Two days after 4/27/11, Prince William and Princess Kate wed. And two days after that, Osama Bin Laden was killed. Needless to say, the national news quickly forgot the fact that Alabama had been decimated.
But we did not. And we have not.
This year’s anniversary came with its own cruelty. We all knew that we were about to be hit with another three day tornado event starting the next day, making the memories of April 27 all the more exquisitely difficult to process.
But despite that, something compelled me to take a drive on Sunday.
Pratt City was the closest community to us that was hit in 2011. And they were hit hard. I had written a blog post titled Twenty Minutes Away sharing photos of that community.
And on Sunday I needed to see. What had changed in three years?
On April 27 2011, this neighborhood was left completely devastated.
On April 27 2014, they’re still fighting the battle of full recovery.
On April 27 2011, things looked hopeless.
But on April 27 2014, hope is palpable.
On April 27 2011, Their library was ravaged.
On April 27 2014, they have a new library.
On April 27 2011, demolition equipment couldn’t even get in to begin hauling off what was left.
On April 27 2014, heavy machinery was present – but only to help create more new houses.
On April 27 2011 this neighborhood was brought to its knees.
On April 27 2014 those knees are still present – but so are the new fabrics of community.
On April 27 2011, loss was everywhere.
On April 27 2014, potential is everywhere.
On April 27 2011 you couldn’t escape the reality.
On April 27 2014 there are still memories – abandoned foundations, stripped trees, and large, empty fields. But they’re not nearly as agonizing.
In my entire tour, there was only one thing that hadn’t changed since my last visit.
Their heart.
April 27 2011,
April 27 2014.
We are all giving thanks that this week’s tornado outbreak was nothing compared to 2011, but many communities are still hurting – in Arkansas, Oklahoma, MIssissippi, and Alabama. I will be praying for this same heart and courage in the communities that are about to begin their own rebuilding.
We’re fine – thanks for all who checked in on us! It seems that Alabama made it through last night’s round of tornadoes relatively unscathed. Mississippi was not as fortunate – we are praying for the families in Louisville and Tupelo. There’s another round coming through both states this afternoon, so we’ll be back in the basement having a party in just a little while. But in the meantime, today’s post…
Noah was quite jealous when he found out that Ali got a three minute vlog opportunity yesterday.
So he wanted to add his own RIGHT. AWAY.
First, he had some potty-training realizations that he wanted to share.
And second, he wanted to show the world this very real* method of parenting that I use on a daily basis.
* The technique is real, and the recording of the “punishment” is real, but the demands are a reenactment. (Hence the smiling undertones.) Real demands are MUCH whinier.
Okay. He’s feeling better now. How about you?
Added Feature: The Ask, with me cut out, per Robin’s request:
First of all, your quirky bits of life MADE MY DAY. I was not feeling well at all on Friday, but I got so many giggles from your comments. I really think that needs to be a regular feature – because y’all are far more interesting than I am.
In case you missed it, here are a few of my favorite quotes:
“I was present for my husband’s first wedding…. when I was 5.”
“I have a scar on my chin from a deodorant container.”
“I have never had “relations” with a man with two legs.”
“I gave birth to my first child in the parking lot of our birth center. Her head came out in target maternity shorts. Buy target maternity shorts, they can catch a baby and that needs to be their slogan.”
— How could I ever beat those slices of gold??
(To get the whole story on them from those who offered to share, click here and read the precious comments.)
Not too many of you had questions for me, which did not disappoint – again because of your own fantastic facts. But here are the answers for those that did:
Fred is still around, and is awesomely photogenic despite sometimes looking like Miley.
Or maybe Miley looks like him.
But at any rate he makes a better Album Cover.
(Yes, I did just spend part of my Sunday afternoon making that. No, I have no idea why.)
He disappears for a day or two at a time, always beginning with a trip down the storm drain across the street. We have a theory that storm drains work for cats like Warp Pipes work for Mario – music and all. Fred pops down then pops back up at his real home – maybe in Tupelo, maybe in Warsaw, maybe in Beijing, or maybe, as I’ve settled on, in Alabaster Alabama.
