Southern Living

God is good

Across the street lives a Bible Methodist preacher, whom we respect. He was given this ugly poo green van from a Baptist church. It has been an eye sore that has never left the confines of their front lawn for the past two years.

Last week, through a powerful storm, God took care of the eye sore for us. We were surprised when the preacher informed us that they were grateful that God took care of it for them too. I guess they hadn’t known what to do with the donated van! Now, all I can do is hope that the demolished van won’t sit there in this pathetic state for another couple of years. God would have to send a tornado next to take it away (because you know it won’t be translated). We were very fortunate that this week’s recent storms didn’t make it this far east. God really has watched over us.

The bad news associated with the riddance of the van was that our power was out for 36 hours. This tree also took out the preacher’s power line which shorted the transformer box to just three houses. The power company had about 4,000 customers to get back up and running after the storm. Our three houses were probably the lowest on the priority list.

I spent the day at a friend’s house (isn’t having your power out a good excuse to miss school) and we decided to come back home and sleep. We tried to turn it into an adventure for the kids. We heat up our small room with our camp heater and made a makeshift bed for the girls that was built up high enough to be even with the height of our bed. It got down to the 20’s outside and the 40’s in the house.

The kids wore two pairs of pj’s, hats, and socks. (these cute animal hats were a gift from Korea, if any of you have seen the missing tiger, would you let me know – Bella wasn’t happy that she had to wear a plain old taboggan) The girls thought that the most fun part was counting the amount of blankets I put over the top of them. 13! They also really enjoyed the emergency crank flashlight/radio. They were amazed at how they could tune to different channels. They really do live a sheltered life, don’t they?

We couldn’t put them to sleep without our nightly scripture study. We are trying to read the whole Book of Mormon again this year. Here is LG reading with the assistance of a flashlight. You can’t see LG’s face or the flashlight between his face and the book. (just in case you couldn’t make that observation yourself)

God and KUB blessed us a second time within the 36 hour timeframe and had the power fixed at 4 am, just when it started to get really cold. This is how we found the girls the next morning. So much for the blankets and hats.

Preachin Politics

An old country preacher had a teenage son, and it was getting time the boy should give some thought to choosing a profession. Like many young men, the boy didn’t really know what he wanted to do, and he didn’t seem too concerned about it.

One day, while the boy was away at school, his father decided to try an experiment.
He went into the boy’s room and placed on his study table four objects:
a Bible,a silver dollar,a bottle of whiskyand a Playboy magazine ‘I’ll just hide behind the door,’ the old preacher said to himself, ‘when he comes home from school this afternoon,I’ll see which object he picks up.If it’s the Bible, he’s going to be a preacher like me and what a blessing that would be! If he picks up the dollar, he’s going to be a businessman, and that would be okay, too. But if he picks up the bottle, he’s going to be a no-good drunkard,and, Lord, what a shame that would be.And worst of all, if he picks up that magazine he’s gonna be a skirt-chasin’ bum.’

The old man waited anxiously, and soon heard his son’s footsteps as he entered the house whistling and headed for his room. The boy tossed his books on the bed, and as he turned to leave the room he spotted the objects on the table. With curiosity in his eye, he walked over to inspect them.

Finally, he picked up the Bible and placed it under his arm.
He picked up the silver dollar and dropped it into his pocket.
He uncorked the bottle and took a big drink while he admired this month’s Centerfold.
‘Lord have mercy,’ the old preacher disgustedly whispered, ‘He’s gonna run for Congress!’

VOTE FOR MITT. He’s only got the Bible and the silver dollar.

To my readers from Kentucky

So, I am finally famous. Somewhere in my own little world, I am celebrating. I would love to be a famous writer, but I know that I need a lot of help with my writing skills before that will ever happen. (Practice is one of the reasons for this blog – it is a great way to force myself to write)

So, why am I famous you ask? I have told myself if my reader’s ever get five deep, then I will be on my way. Well, what do you know…that happened just this morning. Here is the chainlink: I told Missy about my blog, who told Erika, who told Renee, and then an old friend Kristen found me from Renee’s blog this morning….so, I guess that I am not famous. (oh how fast the glory was ripped from my clenched fist) This is only four deep. (Math is not my expertise) And, I guess to be fair, I already knew Kristen and so she may not count. But, it is sure exciting to feel loved!!!

