My TOP 20 for being a Conservative. In case some of you were wondering what I was....

"Society in every state is a blessing, but government, even in its best stage, is but a necessary evil; in its worst state an intolerable one." — Tom Paine

A few days ago I received a private Facebook message from a gal asking me to "break down what it means to be a Conservative".

Initially, I was going to respond to her via private message and leave it at that. However, I got to thinking that she may not be the only person wondering what certain affiliations mean or how best to classify their political views. Now, I know many of you don't care. Apathetic is the word that best describes you. Some of you simply don't like either political party. I get it, trust me. The truth is, I hate lots of things about our two party system and regularly threaten to de-affiliate with the Republicans because our national leadership sucks so badly. No party, group or philosophy is perfect but I choose to focus on the ways they do represent me and my closely held beliefs. 

So, please allow me to be very clear, I'm not necessarily a Republican but I am most definitely a Conservative. The difference you ask? Simple: I don't like watered down religion and my politics are no different. I can't stand lukewarm anything. Life tends to be very black and white. If you disagree, you are probably a liberal.


Yeah, I hate people. There, I said it.

"I love you, and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for telling you lies." --Pietro Aretino
So, this is going to be fun.

I love passionately. Almost insanely. My family and friends are precious to me and therefore, my love and adoration for them is intense and sometimes, irrational.

For those of you who have family and friends that you cherish, you know that your love often creates in you a desire to protect them from harm. Protect them at all cost. You would do anything to help them. You would climb the tallest mountain, cross the deepest ocean, battle the fiercest giant to save the ones you care for and love. Yeah, I know I teeter on the edge of melodramatic but seriously, you would. Me, too.

Love creates a desperation within us. A fierce, consuming desperation to help facilitate the best for those we love. An indescribable ache to guard them, save them, preserve them. We encourage those we love to be better than we were, do more than we did, to look forward and accomplish the greatness we know they are capable of.

As a rebellious teenager, I can remember my parents struggling to protect me. Ironically, not from danger, but from myself. I was a train wreck of hormones and stupidity. They tried. They did everything they knew to do. They cried. They yelled. They prayed. But no matter what they did, no matter how they did it, I saw them as mean, narrow-minded, judgmental and antiquated. They made me sick. During those years, I didn't think they loved me. And I hated them.

Then, something amazing happened. I grew up. And along the way, I learned some really hard lessons, faced some unspeakable realities and experienced moments that can never be undone or erased. But at the end of the day, I realized that my parents had been right about everything. Well, almost everything. I discovered they hadn't operated out of hatred or meanness, but out of love and deep concern. My parents were desperate to keep me safe and protect my mind, heart and body. There were times when they gave up and gave in just to try to appease me. And guess what, it didn't work. I was a rebel without a cause and determined to live life by my own set of rules and on my own terms.

Yeah, I shudder to think of those days...

Ultimately, I pulled myself together. Well, as together as a girl can be.


Law-abiding citizens AND crack heads go to Walmart.

"Taxation: how the sheep are shorn." --Edward Abbey

I love my house.

No, it isn't a luxury, dream home but it is ours. 

I also love my neighborhood. It is safe, friendly and one of the most desired in our small, Texas town.

My community has wonderful schools. However, my husband and I have made the decision to privately educate our children. So, yeah, even though we live right around the corner from one of the best primary schools in our county, we shuttle and pay for our children to attend a private, Christian academy. These are our choices and we don’t expect a discount or a deal when it comes to our taxation.

We have also had occasion to need and enjoy the convenience of our amazing county hospital. From ruptured appendixes to heads split open needing staples to middle of the night asthma attacks requiring steroids, we have been very thankful for our amazing medical facilities. And we pay our medical and hospitalization bills, whether on a payment plan or in full.

We love our community and want to be contributing, up-standing members of the society we chose to return to. Therefore, we fully accept the financial burdens and responsibilities of home ownership and city living. So, I am sincere when I say that I have no issue whatsoever paying the property taxes associated with owning my fantastic little abode.


Confessions of an Exhausted Mother: Dear Day, You win.

"At the end of the day, you will not remember the person with the beautiful face, but you will remember the person with the most beautiful heart and soul." --Unknown

Dear Day,

Your predecessor finally bid farewell at 1:15 am. And then you began only moments later at 2:37 am. In that early morning hour, a soft, tired voice awakened me with news of a bad dream. The sweet little boy responsible for the sleepy voice climbed clumsily into my bed bearing his blanket and cold feet.

Yes, he fell asleep quickly.

But I didn't.

And just about the time I closed my heavy eyes again, I was startled awake by the coughing and hacking of a sweet girl still suffering the effects of walking pneumonia. She has been coughing five weeks.

And yet, little-Mister-nightmare slept on. I slid slowly and carefully out of my warm bed and walked down the cool hallway. I opened her bedroom door and saw that she was asleep but terribly restless. I rearranged her blankets, elevated her head on her princess pillow and turned her ceiling fan on. As I pulled her bedroom door shut behind me, I silently prayed the cooler room would lesser her cough.

I fell back asleep around 4:30 am.

I spent the next couple of hours wrestling little-Mister-nightmare for a portion of my ivory duvet cover. I finally covered my legs with my bathrobe that I had draped on the end of my bed.