Showers of Blessings and Mercy Drops

There shall be showers of blessing:
This is the promise of love;
There shall be seasons refreshing,
Sent from the Savior above.
Showers of blessing,
Showers of blessing we need:
Mercy-drops round us are falling,
But for the showers we plead.

Those verses come from a hymn that I can remember singing in church when I was a kid and I never understood what “mercy-drops” were. As an adult, I think “mercy-drops” are those little glimpses of light when the world seems dark around you.

It has been a while since I have blogged. I just haven’t had anything funny, snarky or worthy to post. In fact it has felt like a black cloud hanging around my head and to be honest, it hasn’t come from anything that affects me directly. First of all, I have a high school friend whose 19 year old son collapsed at his college gym while jogging. After spending 2 weeks in ICU, he has been moved to an acute care facility where he is slowly making progress. Can you imagine? A healthy 19 year old collapses and so many lives are changed forever in that instant. Today I spent the morning at a funeral for my co-worker/friend’s father who passed away from Lymphoma. He was 64. My Daddy is 70 and has been in remission from Lymphoma for 5 years. I can NOT imagine having to go through what my friend is experiencing right now. I am Daddy’s little girl. The black sheep. The one that keeps things interesting. But still his little girl. I am taking him next week to have some carcinoma removed from his head. He battles skin cancer on his head, face, and arms on a pretty regular basis. I don’t think they promoted sunscreen when he was out picking cotton, plowing soybean fields, or riding motorcycles in his youth. I love my Daddy and I want him here with me forever. (and I want my Mom forever too!)

I realized as I was trying to shake off the dark cloud, I have many blessings in my life. I should focus on those when there seems to be a lack of light. My family. I am so lucky that I have a family that is close and loves each other through thick and thin. I am blessed that my Mom still spoils us by serving Sunday Dinner at her house each week. I cherish those days and do not like to miss. It seems lately that we have been having the best conversations around that table. The grandkids are getting older and they have started joining in sharing insights about the world we live in. When I leave that table, I think “Good Times. Good Times.” I have an instant shopping partner with my sister and usually a movie and dinner date as well. That may not be a blessing to my wallet, but we always have a great time. Then there is the blessing of second chances. Hubby. Hubby spoils me rotten. He loves me, faults and all. He listens to me when I have had a bad day. He laughs with me. He cooks for me. And for himself when I am out with my shopping partner. He’s not afraid to have sandwiches for dinner. Twice a week. Blessings of family. They are priceless.

My friends. People have many different types of friends. I am no exception. Friends that I see on a regular basis. Friends that I work with. Childhood friends that I can pick up with where we left off when I run into them at Homecoming or at Walmart. Couple friends that we make dates with when we need a night on the town and adult conversation. And for me, I have a FF. Forever Friend. She’s 3 hours away, but if I ever needed her, she would be here in 2 hours 45 minutes. No questions asked. You might have an FF too. In fact, I hope you do. FF’s are the friends that know you. The core of you. They know the facts that you don’t want in your obituary and will make sure they don’t give you a Sally Field football helmet hairdo at your funeral (Steel Magnolia reference in case you are lost). I reached out to my FF this week begging her to tell me something great. I felt like each day this week I was getting darker and darker with the trials and tribulations of people around me. I needed to be lifted up. In true FF fashion, she immediately replied with a song. This is what she sent…

Take my hand and walk with me a while
Cause it seems your smile has left you
And don't give in, when you fall apart
And your broken heart has failed youI'll set a light up
On a hilltop
To show you my love
For this world to see
You can borrow mine
When your hope is gone
Borrow mine
When you can't go on
'Cause the world will not defeat you
When we're side by side
When your faith is hard to find
You can borrow mine
Take my love when all that you can see
Is the raging sea all around us
And don't give up 'cause I'm not letting go
And the God we know will not fail us
We'll lay it all down
As we call out
Sweet Savior help our unbelief
You can borrow mine
When your hope is gone
Borrow mine
When you can't go on
'Cause the world will not defeat you
When we're side by side
When your faith is hard to find
You can borrow mine
When you are weak
Unable to speak
You are not alone
The God who has saved us
Will never forsake us
He's coming to take us
Take us to our home
You can borrow mine
When your hope is gone
Borrow mine
When you can't go on
'Cause the world will not defeat you
When we're side by side
When your faith is hard to find
When your faith is hard to find
You can borrow mine
Take my hand
Take my love
Don't give in
Don't give up

