5 Things I'm Thankful for Today.

1. Fall weather. 60-degree temps? In the deep south? Yes, siree. Bring it on.
2. Crock pots. The scents wafting throughout the house, the prep and being able to do other things while meals are cooking, the multiple servings of meals when the slow cooker has finished slow cooking...it's all good. Literally.
3. Hope. 'Cause you know, it's a pretty huge motivator and the best non-narcotic ever. Ever. Also, it can keep you going through the next week, which is amazingly nice.
4. Football season. You know, my teams don't have to win, but it's really nice when they do. Well, when some of them do. Specifically the Saints and LSU. I'd love for Southern Miss to do well, but...maybe next year. :-)
5. A grandmother who recovers well enough from her stroke to come home. And parents who are willing to change their lives to help her. That was long, but I think necessary.

Pistol and the Princess.

After my family's sweet dog Tractor died around this time last year, I mentally hemmed and hawed about what to do about getting my daddy another puppy. I mean, that solved the issue last time, right? So that's what he needed to get past this tragic loss: something else to focus on and love.

Until I realized that if I gave my parents a puppy, I was just giving them something that required a LOT of work, and that they might not quite be ready for yet.

So I waited.

My mom would report for a few months that she didn't think Daddy was ready. (Since my parents' dogs are always outside, and she's not really an animal person, our dogs are mainly his.) Then she started letting us know that maybe he was getting there -- they would occasionally go by the animal shelter, he wouldn't fall in love with one, but he would go back another time, etc.

One day this past spring, I checked in with my mom through email and she said my daddy was on his way to central Mississippi to pick a puppy out of a litter. I was shocked. I was thrilled! I called him and asked what were apparently too many questions about how he made the choice, because he admitted he couldn't make a decision, so he brought home two puppies with the thought he'd decide once he got to know them. He concluded with this statement while clearing his throat, "But don't tell your mother. I -- ahem -- wanted it to be a surprise."

I knew she'd be surprised, all right, but I didn't give it away.

When I met the puppies, I noticed that while they had fun playing together, there was a distinct difference. One puppy (who was black with tan markings) never stopped. In fact, when I tried to take solo pictures of her, they were all blurs. Too cute! The black and white puppy was a different story. She always wanted to be petted -- always. She loved the world stopping on a dime just for her, and she was all about being in the spotlight.

The black and white puppy had similar markings to our longtime dog Tractor, but her personality was also very...royal. Which is why I started calling her "Princess."

My daddy had been referring to the tan and black puppy as "Pistol," which was completely suitable, too. :-)

He finally decided to keep Pistol and found Princess a great home in Georgia, where she apparently lives inside, has baby gates, and wears pink tiaras. (Not that there's anything wrong with that, if it's your thing. It's just never been something I've been used to, and definitely isn't something my daddy would consider.)

So Pistol has been at my parents' since the spring now, and is, well, a pistol. :-) She is a mess, and "retrieves" things for them all the time -- including prizes from my mother's flowerbed and a solar light they'd embedded in the ground by the walkway 10 years ago.

 

She is a sweet puppy, even if she is a little ADD. Which, of course, I lobby that no one should be faulted for. Shiny objects are shiny objects, after all. :-)

I'm sure it's more frustrating to live with her than to just occasionally visit, since she is fond of digging, retrieving (things my dad forgot were ever in the yard), scratching, and jumping. But she's preciously sweet, and has definitely earned the nickname "Marley" (given by my daddy) with her antics!

And, as my mom says, "I've learned you either have flowerbeds or puppies. Right now we have a puppy."

So, meet Miss Pistol!

The House That Built Me.

