Superbowl XLIII: Pittsburgh Puts Their Foot Down.., or Did They?

Pittsburgh wins the Superbowl, but not without controversy. I still think that referees dropped the ball on Santonio's clutch play in the fourth quarter. The right foot never touched the turf!!!!! I'm not bitter.., I'm just saying...

This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object...

Whenever buttermilk-ranch dip accompanies appetizers and/or hors d'oeuvres trays at the table...the dip becomes instant clown make-up for Simone.
Notice the lone celery stalk on the table near her right arm.  The dressing was meant to enhance healthy snack choices.  She nibbled on the celery briefly, but soon decided that the topping was a tastier treat. At which point, she bypassed the celery, and went straight for the sauce.
("Wait 'til they get a load of me!")If you look closely, you can almost make out a Joker-like grin on her face, accentuated by the the dressing.

A Side of Test Taking that Most Parents Don't Get to See

A co-worker emailed these images to me the other day.









Thanks Susie! Teddy and I got a good laugh. :)

Endearing or Convoluted?

"A mother is only as happy as her saddest child."
-A line from the movie "Loving Leah".

When I first heard this quote, instantly I was overcome by an estrogen overdose. I wanted to burst into tears, run upstairs, jar my girls from sleep, and smother them in warm embraces. The sentiment seems timeless and endearing, because from the moment they were born, my whole life has been committed to ensuring their happiness. However, after a little sleep and some sober thinking, it occurred to me that a relationship characterized by such interconnectedness is doomed from the onset.

Sure, the truth embodied in this view does not seem like such an imposition when suppressed by a weighty maternal overtone. What mother wouldn't find some comfort in easing a child's anguish. Yet, the whole idea of my joy so closely tied into my child's well being seems charming only when nursing a sick toddler. I do feel fulfilled when I can meet a need that they can't meet for themselves.

However, at some point children grow older; life happens to them. What happens when my influence over their lives begins to shrink considerably? At what point does this pressing practice of wanting to fix a hurt child turn into a tangled web of co-dependence?

TMI***

Do you remember Peter Parker's conclusion about his Spidey senses from the movie "Spider-Man", "This is my gift, my curse."?

Yeah.., well.., that quote sounds really magnanimous when it's coming from a superhero in an ergonomic leotard, and on the big screen.

Enter The Gift...

When I got pregnant, my body obviously evolved. However, one modification that caught me off guard, was my heightened sense of smell.

I inherited a solid set of sleuthing skills.  Now, like a bloodhound, I can pick up a scent wafting through the air from over a mile away.  For all practical purposes, this gift is most useful when determining whether produce has exceeded it's shelf life, sniffing out soured leftovers, and detecting curdled milk.  After all, the unconscious choice to sacrifice self for the good of my children is by divine design, right?   That is until, those rare moments when the gift backfires--literally.  

Enter The Curse...

You know, when people pass gas, they carry the foul baggage with them.  The rancid dust lingers in the air behind them at least 20 or so paces. Leaving the grocery store this evening I found myself sinus deep in some guy's vapor trail. It wasn't pleasant, so I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that The Mystery Pooter was more skilled at passing gas than a Nascar pit crew.

***Probably more than you cared to know about me, but you were warned.

Obama, and Driving

I got my driver's license

for the first time, in '09

welcoming thirty-two

wuthering past wasilla

I got shotgun inside this 

vehicle for change, strange

figure in the photo 

captures a modern era

origin: 

neither African

nor American

but born in Yeswecan

height:

entering from the front

eating at the table

eclipsing the glass ceiling

weight:

palpable

eyes:

rose-colored

DOB:

1-20-09

King Marched, So That Obama Could Run

Lyrics | McFadden & Whitehead - Ain’t No Stopping Us Now lyrics

I Go Pluck in the Night

Teddy woke up this morning with a chip on his shoulder.., actually it was more like a bald patch on his leg. 

I wished him a good morning, and fully expected the same greeting in return, but when he mumbled something under his breath and proceeded to brush his teeth, it became apparent that I was the source of his irritation.   When I asked why he was in such a grumpy mood, he cast a menacing look my way, as if I were harboring some disorderly secret. 

Many people choose waxing as a source of hair removal. Some embrace tweezing over waxing. Still, there are others who weather the exotic waters of the Mid Eastern threading method. I, on the other hand, employ a plucking technique-- or so I've heard. 

Apparently, I yanked a patch of hair out of Teddy's leg in my sleep last night, murmured something incoherent, and then dozed back off into la la land. 

I've heard of sleepwalking and sleep talking. I've even heard of sleep eating, but sleep plucking? 

Is this an extension of my subconscious? Am I repressing some sort of unresolved frustration with Teddy's leg hair? I have no idea what it all means, but possibly I am the one with a chicken to pluck.  

