Flashback Friday: My big redneck attempted killin'

It was the summer of 1985, and I was living with my momma and daddy in the "big house," which is what I've always called the home my family moved into when I was 11. Typical of Alabama in the midst of summer, the air was sticky from the humidity and sweet with the smell of honeysuckle.

Our home was the location of many impromptu gatherings and one such gathering of family and friends had sprung up on this night. I don't recall many of the more minute details, but things like food, drink and laughter are at the top of my memories.

My favorite cousin, who I'll call Honey to protect her anonymity, was there, but the specifics of what we'd gotten up to that night escape me. I do know that as dusk turned to dark and tee-totaling grandparents headed home, the liquor cabinet was flung open and a full-blown party erupted downstairs.

The grown-ups were having a raucous time imbibing in their favorite adult beverages while Honey and I hid out in my room. However, a knock at the door silenced the revelry for a moment after which all hell broke loose.

You see, my aunt's husband, or he might have been her ex-husband at this point, had decided after getting tanked on Crown Royal mixed with a splash of Mello Yello (and by calling it a splash I am sure I am being generous) that it was of utmost importance that he, despite being three sheets to the wind, must drive to my house to kill my aunt.

However, in order to kill her he knew, even in his state of being sloppy drunk, that he needed to get close to her. Therefore, after knocking on the door, which is what quieted the party and caused Honey and I to crack the door to my room so as to better be able to eavesdrop on the situation downstairs, he somehow convinced my aunt, who is also Honey's momma, to come outside to talk to him.

Their talk was apparently short and to the point because the next thing I remember is my aunt hollering, "He's got a knife," which caused us to run to my bedroom window that overlooked the driveway and afforded Honey and I a birds-eye view of the chaos unfolding before our eyes.

I've never forgotten watching my aunt run around and between the cars parked in the driveway trying to get away from him or hearing my momma and other members of the family plead with him to stop and scream at him to leave.

My daddy, a trained soldier with more than 20 years service to the U.S. Army under his belt, didn't stay in the driveway, but, rather calmly as I recall, came upstairs, got one of his rifles, loaded it and took it outside where he confronted my aunt's attacker.

Staring down the barrel of a rifle proved to be the catalyst for the knife-wielding assailant to drop his weapon as directed by my daddy, who no doubt would have opened a major can of whup ass had the man on the other end of that barrel not complied. Since he was no fool, daddy kept that gun focused on him until the sheriff's deputies arrived.

This scene unfolded in a matter of minutes, but for me, and for Honey, it was as if it lasted forever and took place completely in slow motion. We watched everything while crouching below my bedroom window, and I swear, I could feel the fear radiating between us. In fact, Honey was so scared she was witnessing her momma's last moments on this earth that, bless her heart, she peed in my floor.

After the deputies hauled the drunkard to jail and everyone came back in the house to catch their breath and reflect upon what had just happened, my momma discovered just how close she'd come to getting cut. My aunt, her baby sister, had taken refuge behind my momma in an attempt to hide from her attacker. In his bid to kill my aunt, he slashed my momma's blouse with his knife ripping open the entire side.

Had she not been wearing such a loose-fitting top, I know my momma would have ended up with no-telling what kinds of wounds from trying to protect her sister.

While this is the only attempted murder I've ever witnessed (thank God), it prompted me, at the tender age of 11 & 1/2, to note for future reference that I should be very careful when selecting a man with whom I might be inclined to spend time or perhaps even marry.

A few years later when I began dating I, no joke, made sure to steer clear of any boys who I felt had maybe an unhealthy affection for knives. After all, witnessing what I did that sticky, sweet night in the mid-1980s clearly defined for me that there are two types of men in this world: those who will get drunk and try to kill you in a relative's driveway and those who will calmly put a rifle to the head of anyone who dares threaten his family.

I knew after that night that I was going to be on the lookout for the latter type of man. Thanks be to God I found exactly what I was looking for.

Textless Thursday: Hand-me-downs rock!

Amelia July 2005

Lola July 2009

I know somebody who's earned some good karma

I truly and honestly believe that if you do good things then good things will come to you. I must get it from my dad who converted to Buddhism after serving in Vietnam. Nevertheless, I really do try to keep karma in mind on a daily basis.

