My house has scars.

Yours probably does, too.

We had this house built from the ground up.  For weeks (that lingered into months) I labored over decisions and agonized over choices that–in the grand scheme of things–don’t matter much: corian or granite, maple or cherry, Plush or Berber.

At the time, I couldn’t help but focus on the semi-permanent outcome of my decisions.  This was to be our home–forever.

Five years later I’m not quite as convinced on the forever part.  Still though, it is our home.  I’m still living with the choices I made back then.  And goshdarnit, they matter!

Or do they?

This house (for which I practically signed my life away) started out flawless.  The walls were coated only with perfect texture and paint.  The concrete floors shined pristine.  The cabinets and carpet were unmarked–brand spankin’ new.  Even the furniture came straight from the warehouse.

Much has changed.

See for yourself…

Scars.

Lots of ‘em.

Many a wooden surface in our house has fallen victim to a cotton ball, soaked in nail polish remover.

The once shiny concrete floors have been scratched and marred by a little boy’s toys.

There was the soap dish in the shower that was waylaid when a certain young lady attempted to prop her leg up for a better shaving angle.

A bathroom counter that remains forever smeared True Berry Red.  {I ought to outlaw nail polish and its associated products}.

The crop circle-esque marking on our kitchen cabinetry.  Now when he uses a drill, the phrase, “measure twice, cut once” will forever echo in my husband’s head.

Oh yes.  And then there is our lovely gap-toothed chair.  Somehow Jayce managed that one before he could even walk.  He taught me early the differences between girls and boys.

Scars.

Each with a story.  A memory.  A little something to laugh about now.

For a long while I held out hope for a house that wouldn’t get “messed up.”  And while you won’t find me inviting destruction anytime soon, I can honestly say that these little scars no longer leave me needing to count to ten.  Each scar is sort of like a lasting impression of a time gone by, never to pass again.

Little hands.  Chubby, accident-prone fingers.  Minds that knew no better.

Scars: an unavoidable part of turning a house into home.

The other morning–amidst a mess of paint rollers and ladders and drop cloths in my bedroom–I sat against the wall, eating a bowl of yogurt for breakfast.  Jeff sat directly across from me, eating his own bowl of yogurt.  Together, we admired the work we’d accomplished while letting out a collective sigh, considering how much there was yet to be done.

It reminded me of how–years before–I’d sat against the wall of an empty house in Colorado Springs, the majority of our belongings still packed up in cardboard moving boxes.  It had been a stressful move, and to compensate, I’d bought a bottle of White Zin (the only wine I’d drink back then).  I sat against a naked wall and drank straight from the bottle, because the box with glassware was either unmarked or missing, it’s hard to say which now.

At the time, I considered it a movie moment.  In the movie of my life, that is.

I watched a movie one time–though now I can’t remember the title or who starred in it–where the lead characters went to some in-between place after dying, and had to watch movies of their lives.  I’m sure there was some plot involved, but it escapes me now.  The movie moments stick though.

We all have movie moments.

How cool would it be if we could edit them, splay them together into one giant tapestry of the best–and some of the worst–moments of our lives.

What are some of the moments that would make yours?

Here are some of mine, in no particular order:

• peeing on a stick while working an after school job at an old-fashioned ice cream store in my hometown.  And the reaction that followed.
• playing an impromptu game of soccer (using an empty two-liter bottle) in a grocery store parking lot, while the rain poured down in sheets and soaked me to the bone.
• riding with my best friend and her boyfriend in his orange VW bus, en route to the hospital after having heard that one of our friends had been injured in an accident on the way to school.  Injured, as it turned out, had been an optimistic report.  It was the first loss I’d ever experienced.
• the first time I kissed my husband
• dropping my first query letter into a mailbox at the Post Office in Paso Robles.  It resulted in my very first published article.
• giving birth.  All four times.
• saying I do
• realizing I didn’t
• the near drowning
• being hunched over the rim of a hospital bathtub in Augusta, Georgia, praying desperately for the strength to go on.
• playing rock tag with my family the first time we camped at Grand Canyon
• countless Memorial Days spent camping at Plaskett Creek
• Grandma’s wheelbarrow rides
• the view from the highest point of the basket toss
• seeing my husband at the end of the aisle
• the day I spent wine tasting with my mom (with grandma and oldest daughter in tow)
• picking up my very first car, and my dad making me drive.  Even though I’d never driven stick before.
• carving pumpkins
• riding the Tea Cups with my Aunt Sharon
• drinking {entirely} too much Schnapps with Monica
• laughing long into the night with Heather and Bret after our first (second?) night of Moms Panel training
• We are the Bearcats, the mighty, mighty Bearcats
• giving the speech at high school graduation
• my friend, Michael, taking me to homecoming during what should have been my senior year
• accidentally finding a hidden brake on the passenger side of my cousin’s car.  Now that was fun.
• breastfeeding
• two rides in an ambulance
• the view from the airplane the first time I moved away from home
• sitting on the floor of our newly built home and eating McDonald’s (GAG!) with my gang
• the first time Jayce saw the Mickey’s Not So Scary Halloween Party parade

