Fifty-five Years of Studly

I absolutely LOVE this picture of Studly Man. Such a cowboy! I think this was when he still lived in Peru and his dad's job on a zillion acres owned by W.R. Grace permitted access to ponies. I love his little outfit, his saddle oxfords, and the way his two-gallon hat sits back on his head.

Cute back then.

Still cute today.

His hat is bigger. His pony has been replaced by a Faithful Friend, and his toy six-shooter is now a real pistola.

Oh, yeah. And he grew a beard.

Happy birthday, Studly. Although you're officially a double-nickle senior citizen, you'll always have that little boy charm that warms my heart.

I love you.

31 Flavors

This year's flavor was chocolate pecan. As in chocolate pecan pie.

I can taste it just typing those words.

On Saturday, I celebrated my birthday for the 31st time with my BFF, Burlene.* (Burlene is also known as Matilda on this blog. She's neither Burlene nor Matilda, but roll with it.) Thirty-one years we've been friends. Thirty-one birthdays celebrated together. (Well, 62 birthdays if you count hers.)

That's so strange.

'Cuz I'm only 29.




Oh, I kid.

She was there on my 16th birthday when her brother/my high school sweetheart surprised me with a lovely gift. I was no doubt wearing overalls with a tube top underneath and no shoes. And she loved me any way. We've celebrated in some unusual places in unconventional ways, but we've celebrated nonetheless.

This year, Burlene/Matilda took me (Juantela Wayne*) to my favorite tea room for lunch and some serious girl time, although there was no discussion of armpits this time.* It was a FABULOUS meal, and of course, we topped it off with pie. Chocolate pecan pie.

Girl talk with the BFF over lunch followed by pie, presents, and shopping. Is there anything better than that? I think not!
Thanks, Burlene, for a wonderful day. More importantly, thanks for being my forever friend through thick and thin, up and down, good times and tough times and everything in between. Thanks for loving me just the way I am and always seeing the good in me. Thank you for helping me see beauty and joy in the simplest of things and for reminding me of the value of laughter. Thank you for praying with and for me and sharing the challenges of ministry. Thank you for loving Jesus above all else. You are a treasure.


A friend loves at ALL times. Proverbs 17:17a

*LONGstanding funnies from the "Life's Funniest/Most Embarrassing Moments" annals.

Daughters of the King

Last week, my friend, Heather, celebrated her 30th birthday. Two of her lifelong friends, Amy and Amy, and I had a princess tea party for her.

I KNOW!

A) I have friends.
B) I have friends who are only 30.

Since we'd had such a fun time at Princess Betty's birthday party, Amy #2 and I decided we'd surprise Heather with the same idea. She's a ham as you will soon see, so we knew it would be a home run.

Here is Heather with Amy #1.

Amy #1 won the prize for the longest drive to attend a princess tea party that day. She drove four hours to surprise Princess Heather. I didn't witness it personally, but rumor has it Heather did the ugly cry when she saw Amy #1. I love ugly cries.

And here's Heather with Amy #2 (my planning partner in crime)

And here she is with me. Do I look 17 years older than Heather? Why, yes. Yes, I do.

And here are all the princesses together. Note that Cinderella, Belle and Sleeping Beauty joined the festivities. We had a blast. We laughed and we ate. We laughed some more. We ate some more. We talked about the Lord and what a difference He has made in all of our lives. We are princesses... we're daughters of the King! (All of us except Cinderella. Her tiara was prettier than ours, so we're not letting her play with us any more.)

The tea room is nestled in the back corner of a darling little shop that is geared to kids, mostly girl-type kids. We embarrassed ourselves browsed around for a while. And then Amy #2 came running over to get my camera/phone because Heather was being a, well, you know, a ham.

Girl cracks me up.

Just as we were leaving, the hostesses for a bridal shower came in to begin setting up in the tea room. When a woman pulled the cake from its bakery box, I couldn't believe my eyes.

There, in all its splendor, was an armadillo cake.

Yes. It IS red velvet. I asked.

Think "Steel Magnolias" and Shelby and Jackson's red velvet armadillo "groom's cake" that Jackson's aunt made. Ouiser Boudreaux cut off the tail and served it up to Drum Eatenton, Shelby's dad.

I hope the bride-to-be thought it was funny.

And yes, I DID send the pictures into the Cake Wrecks blog.

As we walked to the parking lot, Amy #1 said her feet were hurting her. Apparently she had a recent injury, and her pups were none too happy to be pent up in some high heeled shoes. She took the shoes off and stood in the parking lot for a few minutes as we said our goodbyes.

When she stepped away, this is what we saw.

Not only did her pups not like the pain inflicted by the shoes, they also couldn't breathe!

I'm still laughing about that.

It was a grand day, and I'm so glad to have been able to celebrate with my precious friends. God is good. Indeed, He is good.

And so is red velvet armadillo cake.

Happy Birthday, sister

Every girl needs a sister. In fact, if you're a girl and don't have a sister, you can have mine.

