Ever seen one of these? I did, once, on my way from Atlanta to Chattanooga years ago. It was my first time witnessing a “See Rock City” barn in person. Since they’re in lots of places east of the Mississippi, I guess that shows that I really didn’t grow up around here.

The signs are for a roadside attraction called Rock City, which is somehow near Chattanooga, Tennessee, but actually in Georgia.

I love that Rock City started out as the Carter family’s garden at the top of a mountain, where they started welcoming visitors in May of 1932. And while a lot has been added, much of the atmosphere appears to remain the same: beautiful gardens, a “Lover’s Leap” lookout where legend has it that you can see seven states, and ancient rock formations. Still family-owned, Rock City is a beautiful destination for families.

Rock City is one of those places that I’ve wanted to visit for a while, but just haven’t had the opportunity. But I think that will change this summer. From Atlanta, it is a pretty easy day or weekend trip. So we’ll probably try to visit once before school starts again for the fall. And this year Rock City is celebrating its 80^th birthday. If you live in this region, that makes it the perfect year for a visit.

So I’m excited to offer a giveaway here on The Red Clay Diaries: a family pass for Rock City!

For me, the closest I’ve come to a good old-fashioned roadside attraction is Cracker Barrel (a kitschy – but delicious – imitation). Rock City seems to offer an authentic combination of beautiful scenery, modern amenities, and old-fashioned charm.

To win the family pack of tickets to Rock City, all you need to do is comment here on this post. On May 11 I’ll choose a commenter at random as the winner. Be sure you include your email address with your comment, so I can contact you.

“You do my laundry like once every 2 months, Mom.”

“That’s not true. I just did a load from your hamper last week.”

“Listen, Mom. I KNOW what’s true. You take FOREVER to wash my stuff.”

What’s sad is that I can’t really argue with Abby. Today I just happen to remember last week’s load. But I can’t tell you how much time passed between that load and the previous one.

And I don’t get it: I do some laundry every week. Usually 2-3 loads. And STILL my children complain of clothes that “disappeared” into the laundry room. And my husband runs out of underwear. My son runs out of shirts. Just counting up underwear, I can surmise that sometimes three weeks pass between washings of that particular item. How does this happen?

I’ve said before that mysterious things happen in laundry rooms. I think there’s solid evidence that socks transmogrify in the wash. Let’s review the facts: 1) Socks disappear in the dryer. 2) At the same time, dryer sheets multiply there. I always find 2-3 in every load that I fold, even though I never put in more than one.

Ergo: Socks must turn into dryer sheets.

(You can’t argue with the facts)

Today as I write, my background music is the washing machine spinning and sloshing. I’m making it my goal to get COMPLETELY caught up.

Then I’ll feel so proud of my accomplishment that I’ll want to take some time off from laundry, which will put me way behind again.

I’m nothing if not consistent in my lack of discipline.

PS I didn’t mention the thump-bump of my dryer because last month it finally thumped itself to death, and we had to replace the drum. I’m still getting used to the relative quiet.

What do you think of our raised garden? Looks pretty good, huh?

What’s that? Where exactly is it? Why, on our back deck, of course!

As we entered our first spring here in the new house, we’ve had to rethink our kitchen garden. The house is south-facing, which means the front yard is really sunny, and the backyard is mostly shade. We love it that way, with no sun glaring in the back windows into the living room. But it creates a dilemma for someone who likes to grow vegetables. At our old house, a veggie garden in the front yard was no big deal. With 8+ acres, our place felt like a farm anyway. Here in suburbia, however, we’re doing our best to not alienate our new neighbors. (At least to make up for our Bumpus dogs who bark at them all the time.)

So we had to look for a good place out back. And we found one spot in the whole backyard that got more than 4 hours of sun per day. That spot just happened to be ON our deck. So there you go: a raised garden on the deck. I have to say, it’s convenient to go out and pick lettuce or water everything. But it felt a little weird toting big bags of potting soil through the house to fill it up. (The only way to get to our deck.)

Well, anyway, as you might have guessed from the photo, we’re trying to grow tomatoes, peppers, lettuce, beans, a lone zucchini plant (that will probably take over the entire bed), and a bunch of different herbs. Hopefully, something will survive for us to harvest.

And as for what we’ll do with the bed and all of its dirt this winter…. I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Well, it’s been an eventful month. Easter, Spring Break, preparations for summer…

And on April 2, the passing of our beloved Bob the Dog. In a week’s time he went downhill, losing weight and becoming very weak. His belly swelled, too. On that Monday, after a hard weekend, I took him to the vet. And the vet diagnosed cancer.

