I have something I need to tell you.

This blog. This blog that I've used as a therapy tool for the last few years is going to move.

I know many of you read my darling older sister's blog in which she has told you a bit about the merging of our blogs and then the un-merging. What can I say, Rechelle, she changes her mind......a lot. Refer to this post for validation. Also, she thinks I'm too bossy, to which I told her she needs to keep her hair dark, stop dinking with the hutch and start following some garsh darn rules already! Does that sound bossy? Do you all think I'm the older sister? Most people do. I'M THE BABY! Got it? Did you know I even have a sister?

Anyway, not merging our blogs was a huge relief to me, I was starting to think my therapeutic hobby was going to turn into a stress inducing task that would cause me to suffer major migraines and hide from my sister forever.

Rechelle is going to launch her new blog sometime today and on that blog she has had her designer put some very cute links and one of those links is to my new blog, which isn't quite finished. Kinda like I fixed the front of my hair, but left a roller or two in the back. Rechelle gave me the option of taking down the link, but I told her to go ahead and leave it, cuz I'll get around to moving someday.......maybe.

I don't like to move. I mean, yes, I just moved hundreds of miles a year and a half ago to our new home and that was wonderful, but I don't ever, ever, ever want to move again. Which is why my butt is large and in charge. So, moving this blog is painful and time consuming and mind draining.......but a little exciting. Did you know these..... are the best way to express a pause in your writing? Yes, it's true.....I know.....I'm a professional blogger.

er, anyway......

You see, blogging is my hobby, not my job. Although, one time, when I was feeling like a professional blogger, I told the young girl that was cutting my hair, "I do a little freelance writing." What? What did I just say? I know. I'm an idiot. Because then I had to tell her I was a blogger. Idiot. Eeeedeeeeaaaht! I just don't want to pour more of myself into this hobby than I already do, because I fear I would start to dread coming here, it would be a chore. I hate chores. Well, some chores.

Blahhh. Okay, so all that to say, there will be a new sight coming soon, April Showers will still be home base for awhile and I think all of you that take the time out of your day to leave me a comment or stop by and read my dribble are strangely wonderful.

I'll reveal what our new house guest is later, one of you guessed correctly.

I'm still trying to get ready to leave town tomorrow. My four nephews are coming to stay at my house with my parents while I'm gone, so I'm trying to be a nice daughter and fix some meals, stock the fridge, do the laundry, leave instructions for the animals, give a detailed itenerary for each child and make life as easy as possible for them so they will offer to watch my kids again someday when I want to take a four month vacation to Europe. Har har, ha ha, hooooooo! Hey! I can dream!

Over the shoulder

boulder holder.

Or in my case, small landscaping rocks. April has purchased two new bras! It's a miracle, a true blue miracle! Well, except the bras aren't blue. I'd show you a picture, but, um, no. I will tell you that I bought them from Target and they were under $8 on the sale rack. Please, please, I know, thank you, really, please hold your applause, thank you.

In other news....

When it rains it pours my friends. I'm trying to get my life organized enough to leave town for the weekend, but all I can do is turn circles.

Today I lost a load of clean laundry I was going to fold. Just so happens I took it out of the dryer, put it in the laundry basket then put it all back in the washer to wash again. Gah.

The store I need to go to today doesn't open until 4pm and I'll be doing one of my little volunteer jobs at that time, then taking my son to his "GOD PLEASE PICK HIM" baseball practice, then picking up my kids from church, then, then, then.....

Clay is conveniently out of town for business and will get home just about the time that I've picked up all the kids and started for home. Yeah for me.

I've become completely distracted by a potential job that I would love to have, so much so, that I can't think of much else. And that's not good, refer to laundry mishap in first paragraph.

The other night I spent a strange amount of time searching for boar semen. I know. We plan to artificially inseminate one of our pigs and I thought I should start researching boar semen now. Who knew there was such a big market for that stuff? Wow. Being a Pig Farmer is not the job I was referring to. I'll let you know about that later, maybe, if I can remember.

What was I saying? Boulder holder, lost laundry, job, semen....um yeah, I think that about covers it. Oh wait. I forgot to tell you that we have added a new member to the family!

He comes and goes as he pleases. He lives in every room. Sometimes he stays outside, but right now he's on Ellen's bed. The boys love him. I, well, I, um, er, I hate him. He causes me a lot of work. I wish he would have the courtesy to stay outside where he belongs. My family doesn't seem to notice him sometimes. Especially Clay, he just forgets that the little guy might be tagging along with him. Do you know what he is?

What the heck is a blouse?