I haven’t always been the best of friend to people in my life and I know that I have hurt people and wished a million times that I had a do-over. But I would like to think that if you needed a friend, I would be there for you.

Thanks to my Sister for sharing her date night with her youngest son and meeting me and Boy for dinner last night. Thanks to my FF for rescuing me with a song. These were my “mercy-drops” this week.

Family Tree - we got branches!

Make no mistake, I love history. Couple that with my love of family and I have the perfect new project to work on during the summer. My Family Tree. Let me give you some background. I come from a large extended family. My mother is the youngest of 7 kids that produced 26 first cousins. (I don’t know the correct algebraic equations it would take to determine the correct number of 2nd cousins.) We didn’t spend summer vacations at Disney World, etc. We spent our summers camping in Oklahoma with aunts and uncles and then taking the trailer to Grandma’s house in Arkansas and camping in her back yard for a week. These were the BEST times of my life. I could write for hours about our adventures and misadventures; sitting on the back porch singing gospel hymns so my Grandfather could hear them through his bedroom window, shucking corn under the giant tree, cutting a watermelon on the tailgate and eating it right off the rind, shelling purple-hulled peas until your fingers were stained, learning to drive in the old farm truck in the pasture, walking to the store and filling your poke sack full of candy, finally getting the courage to jump from the back porch to the yard which seemed like it was 3 stories high, swinging on the porch swing so high you thought you would fall off and hit the ground 3 stories below, or something close to that, playing hide and seek, jumping off the wood shed, using the outhouse, drawing up water from the well and everyone drinking out of the same dipper, oh the list could be exhausting. These are memories that are precious to me.

My mom and I have been doing a little digging using her Family History books, from the counties her and my dad were born in, combined with the Internet. It has been a blast. We intend to get serious over the summer because she is going to retire by then, we think. The date is a little fuzzy on when that occurrence is set to happen, but I feel good saying that by summer she’ll be a lady of leisure and most deservedly so.

Here is a preview of what I know…
* I am a first generation Texan. And that makes me proud. Real proud. And sometimes obnoxious.
* Mom and Dad are both Arkansas born and bred so I have some hillbilly blood mixed in with my Texas upbringing. But not to the point that I think it is appropriate to go barefoot or forgo dental hygiene or marry a cousin. Flirt with a 2nd cousin at my 40th birthday? Yeah, that’s ok. He’s young. And cute. He kept buying me drinks. I got sloshed. It happens. Moving on.
*Maintaining my Southern Belle-ness is important to me. Who doesn’t love a southern girl? I do not want to be discovering any Yankee blood up here in these veins.
*My great grandmother, Dad’s side, is from Alabama and Mississippi. Keeping it below the Mason-Dixon baby!
*My great-great grandfather was a successful rancher. He land rushed TWICE in Oklahoma. Uh oh! When I read this part, I knew I was in trouble with the Hubby. Land rushers are thieves according to him. That would make me a descendant of a Boomer Sooner and that is not good. I hope my marriage survives.
* Back to me. GGG was also reported to be an expert marksman. (Remember my blog about my success with a .22. It’s in my blood. Of course I am a natural.)
*Now here is where it could get dangerous. GGG’s family is traced back to colonial Maryland. Now before we go sounding the Yankee alarms, take a deep breath. I am a history teacher and I know things: out of the original 13 colonies 4 were northern, 4 were middle and 5 were southern. Maryland was a SOUTHERN colony. Our nation’s capital is located between Maryland and Virginia as a way to appease the SOUTH during the Compromise of 1790. It had to do with a northerner, Hamilton, ripping off the south and buying back bonds from speculators in the north. And Maryland is below the Mason-Dixon. It’s all good.

