The DAVIDA

About every four years of my adult life, I have moved to a different location. We always looked at it as an adventure and made some wonderful friends along the way.

One particular mid-size town was actually a big place to us. We considered it a big place if there was more than one church to choose from.

This particular time we chose our church because it was the lesser of two strange choices. The pastor had been there a LONG time. So long, in fact, that he quit preparing for his sermons and just got up and winged it every week. He was deaf and thought nothing of calling a member out if you whispered something and he could read your lips. Bless him. As he got older, he also lost his...confidentiality. Not to be bad or anything, he just forgot he was not supposed to tell.


During our Wednesday night services, he would lead our congregation in prayer and tell every health condition of anyone...from ED to blindness to amputation...I kid you not. Most of us learned NOT to tell him anything we didn't want the whole church to know.

During these years I had to have a hysterectomy. I was pretty young. I chose NOT to tell him because the whole thing was just a pretty private issue.

He found out. Someone ratted me out. The night before surgery he burst into my hospital room (one hour away) and yelled, "Let's pray!" He prayed, did an about face and left the room, never speaking to us.

After recovery, I went back to church and he ANNOUNCED FROM THE PULPIT ABOUT MY SURGERY AND THAT I TRIED TO KEEP IT FROM HIM. Because I was so young I was mortified.

I tell you this story to set the stage for an interesting phenomenon that occurred as a result of his judgemental and critical spirit. Many in the congregation were judgemental, too. They had been conditioned for about 33 years and it was all many of them knew.

There were three girls that learned this behavior at their parents' knee. Anytime ANY kind of "worldly behavior"( like going to a movie or smiling during church) was mentioned, these three girls would whip their heads IN UNISON and stare at the three of us. It was so obvious and we would get so tickled at their stares. Think Dana Carvey as the Church Lady. It was a "laugh out loud" kind of funny.

Keep in mind this happened at EVERY service, EVERY week, 52 weeks a year.

We finally gave the head-whipping motion a name..."THE DAVIDA" after the ring-leader of this little group.

I learned some valuable lessons during these years. NOT to use prayer requests as a chance to gossip about someone and to respect their confidentiality. Up until this point in my life, I was probably WAY too judgemental myself. After being the recipient of "THE DAVIDA" for three years I learned not to be so fast to judge another person or their behavior without all the facts. Great lessons that have served me well.

I have absolutely no idea where I was going with this story.

Long story short, we moved. Eventually, the pastor left that congregation and moved on. They got a wonderful minister to lead them and it totally revolutionized that body of believers.

Brother Tell All was a good person suffering from burn-out. I guess that happens when a situation stays the same for years and years. Christianity is important. Serious. But I am living proof that God has a sense of humor.


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EMERGENCY NOTIFICATION TO THE PEEPS! Guess who has walked across Beachy Mimi's path?
A 56 year old BALD guy, who is a CHRISTIAN, and in LAW ENFORCEMENT (which means he has a UNIFORM)and he rides MOTORCYCLES. (Beachy Mimi biting knuckles) Beachy Mimi SO needs a little BAD BOY is her life. Fan me, Peeps, Fan me. It's hot in here.

Bye Bye Bye

I'm thinking this will be my last post as Beachy Mimi.

The problem is, I started out to be anonymous but that didn't work out exactly like I thought it would. Too many Peeps know BM.

BM has officially embarassed the family.

So, starting Monday, I will begin blogging with my new name and be anonymous.

I'm thinking my new, anonymous name will be Meachy Bimi. Or, Eachyta Imiba.

What sounds good to you, Peeps?

Whine, Whine and Whine

Well, Beachy Mimi is still sick. My voice sounds like a squeaky...something.

I did go to the real doctor today, not Queen B's Health Educator from WalMart.

The sickness was NOT in the budget for the month. Especially the MEDICATIONS. Oh my, I had 4 prescriptions than ran about $400. With insurance.

Just the usual stuff. High powered antibiotic, cough syrup and the stuff to take after the antibiotic does the itchy thing. It rhymes with BEAST INFECTION. And, if I may say so, is a beast. Though that is actually the most important RX and it was just $3. Something is just WRONG that medicines cost so much. It makes me sick!!..hahahaha

Sickbed humor.

The Parental Unit said she would come take care of me...She walked in the door, poured a can of Rotel in the soup I was making, and left. Time nursing--10 seconds.
I guess with the Rotel I can add stomach problems to my chest problems.

Actually, this soup is pretty good and hearty when you are well.

