Supermom

It's amazing what I can get done in the four hours I'm alone every Tuesday and Thursday. Today I waged war on the fridge with a bottle of hot bleach water. (Don't worry, I took all the food out first.) I also cleaned out the hall closet, swept and wet-jetted the wood floors, did some laundry and, for the first time since we moved in seven months ago, got the top of our entertainment center looking the way I like it. Of course it's all harvest-y, so in about a month I'll have to do it all over again, but hey.

I also lined up some interviews for stories I'm working on for the next issue of ACU Today. If this were summer and my kids were home all day, every day with me, it would have taken...well, none of this would have gotten done all summer. I keep thinking of what I'll be able to get done once Jenna starts kindergarten in three years. I could clean the house, get all the laundry done, find Waldo, Jimmy Hoffa and bin Laden and negotiate a treaty for world peace. And get something in the Crock Pot for dinner. I'm looking forward to it.

And now, the menu-burning story requested by Wade last week. A big group of us from church were at Lulav in downtown Little Rock for a friend's birthday party. (This friend's initials are not LC and he was not turning 40. Just wanted to make that clear.) Anyway, instead of the restaurant's regular menu, they had printed up paper menus just for the party. Each table had tealight candles burning on them. (You can probably see where I'm going with this.) I had set my menu down on the table and was talking to a friend who was seated across from me. All of a sudden, my friend jumped up, yelled, "We have a problem!" and lunged across the table. (It was one of those big round tables, so lunging across it was a pretty impressive feat.) He grabbed my menu, which was HALF GONE and sporting a big flame on one end. I froze, thinking we should stick it in a glass of water, but my friend blew the flame out before I could act on my thought. Other than ashes blowing around on our table for the rest of the evening, that was it. The executive chef even invited me back, bless his heart.