If you wanna feel better about your family, just read about ours...

Starring: a dad, a mom, a son & daughter-in-law, a daughter & son-in-law, another daughter & son-in-law, 1 teen, 1 grandson, 3 granddaughters, 4 dogs, and a whole lot of love.






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Wednesday, August 30, 2023

Jesus Talks

I don't compartmentalize Jesus. Any chance I get, I say His name. I'm not hesitant, embarrassed, or afraid to bring Him into conversations. As a matter of fact, I look for any opening that presents itself. 

Not because I'm a good Christian who lives a good Christian life and I think you need savin'. Quite the opposite, actually. Believe me when I tell you my list of regrets, struggles, sins, fears, traumas, insecurities, failures...they're all fresh in my mind because Satan keeps reminding me. (Usually on a loop at 3am.) 

If you know me at all, you know I speak openly and honestly about the mess that I am. Why am I so upfront about the crap that haunts me? 

Because it automatically gives me a reason to say it:
"But JESUS."

Remember when you did that? 
"But JESUS."
Remember when you said that? 
"But JESUS."
Remember how you still do this even though you know it's wrong? 
"But JESUS."

"But JESUS. But JESUS! But JESUS!!"

Satan will never stop.
Neither will I.

There is power in the name of Jesus and Jesus loves me!
And if Jesus loves a hot mess like me, He surely loves you too!

So if I'm talking about Jesus to myself at 3am and to anyone I encounter throughout my day, it's a no-brainer that Jesus talks happen on the regular with our kids and grand babies. It's not forced and I don't sit everyone down for a daily sermon, although my kids might remember differently about their childhood. I just speak His name like He's a member of our family who's in our house with us- because He.is.

For instance, every day at rest time, as I tucked our two youngest granddaughters into bed, I asked them, "Who loves you the mostest?" And they teased me with wrong answers until I yelled, "JESUS!"

It's the last name they heard spoken over them before they went to sleep.

One day Scarlet woke up from her nap and sat with me on the couch and I asked her, "What do you think I love most about you?" 

To be honest, my answer was going to be her huge sassy personality that refuses to follow the crowd and is destined to lead someday.

But without hesitation she answered, "My heart."
Surprised by that, I asked, "Why do you think I love your heart the most?"
And she said, "Because Jesus lives there and you always love Jesus."

*chills*
I wasn't about to let this opportunity pass, so I continued- "Did you ask Jesus into your heart? Because He doesn't just come in there. He waits to be invited."

Without missing a beat, she answered- "I talked to Him last night and told Him He could come in there and spend one night. He's going back to His house tomorrow."

And that right there is a glimpse of Scarlet.
Six years old now. 
Baby stepping toward salvation. 

Aren't we all?

The deeper levels of meaning you can attach to that conversation have been at the forefront of my mind. How many times do we invite Jesus into our lives, but on our terms?

Okay Jesus, you can be here today because it's a good day and I feel ya.
Okay Jesus, imma need you to head back to your house for awhile because I know you won't approve of what I'm about to do.
Stay put, I got this one Jesus.
Everything's falling apart, where you at Jesus?

I'm guilty of it and Satan loves nothing more than to shame me into believing that I'm a failure every time I get myself into another mess and call out to Jesus, because Jesus has obviously given up on me by now.

But Jesus isn't like that. He loves me with an overwhelming-never-ending-leaves the 99 for-reckless kind of love. Every single day. He's not a one and done figure painted onto my life portrait. He's the artist, and as long as I'm alive, I'm his masterpiece in the making and so are you. Even when I get it wrong.

Speaking of getting it wrong, awhile back, Scarlet asked me where babies come from.
As the grandparent, answering that with biological facts is outside of my lane, so I said "Babies come from mommies tummies!" She shot back with, "Nooo, they come from Jesus. I can't believe you got that wrong." 

I walked right into that one.

So for anyone reading this today who needs to hear it- Say it out loud: "JESUS." 

And for myself- a cracked pot, work in progress, repeat offender, baby steppin', lost sheep who needs Him to come find me every single day- I call out "JESUS!" 

If you haven't met Him, I'd love to talk with you about Him- reach out to me or click the link to check out this song and Let Me Tell You About My Jesus


Wednesday, August 16, 2023

The one where they dragged me to a Bigfoot festival

Ron believes in Bigfoot. I shielded our son Zac from such a fate, but apparently neglected to protect our grandson and now Ace is also a Bigfoot believer. At least it skipped one generation. Chuckles (as our grandkids call him) and Ace can regularly be found huddled together watching anything involving Bigfoot. Expedition Bigfoot, Finding Bigfoot, Hunting Bigfoot, Mountain Monsters, and throw in a little Destination Fear for good measure and periodic nightmares.

