Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Mow, Mow, Mow

Our lawnmower had been MIA for most of the summer and when we finally retrieved it from the Hubs parents it was broken so we had to buy a new one. I take lawnmower buying an especially important task as I know that I will be the one banging around with it.

I wanted one that was light, not too hard to push (someday, I will have a riding lawnmower, although that may make not want to mow as much) and not difficult to start (a long hot day can only be made longer and hatter when you are out there screaming at the damn thing to please start as you are yanking the piss out of that pull cord).

The Hubs is allergic to most of the outdoors (or, at least, outside of our doors). Not deathly allergic, just the kind of allergic that makes your legs or arms swell up upon contact with poison ivy, poison oak, or ants (any kind of ant bite will cause his whole foot to swell - Z is allergic to ants as well but not to the poison ivy or oak). It's a strange kind of allergy that causes you to lay on the couch whining about how much you itch and hurt.

It annoys me.

I mow.

Mowing is purposeful exercise and I adore it. I love to look back and see the progress that I have made. I love to show off what I have done. And, although I am tired and sore and sweaty, I feel accomplished and proud.

Really, I like any kind of yard work and have been busying myself with the task of pulling 15 year old poison ivy vines out of the trees around our house. I have purchased a machete and Round-Up. I will kill it! Everyday, I spend about 15-30 minutes chopping away at vines, pulling branches and spraying as close to the roots as I can muster. You can see the leaves turning from yellow to gold to brown day by day.

Unfortunately, my love of this work is not appreciated. The child, while she loves to play in the sand, is afraid that the chickens will eat her if I am busy doing anything else. She screams and cries until I give up and take her back inside. The Hubs says, "Oh, you mowed." When I attempt to point out the other things that I have done, he shrugs and wanders away, complaining of bugs or heat.

Someday, we will have a beautiful yard that we can enjoy (possibly free from chickens) and it will be because of me.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Yet Another Chicken Sex Post

I know that it seems like all I talk about are critters and defecation, but being a SAHM is not super exciting all the time (if it were our brains would just blow out of the top of our heads!).

This morning, I noticed that one of the chickens was just sitting in the yard. The chickens are usually so skiddish that to see them sitting still is a strange occurrence. I watched her for awhile and when she stood up she stretched out her legs and started to strut across the yard. That's when I noticed the white spot gleaming from out of the grass.

I called JoDene, my local chicken farming expert to find out what I should do about the egg in my yard. "Go get it and put it in your refrigerator." These chickens have been living here for about a month now and I am not even sure what they eat. I was hesitant to say the least. That's when I said something about the rooster crowing. "Oh, I didn't know there was a rooster too. You're gonna have baby chickens!"

We are super excited about the nest of eggs in the yard (at least, Z and I are, not sure if the Hubs really cares or not - even though the chickens have been living in our yard and roosting in our tree for a few weeks now, he still calls them the neighbors chickens) that I later discovered had 5 beautifully shaped eggs in it. I checked the interwebs and discovered that we should start noticing baby chicks in the next 3 weeks or so. Very exciting stuff.

For now, all I have to offer is this picture of the little nest and the eggs inside. I didn't want to get too close because I didn't want to scare off the momma chicken.
I hope they are fertilized, although, I am still not sure how or when the rooster would have done that.
I guess we will know in a few weeks.
I really need to learn more about having chickens...

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Technical Difficulties

Z has never been constipated. In fact, she has always been so regular that you could set a clock by her potty schedule (that is if you would do those sorts of things, I personally would never set a clock to a child's bathroom habits, but hey, whatever floats your boat). So, this afternoon when we got home from church, I was surprised when Blade came to let me know that Z was having issues.

At first, when he came to get me, I thought it was going to be about some newly discovered disgusting potty dilemma (like this or this) but when I entered the bathroom and saw the look of agony on her face, I knew that this was new territory for both of us.