I was recently the recipient of two good deeds both of which I know earned major points on the karmic scale for the folks who helped me out.

Lola and I stopped into Huddle House one morning for a quick breakfast after having completed some items on my to-do list. Little Miss was enjoying her grits and eggs and I was trying to sneak in a bite of my eggs and bacon when a waitress from another section approached my table and placed a handful of cash and change in front of me.

I thought she had the wrong table and tried to tell her so, but before I could she said, "Those folks who just left wanted to pay your tab. They sent their change over to you."

I was just so shocked you could have knocked me over with a feather. I finally muttered something about that being such a sweet gesture and them being living proof that good people really exist in this often-cynical world.

The money totaled up to just under $10. I imagine they must have paid their check with a $20 and sent the remainder to me. I never even got a look at my benefactors seeing as how I was so busy trying to get grits and eggs in Lola's mouth and out of her hair.

Because I believe so strongly in karma, I know these kind folks who gave up almost $10 to make my day had to have reaped some serious blessings for their actions.

I met another good Samaritan more recently when I took Lola and Amelia to see "Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs."

We went to a local theater that has stadium seating with plenty of room for wheelchairs and baby strollers. However, Amelia had her heart set on sitting in the "high up" seats rather than the ones adjacent to the wheelchair and stroller parking.

Not wanting to disappoint her I told her to go on up, find a seat and I'd meet her there. I then proceeded to pull Lola's stroller backward up the stairs, an action that immediately elicited screams from her.

A sweet woman already seated in the theater offered to help, but I, always the mule-headed, "I can do it myself" type of momma, graciously refused and continued to haul up the stairs the stroller from which wails continued to emit.

A gentleman, who obviously is familiar with stubborn women, didn't even ask if he could help, but rather rose from his seat next to which sat his little girl, came over, lifted the front of the stroller and helped position it next to the seats Amelia had found for us.

I thanked him profusely and made some lame joke about never knowing when to ask for help, but I forgot to get his name. He was back in his seat before it even dawned on me to ask him, and, since Lola was still vocalizing her displeasure with me, I turned my attention to her rather than go to him.

I did take a moment to again thank the kind lady who offered to help and share that I am so used to doing things for myself that I have a hard time requesting or accepting assistance. Being a mom herself, she expressed understanding and shared that she too has let stubbornness get the better of her.

Amelia seemed to enjoy the film, although she and I agreed Lola didn't like it at all seeing as how she spent the better part of her time in the theater performing her impression of a fish out of water whilst in my lap. She could have cared less what was on the screen because she was too concerned with finding a way to maneuver out of my lap and onto the floor where she could practice her crawling, pulling to a standing position and then cruising all objects in her vicinity.

After the movie ended, I wrestled Lola back into her stroller, reloaded the diaper bag, located my phone that Lola had pitched under the lower row of seats, wrapped up Amelia's leftover popcorn and retrieved her barely-touched Sprite to take home with us.

As I contemplated how I was going to get the stroller down the stairs, my hero appeared once again and without a word picked up the front of the stroller and helped me carry it down to the bottom of the stairs. I again thanked him for his help and wished him many blessings, but before I could say anything else Amelia announced she had to go to the bathroom.

He picked up his little girl, said "I know how that is" and then headed out the exit. I swear, it's as if he was some comic book super hero who's power is to rescue hard-headed mommas. I like to think his super hero name is "The Substitute Daddy!"

Recounting these stories makes my heart swell with pride. I am proud to have been touched so profoundly by these people, and I am even more proud to report their deeds because they prove that good people really do walk among us.

Sunday silliness

My girls are some of the silliest chicks I've ever known. I just had to share some photos that so perfectly illustrate my point.

Amelia taking a break from skating to strike a pose for me. She is using my mother's old walking stick to help maintain her balance. Gran would get a kick out of Amelia using her cane in such a resourceful manner.

Showing me her "monkey face."

New snazzy red shoes.

She found these at the mall and immediately fell deeply and madly in love with them. They're supposed to be "school shoes," but she's worn them everyday since we brought them home. They make her so happy that I am reluctant to tell her she has to save them for school.

Sisterly love.