I have a very good friend that is a decade younger than me. She's a lot like a little sister because on occasion she will email me a picture of her in an outfit and ask, "Does this look good together?" And I love her so much and trust that she will still love me after I say,"NO! Don"t ever wear that, ever."

Today she emailed me a photo of her in an outfit that I told her she couldn't wear right now, because it's not right for the season. Then I told her to look for a blouse and a jacket. Her reply was, "What the heck is a blouse?"

And that is when I had to pause and wonder if our age gap makes me an old person that doesn't know anything about fashion. Because I still believe that you can't wear white or open toed shoes until after Memorial Day. I also try to stick with light on the top and dark on the bottom.

After all I didn't take Mrs. Short's clothing class in high school for nothing. I learned a lot of valuable information in that class. However, it was 1988 and there is a slight possibility that some of those critical fashion faux pas are now, in fact, fashionable.

But, for my friend's sake and for my daughter, whom has no fashion sense AT ALL, I thought I would write a list of fashion rules that I try not to break and therefore everyone should probably do the exact opposite.

1. Never wear boots past March, except cowboy boots.

2. Never wear white shoes or carry a white purse until after Memorial Day. Um, I might be carrying a white purse with big colorful flowers on it right now.

3. Never wear jeans to church on Sunday. Clay, Seth and Isaac wore jeans to church yesterday. sigh

4. Never wear a dark bra under a light shirt. Do we need to talk about April's bra debacle of the past few months? I found myself wearing a sports bra under a sweater a couple of days ago giving me a nice flat uni-boob look.

5. Never wear a sports bra under a sweater.

6. You can wear jeans that are from the 70's but not the 80's or 90's.

7. Just say no to acid wash.

8. Never give away any jewelry because it will come back in fashion.

9. If you don't wear something for a year get rid of it.

10. Hunt down all the stuff you got rid of because it is now in fashion.

11. Keep everything.

12. If it's old call it vintage.

13. If it's new call it chic.

14. If it's torn call it shabby.

15. If it's stained call it grunge.

16. Only old people call shirts blouses.

17. Underwear for boys.

18. Panties for girls.

19. Boxers for guys.

20 Thongs for flossing.

21. Bras should be optional and made with chicken feathers and bailing twine.

22. Having one pair of decent jeans will force you to wear skirts or old sweat pants everyday.

23. Challenging yourself not to buy new clothes for nearly a year will cause you to gain weight.

24. Gaining too much fat in your bodacious areas will decrease the amount of pants that fit over your soft jiggly parts.

25. Excuse me while I curl into a fetal position and cry for a few days.......never mind I'm too chubby to curl into a ball.......I'll just recline on the couch in my tight jeans and whimper for a bit.......never mind....I can't bend over.....or breath.....

26. Sweat pants are God's gift to a chubby housewife. Wear them everyday.

27. Wear whatever the heck you want.

28. I hate clothes.

29. I'm never getting dressed again.

30. Never ask me a fashion question.

Homelessness

Remember when I wrote about The Family Promise Network?

Our church hosted the guests in Family Promise again this week. I went to help serve dinner one evening and brought my two oldest children with me.

I met the guests and their children. Some of them have been in Family promise for many months while others have only been staying there a few weeks.

One mom opened up a little to me and all I can say about her is that she is raw. Like skin stripped away and placed under running water. Like a bruise that people keeping punching. Like a cut on a finger that gets lemon juice poured on it.

It stings.
It burns.

When I went to the training class that is required for all the volunteers at Family Promise I learned the most important thing to do while interacting with the guests is to treat them with dignity and not ask them very many questions, especially questions about their current situation, because they only stay in a church for a week and usually a different group of people help serve dinner every night so, if you had to explain to people why you are homeless while eating your dinner every night, well, I think dinner would start to be pretty unappetizing and a very dreaded time of the day.

I think I may have erred a bit on the side of not talking to the people for fear that I would make them uncomfortable. Even when the woman started telling me how she became homeless I kept quiet and listened to her and maybe that's all she needed, but I was hoping she didn't want me to offer advice or feel like she had to explain why she was there, but maybe she did. I'm sure it's hard to have a stranger look at you and know you're homeless and feel the need to explain that you're not a complete loser, but life threw you a few too many punches in a row and you just couldn't recover from the multiple beatings before the next punch came and landed you square in the pit of homelessness.

I think some of the people at Family Promise had more fight in them than others and view being in that spot as a temporary step and not their housing solution.

I was impressed by the children, they were all well behaved and sweet. They had fun playing with my kids and for the most part seemed happy. Their parents are doing the best they can for them right now.