Beachy Mimi's Sick Soup

2 cans Progresso Minestrone Soup
2 lbs. fried ground beef
2 cans pinto beans
2 cans Rotel

Fry meat, mix together for 30 minutes or so and eat. It is really better the second day.

Anyway, as the weather gets cooler here this soup just hits the spot...if you aren't having an intestinal issue. Which, I'm not, so PU's contribution was welcome.

A nurse...she isn't. It was always get better or die at our house growing up.

Now that I have my own home I don't have anyone to take advantage of and make them bring me Sonic cokes and stuff. Bummer.

Queen B...your mommy is calling...help.

She's ignoring me. She is sick, herself. In fact, she got a shot in the hiney this morning and now she is disgustingly better. And not coming near my germs.

If we lived in the same town I would so totally milk this situation.

Instead I have PU, who took Nursing (minus) -101.

I've been checking out blogs while I am here in the sickbed and I am finding something alarming. ALARMING, YA'LL.

Most everyone seems to have the Bloggy Blues. Several of my Precious Peeps are quitting.

NNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOO! Please don't go. You may think your posts are not interesting, but they ARE. People in the sickbed DEPEND on your bloggy goodness.

Take a walk around the block, go to Sonic, clean out a closet...JUST DON'T LEAVE.
We all have days (like today) when nothing much seems interesting or blogworthy, but it IS.

Trust me on this. Some of us HAVE to live vicariously through your blogisms, MEMEs, awards, photos, contests, recipes, tips, recommendations...you see? YOU ARE NEEDED!

Besides, don't you secretly love your comments and statcounter? HUH? Come on. Admit it. You check. Some of you check OFTEN. Just to see if you matter to at least one person.

Well, you matter. Don't quit. There's bloggy material all over the place. MIL, SIL, neighbors, PU's, bald guys, kids, hubs, the weather...lots of stuff and it is ALL GOOD.

If I can't milk a family member for more attention, it will have to be my Peeps!

With the miracle $400 antiobiotic, I will probably be naturally blonde and weigh 50lbs less by morning.

Stay tuned.

Three Generations of...Something

Faithful Chick posted an awe-inspiring interview of our three generations of bloggers.

Go over to her spot and check it out!

She is SO the Boss of Me

I'M WORKING ON THE PROJECT. I thought I could snap some photos with my camera of some old photos and put those up. Nope. Doesn't work. I don't have a scanner so I have to go to Plan B.

They are coming.

I have been threatened with all sorts of dire consequences if I do this. Heh Heh

Somewhere along the way I lost all control. I think when she became a mother, she became the boss of me, too.

What's up with that?

I've got a great picture of Queen B feeding Hamlet, out pet INDOOR HOUSETRAINED PIG.
I know you want to see that.

So, Peeps, just hang with me for a little bit longer...

A Remembrance

I have posted here about my Dad, but I just had a few more things to say.

Eleven years ago, today, he went to be with the Lord after having open-heart surgery.
Actually, he made it through the surgery but never could wake up. It was a heart-breaking time for our family.

Eleven years later, we have a different abnormal normal dysfunctionality, but we are still a family. A couple of members are, umm , gone but I won't get in to that.

Daddy was one of the funniest persons I have ever known. Very quick wit. Loved to laugh. I got that from him, as did Queen B and The Princess.

Another little trait he passed to us was STUBBORNESS. I know, I know. Hard to believe, but it is true.

I have seen Daddy argue with stoplights, maps, road signs and if he had had a GPS back in 1997, there would have been a cuss-fight with the direction woman. We call her Kathleen because she has a smoky,sexy voice like Kathleen Turner. OKAY, so you are too young to remember Kathleen Turner. Just go with me here.

Especially since our Kathleen doesn't always work perfectly and we end up at a Walgreens where there is supposed to be a car dealership. Another story for another day. Oh, the RAGE. It would have been hysterical.

Daddy was a common man. Self-educated by experience and hard work. I have seen few people with the work ethic he possessed. Most of those were WWII veterans.

I was so homesick when I first went to college, I called home EVERY MORNING begging to come home. Daddy would get on the phone and tell me the story about him going off to war and how seasick and homesick he got on the way to Europe and the two years he was basically out of contact with family. I listened and stayed.

As I became a parent, I realized that although the story was basically true, it had the element of "I walked 5 miles in the snow to school...without shoes." You know the story. The story did the job and I guess that was the purpose.