I am so excited about this journey and if I find out any other cool stuff, I will definitely keep you posted. And if I find any Yankee blood, you will find me curled up in a fetal position gnashing and wailing, “This is it, I've found it, I'm in hell.” (What good southern girl can’t quote a little Ousier Boudreuax from Steel Magnolias?)

Birthday Breakdown

February 14th isn't about Valentine's Day in our house. It's Hubby's birthday and this year was a big one. The big 4-0 to be exact. Yeah, yeah, I robbed the cradle. Get over it. I like younger men. (nearly 6 months to the day- ha!) Since this was a special day and Hubby demanded no party or fuss, we decided to forgo the work world and spend the day together.

Here is the birthday breakdown...

*First stop, AT&T in Lake Worth where we purchased the iPhone 4 for Hubby. The service was awesome. You should go there if you ever need anything. Ask for Fasio.

*Best auxiliary purchase at the store, Otter Box. Hubby's phone went flying out of his hand the first time he opened the door to the truck. I will not be repeating what he said at that moment. This blog is PG13. For the most part.

*Next stop Winchester Gun Range. Woohoo. We were all redneck up in there. Momma learned how to shoot a 22 and I am a natural. Or so I say. Hubby says "Stay still. Don't move. Give her 3 or 4 minutes to set her grip, pull the hammer back, and think about the trigger pull and at 15 feet you are one dead sucker!"

*He better watch what he says.

*Razoos for lunch.

*Academy to restock ammo. And buy a snazzy pink set of hearing protectors for moi. Hey, if I am going to be all Ninja in the range, I am going to look stylish.

It was a great day and I am so thankful that Hubby and I were able to spend it together. Sometimes you just gotta say work shmerk...

Beat Me Up for Jesus or Live Loved. The choice is yours...

The picture included in this blog reminds me of my past. When I saw it I was struck that I actually knew someone that should take heed of the sign’s message. (WARNING: This blog may not be for the faint of heart. I won’t be using any names or naming locations, but if you are a personal friend, you might recognize some of the things/people I will be referencing. Feel free to click off now. You won’t hurt my feelings. I understand that talking about religion is sometimes a touchy subject or even uncomfortable. But at the same time, I began this blogging journey as a way and a place for me to share my thoughts and experiences.)

As mentioned in an earlier blog, I am in the midst of reading a book by Jake Colsen “So You Don’t Want to Go to Church Anymore”. The reason I don’t want to go is because of the big honking scabs left by the wounds of my previous Church experience. (Note: the capitalization of Church is used to reference a particular building without naming it) Now, let me say that after much soul searching I realize I created many of these wounds by my own actions. It all really started when I began to think that I mattered in Church. Trust me, when you leave a church and no one sincerely reaches out to you, the realization that you did not matter is quick to sink in. A dear friend used this analogy with Hubby and it rings so true: put your fist in a bucket of water. Now take it out. The time it takes for the water to fill the space where your fist was is how long you matter to those left behind. The upside to this experience is our Friends who supported us and held our hands and loved us through this entire process. And it is a process. In fact during our last visit with our Friends, I made the statement that one day we would be able to have dinner and coffee and NOT have to decompress our shared experiences about Church. It wouldn’t be the THING that entered every conversation. And later through tears, I acknowledged for the first time, out loud, my guilt over my sin in thinking that I mattered. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t easy, but it needed to be done. (Sidenote: while in Church, I loved the people I worked with. These people loved the Lord and served Him willingly and I had some life experiences that would have never happened were it not for my time spent there. But at the end of this journey, I realized that for me it had become more about ‘look at me and all the work I am doing’ and less about the selflessness of serving God) With that journey complete, I feel free to take my time and experience this new journey.

