This and That Lately

 

On April 11, we headed to a neighbor's house for our neighborhood supper club.The house is totally amazing. Mark and I were in charge of appetizers. They were having Greek night and I took hummus and veggies and pita chips and pita bread.

I also made Spanokopita triangles using this recipe. I forgot to take a picture. They were delicious.

Did I tell y'all about falling that night???

The home has a basement space that is luxurious - a full bar, a viewing room, a pool table, a sitting area, etc. I had already gone down the steps once and placed the spanokopita triangles on the designated bar. I went back up the steps to help Mark carry the basket of pita chips/pita bread and the tray of veggies. I am always moving at a fast clip . . .and I caught my toe on the leather binding on the Sisal rug and faceplanted. I caught myself on one elbow, one hand, and a little on my knees. The hand popped up a HUGE goose egg. I did not go to the ER. More on that later.

Mark had his follow up and they took off the ginormous bandage and it is a tiny little wound. Yes . . .that is a bullet on his arm. He was pranking the young adults telling them the doctor found that bullet - that did not happen.

They crammed 14 around our table a couple of Tuesdays ago. We love these people so much.

Did I show y'all these cute goodie bags? We have a TERRIBLE parking problem at our church and when you add in extra service plus extra people on Easter Sunday . . .let me just say . . .it creates an even bigger problem. I line up a shuttle van that goes to the local board of education parking lot and picks up the orchestra and/or choir members. Those folks are there for the duration of the morning so they are taking up a parking space over multiple services. If they parked off-site, we met them at the door with a goodie bag. A choir member told me that we included all of the right things this year so I took a photo!

Jump ahead to Thursday, April 23. We joined our "out to eat" Sunday School supper club at Taj India. It is now Mark's favorite restaurant. I had shrimp korma which is a rich creamy slightly spiced curry - it reminded me of a silky coconut soup with shrimp. It was delicious.

Mark ordered a much spicier dish of lamb. I can't remember the name. He LOVED it.

Mark is not in the photo and neither is Paula. I didn't do a great job. Mark was at this end of the table. Paula was directly across. Paula's husband Bill and then Mark L. and Patty. Bill and Rhonda are beside me. We were missing one couple in April. We really enjoyed this group of folks. On this night, we were witnesses to a cool connection of long ago campers/camp counselors. I love to watch connections happen.

At my high school reunion, we met the wife of one of my classmates. She is Suz of Mama Suz's Fried Pies. They have a store front in Pelham. Mark loves fried pies.

We were headed to our regular supper club (been together since 2004) and Mark told me to sign up for dessert and order pies - so I did!

They literally fried them while I waited. Mark ate a peach one as soon as I got home!

We packed enough for our supper club, along with a half gallon of ice cream, and headed out.

They have a new outdoor table. It is a solid piece of Alabama Limestone and it is gorgeous and it is not going anywhere.

The photo below is the view from their house - looking out over the city of Birmingham.

Here is one view of the table (looking away from the bluff side).

Look at this one - isn't that gorgeous? They bought a very big and very old home and totally restored it.

I saved enough pies to serve for Sunday lunch. We had our local kids over for lunch after church last week. The pies were a hit once again. I didn't eat one, but everyone said they are really delicious.

So . . .April A to Z is over. I have a couple of weeks with no schoolwork. I will still be going to work every day and hosting the young adults.

What is going on at your house lately?

50th High School Reunion

 

Tarrant High School Bicentennial Class of 1976

Let me just ask a question . . .how in the world am I old enough to be celebrating a 50th reunion of anything?? Anyone else feel that way?

I attended our 10 year reunion. I was pregnant with our twins at the 10 year! I am on the third row - far right - really short hair - I'm sort of at the end of the row - I am third standing from the far right.

We had a 15 year reunion, but I have no idea if there are any photos from that night! I actually was on the planning committee for that reunion.

There was evidently at least one other reunion, but I didn't attend. I think it might have been on a weekend when one of our kids was graduating from college.

A few years ago, there was a multi-class reunion and I did attend that one with two close friends and had a great time.

Here we are in 2026. There were about 125 people in our graduating class and 25 of them have died.

Below is half of the folks . . .

And here is the other half. I am on row two - if you count the guy who is turned the wrong way . . .I am the fifth person from the far right (standing).

Here is one of everyone - I am pretty sure we had a professional photographer at our 10 year reunion. Spouses were trying to snap these photos - we even asked one of the young servers to take some. None of the "big group" photos is very good. I did not help plan this year . . .I just couldn't take on anything else at this time.

