Red Hats, Kids, and a Criminal Canine

Hey Y'all,

Husband and I are sitting in our big chair watching TV. What a week it has been. May I just stop here and be completely honest? Keeping all the balls of ATS in the air is hard, very hard. And yet, just this week I told the Father that I knew beyond any doubt that the difficulty of it is always causing me to be more desperate for Him and more dependant on His grace. To use a word from the Good Book, therefore, "I am willing to continue to do difficult if difficult leads me ever closer to Him." If you don't get my rambling, it's okay. I'm tired and maybe incoherent. I'm just glad He gets me. And now, random stuff...

I am going to get to Miss Dixie's crimes, and I see from the next to the last post that she has been adding to them, but I'm saving that for the end of this post.

I don't even know what to say about the Mad Hatters Convention I spoke at today other than that I LOVED THEM! Those Mad Hatters Rock. Absolutely. Rock. As I digest the day, I may have more to say. For instance, I may tell you about the seventy-seven year old who goes by the name of Foxy Mama. I want to be as much fun as Foxy Mama when I grow up.

And now some pics...First up are some pics of my mother with her great grandkids. The blond is Emmie and the young prince is Jackson. Those sweeties belong to my neice, Hillary Joyce, who was here visiting from Arkansas. (Love that girl.) That beautiful little one on the blanket is, of course, MY grandchild, Emerson Ann. (Yes, Cyndie, my crow is blacker. *grin) Please note that these are my mama's great grands, she who taught me the "Suck Your Stomach In and Put On Some Color" rules. Perhaps you can see why my sisters and I call her Jackie O.





And now-- Dixie. Where to begin? I see she has beaten me to the punch and tried to stir up some compassion amongst my dear porchers by sneaking onto the blog. The girl has more nerve than Dick Tracey. (See post: Two Sides to Shellie's Stories)

I'll begin with a picture. Yesterday I was in the kitchen when I heard something, (or someone) on the back porch. Imagine my surprise to find Dixie looking at me with a "Don't mind me" expression. I say I was surprised because a) Dixie isn't allowed on the porch and b) it does have screen doors on two sides that stay latched. I took a photo for y'all through the sliding glass doors of the breakfast area. If you will look past the guilty one you will see the brand new doggie door. Dixie installed that, thank you very much.

In the interest of full disclosure, Dixie wants y'all to know that there was a little boy at the house not too long ago who actually broke the door. This is partially true. However, he broke a slat, one slat. The new doggie door is ALL Dixie.

Do you bleeding hearts still think she deserves a beggin' strip? Yeah...that's what I thought. That dog leads a charmed life.

Hugs,
Shellie

A Whole Nuther World

Folks--

I do wish y'all were here! This is wild. I'm speaking at a statewide Mad Hatters convention in Minden, La. These girls are way fun! Its like an alternate universe of red and purple! More later.

I'm up!

Hugs,
Shellie

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless handheld

Two Sides to Shellie's Stories

Hey Y'all,

This is Dixie Belle. I've been wanting to meet y'all for a long time. I'm sorry that I won't have time for a proper introduction here but I must make this brief. I just wanted to ask y'all to keep in mind that there are two sides to every story--even when one of them is a canine.

For instance, I happen to know that when Mama gets back from her speaking thing today she plans to tell y'all about how I made myself my own doggie door this week. (Supposedly, she even has an incriminating photo).

Well, now, I may have taken matters into my own paws but I had nothing to do with the original damage. I was simply presented with an opportunity and I took it. Fate knocked, if you will, and I opened the door.

That's all I'm saying. I've got to get out of here. If Mama finds out I've been on the computer she'll limit my beggin' strips. Trust me. Y'all don't know her as well as you think you do. C'ya

Love
Dixie Belle, an adorable and innocent lab

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless handheld

Writing tips from Bubba

Do y'all know that the guy who produces my All Things Southern KNOE TV8 videos is named Bubba John? Yep. I can't make this up.

Just now, during today's taping session, Bubba John was talking about the book on tape he was listening to and how he checked it out in book form for his wife because it was so good. He noted, however, that she probably wouldn't read it if she knew the dog in the story dies.

Today's wise advice from Bubba: "Shellie, if you ever write a novel, don't let the dog die."

Duly noted, Bubba.

Hugs,
Shellie

Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless handheld

Congress Smongress-- Give Us a Break

So, in case you couldn't watch the news today cause you were, oh, I don't know WORKING to bring in money for your government to redistribute, (and they thank you, yes they do), here's a recap of the important dialouge offered by the esteemed members of Congress. The names will be withheld because they're largely interchangeable.

"I'm mad!"

"I'm madder!"

"I'm maddest!"

Note to all of y'all. We're mad, too. I just wish we could figure out how not to take it anymore.

Hugs,
Shellie

Catching up with Miss Emerson

Hey Y'all,

I'm sitting in a hotel room in Hammond, LA. I just finished looking over the speech I'll be giving in the morning. I'm going to try to stay on topic tomorrow. It's the best chance I have to maintain control on all the people inside my head who invariably try to tell many different stories at once. Do you reckon people show know this when they contract my services? Right. That's what I thought. Everyone loves surprises, don't they? I'll let y'all know how it goes.
Earlier The Darling Hubby and I visited over the new webcams on our laptops. We think we are so cutting edge. Do not even tell us how long this technology has been available. We don't care. He even turned the cam around so I could say goodnight to Dixie Belle, who barely lifted her little chocolate lab head, I might add. (She always pouts when I'm not home.)

