Snuggie War.

As I have previously mentioned, Seth hates Snuggies. He thinks they are ridiculous.


Here's how much I care. Remember this? I got one anyway because when I visit him at his house I get very cold and Angie the dog wants me to pet her but it's nearly impossible to pet her or change the channels with a regualr blanket covering my arms.


Okay, that last one was wishful thinking. I don't really have need for the Snuggie due to the Tivo remote. Seth likes to have it in his hand, sort of like a scepter for the King. He does so graciously share much Tivo space for things he doesn't give a rip about, such as SYTYCD. He really is precious.

(My friend Kasey just told me, by the way, that she loves to turn hers around and wear it as a cape. That would be cool if she was three. But she's 22. Even That Girl draws the line someplace.)


One evening Seth and I were working on Save the Date cards (mostly Seth was working and I was just pretending to look busy) and I tweeted that I wished I had my Snuggie. Seth, sitting right next to me, got out his laptop and checked his facebook. He looked at me and said, "Seriously?" Then he proceeded to diss the Snuggie with a comment.

This got our whole church buzzing. Who was for, who was against, who thought they were practical, and who thought they were a glorified bathrobe (that wounded me, Nicole). It was the Snuggie discussion heard round the world.
For the record, I'd like to go ahead and say that I have yet to actually don the Snuggie at Seth's house, so in his defense he has yet to see the real practicality of the thing. But that doesn't mean that this war of words has stopped. So last night, my SIL pulled out the big guns.

The piece de resistance, if you will.




This photo went up on facebook last night with the caption, "Look Uncle Sethy. Mini snugglette Lovers."



Like he can keep hating on the Snuggie when these three look so dang cute.




Are you on Team Snuggie or a Snuggie Hater?

either, way, those three little Snugglettes are adorable, wouldn't you agree?

Pa's Makeover...Courtesy K, H, and E

The Clinique counter's got nothin' on the three Short Stacks.



Captain, we're as frightened as you are.




There are no words. He tells me he drew the line at lipstick.




Oh, the love of a Papaw is SO demonstrated in this.





What better way to spend a Sunday afternoon?

Arm-In-Arm.

Here's toddler E holding onto her Papaw's arm.





You can see his happiness in the picture.




She wants to be close to him. She's not trying to butter him up for a gumball on the way out of Denny's or a trip to Chuck E. Cheese for dinner. She is holding onto him because she doesn't just LOVE him, she LIKES him.


When was the last time we spent time with Jesus just for the sheer joy of being close with Him? I know that the Bible teaches us to ask for things, but sometimes the majority of my time with God is filled up by me asking, asking, asking. I rarely just say something like: "I love you so much, Jesus!" or "I just want to know you more, Lord!"


When was the last time we opened our Bibles because we longed for the nearness of Him? Our sense of duty does not impress or bless Him.


We can go through life feeling the weight of the world on our shoulders, or we can link arms with Jesus and have Him carry the load and more importantly, share the journey with us. He's waiting, offering His arm and eagerly anticipating for us to saddle on up beside him and link arms.

What do you want to tell Jesus today in response to this?

Odds & Ends, Winner, and a Mini That Girl Moment

Thanks for leaving your favorite Psalm references in my giveaway. I wish I had a book for each of you. buuuuuuut, I will be seeing Lisa Harper next weekend at Women of Faith in Indianapolis.

(Are you going to be there, too? That would make my weekend so much better! Shout out in the comments if you're going)



Unfortunately, she will be on stage and I'll be in the nosebleeds but maybe if she sees me donning my birthday princess crown on Saturday she'll grant my wish of nine more books to give away.....



back off, haters. I know it's very unlikely but please let the birthday princess have her dream. Maybe I can redeem myself and say something intelligent if I get to have her sign my book.

Anyway, one of you beautiful Bloggerotsky's got a ticket to ride....

Miss Deanna, you win!!

If you will email me I will get your book in the mail. His Love does ENDURE!