It was great reconnecting with folks. I was a little surprised at how easily we picked up conversations after all of these years.

The reunion was held at Trussville Social which is about 40 minutes from our house. It was a really nice entertainment area with some other eating establishments, bars, etc. We were on an outdoor patio and were told it was "casual." I always chuckle at the different definitions of casual.

Every Friday during football season, you could purchase a sticker much like the ones above. Back then, I think the words were "beat whatever team" or something similar. I thought the choice of nametags was very clever and someone told me the same company made our nametags that made the stickers back in the 70's!

Mark kept walking around shaking hands with folks . . .saying things like, "I bet you don't remember me." He is such a nut.

Below is a picture of me and Mariea. She and her two sisters grew up in the house directly across the street from the house where my two sisters and I grew up. We attended all 12 years of school - first through Senior year - together plus we attended the same church!

The same goes for Ann in the photo below. She has always had the most beautiful Auburn hair!! I think she and I have aged really well hahaha!

The reunion was to be from 5:30 - 8:30, but around 7:30 . . .someone pulled up the radar and there was a huge storm about to hit. We had already taken the group photo and I had talked to a lot of folks. I told Mark that I was ready to go. We were parked across the road. We made it to the car and drove 1/2 a block and the bottom fell out!

Fifty years later, time revealed itself in different ways across familiar faces—deeply etched in some, gently in others. One female classmate was almost bald - I've been wondering if it was "chemo bald." As the evening unfolded, there was laughter, stories, and food and drinks. I was amazed at how confident I felt and how comfortable I felt. Those things that separated us years ago, seemed not to matter, though one husband introduced me to his wife as "one of the smart ones." haha! Stripped of time and pretense, we met again simply as ourselves, on level ground. 

I didn't take many photos . . .I was just present . . .in the moment!

Have you attended any class reunions?

Z Is for ZZZZZ's

 

Yay! We did it! April A to Z Challenge Finale is here.

I've been writing about things that just make life better.

Our final letter is Z and Z is for ZZZZ's

I love a good nap.

Not a long, drawn-out, wake-up-confused kind of nap. Not the kind where you wonder what day it is or why it’s suddenly dark outside. Just a good, solid 20–30 minutes. Our daughter can take a LONG nap - not me.

I've learned that 20-30 minutes is my sweet spot.

I settle into my favorite chair (you know the one - I wrote about that chair this month!), turn on a little white noise, set a timer, and close my eyes. Sometimes I even put my sleep mask on. Room cool. Everything just right.

And then… rest.

It doesn’t take long, but it makes such a difference.

I wake up clearer. Lighter. Ready to keep going.

Truth be told, I don’t always get a full, good night’s sleep. Most of the time I don't actually seem to need as much sleep as many others. So when I do get a great night's sleep, those nighttime ZZZ’s are a gift. But on the days I don’t?  A tiny little nap can carry me through. Now I just need to convince the church to give all employees a nap map and a 20 minute siesta time haha!

20 minutes is a small thing.

But like so many of the things on this list, it’s one of those simple rhythms that makes life better.

Rest isn’t lazy. It’s necessary.

And sometimes, the very best reset is just a few well-timed ZZZ’s.

Do you ever take power naps? How many hours of sleep do you need per night?

It's a Refreshing May Hodgepodge

 

I am joining up with Joyce at From This Side of the Pond and all of our friends for the Wednesday Hodgepodge. I apologize for two posts today -- The April A to Z Challenge is coming to a close. I'm going to make it through Z (tomorrow). Yay!

1. Are you feeling more reset, restart, or full speed ahead as we move into May? Tell us why. 

I took my second final on Monday night and I have about four weeks before summer semester begins. I guess that means I am in "reset" mode . . .or maybe another option would be "refresh" mode. I know that wasn't an option, but it would fit, right?

2. Painting, sculpture, architecture, literature, cinema, theatre, music...what's your favorite form of art? Elaborate.  

I think my favorite is theatre, but I do love architecture! I also love to read, but I'm not sure the books I read are classified as art haha!

3. What time is dinner at your house? How do you feel about leftovers? 

We normally eat dinner around 6:00 or maybe 6:30. Neither of us likes to eat and then go to bed a short time after so we've never been the kind of folks who eat dinner at 8:00 p.m. We eat leftovers all of the time, but I have a strict limit on how many days something can hang out in the fridge and still be edible. Mark, on the other hand, will eat thing FAR longer than I will. Nope. Not happening.

4.What's the last thing you fell down a rabbit hole investigating? 

Trips, maybe? You start looking at one trip and then you realize the dates don't work . . .so you find another. . .and it goes on and on. 

