It's a big, honkin' pile of pictures. Enough that it's going to take me forever to load them.
I really don't want to stay up until 3 a.m., so here are three pix to wet your whistle. The rest will be coming tomorrow -- hopefully.
While I was chillaxin, I did manage to finish a quilt. It's wall-hanging size and is for a special friend of mine. I'm hoping she understands that I'm still learning this new machine. Oh, and it's meant to hang vertically. So just turn your head sideways as you look at the pictures. That's easier than turning your monitor sideways, don't you think??
It's machine-quilted in white. And then I went back and hand-stitched daisies in random colors. I love it and hope she does, too!
For one thing, I never really told you what I thought of that whole Michael Jackson business. I found out at gymnastics -- right after he died. I was sitting there with three other women, one of whom couldn't seem to talk or think about anything else.
She kept wondering out loud how on Earth he could have died of a heart attack when he was a vegetarian. After listening her go on and on about that, one of the other women remarked that you never knew.... Maybe he ate beef when he was younger.
It was all I could do not to get up off my corn-fed, West Texas-born hiney and set them straight right then and there. I'm pretty sure even vegetarians have heart attacks. But even more? I'm fairly certain the drugs, lifestyle, skin bleaching and all the rest was far more harmful to his heart than having a rib-eye for dinner.
For the love of Pete. Come on, people.
Honestly, I pretty much checked out on that whole mess the next day. The girls and I left for the Creek and haven't really come up for air since. I didn't watch the funeral, although the tiny bit I saw of the hearse going down the freeway brought about the memory of OJ's white Bronco and how that just went on and on and on.
I really found the whole mess pretty disturbing. Here's this whole African-American community (is that the PC way to say it??) going on and on and on about how great Michael Jackson was and how misunderstood he was. And the Reverend Al Sharpton (who I rank right up there with Quanell X and Sheila Jackson Lee) was the worst. We're talking about a child molester who lived a completely bizarre life....
And I just kept thinking, that poor family of Farrah Fawcett. How sad. Here was a truly inspirational woman who died with dignity after a long, long battle with cancer. And all you hear about is Michael Jackson.
Other than that, I pretty much tuned out of the news. I'd watch the weather to see if anything was going to pop up anytime soon, but that was about it.
By the way, nothing "popped up." We still haven't had any rain. 102 today and the ditch beside our house is brown. Really brown. If smoking in a barn is about the stupidest thing you can do, smoking near our ditch is a close second. We really are in a fire danger here. I find it a bit unnerving.
I do have hope for rain, though. I've even started filling up my hurricane closet with supplies. The important stuff first -- Pop Tarts and ramen noodles. Two cases of water bottles.
Speaking of hurricane supplies.... If we're going to have one, I need it to wait until after Labor Day weekend. You see, I've given up the "Big Four" until we go out to Fluvanna for Opening Weekend. The "Big Four" being caffeine, sugar, alcohol, and any food from any restaurant with a drive-up window. If it has a drive-up window, I can't even go in to get what I want. We're talking Cold Turkey, here. I'm on Day Six.
Biggs kind of laughed when I told him what I'm doing. For one, I really don't drink that much. Like hardly ever. And even if I wanted a glass of wine at the end of my self-imposed restrictions, Opening Weekend is hardly the time to drink one.
Starbuck's and my Chai Latte addiction is knocked out with a triple whammy, though -- caffeine, sugar and a drive-up window. That's going to be a hard one.
But the simple fact of the matter is, this is a necessary move for me. Even with my new custom grandma orthotics I haven't been able to walk like I need to. I have an appointment in a couple of weeks to get the left one tweaked, and I hope that works. But even though I haven't been able to walk, my love of food hasn't diminished one bit. So all that weight I lost last summer? It's back. With a vengeance. This is the only way I know of to stop it in its tracks.
And you know what? I can do it. If Ruthie Cahill can do six more weeks of treatment for her cancer, I can do this. Maybe Ruthie and I can celebrate with a bootleg Reese's when she's here for her next appointment. Works for me!
Ruthie was here this week. Are you still praying for her? If not, you'd better get on it. She got a great report from MD Anderson. No sign of cancer. She made friends with NED. No Evidence of Disease. She'll be back August 18 for another battery of tests. Keep praying. It's working.
And while you're at it, my friend Ann Camden needs more prayers. She's struggling with the chemo and struggling with the decision of what to do when it's done. Does she go for the lumpectomy or go with the annihilation method? She's feeling weighed down tonight and needs God to show her the MORE. That He is MORE than she could ever ask or imagine. She knows He is. She just needs a little reminder.
Let's see... What else? Oh. I've started writing a book. I know. The dream. But I've had this book idea on my heart for a couple of years. It's a storyline I've never read, and I think it needs to be told. Fiction. One that could soften the hearts of Christian women -- we're so often caught up on what's right that we forget to look for more. And it will be a way to share Jesus. I'll let you know more when I know more.
Speaking of books, I've become the library Queen. I just read Chasing Fireflies by Charles Martin and It's All Over But the Shoutin' by Rick Bragg. Both are great reads -- while vastly different from each other. Both have a Southern feel. Great books.
Whew. That's gotta be it for now. I'll try to get lots of pix on here tomorrow. It's crazy insane how many I need to load. Hang in there!
- d.
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