There are more, of course.  Likely enough to fill ten blog posts.  But these spring to mind right now.

How about you?  What are your movie moments?

Each and every year I run into a dilemma in trying to decide what to give the teacher for Christmas.  Or teachers, as the case may be.  It’s a predicament.  Because I honestly don’t know enough about each one personally to be able to give something that is unique to her tastes.  And then, of course, there’s the cost factor.  Between teachers, aides, therapists, etc., at one point we were buying for six educators.  Six educators who played important roles in the lives of our children mind you.  Skimping them felt wrong, but I couldn’t afford six knock-their-socks-off kinda gifts.  You see my dilemma?

I thought I’d be proactive this year though.  So I sent an email to some teacher friends of mine, asking what they do {and don’t} appreciate when it comes to gifts from their students.  I thought I’d be a dear and share the results of my not-so-scientific poll with you.  For what it’s worth…

Five  A+ Teacher Gifts:

1. Gift cards.  I know, I know.  The cost thing right?  But, from what I’m told, even a $5 gift card to Starbucks is a winning gift.  And considering what your child puts his/her teacher through on a daily basis, eh.  I’d say it’s worth it.

2. Books.  Markers.  Classroom supplies.  You get the idea.  So maybe you can’t bring yourself to give a gift card and call it a day.  Fine.  But surely you see the value in buying items for the classroom.  A spin on this would be to have each child in the class contribute a book or two to the teacher’s in-classroom library.

3. Hand-written cards and notes.  More than one of the teachers who responded to my poll mentioned an affinity towards heartfelt thank you’s from students.  And their parents.

4. Themed baskets.  Think along the lines of movie night.  You might include some candy, microwave popcorn, and a gift certificate to Blockbuster.  Of course, trying to keep this gift within the parameters of a tight budget could get tricky.

5. A charitable donation.  If you know the teacher well enough you could give to a cause that is near and dear to her heart, in her name of course.

Five Flunking Teacher Gifts:

1. Anything apple themed.  It’s overdone.  And maybe a touch obnoxious.  Or so I’m told.

2. Ornaments.  You really have no way of knowing whether the teacher even decorates a tree, much less what style it is.  Better skip all-that-glitters just to be on the safe side.

3.  Baked goods.  I have to say that the teachers I heard from had mixed reactions on the baked goods front.  Some loved that someone would go to the trouble of baking for them, while others have an aversion to either the calories, or eating something that comes from an unknown kitchen/cook.  Probably a good idea to stick with something in the A+ category.  Just sayin’.

4.  Things that smell.  This rules out candles, bath products, soaps or anything else that is sold by scent.  Wouldn’t want to give something floral to a fruity type, kwim?

5. Mugs.  For the love of all things good, just. don’t.

These ideas work (or don’t!) for teachers.  For other ideas that work, click on That Family.

There are days when this mothering gig gets the best of me.

Days when I’m exhausted from dealing with the same issue.  Again.

Days when I wish I could telepathically communicate that which I’ve learned, from mistakes I’ve made.  So that she doesn’t have to repeat them.

Days when–more than anything else–I’d love to seal her up in a giant bubble.  For safe keeping.

Days when I ache to impart to her the knowledge that I am obstinate only because she is more cherished than the most antique family heirloom.  More important than any health care bill.  More precious than every diamond in every little blue box that ever was.  Ever.

But those things?  Those things don’t always come across.  She sees something far different.

She sees rules.  Hard and fast ones.  Arbitrary ones.

Breakable ones.

Only these ones aren’t.

At least not without consequence.

And believe you me that the consequences I’ve got on the table are so much less permanent than the ones I’m trying to protect her from.

