Boot Scootin' Boogie Buggie

July is almost over and it has been CRAZY. KRAY-ZEE. CU.RAE.ZIE. It has been a wild ride and it's not over yet. The old house in Bethany is sold and we close in a few weeks, but we're still doing the repair things on the buyer's list. And we haven't moved our furniture out of there, but we don't have the heart to ask for any one's help because we've already moved too much too many times.

I'm thinking that hiring a few college boys when the time comes might be a good idea. Aren't they usually hungry and willing to move heavy stuff for a pizza and some cash? Personally, I've never met such college boys. But I hear they exist. Maybe we're looking in the wrong place. Maybe I should go ask the guy who stands in front of the pizza place with the big sign, dancing to the music in his head, no matter the weather. I bet he would move some furniture for cash. Most college boys just aren't hungry enough for manual labor.

Just call me middle aged and cranky. Go ahead, do it. I probably won't hear you.

Oh, I was about to sign off when I realized the "Boot Scootin' Boogie Buggie" was still hanging out there in the blog title. Angela and I saw that stenciled on a van at the Guymon Senior Center last week. I was reminded of it this morning as Mark and my father-in-law were scooting my mother-in-law out the door on their way to get her knee replaced. I think that's what I'll call their van from now on. Maybe after her knee surgery, my mother-in-law can do some boot scootin' and boogieing of her own. Prayers are appreciated.

I would never make a good stage mom

You know how at the Olympics or some other big sporting events there is occasionally a mother who refuses to watch her progeny? The mom who just can't deal with the stress, would rather pace, praying and sweating, outside the stadium than sit inside and have a nervous breakdown? That's how I feel today.

It's a long story. Here it is in brief because 1) I have to go to work soon and B) I really do need to go to work soon.

So my youngest child, Tessa, was born with a musical gift. She did NOT get that from her mother. She most definitely got it from her father, who has an amazing ear for music. Actually, Angela has a musical gift too, but it's not for singing, it's for languages. That girl can hear the lilt and rhythm of a language and mimic it perfectly.

So Tessa's first solo vocal performance that I can remember was at the age of 4 when in a Christmas pageant she sang "Away in a Manager" solo because her duet partner got sick at the last minute. It was perfect and on pitch and beautiful. From that time on she starred in many a role in church and school productions, dreaming of making it big in the music industry.

In 5th grade she won a singing contest and was asked to perform the piece at an award dinner. Long story short, for the first time in her life she froze, got confused, and burst into tears. Since then she's sung in public off and on, but usually not solo.

Fast forward to this weekend, where she is scheduled to sing a solo as a small part of a big production in the giganto arena at the State's University. Why not just dive in? Who needs to start small. She has invited grandparents, aunty, sister and brother-in-law to watch. Rehearsals have been going very well, she's once again day dreaming about a singing career. Until yesterday.

They had a bad rehearsal, her solo sucked, and now she's freaking out. And I'm considering faking a sudden illness so I can just spend the performance on my knees somewhere, begging the God of the Universe to have mercy and give her what she needs to get through it and do well, and reestablish the love of singing that He gave her from such an early age. Lord God, let her forget herself and get lost in the joy that is singing, filled up and overflowing with the knowledge that you give good gifts, and that her gift of music is wrapped with peace and confidence and sheer, unadulterated FUN.

And God, while you're at it...help me not to throw up.

Long line of luv

Greetings from Newton, KS where the coffee is always on, the food flows abundantly and there are delicious baked goods in the freezer. Oh, and card games run until the wee hours. Mark's parental units are 80 and 83 and a sheer pleasure. I have no idea what people are talking about when they spit out the word "in-laws" like an obscenity.

Jeez, Mark just pulled a 72 oz. bag of chocolate chips out of the freezer. Oh great. Mark just spilled the 72 oz. bag of chocolate chips.

So anyway, I forgot what I was saying. Oh, the "in-laws". Couldn't ask for a better pair. There's a country song that says something about coming from a long line of love. Actually, it's more like luuuv. But it describes Mark's family perfectly. Until death do us part has been lived out before our eyes for several generations. And those are just the generations we've witnessed. The line goes waaay back.

We've prayed and talked and prayed some more and all are now in agreement that we need to be sharing a house. Retirement centers and assisted living facilities are expensive. Two households is one too many for Mark to maintain. Last night we had a heart-to-heart around the dining room table and consecrated the decision with bowed heads, joined hands, prayer and tears. May it be as God has spoken. Amen.