________________________________________________________

I few weeks ago I contacted lovely Leah. My sister-in-law, Shannon, was having a birthday so I asked Leah to do some photos of the girls. The sitting fee was my gift to Shannon. She's on her own for the pics though! Why? I couldn't choose and would end up breaking my bank to get them all. K,H, E and their sweet cousin T (Shannon's niece) took their pics last night and they are already up! Visit the site and you will find a group pic, then T, E, K, and H. PRECIOUS. Leah did an outstanding job in the heat and with Baby Girl E, who I'm told was having none of it although miraculously I could not tell in that adorable photo.

Eat your heart out, Baby Gap.

________________________________________________________

We are having VBS this week and I really covet your prayers as I am teaching the lessons. It is challenging at times but we have had amazing students and they LOVE learning their memory verses as well as hearing the Bible stories. This year our children's ministry leadership found a really inexpensive VBS kit for sale and we are doing "Good News Clues" which is a few years old and totally adorable. The kids are looking for clues and our little Gumshoes are loving it! Sorry if I am a blog slacker this week--it's a little crazy!

________________________________________________________

Picture it. FBC Bicknell. Monthly Church Outreach Meal. Sunday Night.

I was listening to an older couple share about their family for a few minutes when they began to ask me questions about myself. They asked about my family, if I was "from around here" and what my family name was.

Then they asked how old I was. So I told them I would be turning 24 on August 8th.
The husband looked at the wife and said, "I guess this time next year you'll be an old maid. Heh heh heh."

My hands turned clammy. My face possessed a horrified look. Forgive me for my naivete, but I thought 24 and even 25 were still relatively young. Regardless, my mind flashed photos of an elderly me surrounded by cats yelling at the neighbor kids to "Keep it down out there, ya hear?!"

In a moment I went from That Girl to That Old Maid.


Oh well.


I like cats anyways.

Olé

(mi comida favorita, Mi Pueblo...) Happy 7th Birthday, K! You've come a LONG WAY, baby!

High School Musical Meets Camp Rock!

Next week I will only be with you intermittently. I am going to brave the hormones, heat, and high drama and spend a week with some teenagers at Indian Creek. I will be working the High School camp and personally, I hope this age group chooses to walk around and sing like they do on the Disney Channel so blessed much.

I do love love love the Disney Channel. My niece H and I were watching Camp Rock! (Can you tell I love that exclamation point) for the first time and she skipped to the end scene of the DVD. I said, "Miss H, what in the Jonas Brothers do you think you're doing right now?"

She looked at me and said, "I wanna watch my favorite paht. I'm borwud."

Being the adult in the situation, I thought it was important to teach her something in that moment.

It wasn't about me at all. I mean, I could have walked away and never found out what happened to Mitchie Torres. Please! Twentysomethings like me never get into those Disney movies. It'd be pretty immature for me to put Princess Protection Program into my Blackberry calendar so I didn't miss it.

I made her skip back and watch the entirety of the film with me while she crossed her arms and pouted.

"Aunt Laur, can'tcha just watch it some other time?"

Nope. Sorry kiddo.

It's your own fault. I hadn't even heard of these films until your four-year-old voice started singing songs like "We're All in this Together" and "This Is Me."

(you know you're a preacher by nature when you hear titles like that and think they'll be nice sermon illustrations....)

But I hope to relive it this coming week!! Minus all that drama--I can do without the Sharpay Evanses and the Tess Tylers of the world. Pray for the girls in my cabin. I want to connect with them, build community with them, and ultimately show them Jesus.

and maybe do a couple of musical numbers with them.

Exponential Cuteness Continued.

One of the Best Dads Ever...my Bro Ryan.








She gets her gift of accessorizing from her Aunt Wah.




"Now, say that one more time..."




Love this face.




E, probably after trying to fix the A/C.





My little primas K and H before their big performance.




Are you not in love??

That Girl Plays Susie Homemaker.

UPDATE:
BCR8iv--
Just another reason I *should" get a Mac! Taking pics, too. How cool would a Photobooth post be once a week?

************************************************************************




So does your bank do a recipe inside of the paper money holder they hand you?

I am pretty sure the bank must get a cut of the local grocery store's profits, because whenever I get my little paper money holder with the recipe in it, I act like I have turned into a combination of Emeril, Rachael Ray, and Martha Stewart. All of a sudden I think I am a gourmet chef and I.must.get.to.the.market where I will be strangely random ingredients I will use one time every, oh, twelve years or so, and create a feast that very few people will appreciate. All of a sudden I have blown a lot of said money on trying to become the classy lady with the apron and pearls who can make dog food look appetizing. The same feeling occurs when they turn me loose on this site.