5. And now for a question from the book Marilyn (Memphis Bridges) gave me...

At what are you 'self-taught?' 

I have no idea. Others taught me the basics of cooking, but I did work hard on my own. I guess I am self-taught in the area of preparing large quantities of food - cooking for 15-20 people every week has honed that skill. What else do I know how to do . . . .Many years ago, I participated in smocking classes and sewing classes. I've even taken a photography class (long ago) so I'm not self-taught in any of those skills.

6. Insert your own random thought here. 

I need to clean out my pantry! My pantry isn't large but I've been thinking about painting the walls and shelves a dark and moody color - like dark blue?? I don't have anything else in that color scheme, but just wanted to do something totally crazy. Do any of you have cool pantries that you've painted a fun color? If so, please share with me! Let's be honest, I will be doing good to just get it cleaned out.

Y Is for Yesterday's Memories

Today is the next-to-the-last day of April A to Z Blogging Challenge. I'm going to be honest. I didn't know if I could pull it off this year. I'm glad I tried!

During the month of April, I've been sharing about the things that make my life better - some things have been small, like a Diet Pepsi. Some things have included people. Let me just say that a variety of things makes my life better!

Yesterday’s memories don’t always come clearly.

Sometimes they’re soft around the edges—more feeling than detail. Glimpses instead of full scenes. A laugh I can almost hear. A room I can almost picture. Moments that feel familiar, even if I can’t quite hold onto them.

I find myself drifting back there every now and then.

Back to when my mom was alive—the first fifteen years of my life. Those memories feel the most hazy, like looking through an old window that’s been gently fogged over time. I wish I could recall more, hold onto them more tightly. I can't remember her voice. I wonder if I sound like her? But even in their softness, there’s something steady there. A sense of being loved. Of being cared for. Of something foundational that shaped me, even if I can’t name every detail.

Our mom holding me - my oldest sister in the back right-
she died a little over a year ago
Becky is in the front right

my momma was pretty!

Back to when my dad was alive—those first twenty-five years. His voice is clearer. His advice, steady and consistent…even when I didn’t want to hear it. Even when I didn’t agree.

Especially then. My sister and I say quite often, "I wish I could talk to daddy about that."

We loved to swing - my daddy and me

This is the sandbox my
daddy built for me - it
was amazing!

It’s funny how time has a way of reshaping those moments. Things I once pushed back against now feel like gifts. Words I didn’t fully appreciate then have settled into something deeper—something I carry with me, often without even realizing it.

And then there are the memories of growing up in our neighborhood.

Hours and hours spent with neighborhood kids - at one time there were 17 kids on our street (and just around the corner). We were riding bikes, playing kickball, playing softball, singing in the swing, playing Barbies and staying outside or at the neighbor's house until we were called home for dinner. No schedules. No screens - except the ones on our windows! Just the freedom of playing and the simplicity of those days.

just the girls in our neighborhood

Those memories feel lighter somehow. Easier to step into. Full of laughter and movement and a special kind of joy.

Not every memory is easy.

There are sorrows tucked in there too. Losses. Changes. Moments that shaped me in ways I didn’t ask for.

But when I allow myself to step back—really step back—and look at it all together, I see something I might miss otherwise.

I see how every piece mattered. Yesterday's memories make a gorgeous multi-colored quilt.

The people. The conversations. The love. The disagreements. The laughter. The loss.

All of it.

All of the memories.

The colorful pieces and crazy shapes are woven together into the person I am today.

Taking time to remember doesn’t pull me backward—it grounds me.

It reminds me where I’ve been. Who has loved me. What has formed me.

And on the days when life feels a little too full or a little too heavy, that kind of remembering has a way of making everything just a little bit better.

So today, I’ll linger there for a moment.

Not to stay—but to remember.

Because yesterday, in all its imperfect, beautiful pieces…

is still a gift.

What are some of your favorite memories - especially from your childhood?

X Is for eXtra Grace!

 

X is the 24th letter of our alphabet . . . 

after today, there are only two more . . .

Y and Z

But for now, X is for eXtra Grace.

At work, I hear this phrase a lot: “Err on the side of grace.” If my boss, the senior pastor, has said it to me once . . .he has said it 1,000 times. I've told y'all about that phrase many times.

It’s definitely good advice. It’s the kind of advice that sounds simple…until you actually try to live it out.

Because if I’m being honest, I really love the idea of extra grace—for me.

I love it when someone assumes the best about my intentions. When they give me the benefit of the doubt. When they overlook my mistakes, my forgetfulness, my less-than-best moments, and choose kindness anyway.

