There is a wonderful saying I refer to, often. “Never argue with a fool, onlookers might not be able to tell the difference.” - Mark Twain.

I love that saying. I try to cling to that saying when I want to engage in debates with people who post absurd theories on social media. You know the type … they believe a UFO landed in their backyard, and are convinced aliens are listening to their dinner conversations.

Okay, maybe not quite that absurd, but close to it.

I have decided I love people too much to dislike their politics. And those who say such abhorrent awful things? I want to love them. Right now, I am working hard on even liking some of them, much less love them.

But I want to love them. I am supposed to love them.

I can remember a time we could all talk about politics and shift gears and question who made the best biscuits and gravy, or

Terry and I have a precious friend who is an 85 year old woman. Her husband died in January, and as you can imagine, she misses him, terribly. Before COVID, we visited with her, took her out to eat, to a park, and just tried to be good “neighbors.” We live about half an hour from her, but close enough to see her. Her son is one of Terry’s oldest friends, so when he has been in town, we would see him, as well.

Since the pandemic, however, we obviously have not been doing things out and about with our sweet friend. When Terry’s friend, her son was in town; we sat outside on the porch, socially distanced, and ate dinner. It was nice to be around other people, even though we couldn’t hug, or be physically close.

We always get letters now, from our sweet friend. Like I said, she only lives about 30 minutes away, but she tells us about the weather and the amount of rain, the heat and humidity, as

Terry and I sat outside the other evening when a cool front moved through and brought a beautiful rain shower. When I say, “cool front” it wasn’t like a crisp, fall day. It was still warm, but I’ll take 83 degrees over 103 degrees, all day, every day!

Anyway, I could smell the rain coming and it made me smile. I remember being really little; maybe five years old, sitting on the porch swing with my grandmother and I said to her, “I smell rain!” My brother, playing not too far away and always on the ready to tease me, said, “You can’t smell rain, silly.”

My grandmother squeezed my hand and said, “Yes you can smell rain! And it’s a feeling of being closer to God.”

Now, even at 46, when I smell rain, I think about the feeling of being closer to God. That statement had such a lasting impression on me. Maybe that is why, at age 10, I recall

Our neighbors have COVID. We feel horrible for them, and helpless at the same time. They’re young. Anyway, I was making chicken enchiladas and Terry and I decided we should make a batch for them, too. We would leave it on their doorstep; no contact, yet let them know we love them and we are praying for them.

I made three pounds of chicken and shredded it, and after I made my enchilada sauce and added the chicken to the pot of sauce, I looked at it and began to doubt myself. “Is this going to be enough for tonight, and for our neighbors, too?” I questioned. One of Terry’s oldest and best friends was in town, so he and his mom were coming over for dinner. We set up the outside to where we could eat outside, socially distanced and safe, yet still visit with them.

So I had the chicken for the four of us, plus for our neighbors, and now I was wondering if I should thaw out some more chicken and cook it? Have I made a huge mistake, I wondered?

But as I began

While my precious grandmother was still living, anytime an advertisement for starving/injured dogs came on television, Grandmother would say, “Gary, (that’s my Dad) get my pocketbook.”

My dad would tell Grandmother, “Mama, you realize there are starving children and families, right here in this county, right?”

Grandmother would say, “Well yes, but right now I see those dogs.”

Bless her heart, Grandmother didn’t have much at all. But she would have given her last dime to help someone in need.

We all have gifts and focus areas. There are needs to be met, worldwide. Sadly, we often have blinders on to the world not around us, and tend to only think about what is right in front of us that we can see.

My Grandmother’s precious heart, hurting for those dogs was part of who she was. We need people who are passionate and care about all animals and taking care of them. If they did not do it, who would?

