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A Shindig for Breakfast

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Hootenanny. 
A funny little word that I always thought was Texas-specific and meant something like party or shindig or get-together. Well, apparently, a hootenanny isn't just a shindig. It's also a breakfast breakthrough!
Say you're in the kitchen, and you yell up at your kids, "Hey, whadday'all want for breakfast?!:" And, they reply, "Why good morning, Mother. Thank you for asking. We'd like some French toast, please, and thank you."
After you wake up from your brief stint with a shock-induced fainting spell, you schlep toward the kitchen in your holey-toed slippers and soon realize... WHOOPS... we have no bread. At this point, it is PERFECTLY acceptable to just dish out bowls of cereal. No judgment here.
BUT... for the foodie (who really wants a chance to experiment with her food photography camera and lens), and the mom who's not too tired to be hungry for more, this calls for a hootenanny! Not just a party... a party in your mouth.
The recipe…

No Pressure, and Mama's TIREd

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One of the most daunting, annoying things to see in a woman's life is that little yellow "TIRE PRESSURE LOW" light flashing on your car's display. This morning in South Florida, the temps had dropped 30 degrees from the usual, so tires everywhere were calling in "sick". "I don't have enough air." " I'm feeling low." "There's not enough pressure in my life." Wah wah wah.

So, the fear instilled by the tires that be forced its way into the already-busy schedule, causing good people everywhere to pull over and find some air. Simple enough, right? Mmmm hmmm.

In this life, one of my biggest nemesis... nemesises? nemeses? nemesi...whatever... is this thing right here... an inanimate object, but an enemy to the most intelligent among us:


If you can find one, great. If it doesn't have an "out of service" sign taped to the front of it, even better! This one actually had a twin, so I was hopeful that one or the o…

My Father's Hand of Providence - Part I

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In the early 1990's (which may as well have been the late 1800's from my children's perspective), I set out after college graduation and moved to Dallas.

Big D!
I'm not sure why.

I just knew that I wanted to be there, and I loved it from the second I arrived. 
My arrival, however, into my soon-to-be, 20-plus-years hometown looked a little different than most. It looked something like this...
My car was a 1982 Datsun (yeah, they don't make those anymore) Nissan B-210 hatchback. Complete with "fins" on top, which was probably meant, in the seventies, to make your car look groovier. It wasn't enough that my old Datsun was a lovely shade of faded pale baby blue and donned ONE burgundy red, left front fender. It was also "equipped" with a metal stick shift that had been shuffled around so many times the rubbery base had become worn. The torn, ragged faux leather served as a "window" of sorts... one that looked right onto the passing asph…

It's All About The Light

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Mornings.

Need I say more?

As a self-proclaimed night owl, I disdain the A.M. greetings, the yawns, the blurry-eyed shuffling about. The only thing that makes mornings worthwhile is... well, coffee, of course! You didn't see that coming, did you?

All grumpiness aside, I've somewhat made peace with mornings over this last month. Somewhat. Forced by the early birds that be to take my children to school at the crack of dawn, I have come to actually enjoy all of the gorgeous cloud formations that fill the morning skies here in the Southeastern United States.



Hues of lavender purple, periwinkle blue, apricot orange, and buttery yellow fill the sky with the majesty of the Almighty Creator. Though there are many Divine attributes of God to worship and adore, it's His infinite creativity that never ceases to take me by surprise over and over again. Even on morning drives.










While gazing at these lovely colors one morning, it dawned on me (no pun intended; unless you thought it was funny)…

AUTUMNomic Disorder

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As of late, I find myself getting a little more down in the dumps each day. And, I know exactly why.




Fall. 
No, of course fall in and of itself isn't depressing. It's actually quite the opposite. It's my most favorite season of all, but I'm missing it. A LOT.

While all of my Texas friends (and I used to be one of them, mind you) are complaining and "meme-ing" things like "Winter said, 'Yeah, fall and I just about to pull in,'" I'm down here in sunny, hot (always freaking sunny and sweaty/melty/humid hot) South Florida. This is where people joke about how you know when it's fall because all the license plates start to change colors. I hate those people. I joke.
If I were to go see a doctor about these feelings I'm having, I imagine the conversation would go a little something like this:
Doc: So, what seems to be the problem, Mrs. I Miss Fall?
Me: Well, I'm starting to really miss fall, and I seem to be experiencing an impending …

Giving Thanks for Memories

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Thanksgiving. We all tend to give THANKS just a little more attention during this season of turkeys and dressing. How could we not? There's so much food to be had on so many of our plates! That, in and of itself, should be cause for great celebration and thanks to the Giver of all good gifts. And, yet... there's something I'm even more thankful for this year. Something I'm actually missing very much. Something not food related. And, if you know me well, you probably just let out a big "GASP!"

Yes, something more important than food is on my mind this week: Family. Friends. Fellowship. I guess I could sum up all three of those into one word...Memories.


At a time in our lives when we've moved once again to another state and left behind friends and family who were practically within arm's reach, I am so very thankful for all the memories we've created in the past. Those memories carry me from year to year. I cherish them. I pull them out like an old …

This Beautiful Mess

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Typically, one does not look at a mess and think to themselves, ‘oh, how beautiful!’ And, yet… some of the most beautiful things in life tend to be a bit… well, disheveled to say the least. At times I’ve tried to reconcile the mess and convince myself that it’s only going to be this way for a short while. Inevitably, the mess is always there. Lurking. Simmering. Waiting in the wings. Whatever terminology you care to add… it’s always messy. This life.





None of us have perfect lives. Not even the most seemingly perfect among us. There’s always something out of place. Something askew. Something imperfect. Teaching us to embrace something a little (or a lot) less than perfection, like a fine piece of splatter paint art.
Sometimes if you stare at your mess long enough, you’ll see that it is downright beautiful in its own right. 



Just as a person who’s as blind as a bat needs a pair of spectacles to see, we too need a better set of lenses to look through if we are to make it in this light-starv…