Superman's Life Lessons in Remodeling

We've taken a few pages from beloved comic book superhero Superman throughout this youth room contruction process.

I present them now for your mental edification and continued construction prowess. Read on if you dare:

1. Everyone needs a Fortress of Solitude where paint samples, fabric swatches, and all accessory choices are banned like kryptonite. Go ahead. Take that Dove moment. You're going to need it. After all, Superman balanced reporter Clark Kent's life of newspaper deadlines with that of saving the world on a daily basis. Its going to get crazy, but I think you can handle a little sawdust and drywall mud thrown into the mix....its all about balance. 

2. Despite the formidable name, Superman's good friends, Batman and Lois Lane were allowed entrance into the Fortress of Solitude. Its important to embrace the positive influences and people involved in the construction process. Encouraging the heart is important...especially when floor plans....or plans in general go awry. And they will! Oh, they will. Batman and Lois will come in handy when the drywall dust is flying and the paint fumes are beginning to permanently mess with your sense of smell. AND...Batman might actually be better at building things that Superman so just let him run with it. He is the Caped Crusader after all.

3. Bring out the red cape only when necessary. Very few things in life (and youth room construction projects) are really. really. for sure. absolutely. positively. without a doubt. worth fighting over. (You just got a general life lesson for FREE!)

In fact - they are so few that we at Jasper Nazarene are all still friends. Paint spattered and prematurely gray with all that drywall dust - but still friends.

No really! Its true! We still really REALLY like each other. We hug a lot around here ya know.

But what about paint colors?.....Nope. Always ask yourself this question: Will looking at this (insert color here) wall permanently burn my retinas, cause motion sickness, or otherwise scar the youth of America?

As long as the answer is "NO" then simply let it go. As long as the kids like it (and lets face it...they won't even realize the wall is painted for at least 6 months) that's what counts. It's their room after all. Their very own Fortress of Solitude....or in our case...Hormonal Teenage Angst and Chaos.  :) 

Come on. Pry those fingers loose. Take a deep breath.

**NOTE** IF you and your NYI sponsor HAPPEN to be smart enough to choose a pallet of darker, cafe-ish colors for the kids to pick from in the first place you MIGHT be able to skip the whole Fuschia vs. Electric Blue and Lime Green debate altogether.

Just an idea. Its not like Susan and I would know anything about that kind of thing ;)

Moving on....

Lighting choices?.....Not a chance...Well, maybe if someone tried to put a giant sparkly chandelier  in the youth room. Or a replica of Mr. Parker's leg lamp from A Christmas Story. But only then. Do you hear me? Only then, young grasshopper.

Furniture/Accessories?.....Nada.....IF after big strong wonderfully-perfectionistic construction men have volunteered hours and hours and month after month of labor constructing a lovely room capable of teenage containment you actually have the energy left to haul furniture of any size, shape, or color up two flights of stairs...THEN thank the Lord above and refuse to desecrate their hard work with an unseemly fuss about fabric colors.

Its just not right I tell ya! 

Lucky for us we all really like scarlet red and camel colored accessories. We're thinking we'll just smother the whole place in it ... bathrooms included. We really know how to make a statement.

What if the men get tired of sanding and hanging drywall and sanding and hammering and sanding and decide to replace the youth room with a man cave filled with lazy boy recliners for the sole purpose of watching sporting events?.....Go ahead. Knock 'em out! Permission granted. I mean it is your sanity at stake here. If this unfortunate event should occur just send about 15 teenagers up there and let them talk at their normal decible level for an hour. Problem solved.

4. The Man of Steel wasn't afraid to embrace his softer side at every opportunity. I bet he really got a kick out of the days he was able to throw on some jeans and flip flops and head down to Starbucks for a frappachino. How else would Lois Lane have fallen in love with him? (Forget the tights and giant red "S" for a few minutes, k?) 

You too, my friend, must resist the constant use of bright primary colors.  **See # 3. This is the only time you get to reopen the wall color discussion.**

Trust me. They'll love you for it later. Neutral is much more versatile. In fact its the new hot pink. Stand firm. You can do this. Go neutral. Go low key.....

Then at the last moment, rescue your room from a life of Clark Kent ordinariness and throw in a scarlet red couch (complete with fun loving accessories) - your very own giant red "S" to the world.   

Best of luck....may the force be with you....or something like that ;)

Mandy

Smalltown Hospitality

A new gas station opened up in town not long ago. The building had been sitting there - Sad. Forlorn. Cobwebby. Gloomy -  since we moved here.

Because there are only 2 others in Jasper (ummm...stations, not people) we decided to give it a try. It looks just like any other filling station. Nothing really special you need to write Mom about. I don't generally get all worked up over world political issues, or whether or not we should use our corn surplus to make ethanol.