There are other blogs where the ladies take sweet photos of their creative cuisine and can go ahead and tell you that everyone within a fifty-mile radius enjoyed the fruits of their labor, and I know those nice ladies are more able to be trusted with a culinary roll of the dice.

Bloggerotsky, I have no excuse. Frankly, I am not even sure if I could fit a camera into my Polly Pocket-sized kitchen.

I wish I was that cool. But you come here for That Girl. When you go to blogs from great cooks, you are looking for pure food amazingness. When you come here, you are looking to feel acceptance. Acceptance that you are not, in fact, Giada de Laurentiis, you can't make those wretched mozzarella sticks that she said were soooo easy and everyone in your friend group at college still makes fun of you to this day about stinking up the house with burned cheesesticks and you may not have the gift of hospitality and furthermore, you find yourself wondering how can you trust a skinny Italian.

Not that I'm like that at all.

Regardless, you are accepted here. Just like Jimmy Needham says, "Child, you are forgiven and loved." Especially for that one time you saw Giada after she had her baby and wondered if she had a special camera that took away ten pounds.

Whatever you need to get to sleep.



Mostly I am giving you this recipe for one reason. I am trying to keep Francesca the Ford Focus waaay more decluttered than Darla the Daewoo was (God rest her mighty soul). In that pursuit, I realized that I had been hanging on to a money holder because it had the ultra deluxe recipe in it. Now I have yet to have a recipe box because of the aforementioned Polly Pocket-sized kitchen. I kept hanging onto it with the hope of getting the gusto to sit down and copy it out on an index card.
If I do that, where do I put the index card? The rest of the apartment is just as Polly Pocket as the kitchen, so the realization for me was I will end up throwing the recipe card away on one of my crazy cleaning binges.*


Instead, I have decided to blog it in case I ever get The Hankering for a lovely dinner involving what my BBF Jami and I call "Boar-beque" in her secret language.


Here it is.

I need a catchy title so once you look at the recipe, why don't you try to come up with a good one? The winner will get...uh...the thrill of victory just like on the Wide World of Sports. And a blog shout-out.

I know, my prizes are great too! Too bad I don't have any Polly Pockets to give. Should have kept that one that embedded itself into my foot when I was babysitting K,H, and E.

Without further ado:

______________________________ or Barbecued Chicken Salad Sandwiches

1 1/2 lbs skinless, boneless chicken breast halves
Barbecue sauce (I prefer this kind)

1 c. mayonnaise (don't use that miracle whip. Do us a favor-bring out the hellman's this time and bring out the best!)
1/2 c. finely chopped onion (I so hate it when they use words like 'finely chopped' because I am easily overwhelmed with the mounting pressure)
1/2 c. chopped celery (good. so glad I don't have to finely chop two things)
1/4 t. salt
1/4 t. crushed red pepper flakes ( if you are like me in your lack of a spice rack, you can substitute cayenne, just use a little less...)
8 tomato slices
8 lettuce leaves



Put the uncooked chicken in a Ziploc with some barbecue. Shake it silly until the BBQ coats the chicky and let it sit overnight. Grill the chicky, covered, over medium-hot heat for 6-8 minutes or until the juices run clear (starting to get overwhelmed again--how do I knw when it's medium-hot heat?). Cool, cover, and refrigerate chicky until chilled. Then chop the chicky.


(Confession: I don't have a grill (Ha! Where would I put one??). So I will boil that fowl and shred it. Then I will place it in the fridge until it's chilled. I will place it in a Ziploc and coat with BBQ by shaking it silly. Don't add too much BBQ if you are doing it grill-less because later we will still add some mayo and you don't want it to get too saucy. Because then it would really be a That Girl special.)


Hey! This is kind of like those Choose Your Own Adventure books that Sethy loved as a kiddo.
Whether you choose the regular recipe or the I-don't-have-a-grill-version, a key part of this meal is that once you put the chicky in the Ziploc with the BBQ, you better SEAL the bag before you shake it silly. Otherwise you could have a That Girl Moment-sized mess on your hands and all over your respective Polly Pocket kitchen.
Also, a note on shaking it silly: the more you shake, the more cals you burn which means you might work off enough to have seconds.