I knew immediately what had caused the issue. We had gone to see A play football yesterday at 2 in the afternoon in the 100 degree heat and she was refusing to drink the water or Gatorade that she was being offered. I knew that she was a little dry, I guess I underestimated what that could do to a girl.

As this afternoon wore on, she complained that her tummy hurt, refused to drink the water that was being offered her, begged me to give her medicine and whimpered like a new puppy. She was quiet most of the afternoon, but one look at her little face let you know that all was not right in her world.

Finally, I ran out to the store and got her some Apple Juice. She only drank about 3 sips before she fell asleep on my lap. I was so glad that the Scare Bear was here so that I could run out without taking Z, she is going through a stage that she wants me to carry her 47 pound body rather than walking and I am sure that this behavior would have been exacerbated by the fact that she did not feel well.

I laid her on the loveseat while I crocheted and worried (crocheting is a great way to worry if you are a fidgeter like I am, it gives purpose to your hands and you can make something pretty, bonus: you don't have to use your brain power to do it once you have learned it, so you can worry the sky a different color if that's what suits you).

Around 10, I heard dripping water and looked up to see that the girl was peeing all over the couch and it was dripping off of the side and onto the floor. I got her up, stripped off her clothes and sent her to the bathroom. Z, in such a sleepy state, decided instead to try to climb back up onto the now wet sofa. That's when I saw that she needed to go to the bathroom immediately. (I will not go into details on that, you can use your imagination if you so choose.)

I plopped her onto the toilet while she cried that it would hurt and "please, momma, no!", and then I heard the biggest, most relaxed sigh that I have ever heard in my life. I am not sure that I have ever been so excited to check the toilet bowl than I was tonight.

I am so glad that I do not have a child that wants to hold it in. Or that gets stopped up easily. It really throws off my day.

You can now return to your regularly scheduled program, yet another potty disaster has deftly been diverted by yours truly. 

Saturday, August 27, 2011

The Circle of Life

Listening to Blade (6) and Z (3) is like listening to a couple of stoners sitting around talking about life. The revelations that they make are very similar to the ones that I have heard in my past. This is the conversation that I heard this evening just before bed.

Blade: "Your fish will pass away one day, all fish die eventually."
Z: "We all will die one day and we will become grass and the antelopes will eat us and we will all be reconnected to the circle of life." 

Okay, so I know that this one came almost directly from The Lion King, there's not really a mystery around it. Later, I heard this conversation which made me choke on my soda.

Blade: "You know, you're mom is not as smart as they want us to think. There is a lot of stuff that they don't know that they just pretend. I think all moms do it." (I honestly thought we had a few more years before we had to admit our own stupidity.)
Z: "Yeah, I figured that out, but I am pretty sure they are keeping secrets about other stuff too."
Blade: "Like what?"
Z: "Well, when my momma says she is reading a book, she doesn't read it out loud. I think she might not know how to read."
Blade: "You could be right. She always makes me read the books I bring over - maybe she just makes up the stories from the pictures."

There you have it, folks. I can type, I can spell, but apparently I cannot read.

I bet the BlogHer people are gonna be super disappointed with the book review that I am supposed to write next week.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Bear-ly Tolerable

The overly tired child's body is finally going limp in my arms. All is still and quiet in the world and I feel my own muscles begin to relax. It's been a long day and I just want to lay her down so that I can play Angry Birds finish the blanket I have been working on for Blade.

THUD! The sound of my trashcan being tossed to the ground is recognizable at this point and pierces the silence like a shotgun. I calmly lift the heavily asleep child off of my lap and into her bed. THUD!

I am glad that I have made sure that the can is locked tonight as it has sometimes been forgotten. I am sure that the bear will soon leave as it is taking him too long to get to his goodies. My mind takes inventory of the trashcan. There's not much in there that he will want today, mostly trash from the bathrooms and bedrooms, a lot of paper, not many food scraps as we have been stretching our dinners into leftover lunches. He will be disappointed with his haul today.

