Monthly Archives: June 2011

How to Wash A Car

Step One:
Turn on the water hose and aim it up your brother’s nose.
Continue spraying everyone until they are all completely soaked and crying.

Step Two:
Take one of those rags by the soap bucket and dunk it in the soapy water.
Whatever you do – don’t wring it out.
It is imperative that you make it as heavy as possible!!
This way when you sling it over your head it will have maximum slap-a-bility when it pops across your mother’s face.

Step Three:
Make sure you draw plenty of pictures in the dirt first.  Get it goooood and streaky.
Then do not actually wash any of it off when you swoosh the rag in random shapes all over the van.
Also make sure your mom is smack dab in the middle of washing a window before you spray the water onto said window.
(It’s the perfect way to catch her off guard and leave her choking and gagging on soapy car wash water.)

Step Four:
Convince your sister that she needs a helmet while washing “for safety purposes”.

Step Five:
Watch mom rinse of the van while you pee in the woods.
Giggle and loudly yell, “You’re watering the car just like I’m watering the bushes!”

Step Six:
Sit on the steps with your soaking wet, pantless brother and your helment-on-her-head-for-safety-purposes sister
And enjoy a classic summer favorite: Push Pops

 

Where I’m From

I am from peaches and pimentos,
from Puffalumps and GloWorms and My Little Pony,
and blankets made of washcloths.

I am from board games and sing-a-longs
and backyard birthday parties.

From big bangs and pony tails,
And smocked dresses and jellies.

I’m from ‘grab a pilla and find a spot on the floor’.
And ‘y’all can all share a blanket’.

From hiding in the football toybox and popping out to ‘scare’ our parents.
And emptying out the dresser drawers and pretending to sleep in them.

I am from say the blessin’-fore-you-eat, if-the-doors-are-open-you-are-there church goers.
I’m from drinking sweet tea dipped from a big metal tub at homecomin’.



From singin’ without the hymnal ’cause you know all the words.
And jumpin’ off the front porch of the church just to see if you could get your dress to fly up over yer head.

I am from loading up all our friends and taking the motor home to dinner after Sunday night church.
And I’m from down-home harmonies of “Goodnight, Irene” before we all went home.

I’m from the guys getting together for some pickin’ and grinnin’ at the “Little House”.
I’m from real country music (and not that pop-esque stuff you hear today).

I’m from scratchy sofas with a matching chair and the little matching foot stool.
I’m from loveseats with no legs, but instead a homemade drawer underneath that holds all the toys.

I’m from jalapeno cornbread and plain ol’ mac and cheese.
From dill pickles and pickled peaches.

From Christmas gifts hidden in Styrofoam cups,
From ridin’ to The Jet for bubblegum and coke,
And dressing up like the California Raisins for the school talent show.

I am Bridget Martin Ivey and I am from here.
Who are you?   And where are you from?

****
I saw this first on Stephanie’s blog…then Jenn’s…then Emily’s.
And what can I say?  I’m a follower.  (Sorta.)
Wanna make your own?  Go here for the template.
(I kinda took some artistic liberties.  But it’s my birthday, so that’s allowed!)
Or just share a little bit of your story in the comments below!

Brain Storms

the world swirls around me
by the time night falls,
morning seems days away

bodies trapped inside my house by the stifling heat
thoughts trapped inside my mind by the tornado of activities,
never getting the chance to sit down and write

and when I am afforded the time,
i find that the words aren’t freely flowing-
turned over in my mind so frequently
that they’ve turned to mush.

things i want to say,
but aren’t acceptable in this space

things i’ve written,
but can’t share

things i’ve begun to wrap my heart and mind around,
but it’s not my story to tell.

(in all honesty…
i am afraid to think about it too much
for it makes me worry about my own future.)

and all i know to do is pray.
and so i pray -
so repetitive that it nearly becomes a chant,
the words splash and slosh together
and becomes something new, something wild,
something uncontrollable
and i am befuddled by my very own thoughts

and right here, right now…
that’s okay.
thanks be to god,
it’s okay.

 

Summer in the City

Marshall whisked me off to to New York City for our anniversary.
Go ahead…be jealous.  It was fabulous!

We didn’t get out of Atlanta until later in the evening and we landed in NYC around 10pm.
But we were only going to be there for 2 days, and we were in the city that never sleeps…
So as soon as we dropped our luggage at the hotel, we headed back out.
Nothing like a midnight comedy show at UCB!

And nearly getting run over by a parade of cop cars.

My photography goal(I know I sound like a total geek) was to take as many pictures as possible at kid-level
So that I could show the kidlets what it would have looked like if they had been with us.


(Yes, that is actually a picture.)

We ate at Empanada Mama, where we waited forever(but it was totally worth the wait)!
And seriously?  The caramel and cheese empanada is oddly amazing.

We saw my favorite show!

And wandered aimlessly for hours just talking.

It was a whirlwind trip, but it was wonderful.

Want to see more pictures?  Go here.

 

Perfectly Imperfect

Some of my favorite pictures aren’t really photographically stunning.
Some of my favorite pictures are out of focus or blurry or the color is all wrong or the lighting is wonky.
But they are, none-the-less, some of my favorite pictures:

Sentences on Sunday

A few days ago Carter said, “It’s June 1st?  What happened to May?”
My sentiments exactly, young fella.

Summer is kicking my tail.
But it’s good.

We’ve spent time oohing-and-aaahing at this sweet thing and making her laugh and sigh contentedly.

We’ve read book after book after book.

We have taken swim lessons and practiced what we learned.

We have visited with lots of ‘old’ friends and celebrated new life to come and new weddings to plan!
(Two totally separate celebrations for two totally separate couples!)

We have gone to parties and had parties of our own.

And Marshall and I went on a whirlwind trip to NYC where I kept him up ridiculously late every night.
How can you not stay up late in a place like this?

(More of those pictures coming soon-ish.)

So yes, summer is good.
It is, in fact, quite fabulous.
(But I am still very, very tired.)