Either way you go, the sandwich wraps up like this:

Place the chicky in a bowl. Stir in the mayo, onion (finely chopped), celery, salt, and pepper flakes. Serve on rolls with tomato and lettuce. I recommend that cute ciabatta bread or silver-dollar buns if you got a bunch of Hungry Hankerers to feed. And as far as I am concerned, NO BBQ meal is complete without a few AWESOME dill pickles over the top of it.
Hope you enjoy and don't forget to name this recipe.

I'm off to put that money holder in the trash can now.





*you should really come dumpster-diving in the OC after one of those cleaning times.

That Girl Moment #892: The Heat is ON.

I gotta tell you, I love me some air conditioning. I grew up with a dad who adored it and earned himself the moniker The Nanook of the North because of his incredible devotion to all things freon. MY mom and I learned to adapt, as all creatures, and so we accustomed ourselves to putting on blankets and snuggling up. We never turned it down because Dad's opinion on the whole thing was such a Dad's Opinion if you know what I mean:
"You can put more clothes on but you can only take so many off. Turn the air back up!"

Hence, my fashion statement of The Snuggie when I visit at Seth's house. It might be too cold, but at least it's not too hot!!

So I grew up in a house that had a lovely air conditioner. Then I went to places like Haiti and Mexico and Bolivia and learned how much I really did LOVE that magical machine that emits the coolest of breezes.

I could kiss that thing just now thinking about June in Haiti. I'm pretty convinced I sweet more than the average Sumo wrestler, so give me some air and I don't have to pat my pitties down, or use the J technique (named for an anonymous bff) in which one sticks tissues under her arms until she heads out to avoid the pit stains.

So when I arrived at my big brother Ryan's house in the Pacific Northwest last Sunday afternoon, I was in for a huge surprise.

The purpose of my trip was to visit my family but also take care of K, H, and E while mommy and daddy went on a grown-up vacation by themselves.

{I'm a very expensive babysitter. If you don't have the kind of dirt on me that my brother has.}

So Monday morning, Ryan and Shan left the house for their trip, and I was left with my three extremely Marvelous and Mischievous nieces, ages 6, 4, and 2.


Now if that doesn't make you sweat a la C and C Music Factory, nothing will.

What made me sweat even more was that for the life of me, I could not get that blessed air conditioner to work. I maneuvered it, tried to change the settings, made sure it was turned to cool, and at one point may or may not of hit the thing a couple of times out of sheer frustration. The upper level of the house is where we spend most of our time, and it was Hotter Than Haiti up there. I kept messing with the A/C just hoping I could get it to work. Finally, although I am opposed to bothering mommy and daddy too much when they are on vacation and away from the girls, I broke down and asked my sweet brother what in the Holy Hill Country was wrong with his blessed air conditioner.


Then came the dreaded words:
"We don't have Air Conditioning."

Eh.

No WONDER that piece of machinery would not work! And it was hotter than a firecracker on the Fourth of July in that beautiful house. From the outside you couldn't tell that it was the House of Sweating and More Sweating.

I opened all the windows and put out all the fans. Then I melted some Tillamook cheese right on the counter.

Okay, so that last part was a total lie. BUTICOULDHAVEPROBABLYIFIWANTEDTO.

The girls were hot, I was HOT (not the good kind--sweat is not cute, despite what they may tell you (jillian michaels!) and I did not have as much patience as I should have at times because it was so blasted hot.

When I would go around the house mocking my brother: "Nobody has A/C out here. blah blah blah. Everyone just opens their windows. blah blah blah. The breeze is so cool out here. blah blah blah."

I thought they were crazy. It was hotter than a tamale tucked inside a jalepeno.

Fast forward through two more days of bitterness and BO.

On Thursday evening, Ryan and Shan walk in to a huge reception from the crowd of small people and to an exhausted and overheated Aunt Wah, whose new bangs were caked and matted nicely right to her forehead. It's all the rage for missionaries visiting Haiti, I hear.