I fed a toddler a bottle and watched two little boys so their mom could go outside for a break, I talked to a mom about the classes she was taking and her hectic schedule and I laughed with another mom about something silly that one of the children was doing.

When I left that night I felt heavy. I had guarded my heart and held my tongue. I knew my tiny contribution to these people was not going to change their situation, it may have slightly lightened their burden for a moment, but what I realized is it's up to them. Really. And the question in my head now is do they have the will and desire to fight? Will they be paralyzed by their fears, inabilities and lack of resources?

Some of them are going to have to fight a much bigger battle than others. Mentally, physically and spiritually all their battles are going to have to be fought and conquered if they want to cross the bridge to self reliance.

I know they are getting some help that is very beneficial and I hope they can take the hand that is being extended to them and hold on tightly until they are able to walk freely on their own.

I'll continue to help serve the guests in the Family Promise Network. Next time I'll be more comfortable interacting with the women and children, but I hope the next time my church hosts that some of the families that I met will be missing because they have found a home of their own.

I'm ripe for the pickin'

It's late Tuesday afternoon and I have not taken a shower since Sunday morning.

RIPE would be the word I'd choose to describe my flavor.

Our well pump decided to cease and desist over the weekend, but I was able to eek out a miserable shower on Sunday that caused me much anger at my family because I swore they were flushing toilets and running all the faucets which left me with a trickle of water that was scorching the part in my scalp, when in reality it was just the pump heaving its last breath.

The well pump fixer guys came out yesterday and got us back up and running, so I let all my kids take showers and put mine off until this morning.

This morning, NO FRICKIN' WATER!!

I called our friendly well pump fixer guys and they were already on a job, so they weren't able to get out to my house until just before 4:00 this afternoon.Water is such a precious commodity. I never think about how much I use it until I don't have it pouring out of my faucets.My kitchen looks a lot like that picture up there. I'm not kidding. I can't wash a dish or wipe a counter. It's strange how paralyzed I feel without running water.

I found a box of baby wipes that we never used and I've been 'washing' sticky hands and faces with them. Good Lord my boys are so messy! They usually look pretty rough at the end of the day just from their normal shenanigans of playing and eating, but if I wasn't able to wipe them down a bit they would look....

like this. Dear me. The ear wax says it all.

Oh, and to add insult to injury, I broke my vacuum cleaner yesterday. No water, no vacuum cleaner, I'm practically a cave woman.

One Month Down

Well, we made it through February.

Every month that we are on this Damn Ramsey financial hell trip I give out a huge sigh at the end of the month and then I take a deep breath, count to three and jump back into the frigid waters.

We have been at this thing for one year. ONE YEAR! In that year we have:

*not used a credit card to purchase one ding dang thang.
*reduced our debt.
*used our $1000 emergency fund four times.
*replenished our emergency fund three times (we are in the process of doing it AGAIN, darn well pump!)
*managed to be happy with a little bit of nothin' and I do mean NOTHIN'!

Now let's thank God that February is over and this is why...

Goodbye basketball season. So long admission fees. See ya next year Coach Clay. After while smelly high tops, ankle braces and billions of different uniforms. Sorry to say I'm not shedding a tear, but I do tolerate you so much better than that OTHER sport.


Oh, and hello new hair cut and new glasses! I love you with that fluffy blue bathrobe! You know, the bathrobe that Clay said smelled like dust the other day? Yeah, that one. It's okay, because he doesn't have new glasses and his hair can smell like Cheetos, so dust smelling bathrobe seems okay.

Do you like my hair cut? Now do you want to punch me in the eyeball?

A story about April written by Clay

**Guest post by Clay

April and I had been married a couple months and April was still in her "I don't like Clay very much" phase of life, partially because we lived in a small, ramshackle rental house, it was a pit...with a back stoop.

It was a Saturday morning, April was heading out to work at the animal hospital and I was still in my big red bathrobe sporting some major bed head. I said goodbye to April and heard the screen door slam behind her. Then I heard the "incident." My first indication that something was amiss was when I heard an ear piercing shriek and five or six terrified "CLAAAAAYYYs." I know that many of you haven't had the pleasure of April's spine-tingling, terrified shrieks, but I am the recipient of one every four or five minutes. They usually happen when a bug is within 25 feet of the house, but they also happen when she is in a room and I come in and "scare" her. They go something like this:

April: [doing something and more often than not, having a conversation with herself] "oh yes, thank you for asking, I've been a professional blogger for many years now and..."
ME: [bang, bang, bang...that's me walking into the room, very loudly] "um....April"
April: "SHHRRRRIIIEEEEEEKKKKK!!! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS SNEAK UP ON ME!!!"
ME: I'm sorry. [At this point I usually just back out of the room with my hands in a "don't be mad" sort of way.]