I'm much more the silent observer. I mull things over.

I'm the watcher. The ponder-er. ... but not in a creepy, stalker-ish way.

However, no one around here seems to be a fan of the newcomer on the fuel scene. Each gas station in town proudly sports a "NO ETHANOL" banner. I know some say your car doesn't run as well on ethanol but since I haven't done my research I will refrain from entering that debate. Still far too much mulling to be done.

Personally, I vascilate between feeding the world's hungry with all that extra, delicious corn and supporting the creation of renewable energy sources. Its a toughie! I'll need to sit and ponder some more. Call me back in 10 years and I'll give you my opinion.

AND - the fact that there is now a ridiculous amount of oil floating in the Gulf of Mexico just adds fuel to the fire. 

(pun absolutely intended)

Can't we all just get along? But that's another post for another day.

Anyway, the point is - I didn't see the trademark ethanol sign at this new station. There was a different sign. One much less likely to start the pundits' chatter. One that made me want to smile - no mulling or pondering needed.

I couldn't resist taking a picture of the sign on the new shiny gas pumps.

Have we mentioned that we love small town life?

The Knights


P. S. I'm not just a terrible photographer.....it was raining when I took the picture.  :)

**UPDATE** 5/24/2010 - They put up the "NO ETHANOL" sign! All my small-town love and kindhearted a-political gas-staion owner fantasies have now died a sad death. The end.

The Good Grub

If you ever find yourself hopelessly lost in our neck of the woods and in need of some nourishment for both the belly and your Mayberry-esk fantasies then we know just where to take you. We're so generous we'll even give you a choice :)....

Harvey's Pirate Restaurant or the Dixie Freeze.

You pick.

Go ahead.

You'll want to lick your plate clean at either one so its really just a matter of decor or which side of the street you happen to be walking on.

 (Do you feel like crossing the street or not?....hhhmmmm)

Choice # 1 - Harvey's Pirate Restaurant. Yep, thats its real name. Its obvious no one consulted Jack Sparrow about the signage. Just walk by real fast - you won't even notice Scary Toothless One-eyed Pirateman.

Location: South Pittsburg, TN next to the fire station

Decor: Lets call it "Shabby Chic Halloween" or maybe leave off the chic:)

Sadly, no one actually dresses like a pirate - and if you were to give them a good "AARRGGGHH! ME HARDYS!" they'd just wonder what was in your Cheerios that morning and rush some sense-restoring sweet tea to your table stat! 

The black and orange facade was chosen to coordinate with the South Pittsburg Pirate's school colors. Yep, Aunt Bea would be horrified!


For all you overly analytical, logical folks out there...here's the corresponding mathematical equation:

High School Football + Nothing else to do in our small-town kingdom = Football is king.

All the tables and chairs look like they came out of your grandma's kitchen 30 years ago and none of the fine china you'll be dining on matches. It makes your lunch or dinner far more interactive. You have plenty of time to guess who's going to get the mismatched plates before your entree arrives.

Don't worry...you won't care once you get a taste of Harvey's giant cheeseburger...that's really what they call it.

Honest.

**Pssst...Don't tell anyone - but the Pirate's burgers make the Dixie Freeze burgers cry for their mommas they're so good. But don't tell anyone. We like our scary little pirate place and would hate for it to be overrun with papparazi and celebrities.

We're completely objective about this analysis. Its a really complicated, smarty-pants formula involving the amount of grease running down your chin divided by the amount of grease absorbed by the bun, multiplied by the number of napkins you have to use...tricky, tricky stuff**

Menu: Burgers, chili dogs, grilled cheese, chicken fingers. I also hear Harvey dishes up a mean breakfast but I've not ventured that far down the plank into Pirateland. Harvey is still in the kitchen as cook and depending on his mood you may or may not get exactly what you ordered...so come with an open mind and carefree tastebuds ;)

Or its a swim with the fishes for you! (Harvey will make you walk the plank with the blunt end of his greasy old spatula!)

However, if you're really worried about it, the pirate waiter will just hand you the ordering pad and you can write it down yourself. These pirates understand ocd landlovers.


Choice # 2: The Dixie Freeze (We do live in the South folks)

Location: Across the street from the firestation and Harvey's


Decor: Closer to the "Dive" end of "Diners, Drive-In's, and Dives" but the tables and chairs do match. We'll call it "Vintage Retro." A.K.A. - nothing has changed or been replaced in 30 years. Dark paneling is still "in" around here. Who knew I lived in such a progressive place?! This is really what the going green movement is all about anyway....


Waste not want not. Recycling. Repurposing.