Ryan and Shannon begin to laugh heartily once they say their hellos to their three young children. I was not in such humor.
Finally, my brother says, "Why is the furnace running outside?"

I managed to have a slight amount of self-control and did not say something smart alecky as I so deeply desired to in my heat-induced temper shortage.

Then it dawns on me. After my brother told me there was no A/C, I didn't bother to turn anything off because I was so incredibly bitter I didn't want to look at the stupid thing again. And since it was set to cool, the heat would never have kicked on at all. Right?


Wrong. Of course, I had been running the furnace on accident since the evening they left. So all of my bitterness at my poor brother was ill-focused.

I was the HeatMaster. ME! I had sabotaged this house and my poor nieces had pit stains all because of me!

It was my fault, and since there was no one to blame but me, I was in bad humor with the many jokes that came next.

Such as:
"Hey Laur, is it hot in here or what? Heh heh heh."
"You're never gonna live this one down."

and my personal favorite:
"That is SUCH a That Girl moment! You better blog about that!"

Once we got the heat off, it cooled down in the house pretty quickly. Still, like Darcy, I love my a/c most ardently and never wish to be parted from it again.



The furnace? Now that's a different story.

Rainstorm.

My dad and I were at a small table at Buca di Beppo on Saturday night. He offered to take me to the airport so I could hang out with K, H, and E (my nieces-6,4, & 2) in the beautiful Pacific Northwest while their mommy and daddy have a grown-up vacation this week. So we came up the night before, and he had a coupon, so he said the magic words: "You wanna go to Buca?"



Have you met me? HA!



We were sitting at an itty-bitty table in the corner enjoying our meal when our sweet waitress, a girl named Elizabeth, said that we shouldn't leave Buca because funnel clouds were all around us.

My first thought was that if we were forced to spend the night at Buca, they would probably have really good bacon and eggs available for purchase the next morning.

Then I declared that a bad thought.



Well, I had a piece of chocolate cake (of which I only ate one-fourth, which was probably even too much) in front of me and was feeling like Bruce Bogtrotter in that chocolate cake scene from Matilda. I had one eye on the television but wasn't really too concerned. A few minutes later everyone had decided to hit the dusty trail and Buca was officially closed a few hours early due to the twisters around the Indy area. My dad and I followed suit, ready to get back to the hotel.

My dad took the wheel of that little Ford Focus, and it began to rain.


Bloggerotsky, forget cats and dogs. It was raining Lion King animals.

The funny thing was, the little pansy sitting in the passenger seat didn't even break a sweat! Now had I been behind the wheel myself, Miss Independent, trying to make it back to the hotel, I would have pulled over and had the ugly cry for which I am pretty much infamous.

I would have panicked and probably would not have been able to navigate. The GPS would have stressed me out and put me in further panic mode, much like the sidekick in every movie that tells you when something bad is about to happen but does nothing to stop it.



Instead, because my dad, who has a lot more driving experience and general wisdom, was behind the wheel, I was really not concerned in the least. In fact, he may or may not have gotten frustrated at some points because I was so completely content to play on facebook with my BlackBerry in the midst of said Lion King storm.



I knew that my dad knew better than me in this situation and that I should just probably sit back and try to enjoy a little adventure. I wasn't driving, and that was best.



It reminds me of God, my friends.



In 1 Peter 5:7, we are told: "Cast your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you."



My dad cared for me and wanted me to make it back to the hotel safely. He was able to be trusted.

We got back to the hotel safely that night.





My God also knows all things and has my best interests at heart. He is able to be trusted too. I believe that it is best when Jesus drives the car in this life, and you've seen what happens when I drive, so I let Him drive with full assurance that HE is able to be trusted far much more than I am. Let the rain fall. I don't have to be afraid because Someone who loves me and knows much more than me is behind the wheel.



Big or small, God cares about the things that concern our hearts, and I am so thankful we serve a God who can be trusted.

Exponential Cuteness.

H and K practicing. They do NOT get gracefulness from Aunt Wah.



H and E in their little contraption while K and R look on.
R is my big brother...see the resemblance?





Why is E behind the wheel in every group of pics I see?
Let's hope she doesn't inherit my driving record.




