Where’s the Off Button?
Fred and Evelyn Knaff have been entertaining their grandchildren for the past week, Connie’s boys—that would be the five year old triplets! Yes, those boys are a handful for anyone, anytime, but Connie’s pregnant again and her husband, Ron has just been called up to Iraq. Connie’s nerves have not been very good, lately. She’s not due ‘til the middle of January but she’s been
I Know My Own, and My Own Know Me
In the event that you aren’t tweeting with me on Twitter, following me on Facebook, or exchanging pics on Instagram, you may not be aware of our latest blessing. I can fix that. Hear ye, hear ye, Weston Phillip Tomlinson, our fifth grandchild, was born on November 13th. Considering the ginanormous amount of pictures of Weston that I’ve already collected on my iPhone, I feel I’ve
Dorothy Dix in the Southern Quote
She was born prematurely in a plantation home in Woodstock, Tennessee and named Elizabeth Meriwether Gilmer. The year was 1870. Her parents wrapped her tiny body in blankets and surrounded her with heated bricks. Few expected her to survive, but Little Lizzy not only lived, she spent the next ninety years defying expectations. Lizzy’s childhood was as difficult as her birth. The war was over; but
Shellie’s Highly Favored Chocolate Lemon Bark Candy
Welcome back to the All Things Southern kitchen, friends! It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas -- only, once again, I haven't been able to find my favorite candy in the specialty stores. That would be Chocolate Lemon Bark—I love the stuff! Could eat a pound of it! I haven’t been able to find it the last few years and I’ve been looking everywhere. So, I’ve created
Ode to the Longsuffering Southern Mama
Hello folks, let’s chat…I’m here today as a voice of reason. There has been some concern mentioned among my girlfriends that our generation could be in danger of losing a long held and iconic trait of the Southern Mama Hood. The sober suggestion has been made that we belles are growing increasingly incapable of properly portraying the Longsuffering Southern Mama, defined as one who is so
Shouting Ground!
I can scarcely contain myself as I sit down to write. My heart's overflowing, my eye makeup is smeared from crying, and my thoughts are flying in all directions. I'm iffy on how this is going to translate into a coherent post, but I'm bound and determined to try. Let's do this thing. As many of you know, our 30 Days of Thankfulness Drive concluded yesterday on the last
Let’s Plug In
The All Things Southern office can be a most unusual workplace. Many a Wednesday finds me trying to turn in deadlines and keep this boat afloat while playing grocery store or school with the All Things Southern Bellerinas. Longtime listeners will recognize those titles as belonging to my lovely granddaughters Emerson Ann and Carlisle Mae. At five and three, those two are busy and getting
Lou Holtz in the Southern Quote
He was born in 1937 in West Virginia, a small child with a slight frame, an average athlete and a poor student. He overcame this apparent mediocrity through a burning desire to prove himself. It’s hard to picture Lou Holtz as the shy child he claims to have been, but Mr. Holtz attributes his famous wit to his birth order. The oldest child had the responsibility
Candied Carrots
Welcome back to the All Things Southern kitchen, y’all! I’m going to have to ask forgiveness. I meant to send this out early enough for y’all to have these delicious candied carrots with your Thanksgiving meal and amid all the lovely chaos here, I plum forgot! You’ll want to keep this one close, though. They’re a treat anytime! (Seriously, they almost belong in the dessert
Savannah’s Perspective on Nerve Problems
Here’s an oldie but goodie from our official porch mascot, little Ms. Savannah Grace, who happens to be all grown up these days. This story hearkens a few years back to Savannah's elementary school years. Julia had picked Savannah Grace and her brother up from school that afternoon. She’d had a difficult day at the office and she was hoping they could go straight home. Wrong—