Lola getting down with her bad self on the piano. That girl's got some made skills I tell you.

Quite a hairy situation

I used to work with a young woman named Tonya who was mother to two precious children named Jeremy and Jayla. We worked second shift as pharmacy technicians at a 24-hour CVS in Roebuck and became fast friends.

I worked with Tonya in 1999, which was five years before I had my first child, so I had no clue how hard her life was trying to raise two children with little help from their father, working a full-time job and doing her best to stretch her dollars so that she could keep a roof over their heads, food in their bellies and clothes on their backs.

Just how clueless I was about the struggles she faced everyday became quite apparent one night when I expressed shock at the state of Tonya's leg hair. I noticed while working that it had apparently been a long time since Tonya had shaved, and I asked her about this later while we were on break.

I've never forgotten what she said.

"Girl, I barely have time to take a shower. I ain't worried about my legs gettin' shaved. You'll know what I'm talking about when you've got kids."

I thought about Tonya recently when I looked down at my own legs and noticed the hair is so long I may have to rent a Bush Hog to cut down the growth.

Ten years ago when I hadn't yet celebrated my first year of marriage I never dreamed I'd ever go more than a couple of days without shaving. Yet as I looked over the growth on my legs that would make any hippie proud, it occurred to me I cannot even remember the last time I took a razor to my gams.

Since becoming a mother I've let go of a lot of hang-ups I used to have about my appearance. I used to apply a full-face of make-up before daring to venture out of the house for fear someone might see me in my unadorned state. Now I am lucky if I get to apply sunscreen and Carmex before leaving the house.

My hair was always a source of pride for me in my younger days. I spent many hours using hot rollers, curling irons, gel and hair spray to shape it into my ideal coiffure. I cannot recall the last time I plugged in a set of hot rollers or even a curling iron for that matter.

These days my hair is about 10 inches shorter than it was back in the days of using all manner of styling tools and products and is cut in such a way to be "wash and wear." I don't even take a blow dryer to it anymore. In fact, more often than not my hair is in either a ponytail or twisted into a bun atop my head, which from what I have seen, is the preferred style among many members of the mommy-set these days.

I recall watching "Terms of Endearment" when I was younger and being aghast when Debra Winger's character spent the better part of her day in her nightgown and housecoat. I swore I'd never be that kind of mother. Well, you can guess what happened: I became that type of mother.

While I would love to be the idealized type of mother who rises two hours before her children to get dressed, styled and made-up, I am not that woman. I like to sleep too much. In fact, I have more than once gone outside in my nightgown and housecoat to retrieve a package from our mail lady. Shameful, ain't it.

Some days it's just easier to not get dressed. I hate admitting this, but it's the truth. Jeff has come home from work more than once to find me and both the girls still in our night clothes. That's just how it is sometimes.

I am in awe of mothers who never leave the house without both them and their kids looking top-notch. While I am able to pull this off on occasion, I am usually the mom who looks a little worse for wear and who's kids most likely have slightly dirty faces and spills on their shirts.

I truly try to teach my kids that what we look like doesn't matter so long as we're overall clean, don't smell and are basically presentable. However, I know, as I once did long ago, that there are people out there who are judging me based upon my and my kids' appearance.

I accept this as just another fact of life I really can't do anything about. All I ask though is for those who might judge me to take a moment to think about what it might be like to walk in my shoes and know that I am often doing the best I can.

Read this book

I just finished reading "The Help" and must urge any one who is reading this post to get a copy as soon as possible. It is possibly as good or better than "To Kill a Mockingbird" with regards to addressing race relations. I can honestly say that I think about the lives of those around me in a completely different way after having finished this book.

To order a copy of the book, if you can't borrow one at your local library, and to learn more about it and its author, click HERE.

The happy couple

Jeff and I marked 11 years together last weekend by sneaking away to Huntsville for some rest and relaxation. We stayed at the Westin at Bridge Street Town Centre.

Getting away proved to be easier said than done as we had to first get Amelia over a case of strep throat and contend with Lola cutting three teeth at one time. We managed to get out the door Friday, though, and made it to the hotel a little after 3 p.m.

