dears.

I am  loving being a mommy of two fuzzy children more and more every day. And I've realized all to quickly just how different our two boys are. Bailey is the laid back, mellow, cuddly type. Nothing in the world seems to bother or upset him. Every person and other dog is a friend, and he assumes everyone loves him as much as he loves them. Judge, on the other hand, is the rambunctious, trouble making, loud type. This isn't to say that he doesn't keep us laughing. He has a new fondness for taking a small square of toilet paper in his mouth and  running from the bathroom at full speed. Thus rolling the inside of our house better than any Halloween pranksters could have dreamed. We're working on learning that this is not acceptable behavior at 411. He also has a love of all things laundry. Socks, tee shirts, undies, scrubs. Clean or dirty, he isn't biased in the least. He doesn't chew them or destroy them in any way. Just steals them and makes a small pile with them  under our coffee table. It's like he just wants to see if he can get away with it. I have't quite figured it out yet. But none the less, it's pretty funny. Bailey did have an affinity for socks as a baby, but grew out of it pretty quickly. I can honestly say that it's the only blemish on his otherwise impeccable record.

We recently decided that it was time to introduce Judge to Francis. She is, after all, an important member of our family. Now Bailey and France have been the best of friends since day one. She loves to let Bailey lick her ears and she returns the love with tiny nibbles on his toes. They seem to thoroughly enjoy one another's company. It was not so with Judge. France seemed to think that all dogs were of Bailey's quality temperament, and Judge seemed to think that all things small and squeaky are in the same class as his many toys. He got very excited and came after her with those giant puppy feet and sharp puppy teeth. She was not happy about it. I decided maybe we should wait until Judge is a little less excitable before we try a reintroduction. Judge disagrees. We find him missing from time to time, and quickly locate him sitting in front of the stand her cage is on, just staring longingly at her. I can't decide if he wants a second chance at being friends, or if he just wants to hear her squeak again. I think I'll give her a little more time to recover.

down south.

I'm feeling a little sentimental today, and the older I get, the more I realize how lucky I am to be a southern woman. I haven't traveled the world by any means, or even been to every state in this fine country of mine, but I know for certain that folks don't get much better than they do down here. Family just seems to mean so much more than a last name, and manners still seem to mean something. I've seen that a pretty woman's southern drawl can make any man do just about anything. And I've had the best food anyone could find just off Highway 70. There are so many little things that make me proud to call Tennessee my home. My entire family was born and raised in these rolling hills, and that's what's makes us who we are.

I was fortunate enough to learn about God in my nanny's kitchen with fried eggs and sausage every Sunday. I learned the value of honesty and a dollar from my papa, who always had a fudge pop in his hand. I learned to enjoy the finer things and to never leave the house without my hair done from my mother. And I learned to love the earth and a good antique store from my daddy. But I think what makes us stand apart from all the rest is our ability to really love. I know, I know, it sounds really cheesy and cliche, but I speak the truth. My grandparents spent 52 of the best years of their lives with each other, and my parents have spent 32 years with one another and are going strong. I watch my dad still open my mom's car door, and write her love notes, and send flowers every birthday and anniversary. I smile when I see them still holding hands at dinner. And I see how that's been passed down to my sister, brother, and me. My sister was so lucky that she met the love of her life in the 7th grade, and they've been  in love for the last seventeen years and married the last ten. I see them teaching their three boys to be southern gentlemen who aren't afraid to tell their momma how much they love her, and nothing makes me happier. And now I know how it feels to love a man with nothing less than everything that I have. I found a southern sir that was raised by strong southern women who taught him how to love and treat a woman, and I'm as grateful for them as I am for him. I have a little brother that was taught how to treat a lady, that calls just to check in with me every few days, and makes sure he stops by for a visit as often as he can. Whatever woman gets him won't have a chance in the world of impressing my sister, mother, or me, but she'll sure be lucky to have him. I guess no woman being good enough for your little brother is just a southern thing, too.

I remember my high school years being punctuated by thoughts of getting out of this town. I hated the smallness of it, but now, of the places I've been, none seem to compare. I've tried the city life, and it just wasn't for me. I like the quiet that comes with a small southern town. I like the woods and the rolling hills. I like the way people hold the door for you, and wave instead of honking their horns. I guess I'm just finally starting to appreciate what I've had all along: an amazing family, the love of an amazing man, and the fact that no one in the world can resist the charm of a southern lady.