Well, to honor the moment, I thought I would give Renee and Kristen, some Kentucky humor. Kristen said that they were friends in Kentucky. You can tell that Kristen is a Kentucky transplant because she says that we Tennesseeans are more Southern than Kentuckians. I guess she doesn’t know that Kentucky has more of a reputation for being backwards.

So, here is Kentucky humor from my father-in-law. Brought to all of you in honor of my blog almost being famous in the small State of Kentucky! (Hey, I’ll take what I can get)

Pikeville Kentucky Commandments

Some people in Kentucky have trouble with all those “shalls” and “shall
nots” in the Ten commandments. Folks just aren’t used to talking in those
terms. So, some folks in eastern KY got together and translated the “King
James” into ” Pike County ” language…. No joke, read on…
The
Hillbilly’s Ten Commandments(posted on the wall at the City Hall in Pikeville
KY.)

(1) Just one God
(2) Honor yer Ma & Pa
(3) No tellin’ tales or gossipin’
(4) Git yourself to Sunday meetin’
(5) Put nothin’ before God
(6) No foolin’ around with another fellow’s gal
(7) No killin’
(8) Watch yer mouth
(9) Don’t take what ain’t yers
(10) Don’t be hankerin’ for yer buddy’s stuff

Y’all have a nice day.

Papa’s Puns

A comment left on my post from yesterday made me think that my father-in-law is secretly reading my blog. (I would be so honored) The anonymous comment was in regard to me working as a cashier at Target and said:”Some people hope for change; some people talk about change, but I’ve been working hard to make change since 2007!!!!!!”

Sure, anyone could have left this comment, but really, who left in this world has a pun in his pocket so readily? Duane does like to torture us all continually with his play on words, but it never really gets old. He may be getting old, but unlike him his humor will live forever. I don’t think that it would be possible to erase the practice of punnery from the Gold DNA. I am left to wonder where it all originated. I have been told that Grandpa Gold was a great humorist also.

So, I chose the picture of Duane above from behind. I am sure that he will be able to come up with something really good using the word behind. (He always does)

What is a pun exactly? It is just humor that is a play on words. Try to come up with some of your own, it is quite fun. I must warn you though, you may have to think really hard, I have been sitting here for the past 30 minutes and haven’t been able to come up with one. Thank goodness for the google search. It brought up this page from UT which left me wondering if punnery is a Southern thing. No wonder why all those Southern guys are funny.

In our family, Duane’s puns are numbered. Duane likes to pull out his little plays on words whenever his wit is up to the challenge, which unfortunately for us, is always. After ten years in the family, I have observed that Duane always awards himself with a little chuckle as to tell the intended listener that they had better acknowledge the humor also. I love this! And, I also love how the family tries to remember which number the pun is whenever Duane has succeeded at remembering. Really the jokes have never been assigned numbers for that would take all the pun out of it.

According to Erskine a pun is the lowest form of wit. Now, don’t be offended Duane, he also says it is “the foundation of all wit”. Freud also said that, puns are “the cheapest- can be made with the least trouble” (which Duane will find as a compliment I am sure because the Gold’s pride themselves on being thrifty.)

Leave it to Oscar Levant to astutely point out: “A pun is the lowest form of humor- if you didn’t think of it first.” I am making it my goal this year to memorize a few puns so that I can perpetuate the humor into my children. I would also love it if I could master the lowest and cheapeast form of wit – wit in any form, is good to me. It may be an accomplishment of a lifetime if I can ever think of just one good pun before good old Papa.

Here are some puns just for the reader’s delight: (these are all Duane typical)

1. I used to be twins. My mother has a picture of me when I was two.
2. I work as a baker because I knead dough.
3. A dog not only has a fur coat but also pants.
4. Today I’ve got a pressing engagement. I must go to the cleaners.
5. I recently spent money on detergent to unclog my kitchen sink. It was money down the drain.