He's sat on the truckbed and talked to people with no teeth, education or much of anything else, and he has also been in the Oval Office joking with a POTUS.

If you still have your dad, give him a big kiss today or call him on the phone "just because" and tell him you love him. Please do this for me because I'm not able to.
If your dad has already passed away, think of him with a smile today.

There's just nothing like a Daddy and a little girl, even if she's grown.

An Update

Still in captivity.

Today we had a luncheon and they gave away free tote bags. Beachy Mimi LOVES free tote bags.

Tonight we had a little reception in the ballroom. Oh, Peeps. There was a guy there with a Belt Buckle the size of a dinner plate. It had to be a rodeo champtionship buckle and he was right to be proud. But if he bent over? I'm just sayin...he would cut off his manly parts or give himself a liver transplant. I REALLY wanted a picture but I couldn't just aim at the belt. Just use your imagination on that one.

Thursday is the fashion palooza with the propane models. I WILL take photos of that.

Thursday night is the open mike talent show. Heh Heh.

Beachy Mimi and a little champagne...I might just enter.

Reports later.

I Have Been Captured...

Captured, Mimi-napped, taken under duress, abducted, waylaid, shanghaied, forced, dragged, snatched, marched and otherwise taken against my will.

It is time for the GREAT PROPANE CONVENTION in OKC. It has nothing to do with me. It has nothing to do with the Parental Unit. Sibling and his wife do have to be here. They forced me to come with the Parental Unit.

I'm not laughing.

I insisted on my own room because Parental Unit keeps the heat on...I just couldn't take it.

It will be 4 days of hot, boring and miserable meetings.

They are having a fashion show. With models. Propane models. The Parental Unit is one of them. That's why she loves to come. To model. Parental Unit is 85.

Sibling's wife is going to model, too. She also loves it.

They tried to get me to participate. NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

I couldn't have made myself any clearer. I. Will. Not. Model. At. Propane.Convention...Ever.

Maybe I will wake up and all this will have been a dream (nightmare).

I have never seen so many costume blingy jewels since the 80's. Big hair. LOTS of eyemakeup.

I have decended to hell.

At least Parental Unit left the crockpot at home.

More Answers and Other Nonsense

Peeps, I will attempt to answer somemore of your probing questions.

Next BIG ADVENTURE? Beachy Mimi has no plans at the present time. Must save some coin. Between taxes due, Christmas coming and the Palooza Birthday for the Princess I must plan and save. I would love to go back to Alaska, Hawaii, NYC, ANYWHERE. I want to see everything. Which answers another question, "Where in the world would you like to go?"

Starting with the USA, I would love to travel and see all. My greatest desire would be to do it in a REALLY NICE SOUPED UP RV, taking my time and stopping whenever. After the USA, maybe Canada, London, Italy, Australia, or anything with a beautiful beach.

I do not own a home or condo at the beach. All my adult life I have been told, "No, you don't like the beach. Really. You don't. Remember?" Well, Mimi found out that she LOVED the beach and the beachy, relaxed environment. LOVED IT. So, Mimi became Beachy Mimi, and Beachy Mimi is at the beach in her mind ALL THE TIME.

"What do I do for myself everyday?" Oh, Peeps. Beachy Mimi is a selfish creature. VERY.

My time with God is the best thing I do for myself. Next to that it would have to be pampering.

Pampering the skin, to include hair, nails, toes, feet, and all over skin. Someday I hope to add lots of exercise to the list...

"Favorite beauty product?" That's tough. I love Obaji skincare, but basically cleansing, exfoliating, moisturinzing and treatment (wrinkles, Peeps). Must do all that everyday to keep the Birthday Fairy kind to you, so you won't look like she beat the crap out of you with her wand.

It is an ongoing battle.

"Most embarassing moment?" Do you mean today? There are so many...I try to keep them blocked from my mind or I would spend all my time sucking my thumb under the bed.

"Regrets in life?" I think it would be the people I have hurt throughout my life. I have learned so much from all my goofups and I don't think I would trade those lessons for a redo. They have just all been the pattern of my life that the Lord has set before me, and the lessons HE has taught me (some much harder than others). Regrets are really pointless to me because I can't, do them over, but I can do better next time.

"Something I'm proud of?" Motherhood is numero uno but I am also thankful that I finished college. I graduated Summa Cum Laude with a degree in Elementary Education, and won an award from another state for teaching. Who cares? I know. But someone asked.

