the what the heck is this doing in the spice cabinet? look strongly resembles the here, maybe this will spice up the broccoli look. yup.

Oddly enough, I like lemon on broccoli. But I definitely prefer the fresh squeezed sort verses the "lemon scented" version with the poison control warning on its label. The broccoli was trashed. The little people ate cereal. And the rest of us scarfed down buttered pasta and piping hot chicken that will surely haunt us in our sleep tonight.

Anyone want to join us for dinner? We'll begin taking reservations soon. =)

A Single Square

Question. What would you do for a single square of toilet paper?

Random, huh? But seriously think about it for one sec --what would you be willing to do?

If you happen to be sitting at your computer with a settled stomach and the (taken for granted) knowledge that there's a value pack of "big roll" tucked in the bathroom closet, cupboard, pantry; you probably can't imagine taking extreme action to secure a small sampling of quilted 2-ply. And that scratchy, generic, 1-ply stock offered at most public facilities???? Willing to go to great lengths to chafe yourself with that stuff? I doubt it.

Then again, we've all been there. The mall, the library, Walmart...you gotta go real bad, you plop down and aahhhhh, then glance over and "aw, snap!" Ah, well now that's a different story. Suddenly, toilet tissue, no matter how thin or stiff, is a prized possession. So much so that you will grab that sad little brown tube and start meticulously peeling off tiny pieces --the ones that stick to the glue -- and stacking them together into something resembling a cotton cosmetic pad that you can only hope has as much absorbency. You've done it, you know you have! =)

In some cultures none of this would be relevant. You'd just squat in the street and move on. But here in the good ol' US of A, we are a little more particular about our bums. (Though perhaps not particular enough by some standards. Check out this interview with the author of The Big Necessity: The Unmentionable World of Human Waste and Why It Matters for an interesting read.) We've traveled the path from pink and blue --Vagisil would like to express their sincere thanks--to quilted, to aloe infused, to recycled. Buffing our bottoms is big business.

By now, you're thinking, Amie, what the crap are you talking about? (couldn't resist that one) I'm talking about this...all joking aside:

Every other Thursday we volunteer at a local food pantry distribution at Faith Baptist Church. It is one of my favorite things. Overwhelming, heavy, leave feeling both glad to have helped and utterly helpless at the same time FAVORITE thing! The economy continues taking a toll and this is more than evident by the ever-increasing number of families coming for help. The need is great. There are families sitting in the worship center of the church who do not have a roll of toilet tissue in their home. This is not assumption, this is not some projection of common statistics, this is knowledge based on relationships built over months and months. Toilet paper. None.

If your first thought was "well, what have they done to squander their money away?" -shame on you. Please stop yourself now.

If your first (2nd, 3rd, 175th) thought was "whoa, what can I do?" I'm so glad you asked. =)

1. Be aware.
2. Be humbled not judgemental.
3. Be there.
4. Be generous.

Okay, so you've read this blog which means you've taken care of number one whether you meant to or not. Now you're accountable. See how I did that? ;-) About number three...if your church, community, local non-profit hosts a food pantry (and lots of you reading are FBC'ers so I know yours does...hint, hint.) please volunteer. Most have lots of options for service and even varying times available for different components of the ministry. And if you spend a night or two hanging out with the families, grandmas, grumpy old men, precious babies, I assure you that humbled thing will take care of itself. But if you can't be there in person then definitely be #4. I can only speak to our specific location but the warehouse is looking bare and could easily be replenished if we all, each, everyone, the whole of us added a few staple items to our grocery list each week.

I did a little research and there are lots of items that run under $1.00: white/brown rice, pasta, chicken noodle/ tomato soup (on sale .50 each @ Target), instant mashed potatoes, tuna, salmon (lunch packs), lots of canned vegetables, etc. etc. etc.

I hope you take this as I intended it. A reminder. It's not a guilt trip. It's really not. Now, if I said that I hope you think of the need for supplies at local food pantries every time you wipe your butt today THAT would be a guilt trip. But I won't say that. ;-)

Four No More!

Last Wednesday Justus began running a fever in the late afternoon. We put him to bed and I tossed and turned all night anticipating his cries when the medicine wore off and his temperature climbed. It finally happened at FOUR in the morning. I got him up and slept the rest of the night (morning) on the couch feeling like I was snuggled up to a gargantuan baked potato.

Thursday and Friday my body tried to catch up on the sleep lost but unsuccessfully. ( I was mid-way through a digestive cleanse and my system was fighting against me.)