There is an amazing Miranda Lambert song that is out right now called "The House That Built Me." It is absolutely incredible, and though she didn't write it, and even if you totally loathe country music, I sincerely encourage you to step outside of your norm, take a trip down memory lane, and give it a listen:

 

The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert

I know they say you can’t go home again
I just had to come back one last time
Ma’am I know you don’t know me from Adam
But these handprints on the front steps are mine

Up those stairs in that little back bedroom
Is where I did my homework and I learned to play guitar
I bet you didn’t know under that live oak
My favorite dog is buried in the yard

I thought if I could touch this place or feeling

This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could walk around I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

Mama cut out pictures of houses for years
From Better Homes and Gardens magazine
Plans were drawn and concrete poured
Nail by nail and board by board
Daddy gave life to mama’s dream

I thought if I could touch this place or feeling
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could walk around in I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

You leave home and you move on and you do the best you can
I got lost in this old world and forgot who I am

I thought if I could touch this place or feeling
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it’s like I’m someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I walk around I swear I’ll leave
Won’t take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me

Five Things I'm Thankful For.

Five things I'm thankful for are:

1. A job that keeps me busy and pays me.

2. Cousins who crack me up.

3. A mother who reminds me of the things that matter most.

4. Spring!

5. A sunroof.

High Five.

Five things I'm thankful for today are:

1. A father who knows his stuff, especially when it comes to cars.

2. A sister who is genuinely sweeter than and has the purest heart of anyone I've ever met.

3. A mother who listens and loves, even when she might not understand or approve.

4. Blood pressure medicine.

5. The spirit of the area I'm from and live in.

Lordy, Lordy, look who's 40!

My parents' marriage, that's who!

That's right -- as of October 4, 2009, my parents have been married for 40 years. (WOW.)

I'd love to speak for them and say they were all blissful, but since 32 3/4 of those years have included this feisty redhead, I'll hold off from doing that, and just focus on the enormity of forty years...of anything.

Day in, day out. In sickness and health. For better or for worse.

I don't really know anyone who has everyday memories reflective of a "Leave it to Beaver" or "Brady Bunch" type happy-go-lucky environment, but my sister and I did learn from our parents that sticking it out is the preferred method when it comes to marriage.

Congratulations, Mother and Daddy, on 40 years of ups and downs, good and bad, sickness and health, and showing us what it means to stick together for better and worse.

And, while we're at it, you're very welcome for being the good daughter. O;-)

FLASHBACK: April Fool's

As promised, I'm flashing back to some significant moments / trips / ideas / experiences as I have time. And when better to do so than when the meds kick in and is doesn't hurt to type?

My first flashback ties in with my most recent blog post, "A New Look."

On April 1 of this year, I decided it was high time to unleash 32 1/2 years of my mischevious nature the world. (Can you believe I'd NEVER done a for-real April Fool's joke till then? Such a waste.)

Anyway, with a little help from the awesome ALong, I decided to post on Fbk that I'd gone blonde.

Those of you who don't know me very well may not realize what a significantly big deal this was for peeps around me. My hair is red -- or as my Grandma Johnson always said, "auburn" -- and it's natural. I've never minded it, because a) I never got picked on about it, and b) always got plenty of positive attention for it. To boot, my hair is naturally curly, so I still get grief every time I straighten it and happen to be around my Nan or my Daddy. (Because heaven forbid a girl have more than one hair option after 22 years of the same old thing.) But anyway...you get the picture.

I thought when posting the statement on my Facebook status (Rebekah is blonde, and has decided that they DO have more fun!), I'd just get some fun feedback from my friends.

Well, that's pretty much an understatement of the results. The whole scenario was hilarious. A lot of peeps didn't believe me, so I (confidentially) begged every graphic artist type I knew to puh-leeze photoshop Reese Witherspoon's hair on one of my pics. Thankfully, Shannon's friend was about to do it quickly, so up it went.

Well, from there, the comments exploded. They included:

The skeptical:

• "This is fake! I see mountains in the background."


• "Is that a wig? That sort of looks like a wig..."

The incredulous:

• "You really DID it?! Wow!"


• "That red hair was so unique...but this looks good, too."

And the complimentary:

• "Whoa! You've never looked so good in your LIFE!"


• "Amazing! You should've gone blonde YEARS ago!"

Etc.

Finally, it was the complimentary that did me in. After a couple of days of gushing raves about how I looked better than ever, I became depressed at the same old dog staring back at me every time I passed a mirror. So I admitted it was a joke, and that was that. (Or so I thought.)