I mean that in the nicest way.

I mean that I'll share her with you 'cuz she's pretty special.

Her name is Megan. In the late 1950s, that name was not just uncommon. It was rare. Most people thought my parents were getting in touch with their creative side when they chose that name for their eldest daughter. Today it is more common, although most people pronounce it differently than we do. To us, she is "mee' gan." Which was fun when she called my office once and my coworker came to my office door and said, "Whoever you just spoke to on the phone a minute ago is on line two again." Not having been on the phone for well over an hour, I tilted my head to the side and said, "Huh?" Denise (said coworker) said, "I don't know! She said, 'Hi. It's me again. May I speak with Jennifer please?'" Very confused, I picked up the phone and sheepishly said "hello" only to be greeted by the cheerful voice of my sister.

And I started laughing.

And couldn't stop.

"Me again" was actually, well, you know, "Megan."

I have no idea why that popped into my mind and further why I was compelled to share it, but hey, roll with it. (It did remind me that the pastor of the church where we grew up used to call her "Ma GAN'" every Sunday morning as she would finish playing the offertory.)

Me-Again is a very talented individual. You know, the kind you hate because you wish you could do all those things as well as she does. Except you wouldn't hate Me-Again. She's too cute for that. She sings. Man, you should hear the girl sing. And she plays the piano. Beautifully, I might add. And she's the organist at her church, and she's good at that, too. Oh, and she teaches the choirs and ensembles at the school where she works, right after she's finished instructing sophomores in their requisite World History course.

She's also very smart. So smart, in fact, she doesn't want to know her ACTUAL I.Q. because she's afraid she'll be disappointed in how low it might be. Hello? Valedictorian of her high school with over 1,000 in her class? Check. Summa cum laude graduate from college? Check. Let's just say she's smart. Smarter than me, for sure. And she probably has printed out this post and is sitting at her desk with her red green pen marking my grammatical errors and circling things that aren't complete sentences. (The school where she works doesn't allow teachers to mark papers with red ink as it might cause the students emotional distress. What ev'.) It's a fun game we play. That, and she doesn't see much "blog speak," so she wouldn't necessarily know how totally appropriate this writing style is. (I do have delusions of grandeur, don't I?) (I also like to use parenthetical phrases. Deal.)

She's two and a half years older than me, and in our younger years, that meant I looked up to her. Literally. She was taller than me. Sometimes when we'd fight, she'd place the heel of her hand squarely on my forehead and watch and giggle as I swung at her in vain. My arms were too short to reach her, but I didn't realize that at the time. I just kept trying, hoping I'd get lucky and one day actually hit her.

As I grew older - and taller and stronger and wiser - that began to change. Like the time Dad was traveling on business as he did a fair amount when we were young. Mom (remember her?) always had her hands full with us, especially me. (I was/am the "problem child.") Me-Again and I were sitting in the entry hall playing with our Barbies. (Scandalous! We were allowed to PLAY. WITH. BARBIES.) Mom was busy cleaning when it came time for her to go to the basement and move the laundry from the washer to the dryer. As she'd JUST finished mopping the kitchen floor, she told us to stay off of it while it dried. And then she went down to the basement.

Me-Again (who incidentally is also known as "Gar" in our family - a story for another day) decided she was thirsty. And she wanted milk. (See, it runs in my family.) The problem was two-fold. She had to step on the wet kitchen floor to get to the refrigerator AND she had to get the GLASS PITCHER CONTAINING THE MILK off of a refrigerator shelf that was over.her.head.

CRASH!!

The full GLASS pitcher of milk shattered, and glass and milk covered the freshly mopped floor!

"This will never do," I thought to myself. "Daddy is gone. Mommy is downstairs. WHO will discipline the rebellious Me-Again? WHO?"

Why, Jennster, of course.

Somehow I wrestled her to ground, straddled her bony little body and held her arms to the floor. Now I faced a serious dilemma: hands busy holding her arms down = nothing with which to enact discipline. What's a girl to do? I did the only thing any self-respecting five-year-old would do. I used the only instrument of discipline weapon I had, and I bit her nose. Hard. Until blood came out.

There was much screaming.

Remember those Barbies a few feet away? Well, who knew a Barbie stand could become lethal weapon #672? She raked that thing down my bare back (I had on a halter top). Hard. Until blood came out.

There was much screaming.

Mom, who by this time had flown up the stairs after hearing all the commotion, took one look at us, grabbed her keys and said, "Kill each other. I don't care."

And she left.

In the car.

With us at home.

Alone.

She drove around the block and was home in 2.35 minutes, but it just as easily could have been 2.35 years because during that time? Me-Again and the Jennster had become best friends. For life. Because really? Who wouldn't make an ally of a former enemy when it is just the two of you alone against the world?