Fred is an Alabama fan – he will lay in ANYBODY’S lap if it is covered with this blanket.
…And he seems to like Frozen like the rest of the known universe.
We have also recently discovered that Fred is a Circus Cat.
Not once, but TWICE, Fred leapt up a tree with magical agility upon hearing the phrase “climb a tree.”
Can your cat do that?
I didn’t think so.
The first time was a complete accident. Ali was talking about climbing the tree, and he totally wiped the floor with her when it came to tree-climbing bravery, speed, and skill.
(And he most definitely stuck that tongue out at her.)
The second time, I tried it as a very hopeful experiment.
He was laying under the same tree, so I walked over, patted the tree, and said, “Climb the tree, Fred!”
And he did.
He will NOT, however, do it in front of Chris.
So Chris thinks I’m a complete liar.
But Fred, the children, and I know better.
It should also be noted that Fred seems to have a lengthy list of aliases.
Besides Fred and whatever his name is when he pops up in Alabaster, he is also Cocoa two doors down.
(Which…compared to Fred….totally sounds like stripper name.)
(No offense, neighbors.)
They were walking by the other day and said,
“By the way. Do y’all have a gray cat?”
“Kinda…”
“Yeah. He’s been hanging around our house and trying to get in. And we’ve fed him a couple times. He’s really friendly though!”
I have a feeling that Fred answers to anything anyone will call him. And that his fake IDs are innumerable. Which would explain why he disappears so often. Because he has a LOT of houses to hit up.
(In Warsaw, he answers to “Czeslaw!”)
(Yes. I did just look at a list of Polish Baby Names. No. I don’t know why.)
(At least he doesn’t go by “Wlodzimiers!”)
But regardless, Ali is his favorite owner. Because sometimes…she gives him ice cubes in his water.
Okay I spent nearly the whole post answering Travis’ question.
But Fred is an intriguing character. He deserved it.
No, I am not. I quit doing that last summer when I began to get sick – it had just become too much for a variety of different reasons. I do still offer advice over email and Twitter from time to time, especially since I still receive regular butt emails due to this post.
I now buy all my jeans (and recommend that others do the same) from HauteLook (Nordstrom Rack’s Zulily-esque site) because they have great jeans and fantastic prices. But of course you have to know what fits you first…so it’s only helpful if you already know what works. Which, I suppose, is where the butt picture emails come in.
But, to answer Fi’s question, I DO plan on doing more denim blog posts – I have several in mind. However, those take huge amounts of work and research (some have taken over 40 hours), so the time to create those posts has to present itself to me.
And finally, Jenna asked, “Does Ali have a drawl like Noah?”
Well I don’t know because I don’t hear Noah’s drawl. So…I figured you’d need to decide for yourselves. I told Ali that y’all wanted to hear her talk (she knows ALL about who you are, but Noah has no idea that you exist), so this is what she chose to tell you.
(Note that I wasn’t lying when I said she introduces herself as an artist every time.)
So how about it.
Does she drawl?
And what is Fred’s name at your house?
p.s. – Kathleen, I got your question after I wrote this post. So….I guess I’ll have to write a post just to answer it! …Eventually. That one’ll take some thought.
I have endless things to blog about and no time to actually sit down and write. Or when I do, Life (again!) has dismantled my brain in such a way that words will not come.
Blurg.
So today, It’s your turn to help me out.
It is officially introduce yourself and/or ask me anything day.
Pick one or the other or both.
Tell me random facts about you. Your most bizarre quirks. Or your kid’s quirks. They won’t mind.
And the questions. What have you always wanted to ask me? What do you wish I’d blog about, flesh out, revisit, or re-post?
Or better yet, do you have any fantastic stories that just need to share – either in guest post form or in interview form, like I did with one of my favorite stories last year from my friends Chuck and Lydia? Tell me more.
I’ll answer your questions next week. And hopefully get at least a few of my stories written, too.
There’s something about Easter in The South that compels people to dress at least 2.25 tiers up from their usual Sunday attire, and also in an Easter-Basket variety of pastels.