Here they skip that whole process and simply NEVER change anything. Seems smart to me.


Work smart - not hard, right?


Menu: Plate specials daily - ask anyone in the neighborhood and they can tell you when Meatloaf Day is or when to show up for Chicken and Dumplings. They also serve burgers, chicken, hotdogs, and their infamous Dagwood Sandwich. I've heard their milkshakes could possibly bring about world peace with their sweet gooness, but I haven't tried one yet. I'll le you know.


So, what's it to be? Are you feelin' more in touch with your adventurous pirate seafaring side or your nostalgic southern comfort food loving inner child?


;)

Where Am I?

Guess!

Come on!...pplleeassee. Pretty please?!

You'll never guess because it is beyond human fathoming.

Okay, I'll give you a hint:

Did it help?? Any guesses? Mmmm...fried moonpies.

Yes, deep fried oreos were involved.

This fancy schmancy hand stamp was required. No, it is not a ping pong paddle.

You can be more creative than that. Think! Use that gray matter!

Give up?! Man, you really stink at this guessing thing......I'll give you a hint.........

I give good hints. Yes, that's right. The National Cornbread Festival. Jealous, yet?

This last weekend we took it upon ourselves to attend the National Cornbread Festival in neighboring South Pittsburg TN. Natalie came up for the weekend...who wouldn't?....(okay, all of you out there with corn allergies are off the hook).... cornbread goodness as far as the eye can see. Its a no brainer.

A rare brother sister bonding moment. I've got the crazy pictures on my hard drive if you want 'em. But since I want to remain Natalie's favorite sister in law I refrained from posting.

Two faces so stinkin cute that they conned me into buying a little bitty teeny weeny coke for $1.50. Such a sucker.

Mountain Cove Bluegrass - I'm pretty sure I glimpsed a tear in several eyes as they played Rocky Top. You missed it, but the guitar player took his Tennessee hat off and held it over his heart. Hilarious!

Yes, folks, its true. The proof is in the pictures.

How about one last picture? You all know how I love pictures. Useful for so many things...like blackmail perhaps?

I'm sure she's available for your next family gathering, birthday party, or VBS.

Anyway, it did decide to rain - well, maybe that's a bit of an understatement - it monsooned outside all weekend, but we did find a rainless window on Saturday morning to join in the festivities. AND...I met almost all of my cornbread-related life goals :)

1. Cornbread T-Shirt...check! "Cornbread - A Taste of the South"

2. Eat as many Deep Fried Oreos as possible...check! (Nat and I are still waiting on our cholesterol to come back down...we like to live on the edge.)

3. Quick walk through the carnival avoiding any eye contact with all over-zealous carnival workers selling overpriced chances to win a goldfish....check!

4. Eat vast amounts of cornbread...oopps. I knew we'd forget something in all of our giddy excitement.


Until next year,

Mandy

I Took The Plunge

That's right folks. I did it. I just jumped right in...with both feet. I was feelin' froggy so I jumped.

Completely reckless of me I know.

So, whatdaya do? Glad you asked.

Some people jump out of airplanes...really crazy people hang glide or climb mountains. The truly odd collect rare species of dead bugs or spend their spare time orienteering (a.k.a. getting lost on purpose and seeing how long it takes to find their way out of the wilderness ...they've obviously never met me...I could get them lost way faster.)

I, however, choose different obstacles. The truly terrifying. The absolutely perilous. The pinnacle of thrilling....

(drumroll please....)

I roasted an entire chicken the other night!

(crickets chirpping)...

What?! Did you hear me?!

You snicker?! You roll your eyes?! You don't think that's truly harrowing?!

Well, you've obviously never looked a de-feathered, headless, chicken in the body cavity and tried to figure out what to do with it! I was very innocently strolling through the meat department last week and happened upon a chicken sale and I don't know what to tell you, but my wild side took over and the next thing I knew I was handing over my Ingles Advantage card.

I brought him home and put him in the fridge. Every time I opened the door to grab a pudding cup or a diet coke- there he was. Just sittin' there. Waiting. What in the world do you do with a WHOLE animal?! I've never roasted a whole anything!

Maybe it has to do with the fact that it requires you to put your hand in a body cavity...which in my opinion never sounds like a good idea. Come on...you've seen CSI.

Maybe its because we don't eat all our leftovers or something. Anyway, it was eerily similar to the trepidation preceeding baking a Thanksgiving turkey..which I've also never done. :)

So, last Thursday I took him out....and stuffed him with onions, garlic, lemon, and salt. Then I ever so carefully (or competely recklessly..depends on your feelings about salmonella and the consumption of animal fats) mixed together butter, salt, pepper, thyme, oregano, and rosemary and rubbed that under the skin and all over the outside. Don't forget...we're living on the wild side here people.