You know how when you were young and you got daddy’s belt or grandma’s flyswatter, or mom’s wooden spoon and each time they said, “this hurts me more than it does you?”

I didn’t believe it then.

Because it hurt.

But they were right.

Because it hurts much more on the other side.

And I’m not talking wooden spoons here.

Yeah.  There are days when this mothering gig gets the best of me.

Days when I wish I could hand it all over.

Days when I wish I could admit that I’m doing my best, but I fear it isn’t good enough.

Days when I’d give anything in exchange for “the answer”.

Days when I wish there was someone who understood.

And then it occurs to me that someone does.

So I hit my knees.  And I let it all out.  And I ask, “to where shall I go?”

And then I wait.

And eventually, I feel better.  If only a little.

And then I remind myself that going to Him should have been my first response.  Not my last resort.

Maybe someday I’ll learn.

Maybe someday she will too.

Psst. Have you heard? It’s November.

You know what that means right?  It means that the holiday party invites are going to start rolling in any minute.  And if you’re anything like me, you probably wait until you’re headed out the door to figure out what the heck to bring along for the hostess.  It’s not like you can show up empty-handed after all.

But again, if you’re anything like me, you may find yourself hard-pressed to come up with anything more creative than a bouquet from the wannabee floral department at your go to supermarket.

Have no fear though; I’ve done the creative work for you, and put together a list of ten spruced up holiday hostess gifts that will knock their socks (or stockings as the case may be) off.

Here’s what I’ve come up with:

1. Something festive.  Fill a decorative glass jar (or even a canning jar would work) with a homemade nut/berry mix and tie a big, beautiful ribbon around it.  Imagine how pretty it would look.  And the fact that the contents are totally shelve-able means that your host(ess) wouldn’t feel obligated to serve it at the party.

2. Something frivolous.  Head over to Cost Plus (World Market) or Pier 1 and pick up a set or two of cutsie cocktail stirrers.  I’m partial to the peppermint or reindeer ones, but there are plenty of options.  Next stop: the grocery (or liquor) store.  Choose a nice bottle of liquor (Chambord, Godiva, Bailey’s) to present with the stirrers.  Again, a big, beautiful bow would go a long way to add wow factor to a relatively simple gift.

3. Something sinful.  Think chocolate.  This time of year you can easily find decadent goodies on every end-cap of every specialty store.  There are peppermint barks, gourmet marshmallows, truffles, and toffees.  Things that beg to be savored fireside.

4. Something portable.  I like the idea of a nice quality travel mug presented with an assortment of holiday flavored teas.  They have such yummy sounding teas available this time of year (sugarplum dream or gingerbread for instance).  Arrange the mug alongside the teas in a basket with a candy cane and you’ve saved your hostess a trip to Starbucks!

5. Something personalized.  Pick up a pair of plain martini glasses (readily available) and a glass etching kit from your local craft supply store.  Let your creative juices flow.  Etching initials or snowflakes on the glasses would make them instantly unique.  Tie itty bitty ribbons around the stems and present them with some cute cocktail napkins (I LOVE the ones at Z Gallerie!).

6. Something practical.  If the hostess is throwing a big holiday shindig chances are she won’t feel up to making breakfast the following morning.  A dozen fresh bagels (or muffins or croissants) from a local bakery along with flavored cream cheese (or jams) would likely be much appreciated.

7. Something fragrant.  Personally, I’m a sucker for those scented pine cones that start popping up all around town about this time of year.  You can buy a mesh bagful of them at the grocery store (or Michaels or JoAnne) for under five bucks.  You pour those pine cones into a decorative basket and slap a metallic ribbon on them, and battabingbattaboom:  I guarantee you’ve got a great gift.

8.  Something traditional.  And what’s more traditional than wine? But you truly can put a spin on even the most traditional of hostess gifts.  Consider purchasing a wine that is produced in the recipient’s home state.  And present it with a decorative bottle stopper (like this or this).

9. Something homemade.  I’m sort of infamous for my homemade tortilla chips and guacamole.  But salsa is much more give-able than guacamole and lucky for me, my friend Becca passed along a fabulously simple and tasty salsa recipe.  So…if you invite me to a holiday party, you know what you’ll likely be gifted!

10. Something tailored to the occasion.  For a cocktail party, consider bringing along a set of cute appetizer plates and a bottle of flavored organic olive oil.  For a dessert reception, maybe champagne flutes and a box of chocolates.  For a cookie exchange, maybe a set of copper cookie cutters.  You see where I’m going with this right?