Somewhere around the-jig-is-up time, I was on the phone with my mom, who had found a great deal on some expensive towels I like and was seeing if I wanted any. My sister called in while we were talking, so I told my mother I'd call her back. My conversation with my (usually ridiculously sweet and mild) sister went something like this:

• RJ:
  Hey Kim!
  


• KJW:
  WHAT?! I cannot BELIEVE this. After all the pushback I got for a few highlights to cover my GRAYING hair, you go and DYE YOURS BLONDE????? TELL ME this is a joke.
  


• RJ:
  (laughing) Oh, you saw Facebook?
  


• KJW:
  YES, I saw FACEBOOK. This is unbelievable!!!!
  


• (in the background) Kim's husband Steve: Is it real? Well, IS IT?
  


• RJ:
  Kim. Of course it's not real. Can't you tell that's a Photoshopped pic? Why would I do that and not tell you?!
  


• KJW:
  Oh! Ok.
  (yells: Steve, it's not real!)
  


• RJ:
  If you saw it, do you think Mother did? Maybe I should call her back now...

So call my (typically sweet and gentle) Mother back I did. And that, my friends, is when the REAL fun began. THAT conversation followed THIS general line:

• RJ:
  (laughing) Hey Mother! That was Kim -- she'd just seen Facebook. She thought my April Fool's joke was REAL!!!! Hahahahahaha!
  


• Mother:
  WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT WASN'T REAL? THAT WAS FOR APRIL FOOL'S? I WORRIED, I STEWED, I HEMMED AND HAWED AT THE OFFICE. I MADE MY COWORKER PULL IT UP TO 1,000% TO MAKE SURE IT WASN'T A WIG! AND IT'S NOT REAL????
  


• RJ:
  Um...are you still in the department store?
  


• Mother:
  YES, I'M STILL IN THE DEPARTMENT STORE! Buying towels for YOU! Who almost gave me a HEART ATTACK. I told them at the office: "That is the WORST frost job I have EVER seen in my LIFE!"
  


• RJ:
  Mother, it was a joke.
  


• Mother:
  A joke? A joke. It was a JOKE?! Well, I hope you got a good laugh out of it, little missy. Do you know what people would DO to have your hair color? And you have it NATURALLY!
  


• RJ:
  And it's still its natural color. That was Reese Witherspoon's hair Photoshopped on my face.
  


• Mother:
  Little lady, ANYONE can be a blonde. ANYONE. But not everyone can have your shade of red hair. If you EVER get a frost job like that...
  


• RJ:
  I don't think they call them frost jobs anymore...
  


• Mother:
  It doesn't matter WHAT they call them! It's awful, your hair is perfectly FINE like it is, and ANYONE can be a blonde.
  


• RJ:
  Um, are you still in the store?
  


• Mother:
  Yes.
  


• RJ:
  And there's probably one or two blondes who can hear you?
  


• Mother:
  :: sigh :: Well, maybe. But THEY KNOW. They chose that hair color because they didn't have hair like YOURS. NATURALLY.
  


• RJ:
  Should we talk later, maybe?

And on it went. For about two weeks.

The hits kept on rollin' -- I actually got a CALL from a cousin whom I NEVER hear from personally. I didn't even have the number he called from in my PHONE. I've basically communicated with his wife or his assistant for the past five or so years, unless we were in person, at a family gathering. But he called all by himself...for this?! Oh, but yes.

My Nan gave me about the same drill as my mother, but louder.

(And people, I'd just like to say: blonde hair is beautiful. As is straight hair. My family just has some sort of...obsession?!...with curly red hair. So do NOT take it personally. As Angela says about this and the ex-boyfriend who flipped every time I got my split ends cut, "Apparently, it's really not your hair after all. It's everyone else's, to tell you what you can or can't do with it.)

So from this experience, I learned why it took me 32 1/2 years to do an April Fool's joke. And why the next one probably won't come around till I'm 64 1/2. Those suckers are EXHAUSTING!

Also, actually getting highlights this summer to cover my gray strands was much less painful than it could've been.

Thank you, April 1, 2009. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.