A few months ago, Ron, Caymen, Ace, and Zac drove to Pennsylvania to tour the infamous Pennhurst Asylum and meet the cast of Mountain Monsters and Destination Fear. Caymen went because she'll never pass up a road trip and she has a crush on Dakota from Destination Fear. Granted, so do I, but not enough to road trip to Pennsylvania. Zac tagged along because somebody had to be the adult supervision.

A little side story. Bigfoot is not the only thing Chuckles and Ace have in common. If you're familiar with the old sitcom 'The King of  Queens' they're both very much like Arthur Spooner who lived in their basement. That's how their nicknames Spooner Senior and Spooner Junior were lovingly born. Someday I'll blog about the Spooners and their very strong opinions and very big feelings. That skipped Zac too. 

But back to Bigfoot. We were scheduled to babysit Ace and Scarlet the first weekend in August and Ron suggested we take them to the Hocking Hills Bigfoot festival and stay in a hotel. Caymen was all for it because road trip, but zero part of me wanted to spend a day at a Bigfoot festival and a night in a hotel room with both Spooners. But with Zac out of town and our other kids having to work, that left me to be the adult supervision on this trip. A sad state of affairs, I admit, but that's how it landed. 

My first job as the adult supervision was to refuse his demands to take his Sasquatch costume to scare people. I told him absolutely not and he threw a minor fit. Sorry, but watching my husband get shot in the woods of Hocking Hills is not on my bucket list. Oh, you thought I was talking about our grandson? Nope. That was Spooner Senior, everybody. 

So we loaded up in the van. Ron, Caymen, Ace, Scarlet, me, and our oldest dog Quincy, the only one who can travel on trips and be trusted not to act a fool. I wish I could say the same for the humans.

Our first stop was lunch. Most of us wanted Mexican, but Ace hates cheese which apparently disqualifies all Mexican food so we ended up at The Hungry Buffalo. It has a pet friendly patio and the waitress brought Quincy a large bowl of water, which Ace promptly stepped in and immediately had to remove his wet sock and shoe to dry on a nearby railing, almost ruining the entire day for him. Then our nacho appetizer arrived with cheese and he went over the edge. Spooner Junior, everybody.

Next stop- our hotel, where a lady approached us in the lobby pointing at Ron and Ace's matching Bigfoot shirts and asked, "Why is this big monster thing so popular here?" Ron excitedly answered, "Because there's been SIGHTINGS!" Overhearing the conversation, the front desk lady quickly interjected before things escalated into who knows what, "Well, word of sightings happen anywhere there's heavily wooded areas..." and I finished her sentence, "or heavy populations of hillbillies." *points to the senior Spooner* 

Note to front desk lady- I'm normal. I married into this.

We found our room and within 90 seconds of entering, Ace pulled the refrigerator out of it's cabinet and Caymen came out of the bathroom proudly announcing she'd found a hair dryer hanging on the back of the door that "someone forgot." Orrr, and stick with me here, maybe that's the complimentary hair dryer that comes with the room. 

Good lord, what have we done?
Family meeting: "We've stayed in hotels before. Let's everybody get it together and stop sounding like a lunatic to strangers in the lobby while we're at it." *side eyeing you, senior.*

We decided it'd be best if Sassy everyone took a little nap before doing anything else. Ace looked at the 2 queen beds and asked "Where's Sassy sleeping?" 

"Excuse me, sir? Chuckles and I are sleeping in this bed. You're sleeping over there with Scarlet and Caymen."

Flash to 10 minutes later when I was laying with my head on the bedside table while both Spooners lay cuddled beside me in the bed. I lost that war hard and fast.

The festival didn't have anything fun for Scarlet, so she and I stayed at the hotel pool. There was nothing there to play with, so I gave her some pennies to dive for and she was amazed. Welcome to old school dive toys, kid. 
Apparently the festival was pretty boring and although they saw 'Wild Bill' from Mountain Monsters, "he was too hot and grumpy for pictures." I can only imagine how the two Spooners found that out. So they came back to the hotel and started watching the Bigfoot marathon on tv. There's a reason I never leave home without a book.

Around 5:30, Ron suggested we 'go on a hike through the Moonville Tunnel down near Bubbawoods Trail.' Everything about that suggestion was alarming. He explained that it used to be a train track but now it's a hiking trail that leads to an old school a mile down, then we'd turn around and come back. Sounded easy enough.

In reality, what we did was take 2 of our grandchildren on an unscheduled and unsupervised Sasquatch Hike (aka; Squatch and Seek...I wish I was making that up) in a sketchy area with no phone signal that turned out to be far longer than 'a mile down each way' because my husband lies to get his way. 

My first clue that we should leave was when there was what appeared to be a woman living in her car in the parking lot. The second clue was the 4 people walking toward us through the tunnel singing 'Take me home country roads,' a song I used to like until I heard it being sung Acapella through a tunnel by people who looked like the cast of Children of the Corn. I took my phone out and started recording so someone might find it as evidence if we disappeared. Not even kidding.