Saturday evening after church, Bella complained of a headache. Yep. Full-blown fever by bedtime. She crashed on the couch and we decided to leave her there so we wouldn't have to wake the other pre-schooler to care for her in the night. After one hour of sleep, she made her way into our bedroom. Tim vacated to the couch and again I was wrestling an oven-hot super-spud. She moved, turned, dug her feet into my back and legs ALL night. I alternated Tylenol and Ibuprofen, wrapped her feet and legs in a vinegar soaked cloth, held, rocked, and comforted her. At long last, she fell asleep. It was FOUR in the morning.

Sunday night, I tried to catch up.

We headed to bed around 10pm on Monday and I was out like a light. Then the phone rang. 11:45. I threw on my clothes and headed out to take my friend and her daughter to the Emergency Room. We waited and w-a-i-t-e-d. She was seen. Everything was fine. She was discharged. I dropped them off around the corner and quietly slipped back into the house. Tim met me at the door. I crawled back into the bed at...you guessed it - FOUR in the morning.

I'm still trying to catch up.

Now, I'm just hoping that this four thing comes in...threes. =)

Five is Two

Two years ago today, a baby boy was born. We had NO IDEA he existed. And yet somehow through an emotionally confused maze of human choice, consequences for choices, God's sovereignty, grace, and the sometimes seeming insanity of His design --- that baby boy was ours. (click here and here for his introduction posts)

Lots of families have "oops" kids. (and yeah, I'm aware of the negative connotations behind that label and how most people try to avoid saying it in such terms or at least have sense to whisper it in the presence of said child...yada, yada.) Justus was our "oops" adoption. Just like those unexpected pregnancies, we hadn't planned on him and were not exactly prepared for him. Only difference being, we didn't have nine months to get used to the idea. We had six days. Six feverishly-insane-running-all-over-creation-to-file-appropriate-documents; buying-borrowing-and-begging-for-blue-baby-stuff; picking-out-boy-names-days. It was all very surreal, well, right up until the midnight feedings. It got real, REAL fast. ;-)

But even now, there are times that I look at this golden-toned, chunky-legged boy running through my house and think where did this kid come from? And I think of all the things that could have shaken down differently and kept us from getting that phone call from Amazing Grace Adoptions and I am struck by just what we could be missing: all the snot, poop, biting, fighting over toys...I'm kidding! I'm kidding! (I knew if I got to mushy and idealistic you would all be rolling your eyes by now. =)) Sure all those things came with him but we would also have missed the mischievous way he cuts his eyes, the way he talks to the chickens as though they've been anxiously waiting for him all day, and the sweetest, puckered up kisses on the planet to mention only a few.

And so the one who pushed us over the hump to number five is a whopping two year old and knowing how many more tantrums, spills, or diapers are left to endure... doesn't make me feel any less blessed!

Focus

Sometimes when you're feeling overwhelmed by life, kids, ministry, circumstances, spiritual warfare, food poisoning, fatigue, or a number of other completely random things =), it helps to shift focus and consider the things that are simple, quiet, don't wake you from sleep in the middle of the night, don't wretch your insides, and are really beautiful just because they are! Here are some shots of the really beautiful things God is letting us enjoy around the Sexton/Launch 150 stomping grounds.

The Rose bushes are exploding with color.

This one just about makes me cry. Teri Gray gave me this plant 8 years ago for my birthday. We moved and left it behind. Last year, I asked permission from the current residents to dig it up and transplanted it to our front yard. Given my track record -I expected it to wither and die immediately. Not dead. Gorgeous!

Same plant -two types -two completely different shades of purple. God is so cool.

Even the garden is showing off!

Delicate Sugar Snap blooms

Cucumbers

Mulberries ripening overnight. Cobbler on the way!

And last but not least...there are always these lovely ladies. I never would've dreamed that sitting and staring at a bunch of chickens could be so therapeutic. It's quite impressive when those layers of feathers reflect a prism of color in a kiss of sunshine.

I am waxing poetic about yard fowl. sigh. Maybe I'm even more tired than I thought. Off to take a nap.

Peeps on Parade

Pictures from the Arboretum. A family day favorite.

Mamma Jamma

Hoodlums =)

Okay, okay but Nathan actually requested this shot.

More of Nathan's photography skills.

Doing our part to propagate the Dandelions.

I'm sure the horticulturists appreciate our efforts.

Quickly growing boy/ quickly growing afro.

My favorite! (picture not kids ;-))

Future model. Always posing.