Extra grace feels like a deep breath. Like room to be human.

But extending that same extra grace to others?

That can be harder than I want it to be.

Sometimes it’s hard because I’m tired. Sometimes it’s because I only see the surface of someone’s behavior, not the story behind it. Sometimes it’s because I’ve already decided what I think—and grace requires me to loosen my grip on being right. And let's face it. I like to be right! I'm a number one on the enneagram!

If I’m really honest, it’s because grace often feels unfair.

Why should they get a pass? Why should I overlook that? 

But “err on the side of grace” doesn’t mean pretending things don’t matter. It doesn’t mean ignoring hurt or avoiding truth.

It means choosing a posture.

It means deciding, ahead of time, that I will lean toward kindness instead of criticism (this is also VERY difficult for me). Toward curiosity instead of assumption. Toward patience instead of frustration.

It means remembering that I rarely know the full story.

So what does extra grace look like in real life?

It looks like pausing before I respond—especially when I feel irritated.

It looks like asking a question instead of making an assumption (why, oh why . . . can't I remember to pause and breathe and ask a question before I start making assumptions).

It looks like giving someone a second chance without making them earn it first.

It looks like softening my tone, even when I have something hard to say.

It looks like remembering a time when I needed grace—and letting that memory shape how I show up for someone else.

And sometimes, it looks like extending that same grace inward.

Because I can be my own harshest critic. Back to the Enneagram . . .a 1 on the Enneagram is a perfectionist and she has a constant voice in her head that criticizes everything she does . . .I'm using she instead of me/my/I . . .because it is ridiculous!

I can replay conversations, second-guess decisions, and hold myself to a standard I would never expect anyone else to meet.

Extra grace for others matters.

But extra grace for myself?

That matters too.

Maybe that’s where it starts.

Because when I remember what it feels like to receive grace—real, undeserved, generous grace—it becomes just a little bit easier to pass it along.

So today, I’ll try again.

I’ll err on the side of grace.

I’ll add a little extra where I can.

And I’ll trust that even when it feels small, grace has a way of making life better—for everyone it touches.

What about you? Do you extend grace freely? to others? to yourself?

W Is for "Waiting Conversations"

We are closing in on the finale of the April A to Z Blog Challenge. All month I've been writing about "things that make life better."

Today is W for "Waiting Conversations" . . .and then we only have X, Y, and Z!! (of course, those three letters are some of the hardest to write!)

I’ve come to notice something about conversations—the most meaningful ones don’t always happen in the middle of the noise.

They happen in the waiting.

At the end of a gathering, when everyone else has headed out the door and someone lingers just a little longer.

In the quiet pause after a question that wasn’t easy to ask.

In a hospital waiting room, where we are more vulnerable.

In the moments when you can tell someone has something on their heart, but they’re not quite ready to say it yet.

Those are what I’ve come to think of as "waiting conversations".

They don’t force their way in. They don’t compete for attention. They just…wait.

And if we’re paying attention—if we’re not rushing to the next thing—we get the privilege of being there when they finally unfold. My problem is that often I am rushing to the next thing, but I'm trying to be more aware.

I’ve had more of these conversations than I can count. A young adult hanging back after everyone else leaves. A friend who says, “Do you have a minute?” and you can hear in their voice that it’s not really a minute they need. A moment when someone starts with something small, but you can tell there’s more just beneath the surface.

These conversations aren’t efficient. They don’t fit neatly into a schedule. They often come at inconvenient times. They are often interruptions . . .but good can come from an interruption.

These conversations are holy in a way that rushed conversations can never be.

Because waiting conversations require something from both people.

They require courage from the one who speaks.

And they require patience from the one who stays. Patience is not always my virtue . . .so I'm still learning.

"Waiting conversations" remind me that not everything important can be hurried. Trust is often built in the pauses. Sometimes the best thing we can offer someone isn’t advice or answers—but simply our presence, our willingness to sit in the moment and not rush them through it.

In a world that moves fast and values quick responses, waiting conversations feel like a quiet rebellion.

They say: You matter enough for me to slow down.

They say: I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

And every single time, without fail, they make my life better.

Not because they’re easy—but because they’re real.

So maybe today, I’ll pay a little more attention to the moments in between. I’ll notice who lingers. I’ll resist the urge to hurry along.

I want to be the kind of person who is available for others . . .because so many people have made themselves available to me over the years.

Just in case you haven't realized it yet, some of the most meaningful conversations in life…

are the ones that are simply waiting to happen.

Has someone been there for you when you needed to have that conversation? Do you make yourselves available to others?