Tragedy averted...

The MIA gauchos have been located. In my closet. Folded neatly. The very top pair of pants on the pile.

I swear they weren't there yesterday...

Missing Maternity Gauchos--Reward Offered!!

Missing since the week of June 8th. Last seen on a pair of amply-sized, slightly cellulite-ridden pregnant-lady thighs. (OK, maybe not *slightly* cellulite-ridden. You got me.) Size Medium Liz Lange for Target. Lovingly cherished and will be eternally missed if not recovered.

What's that you say? Maybe if I actually *washed* the 17 loads of laundry climbing up the wall in the bedroom? What's that you say? Maybe if I folded, sorted, and put away the 6 loads of laundry residing in a crumpled, wrinkly heap on the guest room bed? What's that you say? Maybe if I actually organized the mountains of maternity pants spilling over the top shelf of my closet and threatening to fall to the (*GASP*) no-man's-land crevasse of my closet floor? Maybe I'd find them then, you say?

Maybe, friend, maybe. But I think something much more sinister is going on here.

Scenario 1: Chris, appalled at the thought that I may actually pack aforementioned gauchos in our Creation luggage and (*double GASP!) wear them in public, has stealthily snuck them from Mt. Maternity Pants in my closet, cut them into small, unidentifiable pieces, and mixed it in with the chicken feed.

Scenario 2: Evie, appalled at the thought that I may actually pack aforementioned gauchos in our Creation luggage and (double GASP!) wear them in public, has stealthily stolen them from the dirty laundry pile (brave girl!), wadded them into a small, unidentifiable mass, and stowed them underneath the mounds of baby clothes that have yet to be sorted and put away for the new baby. (She, of course, being a smart girl, knows that said baby clothes probably won't get sorted and put away until AFTER the baby's arrival, thus squelching the need for maternity gauchos. At least that's what I'm hoping.)

No matter the circumstances regarding their disappearance, their swift return is fervently desired. No questions asked.

Maybe some questions. Like, why in the world would you steal my most beloved article of clothing?! What kind of sadistic individual are you?!

Oh, and there won't actually be a reward. I'm pretty sure that they were only $12.99 or something, so I'd really be messing up that profit margin. HOWEVER, there WILL be a reward offered if you want to come and wash the 17 loads of laundry climbing up the wall in my bedroom, fold/sort/put away the 6 loads of laundry residing in a crumpled, wrinkly heap on the guest room bed, and organize the mountain of maternity pants spilling over the top shelf of my closet. But it probably won't be much more than $12.99.

A Poor Man's Pool A Lazy Mom's Pool

Ev actually *does* have a little baby pool somewhere, but I'm deathly afraid of using the electric air-pump thing-er, and I am definitely not going to subject my pregnant lungs to trying to blow it up. And I definitely think she preferred the mixing bowl method, anyway. I'm contemplating starting a poll as to how long said bowls will stay on the porch... :)

My man... :)

Purple Door has been getting a lot of positive media attention this year. And while I obviously recognize the fact that there is a stellar team behind this k-ass kick-a :) festival, I can't help but feel very proud of my man, Purple Door's HAWT producer--the one and only, chicken-farming, Stray Lights-owning, Haz-mat-call-running Chris Strayer.

(In addition to PD, he also produces some pretty stinkin' cute babies... just sayin').

This is a recent article from Gospel Music Channel. You should probably be there. It will be the highlight of your summer, maybe even your life. It's gonna be cool.

The Summer of Rock!
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By Andy Argyrakis, senior music editor, GospelMusicChannel.com

Now that the long Memorial Day weekend is over, the nights are getting longer and the smell of barbeque is in the air, summer’s officially in full swing. But the true barometer of the season is unquestionably the festival circuit, which is once again overflowing with a series of red-hot rock acts from the past and present. While certain soirées are regular Christian music fixtures (such as Creation, Cornerstone, Kingdom Bound, Ichthus, Alive and Atlanta Fest), a recent poll of artists indicated several under the radar festivals gaining newfound momentum. So with that, here’s a sampling of where to catch ample amounts of rock in an outdoor environment anchored in the gospel.

Purple Door’s a powerhouse

For the past 14 years, Lewisberry, Penn.’s Purple Door festival has steadily ascended from a small regional celebration to a national destination. This year, fans from across the country can descend upon the Ski Roundtop from August 14–15, taking in sets from a slew of crossover favorites and core Christian market rock n’ rollers. Anberlin, Family Force 5 and mewithoutyou lead, alongside a stellar supporting cast including Disciple, Project 86, Fireflight, Seabird and Spoken.

“Purple Door is purposely designed and booked to reach today’s generation featuring many styles of music – hardcore, punk, rock, rap, hip-hop, emo, acoustic and on and on – as well as many [crossover] acts,” says festival producer Chris Strayer, indicating the secret of the event’s success. “You tie this together with seminars and speaking and you have something for everyone. Oh yeah, we dropped our ticket prices. We realize that times are hard so we wanted to do our part. The price of our tickets, including the gate price, is the cheapest since 2004!”