Ummm....excuse me. You're drooling on your keyboard, again.

Finally, I gracefully (translation: did not burn myself) popped him in the oven at 450 for 75 minutes and then let it cool on the stove top...I served it with oven-baked sweet potatoes and steamed broccoli (had to make up for all that butter somehow!). Delicious. Completely victorious. The gold medal is mine....and so is the drumstick.


Mandy ;)

P.S. There are no pictures accompanying this post because we ate first and asked questions later. Besides, I may not be a member of PETA but I still don't condone the posting of poor meatless chicken carcasses on the web. ha! :)

Herb is Here

I'll go ahead and apologize for being a blog slacker...Go ahead! Smack my hand. Send me to the corner! Put me in time out....I deserve it.

Procrastination's normally not my game but life's not just that exciting lately folks. We haven't been sitting around watching paint dry or grass grow or anything. I guess I could have written about my leaking kitchen sink, the fact that my floors are begging for a good mopping, or that there is evidently an entire spider family building cobwebs in my bedroom window - but I don't suffer from insomnia and I bet you don't either. Cruel and unusual punishment that would be.

Nevertheless, we are so glad that spring has finally sprung here in the valley. Everything is fresh and new. The mountains have transitioned from muddy brown to vibrant green in a matter of days.

The whole thing kinda reminds me of that scene from Bambi when the forest wakes up from a long winter's nap and the birds are going crazy and everybody is "twitterpated" according to the owl....

What do you mean you don't remember that?!

Epic childhood Disney action. Shame on you! My favorite blanket as a teeny tiny was covered in Bambi, Thumper, Flower, and all their friends...sigh....the good old days.

Focus, Mandy.

Sorry.

Anyway, I decided to celebrate this vibrant new season by starting an herb garden. No, we are not going to have the "Is it HUH-ERB or ERB" battle. I don't care how you say it. I just like to eat 'em. I love fresh food (especially in summer) and fresh herbs make EVERYTHING taste better so I thought I'd give it a try.

Because herbs tend to be very invasive when planted with other stuff I decided to start with some planters. Now I'm just sitting here, tapping my foot - waiting for them to sprout. According to the seed packets I've got another 7-12 days to wait...Have I told you lately that patience is not one of my virtues?

Just ask Kevin (well, only if you have an hour....or maybe 50 years...sheesh).

Our project this last weekend included planting a vegetable garden and working on our front flower beds. Kevin was outside tilling up the dirt for me like a pro. Such a sweetie! Besides, he knows that the chances of me hurting myself using a self-propelled tool with blades is most likely 100%.

More photos to come!

Mandy & Herb

This is where herb lives...on the back steps. You'll see that Basil and Cilantro are quite cozy in the upper left. The Chives and Oregano haven't joined the party yet...waiting to make a grande entrance. But Rosemary and Parsley are shyly introducing themselves in the bottom left planter. Can't wait.

Ridiculousness

Kevin and I spent the day in Chattanooga the other day....it was Date Day. We get so busy around here that we try to make it a point to spend some QT (quality time) with each other occasionally. We went to see the movie Valentine's Day (two thumbs up), had lunch at Olive Garden, bought some new bedroom furniture (its lovely by the way) and strolled around Hamilton Place Mall. Lucky for all of you I had my camera handy.....

Kevin rocking the sweater vest....I had no idea four years ago that I was marrying Mr. Rogers. Don't worry, I made him put it back on the rack. I'm no fashionista but I'm pretty sure button-up sweaters aren't allowed for at least another 30 years.

I was shocked to discover that there is such a thing as a store dedicated solely (pun definately intended) to the proliferation of ridiculous rubber shoes. I know some of you out there LOVE crocs. I have to give them at least one brownie point for being the only completely recycleable shoe out there. And I'm sure they're comfortable, yada yada yada but I am not a fan....never have been...they come in riculous colors and patterns, are made entirely out of rubber, and people everywhere seem to think its okay to wear them with socks and shorts in the summer. Once again I'm no fashion expert but something about these shoes makes my left eye start to twitch. You'd expect to be openly mocked if you wore wooden clogs in public but somehow if its made of rubber its suddenly okay. Do I wear my blue, furry slippers with the pink hearts on them (thanks sister in law Nat :) out in public?? No, of course not - that would be silly, right? I argue that a croc is nothing more than a naked, furless slipper (same shape - admit it); therefore, if it must be worn, it should remain in the house.

I may stand alone, but I must stand against the ever popular croc. Sorry folks.

Expecting 43 pairs on my next birthday from disgruntled croc enthusiasts everywhere,

Mandy