All these years later, she's still my very best girlfriend. She "gets me," and even though we don't always see eye to eye, we're always family. She laughs at my jokes, and she cries at my sorrows (which sometimes ARE my jokes). She was my matron of honor and the first person I called after getting engaged to Studly. She's my fellow lover-of-purple and my biggest cheerleader. She's a great mom and a thoughtful daughter. She's a loyal friend and a godly woman.

If you need a sister, you can borrow mine. She's the best.

But you have to give her back.

Happy Birthday, Daniel

This little guy? He turns 17 today! He's funny and sweet and scary-smart. He loves the Lord and is a leader among his peers. He's very loving and is the joy of his family. We're SO proud of him!

Hope your day is AWESOME, RedHeadDanMan. We love you!

Aunt Jenn & Uncle Studly

Happy Birthday, Meegoo!!

Yesterday was my mother's birthday. I typed out a post in her honor, and Blogger ate it. (Blogger's been a little wonky lately.) So I'm trying again, albeit a day late and a dollar short.

My mom, who is also known as "Aint Fay" to her very Southern nieces and nephews, "Meegoo" to her grandchildren and one of her sons-in-love, "Mom" to two daughters - although they occasionally resort to "MOTHER!!" when necessary, and "Honey" to her loving husband, is likely the sweetest woman God ever created. If I wrote for days, I couldn't write about all the ways she sacrificed for us when we were growing up or the countless ways she showed love to us and those around her. She earned her nicknames of "that-woman-who-likes-to-feed-us" and "Flaky" and even "Flo," but those are stories for another day. More than anything, she is an example of godliness to all who know her.

Proverbs 31 describes her like this (with my commentary added in blue):

An excellent wife, who can find? (I've heard Dad say all my life what a great wife she is.) For her worth is far above jewels. (She's irreplaceable.) The heart of her husband trusts in her, (she's always been trustworthy) and he will have no lack of gain. She does him good and not evil all the days of her life. (That's been evident for their 55+ years of marriage.) She looks for wool and flax and works with her hands in delight. (She is creative and built a beautiful home.) She is like merchant ships; she brings her food from afar. (She found resources no one else would have considered.) She rises also while it is still night and gives food to her household and portions to her maidens. (She's an excellent cook and still loves making a favorite meal for each family member's birthday.) She considers a field and buys it; from her earnings she plants a vineyard. (She knew the value of her home and worked hard to ensure its growth.) She girds herself with strength and makes her arms strong. (She worked hard to make our house a home and strong, safe haven for the storms of life.) She senses that her gain is good; her lamp does not go out at night. (She's burned the midnight oil on many occasions to help her children reach their goals, including the times we didn't make it easy for her [i.e., my third grade year and all of my teens].) She stretches out her hands to the distaff, and her hands grasp the spindle. (She never shied away from hard work.) She extends her hand to the poor, and she stretches out her hands to the needy. (She often took meals in to the sick - still does - and helped whenever she could.) She is not afraid of the snow for her household, for all her household are clothed with scarlet. (Our needs were always met before her own.) She makes coverings for herself; her clothing is fine linen and purple. (She made all of our clothes when we were growing up and most of her own. She even made the PURPLE bridesmaids' dresses for my wedding.) Her husband is known in the gates, when he sits among the elders of the land. (She is the "woman-behind-the-man" and is always so proud of her husband.) She makes linen garments and sells {them,} and supplies belts to the tradesmen. (She is an excellent seamstress.) Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she smiles at the future. (She is a beautifully poised woman whose strength of character has been the backbone of her family.) She opens her mouth in wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. (Her godly counsel is highly sought after by her family and friends.) She looks well to the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness. (She has earned her retirement.) Her children rise up and bless her. (Yes, they do.) Her husband {also,} and he praises her, {saying:} "Many daughters have done nobly, but you excel them all." (He is proud of her and sings her praises openly.) Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, {But} a woman who fears the LORD, she shall be praised. (A more genuine, loving, God-fearing woman you will not find.)

It is an honor to be her daughter.

Happy Birthday, Mom. I love you.

Two Years?

I'm having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that little Samson is two years old today. Two years! Where did the time go?

This picture was taken when he was two DAYS old. The breeder is holding him up a bit. Look how tiny Samson is compared to Pat's fingers!He's five days old here. This was the first time I ever held him. I didn't want to let him go!

Here, he's about four weeks old. Look at that face!

He's about nine weeks old here. Here he is at four months. And at six months. This is one of my favorite pictures of him. He's such a hoot, and Studly and I have had a blast watching him grow, befriend ShilohBigDog, and generally entertain us.

Happy birthday, Sam-a-lam-a-ding-dong!

May 16 - one great day

It's a great day today.

It's a great day because:

The Lord made it, and we're glad in it. (Psalm 118:24)

It's Friday.

It's payday.

My eldest niece is graduating from college today. (Hook 'em Horns!) I'm a very proud auntie.

I get to spend the entire day with my WHOLE family.

On this day in years I can't divulge, my friends Terry and Tina were born. Happy 'day, girls.

On this day in 1954, precious Studly Man was born. Happy Birthday, my beloved. It's a great day.