So…these are decent ideas right?  And easy enough that you could keep one or two on hand for last minute invites.

What about you?  What’s your best idea for a festive hostess gift idea?

And for other great Works for Me ideas, visit That Family.

Hi friends.

I’m home.  Didya miss me? :)

I thought I’d share my thoughts on the D23 Expo.  Sound good?

So….

Let’s start with the good.

-The Dick Cook presentation on upcoming Disney Studios projects was super cool. Über cool even.  And that, coming from the dumb girl who left the arena fifteen minutes before Johnny Depp appeared on stage in full on Capt. Jack Sparrow character.  And yes, I’m totally kicking myself for that.  Sigh.

-Presentations.  Disney showcased some of their best and brightest during the Expo.  And they did a great job of making attendees feel like they were being given an “inside” scoop.  In spite of the fact that everything shared opened for public consumption, via DisneyParks tweets, seconds after it was announced on stage.

-Space.  I attended the Expo on Friday and Saturday.  There was only a brief time on Saturday morning during which I felt maybe a little claustrophobic.  Other than that, the meeting space was big enough that it didn’t make it feel like you were one of the many heifers being herded down Main Street after Wishes.

-Design.  There was Disney signage everywhere.  They did a great job of illustrating the Disney sponsored exhibits.  So too did they succeed at properly identifying the meeting spaces and exhibits.

-Staffing.  There were plenty of Cast Members on hand to offer direction or answer questions.

-Publicity.  If you weren’t aware of the D23 Expo, you almost certainly must have been hiding under a rock.

Now.  On to the not-so-good.  And I give some serious slack here considering the fact that this was a HUGE event to put together and it was the first of its kind.

-Organization.  I think they could have done a bit better in this area.  In all fairness, though, I saw significant improvements on day three over day two.

-Planning for the masses.  I saw a report pre-Expo that stated Disney was expecting 40,000 fans in attendance.  Yet many of the most popular presentations were only set up to allow seating for 200 people.

-Value.  I’m not sure that I got my $37 worth of “entertainment” each day, considering I could have gotten into Disneyland for $35 more.

My biggest complaint?  Ever since it was announced, I wanted to attend D23.  And I wavered for a long time.  I was pushed over the edge, though, when Disney Cruise Line announced that it would unveil it’s newest itineraries at the Expo.  Once that happened, I immediately purchased my plane ticket and made hotel reservations.  The DCL presentation was scheduled to begin at 9 am on Friday.  When I showed up at the Convention Center at 8:15 on Friday I was told that because I was not a D23 member, I would not be permitted to enter the convention hall until 9 am.  I pointed out to the Cast Member that there was no way I would make the presentation in that case.  And he kindly directed me to the ticket sales booth where I could purchase a $75 D23 membership in order to gain admittance and line up for the presentation I’d traveled a thousand miles to see.  Fabulous.  But left with little choice, I begrudgingly purchased the membership.  And after a whole lot of hassle (which I’ll skip over for the sake of brevity) I was permitted to go upstairs and line up for the presentation.  You can imagine my delight when a Cast Member came by and counted the awaiting guests, assigning me a number of 190, safely under the 200 person limit for the presentation.  This, though, is where I feel like Disney had an organizational fail: they didn’t monitor the line at all.  Guests in front of me had been “saving space” for other members of their party and when it came time to enter the theater, the line jumpers ahead of me ended up cheating me out of my spot.

That sucked.

I mean really, really sucked.

If I’m being honest I’ll tell you that I was on the verge of tears.  Not only because I’d been duped into purchasing a $75 D23 membership, but also because I legitimately had earned my place inside that theater and it had coyly been snatched away.

You’d have cried too.

I will say, however, that my experience significantly improved from there.  Because when Dick Cook puts on a presentation, well, let’s just say he knocks it out of the park.

I was privy to movie clips and trailers of some of the most super cool movies in the making.  We saw clips or trailers for: Disney’s A Christmas Carol, Old Dogs, Prince of Persia, Alice in Wonderland, and The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.  John Travolta, along with his wife, Kelly Preston, and daughter, Ella Bleu, appeared briefly on stage as did Nicolas Cage, Tim Burton, Jerry Bruckheimer, and Robert Zemeckis.  Of course, that’s saying nothing of the appearances of Miley Cyrus (who doesn’t really do a thing for me, personally) and Johnny Depp as Capt. Jack Sparrow (who maybe kindofsortofdoes).