For an 11 year old dog, surgery is risky at best. And the vet also pointed out that Bob had severe arthritis (which on a normal dog would have been crippling) in his spine. His vertebrae were fused together. With inoperable cancer, severe pain, and spinal problems, he just wasn’t going to make it for very long. So, with heavy hearts, we decided to relieve his pain and put him to sleep.

Charlie brought the kids to the vet office to say goodbye. Then after they all left, I remained with Bob until he was gone. He fell asleep with his head in my hand.

This was a rough farewell for the kids. They’ve known Bob their entire lives. And unlike Callie, who died 2 years ago, they remember when he was young and active. We talked about the Rainbow Bridge again, and prayed that we’d see Bob again someday.

Sadly, this means no more guest posts from Bob. He shall be missed here at the Red Clay Diaries. But I hope he knows that I will forever think he’s “hawtt.”

“And don’t ferget to tell her that you think I’m hawtt.”

The dogs still don’t know where our yard ends. Oh, they don’t wander off; the invisible fence collars keep them well within the boundaries. What they do, is bark. And bark. A lot. At anything they can see (which includes the neighbors, minding their own business in their own yards).

And even though we always hush the dogs and bring them inside, I often feel like the hillbilly neighbor who done come to the big city. Remember the Bumpuses in A Christmas Story? Yeah. Like banjo or accordion music should be playing whenever my dogs appear. (And I know Tess would totally steal someone’s whole turkey off their table.)

But I think most of my feelings are rooted in my self-consciousness. I tend to make assumptions about what others think of me. And THAT they think of me. There’s a great quote that I can’t remember right now that says that people are thinking of you a lot less than you think they are. I suspect if anything, they’re thinking more about how others see THEM.

So here we sit, my neighbors and I. Me, embarrassed about my dogs (and my kids, for that matter, who seem entirely too boisterous for the suburbs), and them, living their lives with probably little thought of me.

This week I realized that I can – and should – do something about that. I don’t want to wonder if the neighbors hate our dogs. I’d rather spend time with them and remove all doubt.

Okay, just kidding. Hopefully the dogs are NOT too annoying, and getting to know the neighbors will give them the freedom to tell us when they ARE. So my new goal? Invite the people who live on each side of our house over for dinner. Charlie will cook, of course. So I’ll have THAT in my goodwill arsenal. (Somehow I don’t think MY culinary specialty, grilled cheese sandwiches, would exactly WOW them.)

Now I just have to work up the courage to go next-door and invite them. I think I’ll leave the dogs in the house.

Last night Abby and Charlie went to the old house to hunt Morel mushrooms. Soon after we moved there a decade ago, Charlie discovered Morels growing in the back part of the property, next to the river. And every spring since then, he’s gone down to the riverside to hunt them. Some years have been better than others; one spring we found a grand total of TWO mushrooms.

Well, spring is here and Charlie’s in a Morel mood. And  since we STILL haven’t sold the old house, he decided to take advantage of the season and see if they’d come up by now.

Lo and behold, they HAD.

The two of them found only 9 mushrooms, but that’s enough to add to a meal, which I’m guessing is what Charlie will do this weekend. And I’m pretty sure that after the next rain, he’ll be out hunting again, either at the old house, or elsewhere. (He’d love to find them here, but so far, no luck.

(Note: Mushroom identification is not foolproof. Charlie spent months researching and even talked to a mycologist for tips on identifying the totally edible Morel. Try at your own risk.)

So yesterday, I mentioned that my local Publix had failed me in my search for Brachs or Sweethearts candy hearts. As I wrote, I was not pleased. Because I love me some candy hearts. But at the same time, I wasn’t too worried; after all, I’d be out at Target later that night and could raid THEIR bargain bin.

That evening I got to Target after dropping middle schoolers off for their Wednesday night service. The store is in the middle of a remodel, so I had to circle it a few times to find everything on my list. And still no sign of Valentine’s Day stuff.

That was the 1^st time God saved me from myself.

But I wasn’t willing to give up so fast. They HAD to have a shelf somewhere. I NEEDED those hearts. So I kept circling the store, until I found the 50% Off shelf at the back, behind the new Easter candy display. YAY.

There among the gift bags and heart-shaped plates and pink doilies I scanned for hearts – no luck. I rifled through the Valentine cards that didn’t make the cut – no hearts. I dug through the bags and bags of Brachs candies that WEREN’T hearts (cinnamon lips, anyone?) – not a single bag of conversation hearts. I must have stood there for 5 minutes just staring.