My Valentine's Day Tradition

Okay, it's a little early to be blogging about Valentine's Day, but I wanted to share a Valentine's Day tradition that you might actually love.  I published this post early, because pulling it off will take some planning ahead and lots of preparation.  Wouldn't it be great if you could send your special someone a greeting card that bears a postmark from Kissimmee, Florida?

This city is one of many having a special name, and whose postmark can add a touch of charm and romance to your Valentine's Day mail.  Some postmarks even say, "I love you".  How cute is that!

Here's what you do:

Send your addressed and stamped gift (or greeting card) in a separate stamped envelope to the Postmaster in the city of your choice (an envelope within an envelope if you will).



Include a note requesting the special cancelation. The postal worker will open the outer envelope, remove the contents containing the pre-addressed and stamped Valentine's Day gift (or greeting card), stamp it with the special cancelation, and then send it on its way. This is a free service.



Just make sure you adhere the correct postage.

Other cities providing special postage include:

• Lovely, KY 41231
• Lovejoy, GA 30250
• Lovejoy, IL 62059
• Loveville, MD 20656
• Loving, NM 88256
• Loving, TX 76062
• Lovelock, NV 89419
• Loveland, OH 45140
• Lovelands, OK 73553
• Valentines, VA 23887
• Valentine, NE 69201
• Valentine, TX 79854
• Romance, AR 72136
• Bliss, NY 14824

I like to send my Valentine's gifts at least 3 weeks in advance to be sure that they arrive on time. I send 3 to 4 gifts, which arrive in succession beginning somewhere around the 10th, and I usually leave a postscript from, "Your Secret Admirer". Included with each package is some sort of riddle that hints at the contents in the next parcel. The fun culminates with a final envelope on Valentine's Day, and a big reveal of the true sender. 

One year, the theme was What You'll Wear and each package had an article of clothing that I wanted Teddy to wear for our Valentine's Day evening (did I hear somebody say butt naked with a smile).  When the gifts arrive, I like to play coy pretending that I am clueless.

At the onset of this tradition, BC (before children), Teddy was flattered by the gesture. He was especially titillated at the idea of having a secret admirer--even more than he cares to admit.

So, if you're looking for something different that will likely add some flare to your Valentine's Day greeting this year, consider adding a special touch with romantic postmarks for sweethearts.

Tooth Fairy Bail-out Package

Many presumed that the bailout saga would conclude with the auto industry's gynormous handout.  Instead, the saga continues.

So, no one is surprised that immediately following Sadia's tooth loss on Saturday, one of the largest financial institutions in the world joined in the ranks of the many businesses in need of a economic rescue packages.  Ahem... (clearing my throat)

That's right, the dollar-under-the-pillow tradition underwent a little financial restructuring.

In other words, I....I mean the "Tooth Fairy"..., recycled a dollar from Sadia's piggy bank (don't judge me; I'm a Capitalist ).

While projections show that the small loan won't exactly break the bank, economists are estimating that this Emergency Economic Stabilization Act will bring Piggy Bank of Sadia's (or PB of S's) deficit to an all-time high of $2 dollars.*

Footnote:

*In a moment of weakness, during the throws of a chocolate addiction, I weaseled my fingers into the piggy's gut, bypassed the coins, and landed a dollar for a candy bar at the grocery store. I stop at nothing to satisfy a chocolate fix?

Slap-yo-mama!

Caution: Readers of the wholesome variety, read no further.*
There are few absolutes in this world: There is a God; you will pay taxes; and you will die.

However one largely overlooked certainty in life is this: My fried chicken tastes so good it'll make you wanna slap-yo-mama!

I don't like to brag--and I can't deny the unequivocal fondness of my people and chicken--but this here yaard burd is tha bomb and a hand grenade!

Here is my fried chicken recipe that I know you'll love:

The key to good fried chicken is to create a tasty, and crispy crust that acts like a barrier to trap the juice inside the chicken. To achieve this culinary trifecta, use buttermilk instead of egg to bathe the chicken. Also, add about two tablespoons of baking powder to the flour mixture.**

It's the chemistry between the baking powder and the buttermilk that gives the crust its delicate crunch. It also keeps the meat moist while adding a slight tang to the finish.

Dredge the buttermilk-bathed chicken in the flower mixture until completely coated. Shake off the residue and fry until golden brown. 



Now, I know that some of my readers are having a hard attack just reading this recipe, so I modified the frying liquid to include vegetable oil, rather than the traditional Crisco.   And, as with all things, moderation is the key.  This is not an entrée that I would serve often--maybe three to four times a year.

Finally, drain chicken on a paper towel, and voila! you have a soul-food dish that will likely place you in an adversarial position with yo mama!