On top of all that, it was 6:45pm and trying to walk a mile each way with a slow mover (Ron, not the children), we'd be racing sunset. The last thing I wanted was to end up somewhere on this Moonville path in the dark and the flashlights we carried weren't nearly as comforting as Ron thought they were.

If this had been a movie, I would've been calling us idiots through the screen.

The tunnel singers turned out to be a harmless family who ended up wanting to take a picture with Ron and Ace and their Bigfoot shirts. The Spooners have obviously hit celebrity status. Once their fans left, we started on our way. 

As expected, Ace and I walked faster than Ron and the girls, so we ended up quite a ways ahead of them. I told Ace at first sign of that school, we're turning back. While we walked, Ace filled me in on the back story of the school. He explained that the old school burned down a long time ago and some children died and some children got out and they rebuilt a new one. (The following day, I confronted Ron about filling an 8 year olds head with tragic stories. He didn't know anything about a fire. Caymen googled it): 

Meanwhile, sitting on Chuckle's shoulders, Scarlet was having a nonstop conversation under her breath. When Ron finally said, "I can't understand what you're saying." 
She answered, "I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to my flashlight."

For future reference, it's not our place to take the grandchildren to places that could scare them and/or possess them. File this under things I shouldn't have to say.

Eventually giving up on finding the school, we turned and met back up with Ron and the girls. When you've walked so far you have to carry the dog, you know you've walked too far.

Ron and the girls were busy taking pictures of broken trees, because Bigfoot,

obviously. As we trucked along the ever-darkening path through the woods, Quincy darted after what I thought was a long black stick, but then it slithered across our path, and that's when I peed my pants. Like, abruptly. Straight down my leg. 

That's right, the adult in charge is the one who peed her pants. The irony is not lost on me, I assure you, and the Spooners will never let this go.  

Before anybody asks me why I didn't Kegel, let me remind you that A HUGE BLACK RAT SNAKE SLITHERED IN FRONT OF ACE, ME, AND QUINCY. There was ZERO Kegel time! Also, my Kegel game is weak, but mostly there was no time. 

It's not like my bladder completely emptied, so I real casual like dropped my shorts for a quick little Squatch and Pee, when I glanced up and found Ron taking pictures of me. Oh now dude walks fast and catches up. He said if the roles were reversed, I'd be taking pictures of him and I'd blog it. He's not wrong. So here I am forced to be on the receiving end of my own hilarity. 

He earned back some marital points when he stopped to carve our initials on a bridge and we made it back to our van right before we lost all daylight. The kids didn't seem too traumatized as they babbled on the whole ride back to the hotel about how Sassy peed her pants. 

I don't even care. Whatever stopped Ace from his telepathic history lessons and Scarlet conversing with inanimate objects was fine with me. Just add it to the list of things we'd have to explain to their parents.

The following morning, we got up early for the hotel breakfast before heading home. AGAINST MY WISHES, Ron brought Quincy with us to breakfast. I know better. I need you to understand that. So I wasn't at all surprised when he and Quincy both got kicked out of the breakfast area.

Ace wanted to bring his peanut butter bread with us to eat later, so I reluctantly asked the nice employee if he had a ziplock bag. I'm a huge stickler for buffet etiquette and you don't ask for take home bags. But you also don't bring your dog in there either, so may as well ask since we were already in the thick of it.

He very kindly brought me a gallon size bag, which was all he could find. Ron appeared back in the breakfast line, minus Quincy, and as I cleaned up our area, I noticed the breakfast line backing up at the pancake station and looked up to see both Spooners overly involved with the pancake conveyor belt. I'm not a fan of being a spectacle at hotel breakfasts, so I loud whispered "Ron!" They turned around with a plate overflowing with pancakes and I growled "Ronnn!"

As if it made it better, he hurriedly explained "Half of them are Ace's!"

Just as the employee began to approach us again, Ace grabbed a handful of pancakes off the plate and tried to force feed me one before dropping the rest of them into his 'to go' bag.

I waved off the employee. 
                                          We'll show ourselves out.
Our 4 little Bigfoots


Wednesday, August 9, 2023

On the 8th day, Sassy rested

 Let me tell you about my first week of August.

Ron was working in Mexico the first 3 days. I don't think I know any wife out there who loves it when her husband is away, but I definitely don't. Not only do I miss him terribly, but I'm not smart enough to be left alone for extended periods of time. It's ok, I know myself well enough to admit that. Logistically speaking, Ron runs this circus. When he travels, he's basically leaving the clown in charge of all the monkeys and I just hold my breath and hope nothing hits the fan while he's away. Thankfully we raised kids much smarter than me who live on standby when Ron travels.