Of the presentations I saw, this one absolutely takes the cake.

Overall, I’d venture to guess that D23 Expo (surprise surprise) was a success.

Here is the advice I’d offer to someone who plans to attend the next event (should I be so bold as to predict there will be one…):

-Don’t go alone.  The highlights of my weekend (besides the Dick Cook presentation) occurred when I was hanging out with Allison (more on that tomorrow!) and her adorably sweet mom, Francie.

-Don’t rely on the Expo for your sole means of entertainment.  Incorporate a trip to Disneyland and/or Disney’s California Adventure.

-Don’t plan to see any first-of-the-morning presentations unless you are a D23 member.  :)

I do plan to attend again next year.  If there is a next year.  But I’ll be bringing my peeps with me, because all that excitement just isn’t as exciting without someone to share it with.

Immediately after Jayce’s accident at the pool, the last thing I wanted to do was talk about it.  After telling and retelling the story countless times to the first responders, the hospital personnel, and then family, I was tired of the telling.  Because the telling sparked an onslaught of images in my mind’s eye.  Images that I’d much rather have forgotten.

But in the two weeks since that afternoon, I’ve changed my stance.

Now I don’t mind telling.  I hope that in telling, a child will be saved.

There is a huge water safety campaign going on locally during the month of August.  One of the kick-off events was a press conference that took place at a local pool on Friday.  I was asked to be on hand to share our story.  And that’s exactly what I did.

Click here to view the short news piece.

Last weekend we had friends over for dinner (you should go say hello btw, because Becca is new to the blogosphere).  They’re good peeps.  So good that they brought fresh flowers.  Two bunches in fact.  One for me.  And then their youngest son Jack (who may or may not be majorly crushing on one of my girls.  You didn’t hear it from me though) brought one for the girls.

Ahem.

I absolutely love having fresh flowers around the house and I happen to be of the opinion that a beautiful bouquet makes a lovely hostess gift.  But that’s beside the point.  The point is that as much as I love having flowers around, I seldom do.  So I had to really climb and dig and search for a vase.  Two vases actually.

Which made me realize that perhaps I need to buy flowers more often.

So that less climbing and digging and searching for a vase would be in order.

On the other hand, there are those tools around the house that hardly have any counter time–or cupboard or closet as the case may be–because they are so frequently in use.

I thought I’d share a couple of those with you today.

You can thank me later.

See this?

It’s my strainer.  Otherwise known as the kitchen MVP.  Seriously.  I wash this thing like, I dunno, umpteen times each day.  Okay maybe not umpteen, but certainly no less than three.  I would be lost without it.  Or stuck eating homemade strawberry ice cream full of itty bitty strawberry seeds.  Ew.

And then there’s this.

It’s my obviously overused vegetable brush.  I’m sure there is some fancy shmancy football word for runner up MVP but I don’t know it so suffice it to say that, next to my strainer, this is the most used item in my kitchen.  We try to go heavy on the fruits and veggies.  And knowing what I know about pesticides I insist on scrubbing the heck out of those things before they make it anywhere near our mouths.

Judging from the looks of my veggie brush I’m thinking another trip to the Crate and Barrel is in order.

Moving right along though.

Ah.  These guys.

I’m the world’s most annoying drinker.  Because if I attempt to take a sip from a cup containing any type of beverage with ice, I make horrible slurping sounds.  Unless I have a straw.  Apparently the ability to drink in a ladylike fashion was not coded into my genetic make-up.  Which is why we always have a healthy supply of straws on hand in the pantry.

Last but not least…

Uh huh.  My hand weights.  I use them nearly each and every day.  Sometimes Gilad from Fit TV keeps us company.  Other days it’s Jillian.  But no matter who’s kicking my butt on any given day, these little babies are doing their part to add a touch of definition to my arms.

And shoulders.

And back.

Sigh.

So there ya have it.  The four tools that see me through.  Day in and day out.

What say you?  Which tools would you rate as your own MVP’s?

This week I learned that if a federal investigator calls your house wanting to set up an appointment to meet, you shouldn’t panic or jump to conclusions.

His call doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with your taxes.

Or the illegal aliens you hired to build the casita out back.

Just kidding about the illegals.  We don’t even have a casita.  Honest.

Back to my life lesson though.

I learned that federal investigators are the ones who, well, investigate people who have security clearances.