I walk quietly to the back door to survey the damage and there he is, strolling through the yard. On all fours his back is easily taller than the trunk of my car, he seems to sense my presence as he lifts his nose and sniffs the air in my direction. I walk back to the living room thinking that he will soon leave.

For the next two hours, I hear him playing with the trashcan, rolling it from one side to the other. Tossing it into the side of the house, the porch. Popping the inflatable pool that has been the source of so much enjoyment this summer (there are muddy pawprints in the bottom of the pool to confirm this).

All goes silent and I hesitantly walk to the back door. I don't see him, so I open the door and step out onto the porch to  see what he has done. Trash bags lay scattered all over our driveway and yard. He stands up on two feet to see me and then turns back to his dinner. I walk back inside, tomorrow will be a long day as well.

Fast forward to the next morning. I know that during the night the naked child has climbed into my bed (I am not sure why it is necessary to strip off all of your clothes when you wake in the middle of the night to climb in your parent's bed, but apparently, in her world, this is how it is done). When I don't find her through my barely opened eyes and outstretched arms, I start to think that perhaps I have imagined almost elbowing her in the face the three times that I yelled at the Hubs to turn off his damn alarm clock this morning.

Then I hear her voice. Outside. Talking to the handy man that is adding rails to our deck.

She has dressed herself, even put her shoes on the right feet and has managed to open the backdoor without waking me. Now I am scared.

What happens if she decides to go on a nighttime stroll in her nakedness? What if my sleeping child encounters the hungry bear that seems to no longer fear the humans that he terrorizes? What if, what if, what if?

I am buying a deadbolt for the backdoor today.

Damn bear.

Monday, August 22, 2011

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

In the spirit of children returning back to school, my current position in life having started right around the time that they got out of school for summer vacation, I have decided that I have merely been on a summer vacation. Add to that the very real possibility of my returning to work soon (I have a second interview in the morning), I thought it would be fun to review the things that I did this summer.

In addition to the things that I talked about on the blog, I did other things. I hosted a cook out for the Hubs birthday (complete with a clean house!). I did a lot of laundry and dishes and I wiped so much ass that I should change my name to toilet paper.

We began a remodel of our bedroom closet, I mowed the acre and a half that we live on, I got the oil changed in both cars. I made sure that all of the bills were paid and that we had groceries in the house. I donated clothes and other items that we no longer needed to people that did need them.

I adopted a cat that decided he didn't want us after all. And a fish that was supposed to live in a 3 year old's bedroom but now lives as far back on the kitchen counter as I can get her. Her name is Goldy. We are pretty smart around here.

I taught Sunday school and attended church every weekend.

Most importantly, I have cleaned and re-cleaned the same areas over and over. I have said the same phrases ad nauseum. I have watched countless hours of Sesame Street and the Backyardigans. And I have not killed anyone.

That's a pretty successful summer.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

The Anti-Hero

Z identifies with villains rather than princesses in movies. She adores Cruella DeVille and Ursula the Sea Witch. The meaner, the scarier, the better.

I ask her why she wants to be Cruella or Ursula or Mother Gothel. Her response?

"I am cute and pretty all the time. Everyone tells me so. I want to be smart."

I am proud of her response and it does give me hope for her future, however, I question the smartness of a woman who wants to murder puppies to make a coat, or a sea creature that steals the souls of mermaids with dreams. Mother Gothel may have been pretty smart there for awhile, but was really pretty creepy, a little domineering and co-dependent with an addictive personality. Not to mention that she emotionally abused Rapunzel several times during the movie.

To add to this fascination with the evil doers of Disney World, she has taken a sudden interest in concocting "potions" in her closet. And hiding them.

It does my heart no amount of good to find a cup filled with Kool-Aid, lotion and hair conditioner in her play stove. Or to find a container filled with an unknown fluid hidden behind her dress up trunk.