Fans are sure to get even more bang for their buck considering several artists will also be speaking, including Project 86 frontman-turned-author Andrew Schwab. In addition to debuting tunes from the band’s forthcoming Picket Fence Cartel, he promises to create a uniquely intimate experience for the fans.

“It’s always cool to have that type of interaction with people alongside the stage performance of the band,” he muses. “You can connect with people and say things in a completely different way than just yelling at them!”

Disciple’s leader Kevin Young is also ready for double duty at Purple Door, which he explains won’t be much different than the regular dialogue already a part of the band’s concert performances. “I do a lot of speaking anyway so it shouldn’t be hard to balance,” he suggests. “As far as what I will speak about, I might give my testimony [but] I’m not sure yet. You’ll have to be there to find out.” ~(continued from page 1)

Festival spokesperson and Springboard Entertainment owner Anita Crawford notices buzz surrounding the event is at an all-time high, especially considering this year’s headliners rarely play Christian market events anymore, thanks to the demand of the mainstream market. That coup has prompted additional media attention and swelling audience sizes, which in a time of economic instability, further brands Purple Door as an interesting anomaly.

“Each year is bigger and better and has an amazing line up,” she confirms. “Purple Door strives to present ‘heavy-hitting’ artists who are making an impact in music and culture. Many of these bands are also playing primarily in the general market. Publicity from prominent outlets gives exposure on a larger scale, exposing a wider audience to the event and giving more music fans the option to attend.”

I am NOT a good pregnant person...

I'm just not. Unlike my sister Gretchen who was like 46 weeks pregnant (or you know, something like that) at Creation and still climbing steel in the blistering hot sun. (Or, you know she would have been if my mom the Creation-Powers-That-Be let her.) Oh yes, I'll be at Creation this year. But not because I intend on being even remotely useful. For several reasons though: an air-conditioned trailer (the blistering hot steel at Creation has NOTHING on my living room right now), free popsicles from the Popsicle Lady, no cooking for 10 days, all the cheesecake on a stick I can possibly stomach, and an even greater potential for napping. (IE, "Evie, I really think Nana needs your help passing out popsicles ministering to the kids. Why don't you go with her while I get some really important housework trailerwork done?!" *or* "Evie, I'm pretty sure Uncle Jon needs some help to find out where those rascally teenagers stowed the cheba [mwah ha ha] in K-field.")

All things Creation aside, I am getting to the miserable stage MUCH sooner than I did with Evie. I. am. huge. My toes are all swollen like little Vienna sausages. I pee every 7 1/2 minutes. OK, maybe a little longer at night. But I still wake up every 7 1/2 minutes because of the lovely return of pregnancy-induced Carpal Tunnel Syndrome. I've seen a recent return of the Hyperactive First Trimester Gag Reflux (H.F.T.G.R.) which makes taking my prenatal vitamins or brushing my teeth just swell. I. am. tired. I pant and sweat and swoon in the sun like an old fat man, making simple tasks like hanging Evie's diapers on the line sheer torture. And speaking of diapers, pregnancy has led to a heightened sense of smell. (Surely Evie's dirty diapers haven't always smelled EXACTLY like a Creation port-a-pot?! Surely I wouldn't have been able to stick with cloth diapering all this time if they had.) I. am. tired. Naps have become a necessity, rather than a luxury. A NECESSITY. My house is filthy... I'm trying to remember if this is typical of a non-prego Melody... messy, yes. Filthy, no. I. am. tired.

Lest you think that I am praying and petitioning for the early arrival of the littlest Strayer, I'm not. I'm not delusional. I know that having a newborn is exponentially harder than being pregnant. So no, I'm just whining.

But seriously, while the above was mostly meant tongue-in-cheek, I would appreciate your prayers... mostly for my heart... in the coming weeks. I have found myself increasingly impatient with my sweet little Evie, less ready to engage her, more ready to be critical of her. And I hate sounding like a mean shrew of a mom. And, as most of you know, there have been a few complications with this pregnancy; and with the recent onslaught of doctor's appointments and specialist's opinions, etc. etc., I find that there are times that I am giving way to fear... rather than trusting the One that holds my tiny baby in His hands.

I hear a slightly disgruntled cry coming from the wee little toddler bed in the next room, so that's all for now. Enjoy the blistering hot sun today!

Friday Funny...

Maybe everybody else doesn't find breastfeeding humor as funny as I do... but I figure, you gotta laugh at yourself if you're likely going to be lactating for the next five years straight... Just kidding. Hopefully.

Humungo Melody Mother of Evie (and Baby)

I hesitated to post this picture... interestingly enough, not because of the embarrassingly generous girth of my butt errr, belly... but because of the disgustingly dirty mirror that my camera flash revealed. I'd like to blame it on my new vinegar/lavender sprig + recycled newspaper mirror-cleaning regimen, but it's most likely because it hasn't been cleaned it in two weeks... 'Cause you know, I'm too busy composting chicken feces and growing Kombucha SCOBYs...