Foot Notes:*Seriously, do you get any joy in this world, or do you just waif through life nibbling on carrots? (smiley face)

**My flour mixture consists of garlic powder, seasoning salt, and lemon pepper to taste. I season the flour, rather than the meat to amp up the flavor.

Palmolive: Soothes burns while you fry bacon...

Colgate-Palmolive Company used Madge the Manicurist in their commercials to sell dishwashing liquid in the early 90s. In the ads, Madge claimed that the soap softens hands while you do dishes.

Well, the other day I was frying bacon when grease popped up off the pan and all but sautéed my neck.  Teddy (a.k.a My MacGyver) suggested that I rubbed neon green Palmolive on the burned area. I was skeptical at first, but after a few swipes of my soapy fingers, instantly my irritation was soothed.

Amazed at how quickly the throbbing subsided, I grabbed my laptop to do a little research. As it turns out, our typical dish soap contains additives such as humectants which are useful in alleviating the pain caused by minor burns. Essentially, humectants absorb the moisture that usually builds-up under the skin, and which is responsible for the pulsating sensation that gives you the sense that your flesh is burning from the inside out. Since the humectants soak-up the pus, unsightly blisters are avoided.

Normally, I'm a natural dissenter from trends in home remedies, but the makers of Palmolive could certainly expand their market shares of dishwashing detergent under this new slogan:

Palmolive: Soothes burns while you fry bacon.

Written History from Unwritten Records

If there is one thing that my parents are good for at family gatherings, it's those back when I was a kid.... refrains.  This year was no different, and back history bail-out packages for the "kids of today" were in short supply.

Back when I was a kid, these choruses bored me to smithereenes, with their cumbersome superlatives emphasizing hard-knocks living.  However, now that I'm 30-ish, and donning a family of my own, I'm beginning to understand the mores of the older generation and their oral traditions, which are rooted in West African history. Essentially, it is the duty of the younger generation to pass along these legacies, and --as a rule --to deliver them with the same sing-song artistry.

In lieu of singing, I would like to transcribe one such story that my dad shares every year.  Through exaggeration, he illustrates just how far the dollar stretched in the 50s:

When I was a kid, my daddy used to give me a dollar and say, 'I want you to go to the store and pick up a pack a cigarettes for me, and a pack for your mother.  Then, I want you to get a gallon of gas for the mower so you can make some money this week.  Oh.., and bring me back my change.'

My dad's memories are for me a melody that sticks in my head.

This is in part due to the fact that my 4-year old and 16 month old now hang on the cadence of their grandfather's hymns. One day, his stories will become theirs.

In this way his music is a talking drum for my family. Having no written record of my family history, I'm inclined to listen more intently, perhaps so that I can pass the tradition on to my children.  

After all, it is through the act of passing on these songs, stories, and sayings that life's priceless heirlooms are preserved. 

About that "God is On Your Side" Theory

Tonight, Teddy read to Sadia from one of her usual bedtime stories. This is a nightly routine, and Sadia is pretty consistent about her book request. In fact, they read from the same book each night, so Sadia has the story memorized.

Because the story line is fixed in her mind, Sadia can "read" the book on her own. Tonight was no different. She picked up her book, and began narrating. However after finishing just two pages of the text, she grew tired of reading, and remarked:

"Daddy, you read this part, the rest is too difficult."

Teddy, expecting to reassure Sadia's confidence and fully realize the learning potential in that twinkling of a second, gently squeezed her chin, looked her square in the eyes, and said:

"Sadia, you can do anything. Nothing is too hard for you, because you are smart! And God is on your side."

Sadia, making a tangible connection rather than the meaningful one that Teddy intended, sensed the need for some cerebral thinking.  She argued:

"But Daddy, God is not on my side because I can't see Him..,"

She extended her left arm to the side, stretched it towards the wall, cuffed her tiny fingers into a bolstered fist, and hammered her knuckles on the wall as if to present State's Exibit "B" in her case against this God is On Your Side Theory.

[KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!]

Then she claimed with pointed clarity:

"AND, because the wall is on my side."

What a cute exchange, but Sadia's experience illustrates the essence of her pragmatism. She sees, hears, and understands largely in concrete terms (no pun intended). Since being on a "side" is also a matter of proximity, her comment made perfect sense.

It is easy to take for granted her naive understanding of the world. Still, her comment offered a fresh perspective that kept me giggling well into the night.

The bible in 63 Days? (More like 82 days)

So, I've exceeded the time for completing a personal challenge of reading through the bible in 63-days. Though I fell short of my goal, I am extremely excited to be finished.

The most outstanding insight gained from this undertaken seems counter-intuitive. It's a given that the bible holds the answers to many of life's questions. However, I ended my journey with more questions than I began with, especially difficult questions concerning my life.