I get blamed for floating in and scaring her on purpose but this has happened to other people as well so I know it's not just me. It even happened to one poor sap who was walking in front of our house...on the sidewalk, you know, where people usually walk. April was clipping a hedge at the time. It went something like this:

April: [Clip, clip, clip] "oh yes, thank you for asking, I've been a master gardener for many years now and..."
Man on the Street: [bang, bang, bang...that's the guy walking on the sidewalk, very loudly] "Hello"
April: "SHHRRRRIIIEEEEEEKKKKK!!! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING!" Man on the Street: I'm sorry. [Man backs away with his hands up.]

Anyway, the hair-raising shrieks happened and I, being a dutiful husband, ran to her aid through the back door and stopped...and stared...and was confused. April was lying high sided on her stomach about two steps down with her head facing downhill and her arms and legs behind her body as if she was a skydiver gaining speed before the chute opens.

There were only four steps. She was high sided on the second step. I stood there and wondered, "Does she really need me to help her up? I mean, all she has to do is put her hands down. Is she trying to slide across the yard? How did she get into that position in the first place? She was only out here for about three seconds. What the heck?"

All the while, the shrieks and screams continued until April craned her head around and saw me standing there, kind of stupefied. She gathered that I wasn't reaching down to help her so she turned down the volume...slowly and started to rise to her feet...slowly. In those three or four minutes I had the chance to look down at myself and notice that my robe was wide open and my lily white boxers and my lily white skin were gleaming in the sunlight. And I'm not kidding about the colors. I don't tan a lick and I have very clean underwear. In fact, they were pretty much the same shade of bright, especially for anyone who squints or happens to be standing more than 15 feet away.

I raised my eyes past April as she rolled back and forth enough to gain the momentum to get up and saw our back-door neighbor standing slack jawed and shirtless watching the whole thing. Sigh. This very neighbor also happened to be holding all the materials for installing a new mailbox and was heading for the very spot where his old mailbox used to be. In the very spot where April, two days prior, had run aground with our car sending his old mailbox hurling halfway up his yard. And that happened right before she peeled out and left the scene while I stood there just shaking my head. So what was I going to do? I gave him a pleasant "how you doing" wave, a "this kind of stuff happens all the time" smirk, a "I hope your project goes well" thumbs up, and a "what kind of person would bash your mailbox and not pay for it" shrug. Then I closed my robe, turned and walked back into the house.

I think my wife might have made it to work on time with most of her pride splattered on the back stoop, but I didn't hang around long enough to check.

From my hair with love.

Remember when I had long luscious hair that flowed like silk down my back and I fixed it every single day?



Remember when I got my glasses and it became painfully clear that my hair wasn't really all that lucious or silky and that pulling it back in a pony tail was not considered 'fixing it' at all? I also discovered I had grown a beard.


I know you remember this. Right? The bangs. Good Lord the bangs. Well, okay....


maybe, it was more like this. Remember how I couldn't stop talking about those bangs?

Then I went and got my hair cut again and forgot all about posting pictures of me with my new style.

And that's just silly, because this blog is allllll about me, myself and I.

It's just that I feel so wonderful and free with my new cut and the six or eight or however many inches I had chopped off has given me a renewed lease on life and I've been flitting around town like a little bird. Flit, flit. Flutter, flutter. Tweet, tweet.

Who knew that hair could weigh a person down so much?

I'm a new person.

Gone is the serious Olivia with no smile.

Gone is the scruffy Sawyer with a scraggly pony tail.

I'm the best haired April I've ever been.

I mean the layers in my hair alone have brought out the body and bounce that my head has been missing all these long, dreary, big-bangs months.

Are you ready to see the new April?

Yes?

My friend, prepare yourself.....

I KNOW!!!! I'M GORGEOUS!!!!

See how my stylist incorporated my big bangs into my new cut? I feel absolutely radiant.

Please don't hate me because I'm beautiful.

Simmer down now.

I met a blogger in real life and she was really sweet.

My children were stunned and amazed and couldn't decide which beautiful treat to stuff in their gob first.

I think I will send her my children as a thank you.

I mean, really. It's the least I can do.


Thank you Marilyn, my baking will never look good again.

The Blemish and Foul Wind

Oooookay, I think we've all seen enough of that.