But we also need people who are concerned with feeding the hungry people in our communities and worldwide. We need people who are concerned about getting women and children out of abusive homes. We need people who are fighting against the sex trafficking and the powerful men and

My art teacher in high school was a hoot and a half. She was sweet and so funny. A little out there, at times. But she had phrases that stuck with us and bore repeating. She had a saying about people who were late to class or acted out of line. She would ask, “Have you been out, smoking that wacky weed?”

“Smoking that wacky weed” became a catchphrase for kids in my high school. If someone did something moronic or said something absurd, one of their friends would ask them, “Have you been out, smoking that wacky weed?” Wacky weed became a euphemism for craziness.

As I look around our country today, I can’t help

For the five years I was on television, for every recipe you saw me make on TV, that actual recipe had been prepared three times (at least) for the actual shoot. We learned that viewers tend to respond better, to visualization. In other words, if they could see everything that goes into what I am making, they can picture themselves doing it, as well.

So without having too much clutter for the shot, first I tried to go over the ingredients, as best and as quickly as I could. Second time with the recipe is the actual making/cooking of the dish or drink. This is where the learning for the viewer comes; from watching what I actually do. Third time for the shoot’s recipe is the actual finished product.

It goes without saying, there were many times of testing a recipe before I brought it to TV.

Do you think people most remembered what

I used to hang out with a friend who is pretty vocal about their love for Jesus and involvement in their church and community. This is not a bad thing, at all. I just think we “undo” a lot of good we do, when we talk/boast or brag about it.

So one night I was at dinner with some people and this person began talking about the money they had given to “help a lot of others” and I started feeling uncomfortable. Queasy, in fact.

Everyone at the table began saying, “Oh, you’re such a good person. That was so generous! Wow, I can’t believe you would do all of that!” Again. What this person did was extremely kind and generous. But the boasting about it part just made me feel icky. Because rather

Y’all remember when I wrote about my sister-friend Jessica telling me how she visualizes herself handing a problem over to Jesus? How she closes her eyes and pictures what she is wearing, and walks herself through the moment, feeling everything all around her, but physically handing it (whatever her “it” may be) over to Jesus? (See July 9th post).

I have to confess something to you.

I tend to keep handing the same things/same problems / same worries / same fears over and over again to Him. Tonight as I am writing this, I had to picture myself in my gray and pink pajamas, walking up to Jesus, smelling like the coconut lotion I put on after my shower, dragging this big, heavy pile of emotional mess Terry and I have been dealing with for a while now; but here’s the thing.

I already gave it to Him.

And yet, here I am again, hauling this heavy,

My precious Terry had never seen Steel Magnolias. Considering this is in my top ten favorite movies, we recorded it and watched it recently.

I have seen this movie at least 100 times, and have most of it memorized. Yet I cry, every single time.

Every. Single. Time.

And I’m not talking a tear here and there.

Nope. I’m talking about sobbing. Ugly crying. But as you well know, there is also laughing. Deep laughter. Overall, there is more laughter than tears in this movie, but it is known for being a tear-jerker. I love the story of friendship, though. I have my own group of Steel Magnolias, and cannot imagine living life, without them.

Among many of my favorite lines: “Ouiser, you sound almost chipper. What happened today, you run over a small child or something?” - Clairee. Spoiler

Several years ago, I tasted my first French wine. What took me so long? I have no idea. Ignorance, I guess. I had always heard French people are known for being snooty and stuck up, I guess this is why I avoided their wines for so long. But I bought a bottle for around $14 (it was advertised in the store’s “Under $15 greats” so I thought, “Sure! Why not?” I sampled a taste of it during the store’s tasting, and found it to be quite delicious. I could not wait to open the bottle and truly savor it.

So one evening, I decided to make a little snack plate with cheese, grapes, berries and crackers and try my new French wine. I was blown away. I love a full-bodied, bold red, and this bottle did not disappoint. Shortly after I bought my second bottle of this same wine, the Paris terrorist attacks unfolded, and my heart broke even more. I did a quick search online for the wine’s website, and reached out to them. I certainly did not expect a reply; I just wanted them to know I tried their wine and loved it, but now I felt an even closer connection to them, and was praying for them.