I do not need to be “Beat Up for Jesus” which is what my previous experience came down to. The constant mandates from the pulpit of the Church to pray harder, do more, give more, it can never be enough, you must sacrifice friendships, family time and any pleasure in order to be pleasing to God is so ridiculous. And as we knew that our time in Church was coming to an end we began to watch and listen. Very carefully. It was shocking. The idea that the Church was open to everyone was false advertising. There were those that belonged and those that didn’t. Those that told the truth and those that didn’t. And before you start pounding the keyboard to remind me about throwing stones and judge not lest ye be judged, I was there. I was in the trenches and I know truth from fiction. When being honest was no longer sacred, when it became negotiable for a means to an end, when people could stand up and choose political correctness over the truth, however uncomfortable it might have been to speak it, I walked out never to step foot in Church again. There are so many other things I could point to in hindsight but it is not warranted here. When we reflect on the entirety of what we saw and heard going on around us it is no wonder Christians have a bad rap.

Fundamentalism is not for me. Living Loved is for me. That phrase is such a sweet sound in my ear and I am forever grateful to the friends that introduced the concept into my life. Jesus loves me. He loves me when I am teaching in my classroom. He loves me when I am sitting with Hubby on the couch watching NCIS marathons. He loves me when I am doing laundry. He loves me on Sunday morning when I watch Boy go to Youth service and I stay home to read, rest, relax. Just because I am not in a pew on Sunday morning does not mean that He does not love me. Right now the most pressing concern of not having a church “home” is where they would have the meal after my funeral if I died. So I am thinking if that is the only scenario giving me pause about not “being in church”, then I am OK. (Suggestion, have it at Mom’s church. It is where I first started attending church, at birth, and would be a fitting book end to my life. I will lay out all the other plans for my funeral in another blog, but in case I don’t have the chance to write it, the plans are in a spiral in my Bible. And thank you in advance for attending, or singing, or speaking, whichever I have lined you up to be responsible for. And eat a lot and laugh a lot and display tons of pictures of me. Ok, I digress)

Living Loved. What a concept. Why did it take so long for me to get to this point? To quote an excerpt from an article on this topic, “You are simply transitioning from religious obligation to a relational reality.” Now, before you read on, please understand that I am NOT trying to convert you to my way of thinking. I am simply sharing my thoughts. I am not judging you or trying to convince you that my way is better. It’s not about that at all. The ground work for me being able to leave the striving behind is from my wonderful opportunity to form relationships with people from many different backgrounds/religions at Camp CommUNITY. It has allowed me to grow, accept, not judge people who do not worship as I do. The fact that they are Jewish/Baha’i/Buddhist/Catholic/Methodist/and on and on does not mean they are “wrong”. Putting right and wrong in the matter of faith no longer sits well with me. I would never attempt to try and “convert “my Buddhist friend from her belief system to mine. (And by the way, a Buddhist wedding ceremony is one of the most beautiful things I have witnessed on this earth.) Let me go back to what I stated earlier. It’s about relationship for me now. No hoop jumping, no judgment, no beating me up for Jesus. It’s about love. I choose love. I will always choose love. And since I am not revoking my Christianity, just transitioning my thoughts about my daily experiences and walk with Christ, I’ll use a standard Christian Sunday School song to sum it up… Jesus loves the little children. Did you catch the most important word in that song? LOVES… it says it all.

Instead of plagiarizing an entire article, I am providing a link that was generously shared with me by my Friend and I would encourage you to check it out. And most importantly, live loved. http://www.lifestream.org/bodylife.php?blid=59

Little Things Matter

I was quite amused yesterday at the firestorm on fb created by the various opinions regarding the muffing of our Star Spangled Banner. People were whipping out the ol’ “stones and glass houses” bit. Others were digging in and not letting go. I must say I am one of the people that dug in and I find it amusing that people tend to lose their ability to be objective when they can’t berate someone into adopting their point of view. I have an opinion and I am going to express it. If it causes someone to delete me/de-friend me, well, I have no control over it and I won’t lose sleep over it. But I am not rehashing that today.

