Now admit it, isn’t this the cutest picture you’ve ever seen of me with cow bladders drying over my head? Let me just say, I loved biology class, so this story didn’t bother me in the least. I also love the pageantry and tradition of Mardi Gras in Mobile, Alabama, so to be invited…
Not to bore you out of your gourd with more book things, but this is such a crazy learning experience for me and I have such good news! Writing a book is totally different from marketing and selling a book. A publisher only does so much and I have to do the rest, which of…
Who would have thought the home of Scarlett O’Hara would give us the best-tasting collard greens ever . . . courtesy of a Mexican restaurant? I hate to admit it, but I haven’t always like collard greens. They were always too slimy or too bitter. I know, my Southern-ness is questionable now because I’ve also…
Speaking of the new year . . . here’s a photo of my neatly organized drawer of calendars from over the last few years. Okay — over the last 14 years to be exact. Snuggled in the drawer next to my hankies (see the Christmas hankie?), they sit, year after year, records of meetings, parties…
The year I thought I would definitely win the Mother of the Year award, I decided to secure the trophy and crown by throwing a little Christmas party for my boys. I convinced my husband to dress up in an old Mardi Gras tunic and tie a folded tablecloth around his head to make…
I can freak out over a Christmas tree like no one else. Other things may get (literally) swept under the rug, but for some reason, my tree has to be perfect. I poke and fluff each branch daily up until about 11pm on December 24th to make sure it is the loveliest tree of all.…
Finally, the weekend before Thanksgiving, and its just now cool enough to feel like fall. I was able to wear my boots to the Lighting of the Trees last night without feeling weird. Actually, Bob and I avoided the (pushing) masses of the tree lighting and instead attended the very exclusive lighting of the…
Our eldest son was a bit shy, or so we thought, until we discovered he was more accurately stubborn. When an acquaintance stopped, leaned down, and asked, “What’s your name?” our son stared straight at him with no emotion whatsoever. “Tell Mr. McGibby what your name is,” we coached. Still, our darling little redhead looked…