Before I turn in tonight, I am committed to finishing a post I've been working on for weeeeekkkkssss. The pics anyway, I've been putting them in and meaning to/planning on/trying to chat around them forever. I'm giving up on that. From this point there will be very little chatting and many pics. Short FYI-- they start with our last trip to Jessica and Patrick's in Houston and end with Miss Emerson, Miss Emerson and Miss Emerson.

My number one son, Phillip, and his beautiful wife, Carey at Jess's house.

Jessica Ann, "Did you know you're named after me?"

Emerson Ann, "My great Nanee says it was after her middle name and my Aunt Ann says it was after her."

Jessica Ann, "Don't listen to them and I will buy you a bunch of presents!"

Uncle Patrick and Emerson Ann get in some bonding.

Darling Hubby!

Emerson, "I hated putting this outfit away! I hope I can still wear this next year."

"I'll grow how much by then? WOW. Sounds like a lot of milk to me."

"Really, Keggie, and then what did all the crying people say when you said you just weren't that into running for President?"

"Look at my baby blues!"

Randon pic of my mama playing tennis with Dixie Belle.

Emerson, "Keggie, you're a little different, but you make me laugh."




Miss Emerson is "out". I couldn't resist the pic because her little outfit very appropriately says, "Life is good."


Emerson, "So, you want me to cheese for the camera?"

"How's this?"

"And this?"

"Or this?"

"Okay, Keggie, one more for the road!"

Thanks, Emerson. And thanks folks, for bearing with the weary ramblings of a sleepy speaker. I'm out of here.

Hugs,
Shelle

Book Lovers ROCK!

Hey y'all,

This just in. Based on my own informal survey from this past weekend's travels, three out of four airline seatmates are interested in where you are going and why. Note to self: potential here for big fun creating back stories for future trips and documenting gullibility levels of fellow seatmates. I may be returning from a small remote village, (small villages must by literary rule be described as remote), in the Himalayas where I was called to verify the sighting of a purple-throated flying piglet, an odd little thing long considered extinct by my colleagues. I shall report my findings here.

However, as this weekend's actual activities were witnessed by many book lover and author type people, (translation: people who remember things and write them down), I will now attempt full disclosure.

I was at the South Carolina Book Festival people, and it was all kinds of fun. In the event that you have never been to a book festival, we'll start with the basics. Lots of people who love books come and sit in rooms where people who write books sit on a panel and talk about why they wrote the books with what they hope are equal doses of intelligence, humor, and/or charm in order to get the people who like books to hopefully buy said books in such large numbers that the people who wrote the books will get invited to other book festivals. It is rumored that some of the people who write books don't really like to go to book festivals at all because they are only serious about writing books and not at all interested in whether people buy their books. This is a lie but you did not read that here.

For the record, I was shooting for humor and charm more so than intelligence, my thinking being that I was there by increasing my odds, or at least that was my plan. If I never go to another book festival we will all know how well that went.

I will be really sad about that, too, on a number of levels. One being that I will not be able to hang with the cool writer people. I'm getting really used to hanging with cool writer people. As of this writing, they do not know that I'm not really one of them so I plan to milk this as long as possible.

Things I am denying:

There may be some stories circulating about someone you know wearing a fireman's hat and being involved in some sort of YMCA dance but there is no official documentation, nothing, nada, only one grainy photograph so take that Karen Spears Zacharias.

Someone was nailed by a volunteer while trying to stick her big fat purse and her friend's big fat coat under the tablecloth at a big fancy event because they were tired of toting them but Karen White and I know nothing about this.

Some of the authors may have picked at Patti Calahan Henry unmercifully because she couldn't come, even taunting her with mass emails about the fun they were having without her but I tried to get them to stop. Honest.

Robert Dugoni and Jack Riggs were overheard discussing the best ways to intimidate someone and it is said they mentioned using a baseball bat but I don't think it would be fair to insinuate anything sinister here so I'm not going to mention it.

Marjory Wentworth and I did not exchange vows of any kind, just pinky rings, people! Have mercy...

Things I contend:

Paula Watkins is Book Festival Director Extraordinaire. The SC Festival Rocks!

Jackie Cooper, the Entertainment Man of Middle Georgia is as warm and genuine in person as he is when he calls in to my radio show, the first Friday of every morning on FOXFM92.7. (That's called a shameless plug and I'm getting really good at it, don't 'cha think?)

Scott Hueler and Lane Filler, may have been sharing one brain and it may have been hard to tell who was using it at any given time. I'm just saying.

Mary Hutchins Harris secretly yearns to line dance.

Tiffany Warren can probably out line dance me on one leg, but she has two so we'll never know will we?

Susan Rebecca White can't be older than twelve. Look at her. She is impersonating an adult and it's not fair.

T. Lynn Ocean so wanted the scarf my sweet reader gave me. Twitter the truth, Tracey!

In closing, Karen Spears Zacharias and I did not convert to Islam.



Note to self: It is unlikely paper umbrellas will secure a win on America's Next Great Inventor. Must continue looking for the purple-throated flying piglet.

Hugs,
Shellie