That's why, when the Hubs came home from work tonight, he installed a deadbolt at the top of her closet door.

Someone's evil plans have just been thwarted.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The Curious Case of the Mess in Our Home

Everyday, I pick up toys and put them where they belong. I pick up clothes and launder them and put them where they should go. I wash dishes and put them away.

And every morning, there they are waiting for me to do it all over again.

My theory is that the dirty clothes, toys and dishes are reproducing at night. They are getting together in one giant, messy orgy and leaving themselves strewn about the house like sorority girls at a frat house. It's disgusting.

To prove this fact, I give you exhibit A. Toys from kid's meals. We don't eat out very often (because we are on the edge of broke), so to discover that Z has multiples of a particular toy is proof that they are reproducing themselves.

They are watching you sleep at night while they create their army.
Exhibit B is actually in the Hubs closet where you will find two (or more) of every T-shirt that he owns. I know I didn't buy duplicates - where are they coming from?

It seems as though the more I purge, the more STUFF that occupies our home. 

It's getting scary here people.

If you notice that I have suddenly stopped posting, please send the authorities. I am sure that it will mean that I have been suffocated in an avalanche of crap.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

I Just Don't Know

Dear Daughter,

I just don't know what is possessing you to want to catch your waste in containers. I just don't know why you would want to pee in a bucket or poo in a pitcher. I just don't understand why you would panic and try to scoop your poo with your hands into the toilet and then wipe your hands on the WALL.

I just don't know what would possess you to wipe the remainder of poo all over your ass cheeks while you ran naked from room to room sitting on furniture. Or to smear poo all over the toilet seat and then close the lid.

I just don't know why you would want to lie about it to my face when shown all of the evidence or why you even had poo on your face. I really just don't know.

I know that I told you that the fish bowl was dirty and needed to be cleaned. What I just don't know is why you took it upon yourself to sneak the Clorox Clean-Up Spray and attempt to kill your fish. I think it might live. I just don't know.

Finally, my child, I just don't know how all of this could have taken place in eight minutes. Eight minutes that I was on the phone with your Grandma and you were in a house with 3 adults.

What I do know is that you are methodically trying to find new and amazing ways to kill your poor innocent mother. The mother that feeds you, wipes your bottom and kisses your boo-boos. The mother who now has to stay up and clean remnants of your excrement from all of the fixtures in our home.

I really want to watch you grow up. I want to know who you will be when you grow up. I want to be able to tell your children about the Poo Massacre of 2011.

Please take it easy on me. I am holding on by a thread at this point. Albeit a poo covered thread, it's a thread nonetheless.



Monday, August 15, 2011


I am not sure what is wrong with me, I feel like I don't do anything, but I am exhausted all of the time. Not just tired, but wrung out, like all of my strength has been sapped. I don't have any energy to think of what I should be doing, let alone actually doing anything.

I am so tired.

I feel guilty about talking about this because I know that the Hubs has been out there working two jobs everyday, half the day in scorching temperatures. I feel bad if I fall asleep before he gets home, because it's not fair for him. I wish I knew what was wrong.

For the first time in my life, I feel weak. I feel so tepid, so worn out and I cannot explain to anyone why. I am dizzy and sometimes feel like I will pass out for no reason whatsoever.

Maybe it's anemia, maybe it's the E. Coli outbreak. Whatever it is, I need to be rid of it.

No insurance means no doctor, so, what's a girl to do?

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Good Morning

The sound of footsteps padding down the hallway introduce a knock on the door in my sleep.

I feel the weight of her getting onto the bed as I struggle to grasp the last few moments of sleep. She rolls herself onto my stomach, facing me, pushing her nose against mine. Her freakishly long for a 3 year old fingers stroke my cheeks.

"Momma", she says halfway to a whisper. "You should prolly take a shower and have a good breasfkast (why can't children say that word?). You are gonna have a long, hard day."