Now, how about some more stories about ME to make you feel better about yourself? Yes? Could this blog be any bigger a display of self deprecation and humiliation? Or is it that I need attention? Because being 95 feet tall with freaky blond hair and a butt the size of Canada isn't really doing it for me anymore, obviously.

****

This morning, I had to take my older kids to school. I decided to just get dressed and go. I looked like, well, like I just woke up and threw on some clothes. Even better I had just popped two zits on my chin. Have you seen me after I pop a zit? It looks like a giant tumor has erupted on my skin, red and pulsing to my heart beat, it's hideous. No big deal, I thought, drop the kids off and scoot home, I'll be invisible.

You know what's about to happen, don't you?

The most beautiful woman on the face of the planet saw me at school and made a bee line for my van waving at me to get my attention so she could talk to me.

Oh, Lord. Here she comes. No! Dear God, NO! Should I just gun the engine and peel out of the parking lot? Would it be bad if I ran over her? Maybe if I pretend I don't see her. Nope, I'm waving, that pretty much says come here and talk to me. Lord, WHY?!

I rolled down my window so my zits could say hello.

****

A couple days ago I took all my kids to the longest evening of basketball in the history of basketball. I had to watch three games and part of another one. We were the visiting team and crowded together in a little lunch room area that had accordion style doors that opened to the gym. My two little boys and I were sitting in chairs very close to all the other parents.

What better time for my boys to start ripping the foulest smelling farts ever?

What did they eat? Sulfur? Rotten eggs? Dog poop?

Like any good parent I immediately started placing the blame. "Oh! Honey. Phew! Do you need to go to the bathroom? Wow. YOU are really stinking up the place."

If that wasn't bad enough, my baby decided to sit on my lap and let go of a mighty, butt- flapping wind that could only come from a rear the size of Canada.

MOSES SMELL THE ROSES!

I knew that if I started to blame him for that incredible auditory display it would look like I was the guilty party. In silence, I sat in my chair holding my son staring straight ahead pretending like I didn't hear or smell a thing. And we all know what that means, right?

GUILTY! GUILTY!! GUILTY!!!!!!

****

What lessons have you learned from this ridiculous post?

1. Never leave the house.
2. Basketball stinks.

I'm DANCIN'!

There's a lot of things I feel I need to explain before you watch this video.

1. I was in the middle of either putting up or taking down our Christmas tree in the first one, it's sad that I can't remember.

2. I yelled at my oldest son that I was dancing because he was begging me to come help him with his homework. I have to set my priorities, right?

3. Later you'll see I had shoved a big dinner roll in my mouth and was in the process of trying to eat it. Eating while dancing helps control calories.

4. I was making grape jelly in the kitchen when my son decided to start filming me dancing to Fergilicious. My jelly turned out Grapilicious.

5. The chair thing.... I don't know. I think my daughter caught me doing that.

6. While watching these clips, it became obvious to me that I never fix my hair. I made an appointment to get it cut tomorrow.

7. I am going to loose sleep tonight, because I posted this stupid video.

8. Dancing is all I have left.

9. I was a cheerleader.

10. I was too tall to be a cheerleader.

11. I'm sick of myself. Gah.

12. Please excuse me while I go hurl.

Blabbing Blogger Seeks Basketball Bible

When we moved back to Kansas I decided not to talk about my blog to the new people I was meeting. I did this because I wasn't sure if it was healthy to unleash so much April on people all at once.

It takes me a bit to warm up in new environments and therefore I tend to be more reserved and quiet and timid and basically paralyzed until I'm comfortable. I think people would say, "She's just a tiny waif of a thing. I can barely hear her when she speaks." Yes, that's exactly how people would describe me. They would also comment on my long fluttery eyelashes, rosebud lips and delicate gait. Because, really, I'm just a sweet, quiet introvert that has been buried inside the body of a gigantic, babbling blond that laughs louder than a hyena being tickled by a baboon!

Unfortunately that gigantic babbling blond eventually gets the best of the tiny waif and one day in a moment of coffee induced spasmodic tongue-flapping I told a new friend, "Oh, I have a blog! And it's so wonderful. You should read it. EVERYDAY FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE!"

Since I hang out with her in larger circles of coffee induced spasmodic tongue-flapping women the topic of my blog has been mentioned a time or two.

So, I wasn't too surprised when I got a little note from my Pastor's wife that she heard I had a blog and could I please tell her how to find it.

This is the email I wrote her. Because why in God's Holy NAME would I just say, "Sure, thanks for asking."


Hey K,
I'm home missing bible study because I have four children and they've stapled me to the floor of my kitchen and poured oatmeal in my hair. Also, I can't seem to find the front door, I think I left it behind a couple loads of laundry. AND if I have to take my little boys to one more basketball game this week they might think that's where we live.