Tim Vs. The Arboretum

Miscellaneous Pictures

Mia and Mamoune

Nathan and his prize bunny at the annual Wright family Easter gathering.

Did I mention the modeling career?

Heaven help us.

Freshly shorn boy --not baby anymore-- just boy. sigh.

Man on the run.

Two sweet peas in a pod.

Out of the mouths of Babes

People have asked me at various times since we moved here if we feel safe. I recently got this question from a good friend after mentioning that I'd gone out walking early that morning. I had to laugh. Truth was, I did get creeped out a bit...that is, when I got to the "nice/white" section of town and found that I was completely alone between empty, two-income homes and a construction site. If I'd been grabbed up, no one would've even heard me scream. Back here on my side of town, I got waves, smiles, and even a big hug from one our middle schoolers waiting at the bus stop. So, the way I see it --the scariest neighborhood is the one full of strangers with tightly-drawn blinds and manicured lawns. But it's not just me...


Sunday nights have become a sort of family worship time for us. Usually, we light a candle or two, sing along with Tim and his guitar, and then pray for families and situations in our community. This past weekend, we put the little people down for the night and then migrated to the front porch. It was quite dark as we huddled under blankets and sang and chatted. Having read the entire Little House series to our kids over the years, Tim mentioned that he felt a little like Pa with his fiddle at the close of the day. "This ain't the prairie." I chimed in. "Not the big woods either" he added. Then Mamoune said, "I'm glad it's not the big woods! If it was, I'd be scared to go outside in the dark."

Oftentimes, perception defines reality. But it's awfully fun when reality corrects our perception.

Open Letter to My Body

Dear Body,

Why have you turned against me? For 35 (soon to be 36) years I have taken decent care of you. I don't smoke or drink heavily. I give you fresh air and sunshine while protecting you from the harshest rays. I typically avoid fatty, greasy foods and occasionally even eat a plate full of spinach salad. I nurture, clean, perfume, clothe, and care for you. And I got you a good man. Don't even get me started on what he does for you. Yet you betray me. Why?

An occasional virus is one thing but this has gotten out of hand. You let down your guard in January and that stupid virus took its toll on me. Then the coughing, and the coughing, and the coughing. Then strep; then a revisit from my ovarian cyst; and most recently a possible bout with my gall bladder. Did I mention the coughing? Seriously!? I thought you were my friend.

You've lost your stamina. You've lost your ability to endure stress. You've lost your quick recovery time. And what have you gained? Girth, my dear. Nothing but girth. Darn you.

What must I do to get you back on my side? What do you want from me? A nutritious, well-balanced diet? Regular exercise? sigh...you ask a lot. I suppose I'm willing to try. But just between me and you, I better see some evidence that it's working and quickly or all bets are off, sister!


Amie

Shower Scents

I was getting ready to wash my hair when I noticed that I was low on shampoo and conditioner. Low as in, already added water to the bottle and squeezed out the last pitiful squirt of foam. So, having exhausted the meaning of frugality I looked under the bathroom sink where I have a stash of hair products that were bought by or for me while on sale. Problem is, I don't have any sets; only random, mix-matched bottles like Ocean Breeze, Crisp Green Apple, Freesia, etc. The dilemma. What do I want to smell like? I finally settled on "Fresh Mountain Strawberry" shampoo and "Cucumber Melon" conditioner.

Why Amie, what's that delightful fragrance you're wearing?

Fruit salad.

=)

Post Beach Report

Oh, the beauty! Oh, the bliss! Oh, the bummer of it coming to an end. We had such an amazing time in Ocean Isle, and if you follow my facebook you should know that we stretched "Naked Friday" over several days. =)

As a mom of five there is something completely liberating about sitting in the bed with my hubby, munching chocolates, sipping a Mojito, and watching 80's music videos on television at 2 o'clock in the afternoon completely nude. I never once had to wonder if a little person was going to run into the room and a) steal my chocolates b) change the channel to another rerun of Hannah Montana or c) scream in horror and require years of therapy. Freedom! Divine freedom!

Here are some pictures and commentary from the trip (no, silly, not those pictures):

Last time it snowed at Ocean Isle was 10 years ago. Very cool timing!

Looked like the waves were coming from both directions.

Snowy seashells

Snow-beach bunnies.

Whimsy meets irony.

No tan lines for Tim!

Last year the sign said "Out for Business."

We didn't expect them to top that but they did.

Considered putting a new countdown clock here but that would just be too depressing. Perhaps it should become a bi-annual Ocean Isle retreat. hmmmm.