With that she launches herself off of me and hurdles herself to the floor. She runs, naked, squealing wildly back to her room.

Good morning.

Friday, August 12, 2011

So, I Know It's Kinda Gross But...

Did you know that frogs poop?

I had never thought about it before but I watched it happen last night.

I really had never thought that they did it, just assumed that they were too small or that they metabolized in a different way.

They don't. They just poop.

The kids are thrilled.

Just thought I would share.

Have a good Friday!

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Do Your Job

I was laid off from my job 65 days ago. In that time, I have applied to at least 100 positions. I have had one phone call for an interview.

I know that the job market is swamped with individuals looking for work and there are people out there with really expensive pieces of paper and more extensive resumes than my own looking for work.

That is why, when given bad service or attitude from a service "professional" I get really steamed. These individuals seem to have lost track of how lucky they have it in today's economy and who it is that is really paying their bills. In the last few weeks, I have asked for a member of management or a supervisor several times in response to service that I used to just accept.

I know that more than likely you are now doing the job of several people that have quit or been laid off due to corporate downsizing and hiring freezes. I know that you have to deal with people that are a lot more hostile than the world used to be, but to start the conversation off wrong with a negative attitude and an arrogant "I am doing YOU the favor" air should not only be reported but fireable offenses.

You are lucky that you know how your bills will be paid, that your kids will have food on the table, that your family will continue to have a roof over their heads.

If you can't do it right, just quit and give those of us that need a job a chance.

All I am asking is that you do your job and be grateful that you don't have to deal with things on my end of the line.

The end.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Yard Art

Warning: What you are about to read may make you choke or spew milk allover your monitor. Use caution. 

I think I want to steal this sign and post it in my driveway.

It speaks the truth and gives a bit of a warning to the chaos that you may encounter.


Tuesday, August 9, 2011

With An Accent

I don't think I have much of an Southern accent, in fact, I know girls that have much thicker accents than mine, but I have been know to get a little country every now and again. So when Z began imitating the things that I say, I was pretty surprised at what came out of her mouth.

At the grocery store, she is hopping up and down and occasionally grabbing at her bottom. 

"Z, Do you need to use the Potty?"

"No. Do you need to use the PAAAWWWWTTTTY?!" She drawls the word out and practically screams it. 

On the way to church early on a Sunday morning.

"Momma? Will JAAAAZZZZZZUS be in church with us today? How come he never comes to visit?"

I tell her it's because she can't keep her room clean. Cleanliness is next to Godliness, afterall.

We are at a barbecue with several of our friends and the kids are arguing over who is better - the Florida Gators or the Florida State Seminoles. I hear one boy tell her, "The Seminoles are going to the National Championship, the Gators are going to the dump."

Z is upset. 

"Momma, where are the Seminoles going?" 

I am busy chopping vegetables and talking to my friends. "To Hell.", I respond without even really thinking about it. Z whips around, places her hands on her hips defiantly, "The Seminoles are going to the HAAAAAILLLLL." The room grows silent, her tongue sticks out and she stomps away, satisfied. I shrug my shoulders, it's not like hail is really a curse word. 

As football season is about to begin in the next few weeks, she is seeing Seminole crap all over town. We live on their turf and it's to be expected. Every time she sees it, she smiles and points, "They are going to the HAAAAILLL, ain't they momma?" Always super country, always super cute. Old people gawk at the two of us as I try to maneuver past the display and onto something different - maybe they didn't really hear her. 

She's 3. I'll think about censoring her if she ever goes back to school. 

Monday, August 8, 2011

Book Club Anyone?

I love to read. It's a sense of release for me, a way to get out of the reality of my day to day - a means of escapism.

Since Z was born, I haven't really had the opportunity to read as much as I would like (except for children's books, sometimes the same ones OVER and OVER). New books by my favorite authors would be released, book stores closed down and it would all just pass me by because I was so busy working and taking care of my child and household. But that was the Before.