What I realized through this entire hullabaloo is that sometimes it’s the little things that matter. I have stated previously that I am a patriotic person by nature. I tear up during the anthem; I tear up when I witness a fly-over; I tear up any time I see soldiers walking down a concourse at the airport with people waving flags and signs welcoming them home; I tear up at the Stock Show Rodeo in Fort Worth when Bob Tallman goes through his monologue that ends with the presentation of Ol’ Glory (that is something to put on your bucket list before he kicks his). I am emotional and I am not afraid to show it.

Today in class while talking through a video about Irish immigrants and the role they played in our factory system back in 1847ish, I realized that my students needed to understand that they were living this experience today in 2011. With a different set of immigrants. They need to get this. They need to see that history does indeed repeat itself. It cycles over and over again. I asked the kids to consider, without speaking, if they had witnessed any group of people born outside of the United States willing to work at laborious jobs for meager pay. Light bulb after light bulb illuminated my darkened classroom. (On a side note - we never just “sit” in class and watch a video. If I am using a video, it gets stopped and started lots of times for me to point out things they need to remember or to offer an opposing viewpoint to what is being presented) Unfortunately, I believe a majority of our kids are undaunted and unphased by the “world” around them. They don’t look past their immediate social experiences. If it’s not facebooked, xboxed live, or tweeted, kids don’t take an interest. Sitting down and watching a 6 o’clock newscast and figuring out how Egypt might affect their life is a foreign concept to kids; literally and figuratively. I crave every day in my classroom to reach out and shake my students into “getting it” and realizing that they are living history and they need to embrace it. (But since I love my job, I will only metaphorically shake them.) Little things matter. And in this case, the little things will one day be big things.

Super What?

Let me start by saying that it felt good to go to work today. I was begging to get out of the house Friday but the roads in our neighborhood were still a little too frozen to risk it for McDonald’s fries and a vanilla shake. Hubby, however, was awarded a nomination for Hubby of the Year on Saturday by bringing home the fries and shake, as well as 3 library books to tie me over for the rest of the weekend. My first outdoor venture came Sunday because Sunday lunch at Mom’s is a must.

Now to the Big Game… also to be known as the Big Embarrassment, Big Debacle, Big Joke… take your pick. I am a sports fan. I love football, I love March Madness, I love baseball (best experienced live and in person) and I can hold my own in any conversation with Hubby surrounding these 3 things. What I cannot do is be given the year and college and then name the Heisman Trophy Winner like Hubby can. Freak. Who takes up brain space with that kind of stuff? Oh wait. Hubby does. He spoils me. Wow, can YOUR hubby name the Heisman trophy winners? Mine can! I can also hold my own when it comes to sports trivia in games. I’m the ace in the hole when playing Trivia Pursuit for the chick team. So now that the Big Game, Joke, Debacle is packing up and leaving North Texas (take that Arlington and Dallas!) here‘s what I have to say…

*What was up with the Red Carpet Arrivals? Really? I needed to see Michael Douglas and Catherin Zeta Jones (great hat) arrive and strut into the stadium, why? And her justification for being a Packers fan, because she’s from Wales? Did I miss something? I’m just sayin’.

* Cristina Aguilera. Enough said right? But this is my blog and where I am going to vent, so let it begin. Are you KIDDING me, lady? You are picked to sing our national anthem and you are too worried about your giant red lips and falsetto trills to remember the words. Shame. Shame. Shame. I am super patriotic about stuff like this. I stand at attention during the pledge. I cover my heart. Heck I even take MY hat off when the national anthem is being performed and I am a chick. I get teary-eyed with every fly-over, in person or on TV. You do not say, “I was caught up in the moment.” That is a copout. I hope she is never asked to sing that song again. Ever. I mean it. Every year I require my 8th graders to memorize and recite the song to me. Because it matters. Because you are an American and should know the song. I don’t want to hear anyone talking to me about nerves performing in such a situation. Nerves shmerves. You are an entertainer making millions. Get your nerves under control and deliver. Any questions? I’m just sayin’.