The Southern Baptists

In no way do I want to be disrespectful to my friends of other faiths, but I just gotta blog about something kind of funny. I love the Southern Christian people. We are surrounded by people who are not afraid to talk about their faith and this is not only refreshing but faith promoting. The picture above is the Historical First Baptist church in downtown Knoxville.

But, on with my entry. (Please don’t be offended anyone) In the South, we are known as the Bible Belt. I never quite understood what that meant until I moved here 4 years ago. We literally have a different church on every corner. (as opposed to different LDS ward buildings in Utah) On some intersections you can even find two different Baptist churches across from one another. I have no idea how many different sects that there are in the Baptist church. Here are the ones that I have learned of: Southern Baptist, Primitive Baptist, Calvary Baptist, First Baptist. Some of these could just be names of congregations, I’m not totally sure. The point being that we are the Bible Belt because people around here really read their Bibles.

From what I have learned about Baptists, the most important thing one can do is be “saved”. Besides that, it doesn’t really matter what you believe and as a Baptist you can go to whichever church you want, picking a preacher that you like. Agreeing with all the doctrines preached is a huge bonus, and the main reason that the number of congregations are always growing. Being a Mormon, however, is not acceptable to people of the Baptist faith. The Baptists don’t consider us to be Christian because for some reason their preachers have taught them that our being saved is not the same as theirs. I still have yet to figure that out.

Here is an interesting website I came across tonight: Knoxkoupons. I can make no sense whatsoever as to why there is a website that totally focuses on church congregations with the title having the word Koupon in it. I am also unsure as to whether or not I should be saddened by the fact that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is not on the list.

So, onto the funny part. As I have mentioned before, we have a funny way of talking here in the South. I never really thought about the origin of our vocabulary words until I was recently enlightened in Sunday School. Here are two seperate Bible references that we studied within the past couple of weeks.

Rom. 8: 18
18 For I reckon that the asufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the bglory which shall be revealed cin us.

Rom. 12: 14
14 Bless them which persecute you: bless, and curse not.

So, I got an answer to a question that I had never bothered to ask just by going to Sunday School. (this could be some kind of motivational “attend your meetings” speech) The question: Where do Southerners get their vocabulary? The origin: The Holy Bible. Two Southern phrases from tbe Book or Romans: “I reckon” & “Bless his heart”.

Our family especially likes the Southern phrase, “bless his heart.” You can almost get away with murder, as long as you are willing to say “bless his heart” after you kill someone. For instance, “Oh honey, you are getting so fat, bless your heart.”

Did you know?

According to this picture, I am the Appalachian trail. I wonder if my daughters know. They seem pretty oblivious here.

This is the way we do it in the south

So, I am addicted to reading the comments on my blog. The other day I was frustrated because none of my blogging friends have updated and no one is giving me the desperate attention I shouldn’t need. LG informed me that I have fallen away from what I do best, telling funny stories. “No one wants to read about your kids”, he said. He then informed me that I ruined my reading audience because back in the beginning I was getting at least 20 hits a day, and that now, if we could remember how to get to my tracker it would be just the same 5 friends. Oh well, I guess I’ll never be famous. Isn’t this blogging thing so egotistical? Who really wants to read anything that I have to write about except other bloggers who are just as desperate as I am for some comment action. I mean really, be honest with yourself, don’t we all blog for the comments?

So, on with my desperate attempt to entertain my readers with a story that doesn’t have to do with my children. Which may backfire because all of my readers may be in the future when my children get older and decide to do genealogy by reading their mom’s blog. And, then they will just want to hear their stories, and instead they will find this one. Man, us mom’s, sometimes we just can’t win.

A few years ago, when I was very new to the South and was trying to learn all the new vocabulary I had an interesting experience at WalMart. Of course it happened at Wal-Mart because Tennesseans don’t shop anywhere else. This story has to do with the picture above in a round about way…see if you can figure it out. I got the picture above from, I know you won’t believe it, the international towing museum, which is amazingly located down south a bit in Chattanooga,TN.

I was checking out in the regular line, as opposed to the infamous Self Check Out, which is where I normally check out. I may have shied away from Self Check Out a little after the above mentioned linked experience, and come to think of it, it was shortly after the funny check out story and I was checking out late at night (which explains why I wasn’t in my favorite closed self check out line.)