Translation: We've been gone a lot, I have company coming tonight, my house is a disaster, I'm still in my pj's.

Anyway, here's my blog address, please know it's my creative/crazy outlet and by no means reflects the serious, mature adult that I am everyday. aprildphillips.blogspot.com

Have a great weekend and if you want to get in touch with me call any of the local basketball gyms within a 100 mile radius.


I really wanted to sign it with a meaningful Bible verse, but I couldn't find one that had any reference to basketball or blogging. What's with that?

Jack Johnson - Angel (Live 2008)

Need a little heart meltin' today?

Claystor, please put this guy on my ipod for Valentines Day and I won't make you take me out. Oh, and could you also put his songs on my ipod too? Thanks Hon, that'd be great.

A huge THANK YOU to the DVM's wife for introducing me to Jack Johnson on her playlist.

I am Olivia Dunham, FBI agent, or am I?

Yesterday, after I was done with my crime fighting and alien investigating and criminal interrogating, I had to take my oldest son to one of his basketball games. I know, I know, I don't know how I do it all either.

After watching two games I was ready to get home and get my two littles fed and to bed. Levi, my four year old had decided to crawl up in a ball on my coat under the bleachers and fall asleep, the poor little guy was so tired...of watching basketball.

I picked up my three hundred pound four year old and headed out of the gym. I was thinking how relieved I was that we had been able to park so close to the gym. When I turned the corner I noticed the door had a set of plastic posts and chains blocking the door and a sign that said something about the door being locked after 5pm, alarm, security, emergency exit, blah, blah, blah. This is a joke right? I mean there were hundreds of people in that building. Why on earth is this door blocked?

Behind me were several college students that had just come out of a class that were headed the same direction as me. I noticed the door was slightly ajar. My only other option was to go out the other exit and I was NOT going to go down two flights of stairs and then back up another two flights of stairs on the opposite side of the building to get to my van while carrying the seventy-five thousand pound four year old! So, I opened that door.

WHOOP! WHOOOOOP! WHOOOOOOOP! WHOOOOOOP!

That's what the alarm sounded like. The college kids behind me turned and ran down the flight of stairs to get away from the crime scene.

But, I...the FBI agent, with the 90 ton sleeping four year old in my arms yelled, "LET'S GO BOYS!!! COME ON! GET THROUGH THE DOOR! RUN! RUN!" Because I am not about to let a stupid sign warning me not to go through a door, or posts with chains blocking the door, or an excruciatingly LOUD alarm stop me from going where I need to go. I am a professional. I am an FBI agent for crying out loud, I go where I want to go when I want to go and aint nothin-nobody-nowhere-no how gonna stop me!

And nobody did. So I took my tiny swaddled babe and placed him in his car seat. With a gravely voice I looked back at the building squinting through my new glasses and said, "That's right Cowboy. Maybe next time Muchacha. Who's the Boss Hoss. Get back Freckles. Don't mess with Sweet Cheeks. It's the Belle of the Ball. What say you Cha Chi? The Mighty Hunter has returned! What do you think Captain Bunny Killer is gonna say if he catches us? Whatta ya got there Rerun?...." and then my boys asked if I could stop talking so we could please go home. And we did, oh yes, we did.

Lost without Olivia

Awhile back a person commented that I look a bit like Olivia Dunham on Fringe and I was all WHO's Olivia Dunham with fringe what?

Then Clay and I started watching Fringe and right away I agreed with the commenter. Who am I to argue? Obviously I have the smartest readers ever!Olivia and I not only look exactly alike, but we also have the exact same lives. I mean she really could be me! What with the gun slinging, abductions and serious butt kickings that I do on a daily basis. Also, we both wear long black coats. I know! She is me, I am her! Who could question the similarities?


Yesterday I picked up my new eyeglasses. They are amazing! Everything is so clear now! Unfortunately, when the fog cleared and the crisp outline of my face emerged in the mirror I didn't see Olivia anymore. Young, beautiful, smart Olivia turned into........

this.

So I pulled my scraggly hair back and.......


OLIVIA!!!!!! OLIVIA COME BACK!!!!!


Olivia.....
I'm lost without you!

Tid bits

I'm so glad I don't have to stick to topics on this blog. Because uh, my brain tis scrambled.

What should I write about?