I've never stayed at a Westin before but I've heard good things about them. I was pleased overall, but wasn't bowled over by it like I have been by other hotels at which we've stayed.
With that having been said, though, all in all I really enjoyed our accommodations.

While the decor was a little industrial and modern for my taste, everything else, including the service, was great. The package deal we booked included breakfast in bed, which is well worth the added cost, although I would have preferred a few more menu selections from which to choose.

I loved the hotel pool. It was an combination indoor/outdoor pool that wasn't chlorinated but rather infused with salt water. The grounds around the pool were gorgeous. There were beautiful flower beds and shrubs that meandered among the walkways and seating areas.

Our room was really nice, but as I said before, a little stark for me. The bed, which the website refers to as a "heavenly bed," was not so heavenly for us. It was too soft, even for Jeff, who would sleep on a cloud if he could. However, the really nice flat-screen plasma television made up for any gripes we had with the bed.

I l-o-v-e-d the fact that the movie theatre was just outside the hotel. Jeff and I are movie junkies but never get to watch films in the theatre. We made up for lost time on this trip, though, as we took in two shows.

Friday night we went to see "The Hangover," which is hi-freaking-larious. I would watch it again tonight. We laughed throughout the movie and have been quoting our favorite parts ever since we saw it. Also, Bradley Cooper, who stars as Phil in the movie, is quite easy on the eyes, so getting to see him was an added bonus for me.

Saturday night we went to see "Public Enemies," in which cutie pies Johnny Depp and Christian Bale star. The movie, which is based on life and crimes of John Dillinger, was good, but could have been better if a few scenes that weren't crucial to the plot had been left out. However, it was worth sitting through those scenes for me because I got to swoon over Depp and Bale.

Before seeing the movie, we had drinks and an appetizer at Scene, a bar located in the theatre. How cool is that??!! I enjoyed an appletini, okay two, and Jeff had a beer. We also had gourmet pizza that was delish! During our stay in Huntsville we also had some wonderful meals at Red Robin and Cantina Laredo. I highly recommend the brisket tacos at Cantina Laredo, which also mixes some yummy Patron margaritas.

Jeff and I spent part of the day Saturday at the Westin Spa where we each got a massage and I splurged and got a hair cut. It's first time a stylist had gotten near my hair since August so to say I was in need of a cut is quite the understatement. I took a photo of me when my hair was cut the way I like it best and was thrilled that the stylist was able to recreate it exactly.

Jeff thoroughly enjoyed his massage, but I came out feeling worse than when I went in. I tend to carry a lot of tension between my shoulder blades so the massage therapist tried her best to work it out. However, her attempts only made me hurt more and resulted in a knot popping up that only went away when I rested on a heating pad after we came home.

Next time, I'll stick with enjoying the sauna and jacuzzi tub as well as another hair cut and just skip the torture chamber, I mean massage room.

While there was a lot to love about Bridge Street, the shops were not at all attractive to me mainly because I am neither a size 2 nor younger than 8 years old. The directory of shops doesn't include a single store from which I could purchase anything to wear except DSW, but their shoes aren't special enough for me to drive over an hour to buy them. I used to be able shop at Old Navy, but they no carry plus sizes in their store, at least not sizes that would fit me. Needless to say, I won't be going back to Bridge Street to make any purchases from any of their shops.

Grandmaw and Pawpaw, brave souls that they are, kept Amelia and Lola for us so we could enjoy a short respite. Always gluttons for punishment, they also opened their doors to four other grandchildren; although those kids, especially girls Payton and Kelsey, turned out to be big helpers for their grandparents.

I truly enjoyed getting a couple of days just with Jeff. It was so nice to be able to decompress. Truth be told, I think he missed the kids more than I did, although it was nice to see them again even though Lola cried when I picked her up and Amelia, when I told her I'd missed her said, "Well, I didn't miss you."

If I'd of known that, then I would've booked a few more days away to see if a longer absence would have made the girls' hearts grow fonder for us. Nah, I don't think Jeff could have stood it.

She'll hate me for this one day, but ....

... I just couldn't resist sharing these hilarious photos of Lola.
I crack up every single time I look at them. They're just too precious to not share.

Like a duck to water

Amelia finished swimming lessons today with a "big show" at Miss Kim's pool in Guntersville, AL.