So, this night, a gruff looking man pulled his buggy up behind mine (we use the word buggy instead of shopping cart in the South) On a side note, I learned very quickly to holler (not yell) at my children to get in the buggy. No onlookers understood my discipline when I told my kids to get in the cart. I like to think of my audience you know. So, on with the story, as the cashier checked out my mountains of groceries, this gruff man asked her politely if she would keep an eye on his buggy. He explained, “I’m a wrecker driver and I just got a page.” He took off and the cashier pulled his buggy of merchandise out of the line.

I was perplexed. “What’s a wrecker driver?”, I asked the cashier, with as close as I can get to a Southern accent. I knew I would sound as if I was from a foreign country. The cashier looked at me as if I was from a foreign country. I explained further, “If you can’t tell already, I am not from the South.” (not hard for most people to notice since calling a shopping cart a buggy is as close as I get to a southern drawl) “So what that you aren’t from the south, are you stupid?”, her glare seemed to scream at me. So, I asked again,”What’s a wrecker driver, I really don’t know what that is.”

As she must have noticed the tear forming in my eye from frustration, she answered nonchalantly, “It’s a person who drives a wrecker, honey.”

I probably should have stopped there, but just couldn’t end the insanity until I got my answers. “What’s a wrecker?”

“Well, you know, honey, it’s the thing that people call when they’ve been in an accident or their car broke down.”

“Ohhhhhhhhh, a TOW TRUCK!”, I responded feeling so enlightened.

She then replied, “What’s a tow truck?” I saved her the humiliation and explained, “It’s what the rest of this country calls a wrecker driver.”

Well surely this WalMart cashier must have been the more misinformed person because even the best of the best wrecker drivers call their museum the “International TOWING Museum”, not the “International Wrecker Museum.” I took pride in myself tonight for knowing more than the old WalMart checker about wreckers. Surely she doesn’t know about the wrecker museum or this website that I found tonight while searching for a picture of a wrecker to post.

Do you think I can pass as a true Southerner yet? I guess I’ll have the ultimate test when my car breaks down. If I look under the T’s in the yellow book before I look up the W’s than I will have failed. But, if I go straight to the “wrecker section”, well, then let’s just say that then y’all will know that I am at least one southern vocabulary word closer.

California Fires

So, LG and I took the girls for a getaway to the Atlanta temple yesterday. It’s a three hour drive each way. We left very early to get a jump start and it was a typical Southern Fall foggy morning.

Between navigating for LG, taking care of the kids in the car, and making the 7 soccer party calls from my cell phone, my mind wandered from the road. I looked up to see a wall of “smoke”. I exclaimed, “Honey, there’s a fire, slow down.”

Yes, I’m a Californian and grew up among frequent fires. LG turned to me and said, “Go home hippie.”

He didn’t really say that but that’s not the point. Our conversation just now went something like this.

Me: “Well, aren’t fog and smoke from the same element anyway?”

“No, Fog is water; smoke is pollution, you hippie.”

“What are you talking about you redneck, smoke is not pollution.”

The Master of Folk Art

Here is my birthday present from LG. I saw these kitchen canisters on the 75% off shelf at Cracker Barrel last week. I slyly told LG to tell his mom to get them for me for Christmas. Lo and behold, I didn’t have to wait that long. THANK YOU LG. You mastered my folk art wish list today. I LOVE IT!

I was very happy this morning with my surprise. I thought that you were going to get me that body spray I have been asking for from Target, but these canisters were way better. Good sneakiness honey. Now you can tell your mom to get me that Duchess body spray that I want for Christmas instead. (According to this link I shouldn’t waste my time, but as you all know you can’t trust everything you read on the Internet, and I love the scent of this stuff – The blogger also explains why I can’t find the item online to link it) I guess you won’t have to tell your mom LG because she can just read my blog. he he I love this “wish list” feature of the blog!

I love the idea of these canisters being in my kitchen (the place I spend the most time besides my bed). They will act as a constant reminder of the three greatest blessings in my life: Faith, Family and Freedom. How beautiful. I also love the style of these canisters. I am totally into folk art. Someday I am going to buy myself some authentic art. Or I can wait for LG to do it now that I’ve mentioned it on my blog wish list.

