Category Archives: Leftovers

Some Warmed-Up Leftovers for Those of You Stuck in Winter

I’ve been thinking a lot about my friends on the mainland who are experiencing a whole lot of winter this year.  People who don’t really know the South personally don’t understand our reaction to winter weather.

Look, we know it seems ridiculous to those of you who are used to white winters. We have no problems laughing at ourselves. We get a kick out of the cartoons and the YouTube videos, just like the rest of you. This is one of my favorites:

But sometimes people in states where it habitually snows seem to be a little smug and condescending to their brothers and sisters below the Mason Dixon line. As my friends are preparing for another round of winter, I was reminded me of a post I wrote back in 2010 (during one of the rare but occasional and short-lived periods of times I actually blogged consistently).  I wrote a letter with my friend Tiffani trying to explain why we do the things we do when The Weather Channel even hints that something less solid than rain may fall from the sky. This is the letter I wrote to those of you who don’t understand the panic happening in the southern states this week:

Dear Snow State People,

You know who you are. You were the ones who rolled your eyes at the Great Potential Winter Weather Emergency of 2010. You laughed when our school systems cancelled school before nary an ice crystal touched the ground. You snickered as we packed Walmart to buy provisions in a way that retail stores haven’t seen since the big Y2K preparations. You make fun of us when we speak in wind chill temperatures when your actual air temperatures are even lower. Sometimes you border state dwellers even report your temps to us in Celsius so we’ll know you’re so far north you’re almost in another country, eh? Well, while you’re laughing at us from your states that come fully equipped with snow plows and sand trucks and seat warmers in your car, we want you to think about something…

We don’t have all that stuff.

See,  we may be from the South, but Whimzie lived in New England twice. She’s on to you and knows your snow secrets. We don’t have any fancy scraper things that attach to our pickup trucks. We don’t have snow blowers. Most of us don’t even have snow boots. You know what we have? We have those plastic bags that the newspaper comes in on rainy days. We put those on over our socks with a couple of rubberbands and wear our tennis shoes to play in the snow on the rare times that we get it. If we can’t find the mittens we bought five years ago during the Great Almost Blizzard of 2005, we just might wear mismatched socks on our hands. We scrape the ice off our car windshields with the spatulas from our kitchen drawers and the driver’s licenses from our wallets. We don’t know how to drive in snow, or walk in it for that matter. We freak out and wreck and fall. Most of us haven’t had enough practice. And while we know that your children’s safety isn’t compromised because your school bus drivers could drive their buses over Mt. Everest with ease, ours, however have had no such training. We aren’t willing to put our children in harm’s way while Edgar the Bus Driver white knuckles the wheel because he doesn’t know what “turn in to the spin” means. All we’ve been told and know for sure is that we’re supposed to go get milk, bread, and toilet paper. We’re not even sure why we do it but it’s been passed on to us just the same as which college football team we’re going to cheer for on Saturdays every fall was.

And before you get cocky about just how much better you all handle the snow and frigid temperatures than we do, we’d like to issue a little challenge……

We double dog dare you to survive a summer day in August here in the deep South. We bet you wouldn’t make it past 10 a.m. Yes, 10 a.m., because it’s not uncommon to wake up to a higher temperature here than you’ll see all summer. You haven’t really lived until you get ready for the day–hair, makeup, freshly ironed outfit–only to have your face melt off and fall in your lap when you get in your car to go to work. You don’t know summer until you’ve suffered second degree burns on the backs of your thighs when you sat down on boiling hot vinyl car seats. When you’ve kept your arms at 90 degree angles from your body so that your deodorant would dry and not superglue your arms to your sides, then you can talk about who knows how to handle weather. Talk to me with a mouth full of gnats and mosquito bites the size of a saucer up and down your extremities or have a swatting battle with a ginormous, winged unidentifiable bug, then you might have an eaten-up leg to stand on.

I’ve heard you gripe about humidity in the summer. People, please. When it’s summer in the South, we can chew our air it’s so humid.  Breathing in August air is like trying to breathe a brick through your nose it’s so heavy.  When you can wring water out of your clothes and you haven’t been anywhere near water, you can talk to me about humidity.

So, we’ll see your winter and we’ll raise you a summer.

Any takers?

With all the love and southern hospitality we have to bless your little hearts,

Tiffani of Bears and Belles and Whimzie

So, stay warm my friends!

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Is It Repeating Myself Or Showing Off My Superior Remembery Skills When I Re-Tell a Story?