The 2^nd time God saved me from myself.

But did I give up? No, I did not. I was a teensy bit obsessed by this point.

So I scanned shelves that I’d already picked over. I paced back and forth in front of the display. I crouched down and looked BEHIND the leftover Valentines.

Finally, on the top shelf, I saw a different-looking bag and picked it up. I felt a surge of triumph. I had FOUND THE PRECIOUS.

Sadly, my victory was short-lived. The bag was half-empty, the shelf below it littered with those precious hearts. And of course, when I picked it up, even more hearts spilled out.

The 3^rd time God saved me from myself.

Let’s review: A trip to Publix yielded no hearts. A trip to Target got me lost and initially yielded no hearts. Then after searching and searching, I found the ONE bag of hearts that apparently existed in my part of town … and emptied it onto a shelf.

Do you think God was making his point loud and clear?

For a brief moment, I seriously considered stuffing the hearts back into the bag and buying them anyway. “How dirty can that shelf really be?” I said to myself.

Clearly, I have a problem. My addictive personality has latched onto candy hearts, and now I know I need to wait a WHOLE YEAR before I see them again. I’m actually grieving a little.

As Charlie pointed out when I told him this story, it is a VERY good thing that I’ve never tried crack.

Happy Day After Valentine’s Day. I hope you enjoyed your celebration of the holiday. Unless you don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, in which case I encourage you to at least take advantage of all the half-price candy sales today.

(My grocery store was OUT of candy hearts this morning. I was peeved.)

We celebrated here with dinner for me a la Chef Charlie, followed by an evening watching the History Channel’s lineup of man shows for him: Pawn Stars, Top Gear, and Top Shot.

We don’t exchange traditional Valentine’s gifts, but we have our own way of remembering the day.

Oh, but we did give each other cards. True to our personalities, his to me was serious and heartfelt, with thoughtful prose and a romantic message. Mine to him had a talking cow on the front.

(WHAT? YES, he has tremendous appreciation for my sense of humor and timing.)

Did you do anything special for Valentine’s Day? Are you a romantic or silly card person?

Lessons learned in the past two weeks:

There’s this thing called photography… 

Starting January 30, our GREAT friends Simon and Ally have been visiting from England. I say GREAT friends because they’re really more like family. We love them. We love their kids, who are close to the ages of their kids. Our kids love them. (They treat them like an aunt and uncle.) And we all spent a week at our house, enjoying the view of the lake and just hanging out together. And did I take a single photo? No, I did not.

British English is fun. 

“Flippin’ heck.” “Fancy a cup of tea?” “Would you please open the boot?” “Bollards.” “That’s pants, it is.” The last one translates, as far as I can figure, “That’s a load of $%#@.” (Maybe because “pants” is the word for underwear there?)

I’m still just a little bit shy. 

Who am I kidding? This was not news to me (or anyone who has to spend time with me.) In fact, when I saw this picture last week, I laughed unnaturally loudly, I related so well.

Anyway, when I go to conferences, like I did for the first half of this week, I’m reminded that I really have to work to be outgoing. And let’s just say that it’s more difficult during certain weeks of the month. I’m still kind of exhausted.

To feed my soul. 

This is the takeaway I got from the conference we attended with our Brit friends. It was the Global 2020 event put on by EQUIP, John Maxwell’s nonprofit, which focuses on developing Christian leadership around the world. A few times during the event, I was reminded of my need for more nourishment from God. And then messages by Bill Hybels and Brenda Salter-McNeill really cut to the heart of the matter and convinced me that God was speaking to me on this issue.

I love EQUIP events.

The conferences I usually attend for work are more secular, targeted at business people. John still speaks freely about his faith, but they don’t have anything like a worship service. This event, because it was designed for international Christian leaders (i.e. pastors), featured some amazing worship, led by Darlene Zschech.

It is still really true that you can’t get on a plane without a picture ID. 

For this trip to Florida, I inadvertently tested that theory when I chose to leave my wallet behind. (What would I possibly need it for? I had my credit cards…) (Where WAS my brain?) (Sheesh.)

Only a combination of a VERY kind babysitter who brought my driver’s license all the way down to me at the airport, and a delayed flight, got us to Florida close to the time originally planned. So just in case you were thinking of leaving behind your license the next time you fly, let me caution you: DON’T. The lovely folks in the TSA get their “pants” in a wad over it.

Have you learnt (see what I did there? Very British) anything new this week?