*Big Ben. Oops. That daggum little side trip to Pete’s Dueling Piano Bar is going to cost you. Forever. (But it is a great locale for a 40th B-day throw down. Just sayin’.) Now you and I both know that it had zero affect on your performance Sunday but the media is going to continue to chew on this like a dog with a 48 oz T-Bone from Del Frisco’s. You had some trouble in a bar last year. You were suspended 4 games for it. Why oh why would you put yourself in that situation again? Haven’t you grown from your mistakes? Yes, you take your offensive line out to eat on Tuesday’s before a game. Dude, there were TONS of places in Sundance where you can get FOOD. Pete’s does not serve food because we do not count liquid nutrition as food. I’m just sayin’.

*Ticket-gate. I would be so livid mad if I was one of the 400 that didn’t get a seat that I held a ticket for. I would be fire-breathin’ mad if I was one of the people that was shuffled inside and relocated to standing room or craptacular seats. Thanks Jerry. Thanks NFL. I cannot wait to see this play out in the media and/or the courtrooms. What a show! Our local news has had Super Game countdown clocks on the top right corner of their broadcasts for MONTHS. So I am kinda thinking that the NFL knew those temporary bleachers needed to get built. Procrastination is not pretty. So far, Roger has invited the 400 to next year’s game. Uh, does that include air-fare and hotel and food reimbursement? I’m just sayin’.

*And last but not least the weather. Ok, so Jerry and the NFL had no control. It was hilarious to watch all the coverage. For the first day. After that it became a little ridiculous that we couldn’t cut from local news to the Today Show. I can only watch Fed-Ex drivers stuck on an overpass for so long before I get a little cranky. For all the people yelling that we weren’t prepared, maybe we weren’t. But let me make one thing clear. THIS WAS ICE! Not snow. Snow plows not so effective on ICE. Geesh Yanks. Tone it down when criticizing the south. I remember hearing a little something about a road called Lake Shore Drive in Chicago being covered with cars buried in the snow. What's wrong people in the north? It’s just a little snow. I’m just sayin’.

And they say we get to start all over with some icey, wintry mix, snow early Wednesday morning. I’m just sayin’.

Ice-cation & The Not So Webster's Dictionary

Day 3 of Ice-cation. Now before I get too far into this blog, let me just say to the Yankees that make fun of Texans for their reaction to this type of weather and our inability to navigate the streets, this is not a Snow-cation. The stuff on the roads is not fluffy flurries of snow. It's ice. Hard sheets of solid ice. When this junk was making its way to earth from the skies it sounded like large pieces of gravel being pelted against my windows by an angry 500 pound man. I am over Ice-cation. I am over rolling blackouts that left us without electricity for 6 1/2 hours. I won't go into all of the government conspiracy theories that I endured from Hubby yesterday. Mind numbing.



Now for the fun part of Ice-cation. Family time. While we were huddled in the master bedroom with the warmth of a propane heater, until the fire alarms went off and the heater went bye-bye, we turned to games. Scattergories. Lots of laughs. For example... Topic: Things that are cold, letter A. Hubby and I both answered ass. We couldn't quit laughing. But that wasn't the best answer of the day. That award goes to Boy. Topic: Things found in purse or wallet, letter C. My answer, compact. Hubby's answer, car keys. Boy's answer, wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, Condom. Yeah, I'll let that sink in for a minute. So, I immediately do what any great parent would do, I text Too Tall to tell on Boy. Seriously though, apparently all of our sex talks at Sunday lunch have paid off. Boy knows what it means to be prepared - for his Honeymoon if I have anything to say about it. Moving on...