I'm too lazy to go take pictures of the bench I brought in from the porch last night. You see, my teeny tiny baby boy has out grown his cute red stool that he sits on at the table and we don't have six chairs, so I thought I'd bring in the bench and use it at the table for my two little boys. But, there is a problem. It smells like cat pee. I know. Everything I own smells like cat pee. My father HATES cats. I'm beginning to smell why.

There is a dead chicken in my front yard........again. It's the little rooster I found on the side of the road. He didn't stay in the coop with the other chickens, so it was just a matter of time. Poor little guy.

Okay, that's it. That's all I have.

What if I did an Ask April post? What the heck would you ask me? Please don't ask me about football, basketball, baseball, volleyball or anything pertaining to a ball.

Ooooh, I just read that Dooce is 5'11" tall!!! I had no idea she was that tall. She looks like a tiny pip squeak, but then again, so do I, right? RIGHT?!

Q: April, what is the first thing you notice about a person?
A: Their height.

See? I could answer questions like that. Easy peasy.

Q: April, when you were young and single what did you find was the most attractive quality in a man?
A: His height.

Q: So were you immediately attracted to your 6'5" husband?
A: Uh, er, um. No.

Q: Why the hell not?
A: Sigh. Because he was goofy looking. And I had a boyfriend. But, I did become good friends with Clay and took him to meet my sister in hopes that they would fall in love because she had a thing for red heads with green eyes.

Q: So did Clay fall for Rechelle when you introduced them?
A: No. The only person that did any falling was me. Clay and I were walking back to my dorm to eat dinner after watching half of a KU basketball game because I was so not interested in sports back then, uh I guess that hasn't changed. Anyway, Clay had noticed that I was bored during the game so he asked me if I wanted to leave and of course I said, "Yes, this is awful." Then he very tentatively asked, "Uh, do you want me to go with you?" I laughed and said, "Well, sure if you don't mind missing the game." We decided to cut across campus to make our walk shorter. Taking the short cut meant walking down a very steep grassy hill that was wet from the recent melted snow. I started down that hill taking tiny little steps and then it was as if I had strapped on a pair of skis. I was slipping and sliding all the while staying on my feet and screaming like someone was attacking me. Clay was at the top trying not to watch, it was painful for him. I finally ended up on my butt in a puddle of water and mud. I felt so stupid, but I was laughing because what else could I do? Then I heard Clay beside me asking if I was okay. He helped me up and then said, "Here, you better hold my hand." And that was his first slick move. He's still very proud of that moment. He had no idea that he'd spend the rest of his life watching me fall, slip, slide and best of all scream. He still holds my hand, but now he laughs at me and then imitates me everytime I fall.

Hey, I kinda like answering these questions. I guess practicing all those interviews with Katie Couric in the bathroom mirror has paid off.

Quit yer doin'!

I've been working on a couple of posts, but I can't seem to finish them, which means I should just give up and write about whatever. And of course make a list.

1. Thank you all for the advice, tips and directions with coupons. I'm overwhelmed. So overwhelmed that I've decided my best way to save money is to stay home and not spend any money whatsoever. I do have some coupons from Target that I keep moving from one spot to another in my kitchen wondering if I'll use them. I don't like to go into Target, it's too tempting for me to look at other things.

2. I went to the Family Promise Network training on Saturday. The director of the program is an amazing young woman. I learned that most of the guests in the program have never been homeless, we should never, ever, ever use the word homeless when referring to the guests in the program and the BIG, BIG thing we were taught was to treat all the people in the program with dignity. I'm looking forward to helping when my church is host again, or maybe I won't have to help because there will be no need. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

3. I cleaned out my mudroom today. It's really just a closet, but it did have a lot of mud in it and cat pee and animal food and one broken dvd player.

4. I've decided I have that seasonal disorder thing. When it gets too cold and cloudy, I shut down, can't move, don't want to do anything, find everything boring and can't organize my life. I wonder if I could get one of those lights and strap it to my face? Or my butt?

5. I was washing dishes and talking to Clay yesterday and after multiple attempts to make me stop talking, Levi said, "Mom! Quit yer doin'!" I think I'll start saying that to people when I want them to stop. Quit yer doin'!

6. I spoke to the pig farmer yesterday and he has new baby pigs!! So, Coal Creek will have little piglets soon and very soon.

7. Remember when I used to do pottery? sniff sniff.....sigh. Someday, I'll get back to it.

8. Remember when I had a nanny, a cook, a housekeeper and a tutor for my children? Yeah, me neither.

9. What do you all do to get yourself motivated in the winter?

10. This post is exhausting, I need to go lie down and ignore myself.

A place to lay your head.