In the Now, all I have is time on my hands. Time when she falls asleep at night and I am left all alone, time when she decides she wants to play by herself that, again, I am left to my own devices - all alone. So I have taken the opportunity to pick up my old reading hobby once again.

First came The Time Traveler's Wife. I had seen the movie a few years ago and was relieved to find that the book was able to go into so much more detail and relationships so much more well developed. I was sad at the end because I was not sure what I could read next that would measure up to the magic of this book. I am very glad that I did not let the movie ruin the book for me and am considering watching the movie again now that I have a better sense of the backstory.

Next, on the advice of Stumbling Towards Perfect, I obsessed over getting the book The Kitchen House. I ordered it, expecting to read it on the way to the family reunion. Unfortunately, it arrived on the Monday before we were expected to leave.

I read the first few pages of the book, just to make sure that I would love it enough to stay awake and not wish that I had brought another book for our journey. And then I kept reading. And reading. And the next thing I knew it was 3 in the morning and I was almost finished with the book. I finished the nearly 400 page book in less than 20 hours. Then I loaned it to the Scare Bear. And she read it twice during the 4 days that we were out of town (just in case she missed something in the first go-round). It has been a long, long time that I have loved a book so very, very much. Read it. And buy it here because it so much cheaper than you can find it anywhere else (even the Kindle version is more expensive).

From my point of view, it is interesting to note how many things have stayed the same in the last 200 years.

Now you must be wondering what I read while we were on vacation. In November we went to Myrtle Beach for our Thanksgiving trip to see family and the Hubs and I read Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West and, although I don't normally like fantasy type books, we both ravenously made our way through it desperately wanting more. So, on this trip, he and I read the sequel to Wicked - Son of a Witch. He is still reading it while I moved on to the sequel - A Lion Among Men. These books are all really good, even for those of us that are not really into fantasy fiction, and definitely make you look differently on the Wonderful Land of Oz. Even Z has begun calling wicked witches Elphaba.

All of this backstory is to offer up a new idea - a kind of virtual book club. I am always looking for great books to read and would love any suggestions that are thrown my way. I am hoping to pick up The Help on my grocery shopping trip today.

Anyone care to join me?

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Country Living

This is an actual licensed food establishment just down the road from the Scare Bear's house. I see people getting food from there all the time.
I find it interesting that they now offer a drive thru for those of us too lazy to get out and walk the 3 feet to the shack. 
Where we live it is normal to give directions that involve "first dirt road on the left" or "first paved road on the right". For that matter, it is quite normal to hear someone give instructions that do not involve street names at all. "Take the main highway till you get to the Stop-N-Save, make a left, turn right at the school, make a left when you get to the end of the picket fence." I personally know people that do not know their physical address because they have never had to give it out to anyone.

That's why when I found out that I had won a GPS this week from a local TV station, I kind of chuckled to myself. Aside from the occasional excursion out of town (which I usually use the GPS that came pre-installed on my cell phone for - we're not too backwards) there is really not a necessity to own a GPS. Additionally, a GPS cannot be programmed to give me the directions that I am used to receiving. It all seems rather silly (and maybe a bit arrogant) to think that I would need a GPS for daily use. 

The Hubs, however, is infatuated with all that technology has to offer, even if it makes no sense in our day to day lives. He has downloaded every map from the company's website (exclaiming "I have street maps for the Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico!"). Never mind my response that we cannot drive there and therefore will probably never go, he is on a mission to look up directions to relatives houses, to see all of the alternate ways to get anywhere he may think of to go. He has mounted it proudly in his car. 

And, until the next cool gadget comes our way - that is where it will stay. 

Friday, August 5, 2011

Doin' the Funky Dance

My apologies for not posting as often as I should, I haven't been able to string together words to form a sentence as of late, let alone something worthwhile to actually send out into cyber space as though it is a jewel rather than just a pity party in disguise.