We also spent some quality family time coming up with our very own family dictionary. You may be familiar with a tool called the Urban Dictionary which contains definitions for slang terms or subculture phrases which cannot be found in a standard dictionary. Since I plan on maintaining this blog space for the foreseeable future, I thought it might be a good idea to give you a reference tool in case some of these words and phrases appear in my writing. Let me present to my faithful followers…


THE NOT SO WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY
WORDS: Word – (phonetic pronunciation) – (voice inflection if required) – meaning-example

Beerid – (beer-id) Hubby’s drink of choice after coming home from a particular stressful day and/or while watching sporting events

Idahell - Hubby’s hometown; location that is best viewed in your review mirror

Jyes - (jyes) - (slur all letters together) affirmation or agreement with any statement - EX: "Would you like for me to buy you those boots?" "Jyes." "Can I bring you a beered from the fridge?" "Jyes."

Luvells – term of endearment used both vocally and in texting; intended to convey the message of I Love You but with less syllables and typing; may be shortened to Luv (used so often on my phone that it auto-predicts the word after luve...)

Ninja – (said quickly with force, emphasis on “j”ah) term used to denote an extreme expletive without resorting to the four letter variety - EX: "There is a scuff mark on my new boots! Ninja!"

No,no,no,no,no – (technically more than one word but said in rapid succession to sound like one word) morning greeting offered to Hubby at first sighting; intended to convey dislike of all things morning

Nyeh – (nnnyeh) to disagree with or express dislike

Pooty – nickname used to excess; not having to do with any body function; intended as term of endearment; can be used to cause emotional stress for person insisting she is NOT A POOTY

Squirrel – pseudo relative who occupies space in Idahell; flitters and flits around without ever making any real progress toward goal or accomplishment

Skippy – friendly person, ready to take on any challenge or situation

Your butt – (urbutt) - anatomy found on the back side but used to convey that you are ignoring the previous statement made by the person you are conversing with - EX: "Honey, you don't have room for those boots in your closet." "Your butt."

PHRASES:

.com – (dot cooooooooooooooom) - (operatic style) emphasis on any statement just made; authoritative punctuation to the end of any sentence

Beat Me Up for Jesus – Indicates that you have heard someone say that you are less than worthy using biblical judgment to condemn you (there is a blog I could reference in this space, but I am opting to take the high road; email if you are really curious and I'll give it up)

Bom Chicka Bombom – Extremely high quality; the best of the best - EX: My new boots are bom chicka bombom.

Bow Up – (bo uuuuup) - (redneck, chain smoker voice inflection) Invitation issued to people who think they can outdo what you have established as the standard; also used as declaration that you have just accomplished something major - EX: Hubby comes home and announces that he kicked 3 kids out of school today..."Bow up, Mr. Hubby!"

Get You Some of That – (git chyu sum of dat) Expression of impressments or wonder at what you have just witnessed; high praise, affirmation, or expression of idocracy - EX: A truck passes you on the shoulder so they didn't have to wait for the 2 cars in front of you to turn left... get you some of that!

I’m Just Saying – (I’m just sayin’) A dare spoken to indicate that what you have stated should not be contradicted or questioned and is the last word on the subject matter - EX: "I'm buying that pair of boots. I'm just sayin."

Is That What You Had Said?* – (Is that what chyu had saiiiid???) - (spoken with increasing high pitched inflection) A dare spoken to indicate that you are challenging what has been stated and should the person wish to provide rebuttal they will need to bow up - EX: "Honey, you forgot to fix my tea this morning." "Is that what you had said?"
*borrowed from Bon Qui Qui

You. Go away. - imperative statement providing direction that the person being spoken to needs to leave the area immediately - EX: "Honey, you are out of room under the bed for more boot boxes." "You. Go away."

If you have any entries that you would like to share from your family dictionary, I would love to hear them. Just click the "Your turn to talk" link and type away. Stay warm and stay safe.