Usually I enter a January Funk right after the holidays. Unfortunately, it’s not a George Clinton and the Parliament kind of funk. It’s a missing-all-the-Christmas-spirit funk. The house always looks a little blah when the Christmas decorations get packed away, so I bring out my snow and snowmen decorations for January to transition me slowly back to life after twinkly white lights. I unpacked the snowmen children that I bought last year and they’re standing side-by-side on the upstairs landing. Every single time I pass them, they give me a giggle because I’m always reminded of the “Whatsoever Thou Doest to My Snowman Thou Doest Unto Me” story I told you last year. Remember? Here’s the link:

The Link to the Snowman Story That Makes Whimzie Laugh to Herself Every Single Time She Thinks of It That We Will Click and Read Because We’re Her Friends & Know It’s Best to Just Humor Her When She Gets Like This

Did you read it? Now, I know in some psychology circles what he did would be considered “passive-aggressive,” but as his mother, I just think it was plain funny. Every time I pass those snowmen, my winter funk is replaced with a little of the George Clinton kind. One of the extra added benefits of parenthood that I didn’t read about in any of  my  What to Expect books is the extra dose of sunshine children provide to help you get through tough times. I’m so grateful for my three little Snoodles and know that even though they taunt that last little nerve of mine at times, they’re also a big reason it’s still hanging on by a thread.

Have a happy January day and may all your snowmen stand upright….unless they don’t, which makes for a good laugh, too!

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Leftover Snoodlings: The “Yay, Lord” Verse

Leftovers are a funny thing. Some dishes, red beans and rice or chili for example, are actually a little better the second day. Others, like salads, just aren’t as good if they aren’t eaten the same day they were prepared. Well, today at Snoodlings I’m serving you leftovers because I have a long To Do List today and a short amount of time in which to complete it. Also, when we were talking about favorite Christmas songs I thought of this post I had written last year. I realized that I’ve made new friends since then who may not know about the “Yay, Lord” verse and I think that in order to fully enjoy Christmas, this information is vital. For those of you who’ve already read it, I hope it’s more like red beans and rice than Caesar salad. Bon appetit!

I love Christmas music. I usually try to wait until at least Halloween to start playing it, but I’ve been known to play a certain song or two in the middle of summer when I get an itch that only hearing it will scratch. I was so excited to discover that several radio stations up here actually begin playing Christmas music at the beginning of October rather than waiting until after Thanksgiving, so I’ve been “getting my Christmas on” in the car this month. I’ve also been getting some strange looks from fellow travelers. Did I mention that I love to SING Christmas music? Loudly and with animated expressions and hand motions when appropriate?  Side note: Isn’t it interesting that nativity scenes may not be allowed in public places, and stores may say “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas,” but every Christmas-playing station I’ve listened to thus far has a number of openly Christian Christmas carols in their playlists?

Speaking of carols, I love it when we start singing Christmas carols in church. My favorite is “O Come All Ye Faithful,” but only if we get to sing my favorite verse.  What’s my favorite verse, you ask? You may not know it, because for some reason, it’s the verse that usually gets chopped.  It’s a crying shame, too, if you ask me, because this is the happiest, most exciting verse in all of hymnaldom (I made that word up). Just listen to how it starts:

YAY, Lord, we greet thee, born this happy morning!!! (I may have added the exclamation points, but they’re inferred in the song)

Before you nitpickers feel compelled to point out that the verse actually says, “Yea, Lord,” I need to point out that when I was a little girl hearing this verse for the first time, I didn’t hear “yea,” because I didn’t know what “yea” meant. I heard, “yay!” which blew my mind and thrilled my soul, because who knew hymn writers even said “yay!” back in the day? I couldn’t believe my ears! A hymn that you could cheer! And it stays upbeat as it continues to say that Jesus was born this happy morning! You just find me a more upbeat stanza in the hymnal! Go on, I dare you!  So of course, with happy, grateful hearts we follow that with:

Jesus, to thee be all glory given…

He certainly deserves all the glory and more!

Now the next part of the verse requires you to use your imagination just a little. Close your eyes–scratch that. You can’t read with your eyes closed. Just try to imagine with me a huge, heavenly movie or theatre marquee adorned with glittering jewels that defy description. And in enormous, majestic, diamond-encrusted, black letters are these words:

Word of the Father

Now in flesh appearing….

That’s what my mind saw when I first heard that verse. Like some heavenly birth announcement from a very proud Father who couldn’t wait to get the word out that His Son had arrived!  Or an announcement about the ultimate artist and (Morning) Star appearing for a limited engagement in the role of a lifetime! Isn’t that exciting?

Finish out the chorus with me:

O come, let us adore Him,

O come, let us adore Him,

O come, let us adore Him,

Christ the Lord.

O come, let us adore Him indeed!

So now, maybe you, too, will find yourselves a little bit annoyed when you sing this at church or hear it on a CD or the radio and you don’t hear the “Yay, Lord” verse. Just do what I do and go ahead and sing it in your head (or out loud if you just can’t keep it in!).

That’s all for now.  Maybe later we can talk about “Christmas Songs That Have Always Bugged Me.”  I immediately think of “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.” Why around the Christmas tree? Isn’t that just asking for broken ornaments? Someone’s bound to trip on the electric light cords. Especially since everyone’s dancing merrily in the NEW old-fashioned way. I mean, if it’s a “new” way of dancing, it’s probably going to be unfamiliar and the chances of bumping into something will be even greater. What does that even mean, “new old-fashioned”? Is that just another way of saying “old school”? These are the things that keep me up at night….

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