"Funny parenting moment?" Well, I have always shopped with an alias, that is, instead of Beachy Mimi I might be DESERT DONNA or MOUNTAIN MYRTLE. That's just in case I do or say something so stupid I would never want it attributed to me, Beachy Mimi. The Parental Unit and I have done this as a private joke for YEARS. We don't talk about it, we just do it between ourselves as a little humor.

When my Queen B was 2, we were in the mall. Beachy Mimi had her all "pinked-out" with a little bonnet, dress, sandals, painted nails (I kid)and she looked like a beautiful doll with black hair and dark brown eyes. People were always coming up to look and speak to her and on one of the occasions someone said, "What is your name, little girl?" Remember, she is 2. She looks the questioner right in the eye and says "AMY".

Her name is Queen B, not Queen A , as in Amy. The Parental Unit and I fell out laughing because she apparently decided to have an alias herself. So, on that particular day, she was "Amy" the whole day.

While I'm on the topic of Queen B, she has been choosing her wardrobe since she could point,
SERIOUSLY. She proudly wore some pretty strange get-ups. Most all the breakages, mess-ups and naughty behavior was perpetrated by "Kelly", the invisible girl that lived across the street??? That Kelly. She really got around and caused lots of mischief for the Queen.

When the Princess came up with the invisible friend, "Pootie", I laughed my head off at the Queen's consternation. Payback is SO GREAT.

Hey, that may be the best part of parenting. Seeing your own children get payback from their children....I'll mull on that and get back to you later, Peeps!



Answers to the teaching question will be a post for another day.

It's HAIR Again!

Just because your children move to their own homes and live their own lives doesn't necessarily mean that YOU the Mom are off the hook.

Let me explain.

The Queen B, has done it again.

Pardon me while I take a moment, Peeps. I have been trying to learn to link to other posts for weeks now and I think I finally did it. I have tears. Thank you.

Back to B.

You probably have read some of her earlier posts (hey, I only learned to link her name, not the former posts. Sorry. You'll have to go back and look them up) about all her life long trauma with hair.

Haircuts.

Hairstyles.

Haircolor.

Special Occasion Hair.

Wedding Hair.

The list could go on. and on.......

As her Parental Unit, female, I get the wailing and hysteria and tears and teeth gnashing and drama and flailing about that a hair adventure produces.


That's just as an adult. When she was two is was much more theatrical.


B, decided this was the week she need to get some streaks put in the hair.


When a person has beautiful, thick black hair, why would you want to ruin it with streaks?


She thinks she sees gray......not so much. I'LL SHOW YOU GRAY. Just look under my expertly
camouflaged tresses and you will see mucho gray.


This is like the movie, The Groundhog Day, when Bill Murray wakes up for weeks and does the same thing over and over and over......you get the idea. The hair fiascos are the same way.


Does she THINK that one day it will be different?


I am fairly sure that the current hair person is dead to her now, but the streaks......they were
street- caution- cone- orange. Oops. The salon got deathly quiet and then finally someone said


(someone perky) "Oh! That's CUTE".


She left and immediately called me. "Mom, what am I going to do?"


I replied, yawning, "Maybe it will fade as it washes out......in a few weeks."

"MOM!"

This lead to an indepth discussion of all the possibilities and corrective measures that could be taken in the shortest amount of time.


To make a L O N G story somewhat shorter, she did get some, err, burgundy corrective color toner thing to get her by until the next time, or this grows out......whichever is shorter.


Not to be outdone. Since I was OOT (out of town) and I have this thing about OOT haircuts..... I just happened to get mine cut even shorter!


Now, not only do I have B to worry about, but THE GUILT from getting mine cut OOT.


What a way to start the week.........

My Dad

Father's Day is coming up in a few days. Poor dads don't get enought credit most of the time. Sometimes we would like to yell and scream at them, but all in all they are just guys being guys.

This generation of dads are more "hands on" than the ones of my generation. My dad worked so hard from the time he returned from WWII until his death in the 1990's.

I had so much respect for his work ethic.

Daddy had a great sense of humor. I think he passed some of that to me and then to Queen B.

He loved to laugh and to play jokes on people.

Once, he had my nephew with him at McDonald's drive-thru and ordered a drink. The peel-off tab on the side of the cup had a "coupon" for an order of french fries. Dad tried to redeem the coupon on the spot but the drive-up lady was adamant that it be redeemed on his next trip.

So...... Daddy just drove around the building , pulled up to the window and said, "Lady, this is my next trip".

He got his fries.