I also learned that federal investigators are very interested in what an ex-wife has to say with regard to the ivestigatee.

Lucky for the investigatee in question this ex-wife’s child support is up to date.

If you know me at all though you know full well that I couldn’t let this opportunity pass without having a little fun with aforementioned investigatee.

Me (on the phone to investigatee): Hi.
Investigatee: Hi.  What’s up?
Me: Hey listen, I’ve got that federal investigator here and I have a question for you.
Investigatee: Okay.  I’ve probably got an answer.
Me: I’ve tried and tried but for the life of me I cannot remember the name of that buddy of yours.  Was it Sergei Varishnakof?  Something like that wasn’t it?
Investigatee: What?  What are you talking about?
Me: You know.  That friend of yours.  Sergei wasn’t it?  The one who worked with the KGB?
Investigatee: (crickets chirping)
Me:  Hello?  Um….hello?
(Telltale clicking sound on the receiver.)
Me again: Oh come on.  I kid.  You know it was funny.
Operator: If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and try again.  If you need help…

One last thing I learned: Investigatees aren’t easily amused.

As usual, Jo-Lynne {Musings of a Housewife} is sponsoring the What I Learned This Week carnival.  Click your way over to link up and/or peruse a plethora of knowledge nuggets.

Today will go down in history as the day we wore out our welcome at church.

Didn’t think it was possible to wear out one’s welcome at church didya?

Apparently you haven’t met Cassidy.

Little backstory here: A couple of weeks ago I read a post written by the fabulous Michelle at Scribbit.  In it, she debated the merits of the word ‘stupid’ being labeled a “bad word” in households across America.

We happen to be one of those households, though I do agree with Michelle that there most certainly is a time and place for the use of the word.  The reason we’ve outlawed its use in our home is mostly due to Cassidy, and her inability to understand the use of the word in context.  Cassidy, for those of you who don’t know, has Down syndrome and among the issues she struggles with is determining what is and is not socially appropriate.  While I don’t see anything wrong with remarking that something is stupid, calling someone stupid is something else entirely.  And since Cassidy has a tendency to pick up bad habits, we’ve just found it easier to avoid saying ‘stupid’ at all.  I’ve also been sure to address it as a “mean word” when she does hear it spoken on television or on the playground.

So.  Back to church.

Guess what word worked its way into our Pastor’s sermon this fine Sunday morning?

Uh-huh.  Stupid.

Not once, but twice did he say it.  And it wasn’t as though he just let it slip.  He used it (twice) for emphasis.  For effect.  To get our attention.

It worked.

The first time he said it Cassidy drew in a sharp breath before leaning in to tell me that “he said a bad word.”

The second time, her eyes grew wide with disbelief, shocked that the pastor, of all people, would have the nerve to say ‘stupid’ right there in God’s living room.  This time, she turned to Jeff, gasping and throwing her hand up over her own mouth in shock.  Jeff whispered to her, telling her that he’d have a talk with the pastor after church.  Cassidy seemed satisfied with that.

The rest of the sermon was uneventful.

It’s really a shame that I can’t say the same for communion.

We filed up to the altar as we always do: Cassidy sandwiched between Jeff and I.  I accepted my wafer and wine and made my way back to the pew, completely unaware of what went on in my wake.

Apparently, when it came time for the Pastor to give Cassidy a blessing, he bent down to make the sign of the cross on her forehead as he always does.  Never one to ignore the opportunity for reprimand, Cassidy grabbed the Pastor’s arms and pulled him down to her level.  Seeing as how his hands were full trying to maintain balance of the body and the blood he was left pretty much at Cassidy’s whim.  And Jeff, thinking that she was trying to give him a hug, didn’t react immediately.

He wishes he had though.  Boy does he.

Because Cassidy, let me assure you, was not trying to get a hug from our Pastor.

Once she had his attention she said to him, in a voice as stern as she could muster, “don’t you ever say stupid again.”

Of course, as soon as he realized what was happening Jeff took control of the situation.

Assuming, that is, that a silent prayer for immediate invisibility can be considered taking control of the situation.

God wasn’t in a prayer granting mood apparently because Jeff was anything but invisible.  Rather, he turned a lovely shade of cherry red.

Based on our Pastor’s bewildered look we’re guessing he either didn’t hear or didn’t understand Cassidy’s sharp scolding.

And that, my friends, is worthy of thanksgiving.