Not only did I hear back from them as a company; their third generation winemaker’s wife, Eve Guigal, wrote to me

A few months ago, something was pretty heavy on my heart and mind. I shrugged it off, thinking, “No way is this from God. He wouldn’t ask me to do that. Not after everything He has seen that person do.”

Every single time the thought entered my mind, I shook my head in defiance, resisting the possibility this could be a nudging from God. On that particular day, I couldn’t shake this thought, again. “Is that you, Papa?” I prayed. I could not wrap my brain around the notion God might actually ask me to do something so far outside of my comfort zone, knowing the history I have had with this person. He has seen how nice I have been and how hard I tried … no way would He expect me to reach out to this person and be nice.

“Nope. No way. No how. Uh-huh. Not happening. Push that crap out of your mind, Aimee. That person has been nothing but hateful to you. Don’t do it.”

That was the pushback from

I have no idea how many times I have shared with y’all my political mentor’s words to me, after I “retired” from politics after President George W. Bush’s reelection campaign in 2004; but I am going to share them again. “You can take the girl out of politics, but you will never take the politics out of the girl.”

She was right.

I dabbled in a couple of campaigns after 2004, offering input anytime I was asked, and helped draw up campaign outlines and fundraising plans. But I never worked in an official capacity, again, in politics.

But you still cannot take the politics out of this girl.

I watched Representative John Lewis’ funeral Thursday, and as soon as President George W. Bush began speaking, the flood of tears began to fall.

I miss him. I miss him so much.

When he said the following, I was fist pumping in our living room, “Listen, John and I had our disagreements, of course. But in the America John Lewis fought for – and the America I believe in – differences of opinion are inevitable elements and evidence of democracy in action.”

President Bush also quoted Isaiah, “Here am I, send me.” I questioned if I would have been as brave and courageous as Representative Lewis was, and allowed myself to be beaten and bloodied; jailed for trying to peacefully bring change so desperately needed.

Then, President Obama spoke

“You can take the girl out of politics, but you will never take the politics out of the girl.”

She was right.

I dabbled in a couple of campaigns after 2004, offering input anytime I was asked, and helped draw up campaign outlines and fundraising plans. But I never worked in an official capacity, again, in politics.

But you still cannot take the politics out of this girl.

I watched Representative John Lewis’ funeral yesterday, and as soon as President George W. Bush began speaking, the flood of tears began to fall.

I miss him.

When he said

Since COVID, I have been clueless as to what day it is, what time it is, etc. I am pretty good about looking at my calendar to keep up, but if you ask me in “pop quiz” fashion, I usually stammer, pause, and have to think long and hard about what day it is.

Terry and I have been acting like teenagers who have been left home, alone, with no adult supervision. We play cards until the wee hours of the morning and watch Big Bang Theory recordings and/or movies. The other night we rolled into bed around 2:30. I kid you not. 2:30 AM. But we weren’t sleepy yet. So we read for a while. I was researching new dishes I wanted to create at home and emailing ideas to myself.

The next day I woke up and it was still really dark, but I couldn’t go back to sleep. I knew if I kept tossing and turning I would wake Terry, so I climbed out of bed, grabbed my glasses and phone off the nightstand and tip-toed into the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I tapped my phone to see what time it was, imagine my shock when it said 1:15.

1:15 PM. It was dark because of the thunderstorms. My first response

Some things that happened a while back have been weighing heavily on me for a very long time. Anytime the memories creep into my mind, I am overcome with guilt, shame and heartache.

The enemy loves this. The enemy wants us to torture ourselves with our pain and suffering. Mistakes, disappointments, grief, you name it; the enemy wants to consume us with it all.

Not Papa.