We live in a town rich with culture and diversity. We have lots of art and tons of music and then there is the organic food and every sport imaginable, except hockey. We have a lake and a river. We have every food you ever wanted to eat and several markets that cater to the ethnic tastes.

The people are diverse too. We have millionaires, famous poets, famous basketball players, musicians, artists, professors, farmers, ranchers and of course there is me and the architect.

This town is like a little metropolitan fondue pot. Which means it has some of the metropolitan problems as well. Drugs, gangs, crime and the heartbreaking one...homelessness.

Some of the homeless are vagrants, some are panhandlers, some are drunks, some are mentally ill and some are families.

Our town does a good job of helping the homeless. We have a kitchen where they can sit down and eat a warm meal and there is a shelter they can go to get some sleep. But, there wasn't a place for families that had fallen on hard times to go with their children and feel safe.

That's why a group of good people got together and formed The Family Promise Network.

This week my church is the host for the guests in Family Promise. Which means our church has converted classrooms into bedrooms. The people arrive after 5pm and are picked up early in the morning to be taken to the center or school or jobs. One of the secretaries told me she hasn't noticed they are staying in the church at all.

Yesterday, I made muffins for the folks staying at the church. As I dropped the muffins off in the kitchen I looked around and saw that at the end of one of the tables was a highchair.

A baby is homeless.

I walked back into the hall and noticed a paper that had been taped over the regular classroom sign. The paper had the name of a woman and under her name were the names of her three children.

A single mom and her three children are homeless.

I didn't get to meet any of the people that are staying there this week, so I don't have a face in my head, just the thought of a baby and a single mom and her kids not having a home.

When I got home I had all kinds of questions. Questions that didn't have answers.

What do they do if the children get sick?
What do they do on the weekends?
What if one of the adults get sick?
Where do they store their belongings?
Do they have any belongings?
How do they get were they need to go?
Why is this happening?
How can I fix this?

I don't know the circumstances that brought these families to the point of being homeless. I can assume that it's a combination of many things that would make me angry and break my heart.

I'm relieved that they have a safe place to go at night. I'm thankful that people are willing to give of their time to serve these people and help them right their situation.

Saturday I am hoping that Clay and I will be able to attend a training session that will allow us to spend time with the families next time they stay at our church. I would much rather have a face and name in my head than that empty high chair.

North and South beat a three column blog.

I have exhausted my brain trying to convert this little blog to three columns. I was able to successfully convert a test blog and skipped over to change this one with absolutely no success whatsoever! But,I do know how to discombobulate the entire side bar so severely that no human would recognize this place as a blog.

That being said, I gave up and took Leila's advice to watch North and South with my daughter and the rest of my afternoon was spent in romantic turmoil and bliss.

I am now forever devoted to Mr. Thornton and I will spend the rest of my days helping him ensure the future of the cotton mill.

Don't feed it popcorn.

Clay volunteered to record stats for the girls basketball team this year. The coach gave gave him a computer program that he uses during the game. According to Clay, the program is a bit cumbersome, like moving an Army tank through a corn maze.

This is where I come in the picture.

I sit by Clay and tell him which girls are checking in and out of the game so he can click on their names quickly and get back to recording the game. It's good for me to have something to do during the game because,

Me + Sports = Miserable.

So, there I am sitting by my husband on the front row next to the clock dude and the other stats person doing my little duty by leaning close to Clay and listing off the girls coming in and out of the game.

Ellen and Casey in, Becky and Kaley out.
Kirsten in for Tayler.

Hannah in for Brittany.

During half time Clay requested a soda and some popcorn because the man can't go more than a couple hours without something to eat. Unfortunately, he can't really eat or drink during the game because his hands are tied to the computer entering all the plays. But, I can eat and drink just as much as I please.

Do any of you have trouble after you eat popcorn? Just wondering.

I try to stay away from popcorn, far, far away. But, if it's next to me, I eat it. No, I inhale it. I think that's why I have a problem. I eat it so fast I don't allow any of the puffed air to escape until, um, er, uh, after I eat it.

When Clay passed his bag of popcorn to me I started cramming it in my mouth as fast as I could. After a few minutes I leaned over to Clay and said, "Wow, I can already feel this popcorn workin' on my stomach, gimme your soda".

Becky and Anna in, Ellen and Kirsten out.

Gulping soda, cramming popcorn.

Tayler in for Hannah.

More popcorn, more soda.












Ellen and Anna in for Becky and Kirsten.

then it happened....

I performed the loudest Barney Belch in the history of Barney Belches. It was amazing that the refs didn't mistake it for the buzzer.

In the future, for the sake of those around you, let's try to remember;

Please don't feed it popcorn.