This further tempts said southerners to record such events with photography and post them on Facebook, making news feeds everywhere below the Mason-Dixon look like Spring J.Crew catalogs.
I don’t know why. It’s what we do.
Although I’ve shared my negative feelings (perhapsfartoooften) on smock, which is of course the prime rib choice of southern mothers for Easter-tiered dressing, I am not exempt from this disease and indeed have taken it a step further, always having our Easter family photo made in the exact same spot – on our porch swing. So if we ever wanted to see how our family has morphed over five years, well goshdarnit we can.
(And yes. I wore the same dress this year that I did last year. No, I do not deserve to be a southerner.)
I also try to take a cousins picture every year in that same spot, only having been forced to attempt a different location last year.
I could get caught up in lamenting how much our children have grown and further find myself desiring to add just one more tiny adorable baby to the mix, but the increasing levels of chaos in each year’s picture help remind me that…we’re good.
Other than those few still(ish) moments, Easter is all about movement. The Spring has sprung, the sun is shining, egg hunts abound, and Easter Basket Candy Fuel must be run off.
As such, I find the short-term time passages of time just as fascinating as the long-term ones.
For instance, a rapid-fire photography journey of waiting, then running out the door for an Easter Egg Hunt…In youngest-to-oldest age order.
The correct order should be Andi, Noah, Tessa, Eli, Ali. But before the green light was given, the order had already shifted to Andi, Noah, Eli, Tessa, Ali. Watch the next two seconds as Ali, bound by oldest child characteristics, desperately attempts to maintain line propriety even though any chance of that was already lost with Eli and his blazingly fast airplane basket.
But once she was set free from her shackles of self-imposed responsibility, she caught up with determined frenzy.
Another experiment in time lapse photography was when I told my children to stand RIGHT next to each other and smile so I could get their picture…and maybe even put their arms around each other.
I knew that wasn’t going to happen. Ali, however, always seems to be holding out hope that maybe this time Noah will follow her strict moral tenets of behavior.
Poor girl.
And of course, the cousins photography attempt is always a time lapse goldmine. Not less than one nor more than four children shall ever look composed at once. Ever.
But after everything,
If I just need a picture to go right for a change,
There’s always Ali.
Thank God for Firstborns.
…Even if they do spend an inordinate amount of time worrying about all the terrible possibilities that can come to pass due to people shorter than them.
Every time we bathe, dear child, I will wash and rinse your hair. This is not some sort of water torture I have forged break your will and make you scream. There is no reason to fight me on leaning your head back – I am trying to save your sensitive little eyes from soap. And every time you insist on swinging your head back up? Yup. You will get soapy eyes. Here’s an idea: try it my way. See how you like it.
You have no entitlement to the car stereo 100% of the time. So that 5% of the time that I refuse to play the Frozen Soundtrack on repeat, it’s really not necessary for you to respond as if I just cut off your middle toe. I promise to never cut off your middle toe. Unless you make me listen to that Frozen Soundtrack one too many times.
(Which, by the way, I did have the realization that how I feel about Let it Go must be exactly how my parents felt about me singing Ariel’s solo all day every day for the entire year of 1990 and half of 1991. ah-ah-ah…..ah-ah-AH!!…ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah…..ah-AH-AHHHHH!!! Those were some good lyrics.)
(I’m sorry, Mom.)
If you pull on your toys long enough, they will break. If you repeat the same force over again, they will break again. Mourning at each break could be avoided – logic would suggest to quit doing the action that produces the undesirable outcome. You might want to try to acquire some of that logic stuff.
Do Not Bang is a universal command and it applies to all hard objects that fit in your hand. NONE of them are acceptable banging devices. Especially in the car. And trying to tug on our musical heartstrings by saying “But I was just playing an instrument!” is distasteful.
(Mainly because it’s effective.)
When I say “smile and say cheese” I MEAN “smile and say cheese.” I do NOT mean “Run away screaming “NOOOO!” while covering your face.” When you’re twenty-five and decide to complain that you have fewer childhood pictures than your older sister, I might explode and cut off your middle toe.