On the 3rd day, two of our grandchildren arrived for an extended stay while their parents went on a little getaway. 

On the 4th day, we took them to The Big Foot Festival for an overnight stay in a hotel.

On the 5th day, after a day of boating, our other two grandchildren came home with us for a night swim and a Sassy slumber party with all four. 

On the 6th day, Chuckles (aka; Ron) took them all to church while I listened to online church and cleaned the house. I call that a mental health morning, cuz cleaning and restoring order calms my mind and soul. Is that all moms or just me? 

On the 7th day, I had my regular schedule of classes as well as all four grandchildren for our normal summer Monday.

I was blessed to be a stay at home mom with our four children and I'm blessed to be a stay at home Sassy for our four grandchildren...but I'm old now.

So on the 8th day, SASSY RESTED.

I've been planning it for weeks. I blocked out the entire day for my perfectly perfect day off. No classes, no writing, no cooking, no cleaning...nothing. I don't know how you spend your perfectly perfect day off, but let's just say I'm no Ferris Bueller. My goal is not to go do all the things. My goal is to stay at home and do nothinggggg.

Yesterday consisted of snacks, takeout, movies, sleep, no pants, and a bottomless margarita with Ron who scheduled the day off with me.
*Hangs sign*
Ron's a Ferris Bueller, so yesterday was not his dream day off. 
But he did it for me, because Big Foot Festival

I'll give ya two guesses whose idea that was.
Hint: Not mine.
Tune in next week when I'll be back to write the one where he dragged me to a big foot festival against my will.




Wednesday, August 2, 2023

The one where pedestrians shouldn't assume they have the right of way

Ron lives his life in what I lovingly angrily termed "Mozey Mode." Dude has absolutely no desire to move fast. Unless he's behind the wheel of a car, that is, and then suddenly he's a Nascar driver. 

For the record, I'm the exact opposite. I do everything else fast. Walking the beach- fast. Walking the block-fast. Walking through Walmart- wait, that's why I don't go to Walmart. But when I'm behind the wheel of a car, it's like my body has an inner cruise control censor that's always set at 5mph above whatever the posted speed limit is. Not that my ways are always the right ways, but in my 35 years of driving I've received a total of 2 speeding tickets, hit 0 deer, and hit exactly 0 pedestrians is all I'm sayin'.

As for him, I lost count of his speeding tickets and he's offed so many deer that I firmly believe he drives through fields instead of on the road. And then there's that 1 pesky pedestrian.

In theory, pedestrians have the right of way. We all know that. But pedestrians need to remember that they don't stand a chance against a mini van driven by a man bringing a pizza home for dinner. Deer should keep that in mind too.

For the sake of protecting everyone's identity, I won't pinpoint details on when or where this pedestrian incident took place, lest anyone start throwing around dramatic phrases like "hit and run." I wasn't there, but as Ron sees it, there was a hit and there was a run, but it's not what ya think. 

What you need to know is that he was driving through a small city as a parade was about to begin, when according to Ron, a guy carrying a lawn chair darted out in front of him, his body "made contact" with the hood of our van, but he stayed on his feet.

I'm not defending my husband or downplaying the pedestrian's traumatic experience, but Ron was slowly taking off after the light turned green, so anything resembling rolling across the hood seems a bit dramatic and I'm not overly impressed that he landed on his feet either. Dukes of Hazard guys did it under way worse conditions all the time. 

Ron braked and then he and the pedestrian had an angry stare down through the driver's side window, which reminds me of the time in Hilton Head when 16 year old Zac barelyyyy thunked a guy's back tire as he crossed the street on his bike. Zac gave him an 'oops' wave and mouthed the word 'sorry', as is customary when you hit a pedestrian, but that guy stared a super angry face through the window for awhile too. To be fair, I've never been hit by a car, so maybe that's like an unspoken rule or something. 

The main difference in the stories where the father and the son both hit pedestrians, is that Zac said he was sorry. Ron just quietly stared the fuming pedestrian down.

For being such a people pleaser, he doesn't seem to mind pissing people off when he's driving. You might recall  another time Ron made some people mad behind the wheel  the day we accidentally broke a series of laws out on the lake in our boat. 

But back to our parade pedestrian. Caymen was in the passenger seat holding the pizzas and she assures me that Ron was not being a distracted driver, neither by phone nor by pizza. According to her, the guy darted. Sometimes there's just no defense against darting

I asked her if he said anything at all to the guy and she answered, "Nope. They just stared at each other for a long time and then he flipped us off, called daddy an asshole, and punched our van. Then he picked up his lawn chair and ran off." 

Good lord. Surely this was witnessed by others at the parade, so I asked Ron if that would be considered a hit and run in the eyes of the law. He said, "It should be, but I let it slide."

Perspective is everything.
Pedestrian count: 2