I also love the memory of being at the Cracker Barrel in Morristown when I found these. We had met my in-laws there halfway. We do this often when swapping off the kids for time at grammy’s and papa’s. It was Sophia’s birthday and we had already celebrated her special day on Sunday. She had spent two days with Duane and Faye and we were meeting to have a birthday dinner and exchange the kids back. Duane and Faye had taken them for a visit so that LG and I could discuss our future plans. I was distraught because with all the bar news ongoings I had forgotten to bring her a little something special for her actual birthday.

LG quickly comforted me with, “Don’t worry, all the girls love to shop at Cracker Barrel, I will just give her some money.” After dinner we all looked and looked for that perfect birthday toy. Everyone took turns suggesting to Sophia what would be in her budget of $10. Sophia only wanted the higher priced items. Abigail took Sophia over to the clearance side of the store and they came running back, “Mom, mom, come and see what Sophia wants to get.” Abigail informed me that it would cost under $5. (which is pretty amazing considering she is in 3rd grade and did the 75% off math for the original $10 item)

The item was a cute princess tiara wall hanging with shelf for the included mirror, brush, powder and the rankest smelling perfume ever. Of course I was sick for the next three days as all the girls sprayed it all over the house until I finally decided to hide it. Sophia was thrilled! She had found something nice for 75% off. These girls have been trained to find a deal! It was a proud parenting moment.

Not quite as proud as a few days ago when we were at Wal-Mart in the candy aisle. I was talking to LG on my cell phone and looking for single packaged peanuts as the girls ran ahead to pick out some candy. Bella came running back and questioned,”Mom, what is our budget for candy?” LG, with a chuckle, said in my other ear,”Did she just ask you what her candy budget is?”

Here is a photo of Bella playing the the Styrofoam from my birthday package. Bella has been begging to get on the computer and play Arthur as I have been typing this entry. I told her to hang on a few minutes longer so that I could type a story about her. She asked me to read it to her. She wants me to make the correction that it was Abigail that sent her back down the long Wal-Mart aisle to “ask mom what our candy budget is”

Smokey

After reading Lindsey’s blog about bleeding orange I remembered that I had some pretty good pictures of the girls celebrating LG’s UT Law graduation. Here are just two of those pictures.

This is a picture of Bella with her orange and white pom pom and Abigail with Smokey. This story is about Bella and Smokey (UT’s one and only Vol mascot), but, as you can see, there is no picture of Bella WITH Smokey.

You see, Abigail tried to take Bella up to see Smokey, but Bella (my toughest daughter by far) choked halfway up the bleachers. Abigail was bewildered because she was trying to hurry to get to Smokey on time before Smokey moved on, and Bella just froze. I was watching them all the way and because of my prior experience with big stuffed animals, I knew from afar that Bella may be having issues.

My little sister Renee hated Chuck E Cheese when she was small. For all I know, she still does.

Well, anyhow, I had to run up and retrieve Bella from Abigail’s care, so that Abigail could hurry and get this photo. Before I was even able to snap the photo, I had to take a very anxious Bella back to the other side of the Colliseum to her father so he could protect her from the big bad mascot.

The rest of the evening Bella kept her very vigiliant watch on Smokey and kindly asked to go home whenever he got too close. We were trying every kind of reasoning to teach Bella that the big stuffed dog would not hurt her. The first reasoning being just that: he is just a big stuffed dog. Nothing was working. I have to admit that my best 3 year old reasoning was this: “Bella, that is just Smokey, he is related to Chuck E Cheese. You remember ChuckE from Sophia’s Birthday party, don’t you? He was so nice. You danced with him and the other kids. Well, Smokey is ChuckE’s cousin.”
This seemed to bewilder Bella more than anything. She was probably trying to figure out how a stuffed dog and a stuffed mouse could actually be related, but then again, maybe not. Now, whenever we see a big stuffed anything ranging from the ChikFilA cow to the Hardee’s Star, the girls always immediately holler, “Bella, look there’s another one of ChuckE’s cousins.