Dad served on a Board of Directors that required him to travel alot for a few years. My Mom always went with him and took care of the details.

This one time, Mom was unable to go so he went on alone. He checked into the hotel, ordered room service, ate and got ready to put the tray back out in the hall.

Well, he opened the door, pushed out the tray, the door bumped him on the behind and,

POP.

He was out in the hall.

Without a key.

In his underwear.

My daddy.

In a hotel.

With lots of people.

In a city.

He saw a maid cart down the hall so he headed for that to get help. The maid thought he was a perv so she was pulling the cart one way and he was pulling the other (to protect what little modesty he had left). He did get help and get back into his room.

Now when we go to a hotel we always warn, "watch out for those Papa doors."

We all had "Papa" stories, and those were very eloquently told at his funeral by a US Senator and Pop Dryer(Shannon's dad at Rocks in my Dryer). It was a time of celebration of a life that was lived to the fullest.

I just hated giving Daddy up so soon. I wasn't ready for him to leave. I didn't have enough advice yet. I wasn't grown up enough to be without my dad.

God had other plans so we had to let him go. God never takes away without replacing. A few weeks after the funeral, The Princess was born. God's gift. To me. To heal my heart.

That calendar year we had two more births in our family. Two more babies to love and cuddle.

More healing.

That's been 10 years ago. We all miss him greatly but he left a legacy in all of us. Some of us have his hands, some his blue eyes, some his build and all his heart.

Thanks, Dad, for being mine for 45 years. I love you.....

He would get a kick out of the whole blogging Beachy Mimi thing....

Losing Focus

Peeps, it was so good to get home and sleep in the Beachy Mimi bed. It's pink, fluffy and soft. As sleeps sooo good.

Last week The Queen B did a post on why people blog. I was very impressed with your comments. The homeschooling moms' blogs, the ministry blogs, the funny blogs, imformative blogs, the rambling and the obscure blogs all have a place in the blogosphere.

I think it helps us form a "relationship" that can be missing from a busy woman/man's daily life due to time restraints, children, loneliness or work. Sort of a therapy.

So you are my therapy group.

Thanks, Peeps. It was so sweet of you to volunteer!

This is going to be a really tough week at Beachy House. For the first time since evil divorce entered my life, I am having to return to the Pacific House and get the rest of my things. I left them there because we were hoping the house would sell. It didn't. Pacific bought it because.......he is getting married in a couple of weeks.

Wow.

I don't normally do this, but I want to say a couple of things about divorce.

DON'T DO IT!!

If you are thinking about it. Think again. Then think again. Get counseling. Pray.

Now I realize that no matter what, divorce happens to people. I'm not talking about the people who need to leave a relationship that is dangerous, abusive, cheating or whatever. I'm talking to those of us who have been happily married......but we lost our focus.

I was married for 35 years and NEVER thought it would end in this way. It only takes a moment to take your eyes off Christ and quickly lose the focus. You start looking at yourself.
We've all done it at weak moments. It just takes a tiny crack........and then the crack festers and one day, possibly erupts.

I am great friends with Pacific, and I hope I always will be. As "amicable" as our situation was, it still hurt so many people. You can't avoid it. Children at any age hurt. Families hurt.
The pain is devastating...gut wrenching.

I don't see how people recover if they do not have Jesus in their lives. He has pulled me through, picked me up and put His arms around me. He's told me through His word (paraphrasing) "Beachy Mimi, just hang on tight to ME and you will be just fine, and so will Pacific."

And, it is true.

Pacific found his love early. My time will come in God's time. Jer 29:11 tells me that whatever He has planned for me is far better than anything I could ever come up with.

When I try to take control, well, that's when I start to lose focus. One of my daily prayers is,
"God, please protect me from what I want".

I should probably tatoo it somewhere, along with "Just because you can, doesn't mean you should", which is a post for another day.

Mrs. Pacific is a wonderful woman and the Pacific home will be happy, again.

But before she can move in, I've gotta get my stuff. Which is going to be hard.....lots of memories collected in 35 years, mostly fun and wonderful memories. After all, stuff is just.....stuff.

So, GO NOW and kiss and hug your partner and forget all the ways they irritate the heck out of you and make you want to pull your hair out and scream. Just LET IT GO. Festering is dangerous.......then you lose focus........and, well, there you are. You are left wondering, "How did THAT happen?" Having the last word IS NOT IMPORTANT.


I will try not to post any more sermonettes but since I am older than most of you, and if I can save you ANY pain in your marriage, it is worth this little space.