Sleep. Sleep is a GOOD thing. Without sleep you are a holy terror the size of Paris Hilton when they run out of vintage Louis Vuitton trunks. Sleep is precious. Sleep is lovely. Sleep should be sought and celebrated and anticipated. Daily disappointment over this blessing from The Lord Above should cease immediately.
When I say “Do not (insert whatever here)”, if you immediately do noted action, you will face punishment. Bewilderment at your circumstances is highly unmerited and will be ignored by the high courts of parental oversight.
Oh, really? The rocks in the driveway hurt your feet? And this shocks you? You poor thing. If you’d not taken your shoes off every single time I put them on, maybe your still-in-tact toes would be more cozy. Shoes – they’re not the inhumane devices of torment that you think they are.
At some point, the television must be turned off. It will come on again at another point in the most likely near future. Anguish and gnashing of teeth every time it goes off as if I’ve ruined your life by depriving you of all its joys is highly unnecessary.
The rules never change about where your tongue belongs. It does not belong on the playground slide. It does not belong on the doctor’s office floor. It does not belong on the chair in the airport terminal. It does not belong on the bottom of your sister’s shoe. It does not belong on the black spot on the floor of the downtown central library. Your tongue belongs IN YOUR FREAKING MOUTH. And asking “But whyyyyy??” in a pitiful, repressed voice does not make me waiver on my harsh and over-bearing tongue rules.
And all of the above is why God made you the most adorable creature that ever lived.
Hold on – before I write, if you’re anywhere near local enough to be willing to come to Birmingham, fill me in on your calendar for the evening of May 12.
Got it?
Okay. Now we can continue.
It has been seven weeks since I launched my new site, Picture Birmingham, and I figured it was time to write a progress report.
It’s been fun, it’s been scary, it’s been busy, it’s been exhausting, it’s been everything. But ultimately, it’s been a very rewarding endeavor, blessing me more than I’ve been able to bless The WellHouse.
There have been some incredible sunsets to add to my collection,
Picture Birmingham has raised over $1,650 $1,800 so far to give directly to The WellHouse. The support in Birmingham has been huge, but I must say – those of you out of state (and in Canada) who have bought prints, canvases and note cards will always have a special place in my heart. It means so much to me that you would support this ministry by buying a picture of my city. But I so appreciate every one of you regardless of location, as do the precious women at The WellHouse.
And the more I learn about The WellHouse, the more I am amazed and humbled by what they are doing, what they are sacrificing, and how much they are investing to offer hope and healing to women all over the country.
Speaking of.
I admit that I’m terrible about finding time to sit down and watch long YouTube videos, so even though I knew how powerful this video was, I had not watched it until I attended a WellHouse event last Sunday night. So. I to-o-o-o-tally get it if you don’t have 20 minutes to watch this right now, but I highly recommend that you do watch it soon – because we all need to know how extraordinarily high-tech and deceptive trafficking has become so that we can protect our children and be equipped to help others.
http://youtu.be/FAUCXlUcQvI
It’s a scary world out there, y’all, and we need to be aware of what’s happening…and help fix it.
The WellHouse is doing just that – both locally and nationally. They are currently moving from offering transitional housing for rescued victims (30-45 days) to also having a long term recovery center. They have 70 acres of land with four houses on it and are building a program that can help these ladies, men, and children find full healing and transition back into society with new hope and direction.
But this takes money. A lot of money. It costs $1,200 a month to provide for all the needs of one victim(except for the rescue itself, which can cost as much as $4,500.)
I want to be able to continue helping them long-term and with increasing impact through Picture Birmingham. As such, I have committed to several on-site events – not something that was in my original plan, but something that has been very worthwhile.
(Remember? You already marked me down for May 12. So hooray! You can come!)
I would love for all of you who are local to come and eat that night – Marco will be donating a percentage of all of his sales to The WellHouse, and I will be there selling Picture Birmingham prints, note cards and canvases, with all of the profits going to The WellHouse.
AND, I would get to visit with you!
AND, you would get to eat some of the best food in Birmingham! I’ve been telling you about this place for years, so if you haven’t been yet, it’s about time.