As Christmas approaches, I am praying for the courage and faith to come to terms with those hard questions.

Thanks to all of my blog readers for your words of encouragement throughout my journey. :)

Recycle? Reduce? Reuse?

What will be the final resting place for all of those Christmas cards you receive this holiday season?

Here are a few Green suggestions.

And, the Best Daddy Award goes to...

This brief exchange ensued between Teddy and Sadia, while he fished for what seemed a sure compliment. After all, he did just serve Sadia a piece of cake following dinner.

Teddy: Aren't I the best daddy you ever had?

Sadia: No (matter-of-factly).

Teddy: (taken aback)  No? Well, who is?

Sadia: (without missing a beat shoveling cake into her mouth) My mom.

Service

"Service is the rent we pay for being. It is the very purpose of life, and not something you do in your spare time." --Marian Wright Edelman, Children's Activist

I Am The Face of Persecution

Not that I have been persecuted for my faith, but rather I persecuted you because I lacked faith.

There is freedom in Christ.

I have hindered you from developing in your own personal relationship with Him, because I--much like the Pharisees-- have held you to an unattainable standard, one in which I, myself, have not and cannot attain. There is no good in me, save the promise, which Christ has given freely to all who believe in Him.

I am at fault. I have fallen short. My shortcomings are realized. I confess it and trust that God is working it out for His good.

I used to believe adamantly that each of is faced with the freedom of choice: God, or the world. Good or evil. Now, I understand that I don't freely choose God. In fact, I don't freely choose anything at all. God alone elects, as we are by nature scandalously incapacitated in the realm of free will.

First, Paul explains in the first chapter of Colossians, verses 15 through 20 that God has reconciled everyone and everything to Himself. He chose us because He is, Supreme.

What follows in verses 21 through 23 demonstrates my inadequacy all the more:

This includes you who were once far away from God. You were his enemies, separated from him by your evil thoughts and actions. Yet now he has reconciled you to himself through the death of Christ in his physical body. As a result, he has brought you into his own presence, and you are holy and blameless as you stand before him without a single fault.

But you must continue to believe this truth and stand firmly in it. Don’t drift away from the assurance you received when you heard the Good News. The Good News has been preached all over the world, and I, Paul, have been appointed as God’s servant to proclaim it.

The Good News is that righteousness has been imputed to me. Any good that I have done is simply an extension of a Supernatural Line of Credit (if you will). The power of the Holy Spirit working through me.

I ruminated over this and other insights gained from two completely different sources this week. At first glance, the two laws seemed to be at odds with one another. However, after careful reflection, the principle of each highlight some fundamental truths.

I stumbled across the first article in Science News entitled The Decider. In it, scientists assert the nihility of free will, affirming that it is an "illusion", and that the complexity of decision making is veiled. The prospect of rewards and the anticipation of reprisals, send neurological signals to the brain triggering our decision making. Our brain, which essentially is subject to the same programming that enslaves a computer, makes choices based on receptivity and biochemistry. In other words, our will is less characterized by the notion of freedom, and more distinctively reduced to a conditional expression, or an if-then construct.

Initially, I rejected this position, in part because much of the arrogance of religious thinking is based on the idea of free will and one's ability to choose between good and evil. However, truthfully speaking, all decisions that I make -- by virtue of human nature-- are at the core selfish, and therefore evil.

As a Christian, my faith was rooted in the misconception that humans have the freedom to choose right from wrong; to bring forth good or evil. However, after careful consideration, I have come to realize the truth. Free will is indeed an illusion. I do not posses the faculty of volition. I am confined by my brain which is constantly networking with my body proliferating evil. The complexity of this "decision making" can best be summed up in the seventh chapter of Paul's letter to the Romans.

In verses 21-24, Paul writes:

I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?

Here, Paul illustrates the end to which we are bound to the mechanism of choice-- to the extent of reprobation-- whereby even if I will to do good, my actions indelibly fall short. I might erroneously point to my good deeds and argue, "I have proof that truly I can choose to do good." But the truth is that the good that emerges from my actions, emerges not as a result of my choosing to do what is right, but rather it is evidence of the Holy Spirit working in and through me.

Jesus clarifies this reality in his response to the "Rich Young Man", who refers to Christ as the Good Teacher in Mark 10: 18: "And Jesus said to him, 'Why do you call me good? No one is good except God alone.'"

I once vehemently believed that the persecution of the church referred to throughout the New Testament, resulted when the world rejected Christians who choose to separate themselves from the sin of the world. However, clearly, the face of persecution is found in those who repudiate the freedom that is in Christ, crush people with unbearable religious demands, and never lift a finger to ease the burden.

12 Days of Christmas

We're thinking about taking this show on the road!
Potential business investors may want to think about getting in on the ground floor?