“He has removed our sins as far from us as the east is from the west. The Lord is like a father to his children, tender and compassionate to those who fear him. For he knows how weak we are; he remembers we are only dust.” - Psalm 103:12-14 (NLT)

The closer we are to God, the more we are humbled. Because He loves us with a love none of us deserve. We deserve condemnation, God gives us grace.

We tend to hold grudges, but God releases our sin as far from us as the east is from the west.

If you have been told God is an angry, spiteful God, you have

We are not rowing in our boats, alone. In fact, there are more people who will fit into our boats than we often allow. Believe it or not, the boats are easier to row with another person in it with us.

Several years ago, Terry took me to one of the springs in Florida. He rented a canoe for the two of us to go exploring. Was this romantic? Absolutely. Was this practical? Not for a girl who grew up in Tennessee, not on the water.

First of all, I want to point out that I consider myself to be pretty athletic. I run, I lift weights, I do yoga, dancing, you name it. Knowing how to gracefully paddle on the water? Yeah, that’s not exactly in my wheelhouse.

Once Terry realized the way I was paddling

One of my most intimidating Political Science professors was also an attorney. His exams were brutal. I used to think he hated us, but as time went on, I realized how he was shaping our minds. He was drilling information into our heads so we would never forget it. “Facts don’t lie,” he used to tell us. Nearly every single day he would tell us, “Facts don’t lie. People lie, but facts don’t lie. Remember that.”

I wrote it in a Sharpie on the outside of my notebook for his class. It was a mantra, so to speak, and he meant for us to remember it.

Fast forward to 2002, the very first Federal campaign on which I ever worked. My mentor was the Treasurer for the campaign and she told me the first time we spoke, “I’ll give you two pieces of advice. The first is this: checks don’t lie. If your math is wrong, then it’s your math. Your math would be wrong, not the checks. Checks don’t lie. The second piece of advice? Don’t mess up. Everything you do reflects Katherine. (Katherine Harris was the candidate; then Secretary of State for Florida, who was running for Congress).

This was advice we had to live by and consider our every move, our every word, our every email, our every conversation; what we said and did was a reflection of Katherine and her Congressional campaign. For every campaign after this, I held tightly to those words from my mentor, “Checks don’t lie, and don’t mess up.”

I have to tell you, the same feels very true even now. We are representing

Someone I really respect and admire said that when they heard someone being really nasty and hateful, then said a minute or two later they were praying to Jesus about something, he said excitedly, “Oh wow! You know Jesus? Cool! I wasn’t so sure the way you were just talking, that you were a Believer!”

When I heard him say this, I thought, oh my goodness. I want to remember this. I want to respond to people exactly like this, the next time they are being hateful/nasty and then talk about Jesus.

Last year, Terry and I were with a group of people and one of them went out of her way to be hateful to me. Ugly comments here and there, and she seemed to truly thrive on being cruel to me. I let it slide. I did not want to cause a scene for the people we were all gathered for, and just prayed people would eventually see this person for what they are, and not have to stoop to their level. I kept reminding myself, “Never argue with a fool. Onlookers might not be able to tell the difference.” - Mark Twain.

But this person continued with the snide comments. In the next breath, the person said they visited a local chapel and sat there for a while and prayed.

I was stunned. I wanted to say, “You prayed? Like to God? Or Satan? Because you’re pretty mean … I can’t fathom

My emotions are all over the map. Growing up in the South, there were a lot of “unwritten” rules about how to behave properly with regards to topics of conversation; especially at a dinner party. You don’t bring up politics or religion (specifically denominations). You never ask someone how much money they make or what they paid for their home, car, etc. You should never ask a woman her age or her weight, and you *never* ask a woman when she is due, because she might just be overweight, not pregnant. You don’t bring up race because people might think you are a racist. You do not discuss sex or football, either. God forbid someone at your dinner party might be an Alabama fan.

Well, this is all about to change with me. Y’all pull up a seat because I’m “fixing” to break a whole lot of Southern etiquette rules.

First of all, I am not religious. I dislike the term so much it makes my stomach hurt. I am