So please consider going out to eat that night – I would adore face to face time with any of you! You can RSVP on the Facebook event or just let me know you’ll be there in the comments.
In the meantime, if you’d like to go ahead and order Picture Birmingham products, Please do!! I have a coupon code for you: “thanksforreading” will get you 12% off your entire order until April 30 – and don’t forget that Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are coming up!
And finally and most importantly,
THANK YOU.
For all of your shares, likes, comments, purchases, tweets, emails, and support.
I feel like I have done my state a disservice by not talking about American Idol this year.
After all, three of the TOP SEVEN finalists are from Alabama. They call themselves…Alabama Power. Okay that’s cheesy but my hometown music venue, WorkPlay, even got a shout-out last week!
But.
Although I’ve enjoyed the Alabama connections and I adore the city of Slapout (the name, not the actual place – just like everyone else in Alabama, I’ve never actually visited Slapout), that’s not what has really stuck out to me this season.
It’s Harry.
I’ve always been a huge American Idol fan. Since it started, which also happened to be the first year Chris and I were married, I’ve watched all but two seasons – the first was the year Fantasia won. I’m not sure what happened that year, but I just completely missed it.
And the second was last season.
I tried – really, I did – but Mariah Carey and Nicki Minaj were the most unsavory characters ever introduced to television (seriously – they beat the Kardashians and Jersey Shore and I thought only Satan in a string bikini could do that), creating fake cat fights and diva moments in a poor attempt to draw us all in through the drama.
It was painful and I couldn’t stomach it – especially since I have a guilty soft spot for Mariah’s husband, Nick Cannon – all I could do was feel sorrow for him and his choices. I sadly bemoaned that it appeared the reign of American Idol was over – the only redeeming character left was Ryan Seacrest, who will always have a corner of my heart, sweet southern boy that he is.
But this year, when I heard the judge’s lineup, I felt it was only right to give them one more chance to fix it.
And fix it they did.
Although J. Lo and Keith Urban make great complementary judges, Harry Connick Jr. is the clear show stealer.
He is so charming he actually takes away some of the charmlight from Ryan – something I wasn’t prepared for.
Harry’s list of positive characteristics are, in my mind,
~ He is nice YET honest, due obviously to his southern upbringing,
~ His gorgeous eyes,
~ He cares about these kid’s messages and images, and discouraged girls from projecting sluttishness,
~ His eyes,
~ He actually knows what he’s talking about when it comes to music and gives the contestants extraordinarily useful advice in the areas of vocal technique so as to save their voices – something no judge has ever done before,
~ And did I mention his eyes?
~ (Also, he has nice lips.)
I was confused as to why I’d never found HCJ necessarily attractive in the past – especially since I’m a total sucker for Hope Floats. (I’m admitting all kinds of unpopular taste in this post, aren’t I?) And then, one night, it all became clear.
Harry seems to have had Pre-American-Idol Plastic Surgery.
For my entire life he had an awkwardly crooked chin and therefore smile, and all of a sudden now, that crookedness is completely gone.
Behold.
Before – the awkward, slightly-odd HCJ (except for the notated recent picture):
After – the new and improved HCJ:
If you can’t tell in my tiny Google Images screenshots, go Google him yourself. You’ll see.
Obviously, I immediately googled “Has Harry Connick Jr had plastic surgery?” because I learned long ago to always ask The Google questions.
And oddly enough, there was nothing stating that this has occurred. I felt as if I’d decoded the Rosetta Stone, and I and I alone held this important piece of celebrity information.
How are people not talking about this?!
Have we as a society moved past talking about celebrity’s obvious facial changes?
Surely not.
The man has gone from always looking as if he’s smelling something putrid to a seriously charming gentleman and no one seems to have noticed – it’s as if we were all cast under his spell and are repeating, in a dreamlike state, “He’s always been this way…he’s always been this way.”
Not that I’m complaining about his choice of Plastic Surgery. If I had the time and resources, I have a large-sized post-it note filled with things I’d like to get fixed about myself.
This is simply about my amazement at the fact that no one is talking about this.
So let’s talk.
Guys.
Harry Connick Jr. has had a very recent plastic surgery.