The Three Musketeers at DisneyLand...Pixie Hollow to be exact.
H and K wearing their ears, but E will have nothing to do with it. She's a little teapot instead!




Wish I had some sisters--even though they don't always see eye to eye, they love each other a whole lot. Notice K holding E's hand--she is Mama's big helper and a definite nurturer!




R, H, K, and my Dad, "Captain" holding E before Disney.




My sweet ballerinas! That's H's mischievous face right there.

Kiss the Cook!!

Here's baby E making her special "cupcakes"
She has a little Dr. Evil going on with the pinkie finger...


{yes, her cuteness is genetic}

Is it possible for them to be any cuter? I think not.
Wonder how my Big Brother feels about baby modeling.

My Little Valentines & Dear Cupid Part Two.

how cute are my best Valentines?



from left to right: Ellie, Hannah, Kristin
gosh, they are cute. do they take after daddy or Aunt Wah?
{oh let's be real. Probably after their beautiful mama.}
I hear they are sending me some love in the mail. Hope it comes tomorrow!!

---------------------------------------------------------------

Dearest Cupid,

Thank you so very much for shooting your arrow my way. In fact, I could hear that famous song about you as my sweet friend Julie handed me a bag o' blessings (from Blessings, coincidentally: you locals get it, don't you?)

It included the cutest little pink butterfly mug.
pink+butterflies+coffee=happy that girl. it's a recipe for sheer delight

It also included this little treasure. Bethy, you'll always be my girl! Even if you don't let me go to that one conference.


but that's not all!
We got to go to the mall and she bought me the most amazing group of Jelly Bellies you ever did seen. Caramel Apple, Caramel Corn, and Buttered Popcorn. Cupid, it was so beautiful I wouldn't be surprised if even you shed a tear--and peed in your Huggies because of sheer excitement. I know I did.


Anyway, two down. Three to go.


with love,
your ever faithful friend and confidante,
That Girl.

Life and Times.

E started sleeping in her own crib. YAY!




K lost another tooth. YAY!



H was the angel in her (extremely postponed) preschool Christmas pageant. YAY!



Hey girlies. I am so proud of you three!
Thanks Mommy for posting some pics. I had a hankering for more (cowbell?) because I can't get enough of them.

Just Like Aunt Wah.

Notice the chocolate pudding as well....gosh they are raising them RIGHT...
Can't wait 'til they can start drinking the real stuff out of their pretty mugs!


Thanks for the pics, Shan...

2 MORE DAYS until Santa brings the sleigh (aka airplane) to drop off my three princesses.

WA Photos of the Short Stacks.

The first three I took with Shan's AWESOME new camera. I know, my nieces are rockstars. The last three are a few from their visit with Santa that Shan took.

Enjoy!

Guest Blog: My Nieces K and H

H: You (Aunt Wah's weaduhs:) Wock!!

K: Have you made a blog before? I made a turkey today at school. Have you made a turkey with your hand before?
Happy Birthday, Sethy!!




they are trying to delay a much-needed room cleaning experience.

Jinkies!

Hannah says I look like Velma from Scooby Doo with my new glasses.




it's to be determined whether that is positive or negative.

Tantrum.

Ellie just had a fit.

A BIG FIT.


a kick-your-legs-and-thrash-on-the-ground-and-cry-big-crocodile-tears kind of tantrum.


She made a mountain out of a molehill because she is 23 months old and she is sleepy and desperately needs a nap. She was also dying for some attention. I know this. As I watched her kick and scream, I had compassion on her.

Why?

I do the same thing. On a daily basis. And through all my kicking and screaming, He has great compassion on me.




At the end of her tantrum, she got up, picked up the green crayon she had thrown during the "Ellie Earthquake" and went back to coloring. Two minutes later, she looked at me and grinned.
One of my professors just spoke last Wednesday about whining as the basis for the Book of Lamentations. He said if we are going to whine, whine to Someone who cares. Then count the blessings and let it go.

Sometimes we need to kick and scream.
And then build and bridge and get on over it.


I've mastered number one, but pulling up my big-guhl pahnts is something I am still working on.

By the way, during her fit, I held her so tight that she couldn't wriggle loose from my grip. Here's to a God who does the same for us.