Perhaps it's because Mercury is in retrograde, although what that even means I have no idea. I've never been one of the astrological idealists, so I am hesitant to mention it as fact.

Perhaps it's because, as I sit here today, it has been 60 days since I have found myself thrown to the wayside of society like so much compost and yesterday's news left to rot and stink.

Perhaps it is the unbearable heat and humidity of this summer, crushing down on me every time I walk out of my door like an additional gravity, making me long to lie on the floor to escape the reality of it all.

Whatever it is, I have been in a funk.

A funk that has been hanging over my head, causing tears to hold precariously close to the surface, ready to break free at the slightest infraction. It has not helped that the mini-tyrant, with her closed up fists and angry words, has held ready to snap at me at every turn.

I received a respite today when I received a call for an interview, a promise to present myself back unto the world, although a bit battered, humbled and nervous. A promise that I could once again find value in my purpose, drive in my step.

It is sad that I take so much stock in having a career, that being a housewife is not enough for me - I am not sure if that is society talking or myself - but I am glad to have a chance.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Sweatin' Like A Sinner In Church

Once upon a time, a very long, long time ago I was a sophomore in Ms. McGrew's Biology class. When she informed me, halfway through the grading period, that my class average was a D, I was not shocked. I could not stay awake in her class. While she discussed cell division, molecules and plant reproduction, my eyes would get heavy and I would start to nod off. 

I spoke to my grandmother about my troubles. Biology class was directly after lunch. My assigned seat was against the radiator and I, full from lunch, extra toasty from the heat radiating behind me and unstimulated by information that was of no importance to me, would become increasingly tired - no matter how awake I may have been when I entered her classroom. My grandmother suggested that I speak with my instructor about moving my seat to another place in the classroom. It worked. I was no longer stuffy, no longer sleepy and was ably to squeak out a B before the end of the grading period. 

This weekend, the family and I attended a family reunion in Myrtle Beach, SC. I am always curious by family reunions as this is not something that my family has ever practiced.*

On Sunday, we attended church with our various family members from around the nation. The pastor at this church was giving a sermon on the night that Jesus went out to pray prior to being persecuted. He stated that he is not offended when parishioners fall asleep in the pews because Jesus' best friends fell asleep while He was praying that night. I am not sure what was going on with Jesus's friends. It was night, they were in the desert, they walked A LOT (like everywhere), but on behalf of my family members and others that struggle to stay awake in church, I would like to take this opportunity to speak to pastors of predominantly black churches. **

I understand that it is summer and that buildings (especially large buildings) are hard to keep cool during the especially dogged days of heat and humidity. 

I understand that churches have a tight budget and often times are plagued with concerns on how they will pay their bills.

I understand that the more people that you cram into a tight space the hotter that your facility will feel.

I understand that everyone in a church is a sinner and that we should all be sweating over the fates of our souls. 

However, if you could have someone cut on the air on Saturday night so that you are starting from a relatively cool temperature on Sunday morning, you might be able to keep people awake during your 3 and half hour long program (seriously, I honestly do not know why it has to be so long or drawn out, I began losing interest around the 2 hour mark). Additionally, your air conditioning system would not have to battle so hard to keep up with the quickly rising temperature from outside (and inside as people begin to file in).

There is really no reason that I can think of that you should not want your sanctuary to be air conditioned, it seems to me that in keeping your parishioners awake to hear your message you could be saving them from failing at an even bigger subject than high school Biology - life. 

* In fact, it occurred to me this weekend that it has been 19 years since my grandmother died, and I have not seen the majority of my aunts or cousins since then. I could pass my relatives on the street and never know who they are or that they were there.

** This is not my first time visiting a predominantly black church and the ones that I have been to all seem to have the same issues with their air conditioning. At first I thought it was just that one church, that the air must be broken. I know now that I am wrong. 

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