Waiting as patiently as possible while trying to beat back her nerves.

Getting to the end of swimming class proved to be tougher than I'd ever imagined because we had a few bumps in the road along the way. Amelia missed two classes due to a wicked case of strep throat and had to make those up, which required two days of two-hour classes. Additionally, she had a rough start with jumping off the diving board, but thanks to bribery in the form of a promise to order Chixos, she found her courage and managed to leap off like a champ.

There she goes! She did it! We are, however, going to have to work on getting her to jump out into the water because she gets perilously close to the edge of the board.

We were so blessed to have class with her best buddy Deuce along with a little girl named Madison with whom we became acquainted during gymnastics camp.

There goes Duece! He had no problem jumping off the diving board and "counseled" Amelia as to how she could overcome her fear. They are so precious together. I hope they're friends forever.

While we waited on Amelia each day to finish class, Lola and I got to spend some quality time with Deuce's mommy, Miss Hollie, his sister Jessie Grace, who is the best helper ever, and baby brother Cooper as well as Madison's mommy Miss Erin and her baby sister Macy. We also met some other great folks like Miss Ellen, Miss Amy and Miss Lacey.

I must give kudos to Miss Kim and her helpers Miss Alex and Miss McKinnon. They were fabulous teachers. Miss Kim has the perfect demeanor for teaching swim class. She never loses her cool, but knows how to be stern enough to get the kids' attention so they know she means business. Miss Alex and Miss McKinnon were great with the kids, especially those, like Amelia, who spent a great deal of time crying and refusing to do as they were asked.

Each of these ladies must have reserves of patience stored somewhere because they amazed me at how wonderfully calm they remained even in the midst of what I considered overwhelming chaos. My hats off to all of them, and I look forward to seeing them again next summer when we'll return for another session.

There goes my "little fish." She learned so much and has come so far in just eight lessons. I am so proud of her and how brave she has been through all of this.

Let freedom ring!

Today is a day to reflect, rejoice and remember that we are blessed and lucky to live in a country where freedom is a gift given to us all!

So exercise your freedom by speaking your mind, practicing or not practicing the religion of your choice, reading a newspaper that was produced by a free press, thanking our troops who keep and have kept us safe from our enemies or even taking a moment to peruse The Bill of Rights that our forefathers prepared for our new nation so many years ago.

I'm not drunk. I'm just tired.

I knew something was wrong when Amelia asked to lie down. In a booth. At the McDonald's Playplace. Where her friends were romping, shouting and having a good ol' time.

That was Tuesday after swimming lessons. At first I thought she gotten too hot and was maybe experiencing a bit of heat exhaustion, but then came the fevers and the sore throat. She's gotten progressively worse with each passing day the result of which is we haven't been able to return to swim class and have appointment to see the doctor this afternoon.

Lola, while not experiencing any fevers or sore throat, that we know of, has a diaper rash that thus far has not responded to any of my tried-and-true home treatments so she will also get to see the doctor today. Additionally, Lola, who's always proudly marched to the beat of own drummer, has decided to cut a molar that most children don't welcome into their mouth until they're two years old.

The discomfort she's been experiencing has made her miserable and unable to sleep well. Because she's not sleeping well, I've not been sleeping well either. I've spent two nights this week on the couch and two more nights getting up every few hours with her. To say I am tired would be the understatement of the year. It's probably more accurate to say I feel drained like someone plugged a hose into my side and siphoned out all my energy.

But, drained or not, there is work to be done. After all, these kids won't raise themselves, and I, sadly, am not the keeper of magic elves who come out at night to polish and shine my house. Therefore keeping the nastiness to a minimum and the clutter at a manageable level falls upon me.

I learned last night I have been slacking on my duties. I got a rather stern dressing down from my "boss," so I'd better get in line. I was told I could either shape up or look for a part-time job to, I guess, offset the costs of daycare and maid service.

In the interest of keeping my current position, I must go now to attend to all my duties. Also, Amelia is wanting me to find out where in the world "Word World" is so I guess I've got some Googling to do. But before that happens, I must go check out the results of her "cleaning" the glass front of our entertainment center using a paper towel utilized to get "Popsicle juice" out of the floor.