It was Mrs. White, In the Kitchen, With the Knife

It all started with an onion. The crock pot recipe called for onion slices to be placed on the bottom of the crock pot before the other ingredients were added.

So there I was at 8:30 AM cutting a white onion. We all know what happens when you cut an onion. You cry. This particular onion must have been packed with extra "make-um-cry" vapors because it sure did a number on me. It even made Hannah cry and she wasn't even doing the cutting.

But we recovered. I refreshed my makeup and we headed out the door to Bible Study. When prayer time came, we split up into pairs. As I listened to my dear prayer partner pray over me, my tears came back...with a vengeance. Granted, I was in need of some really heavy prayer and a good cry, but these were not presentable tears. These were the kind of tears that make everyone wonder what is going on with that weird girl who got all red and splotchy and whose eyes won't stop leaking. That was me today. Mrs. Peacock's nervous soup-slurping is nothing compared to my nervous crying.

This afternoon, I dreaded going home. I didn't dread being home, just going home. You see, going home entails pulling into my driveway and pulling into my driveway means I have to look at my neighbors house. My neighbor's house could win a prize for the worst kept house on the planet right now. Seriously. Every time I pull into my driveway...Well, let's just put it like this...Flames...Flames...On the side of my face...

Something like this:

Honestly though, I am trying to love and not hate my neighbors. I have, however, been telling God that it would be a WHOLE lot easier to love my neighbors if He would just make the trees I planted between our houses grow faster. MUCH faster. Thankyouverymuch. So today I took a detour through a new neighborhood on my way home just to look for any houses for sale. Hannah thought we were lost and started crying.

Joey called on his way home from work. I told him about our numerous crying fits of the day. He immediately launched into telling me how to fix my problems. I didn't want a Professor Plum to fix my problems. I just wanted sympathy. He made me cry some more. Sheesh.

A singing telegram showed up at our door. No. Wait. That would just be weird. But we did load up in the car and deliver a meal (let's just call it an "eating telegram") to our friends who just had a baby. I didn't cry at their house. In fact, it lifted me out of my little funk to visit with them. When we left their house, I didn't feel like crying anymore.

Then it hit me. The onion went with the meal that I delivered. The onion did it.

That's when I called the game.

It was Mrs. White (the onion), In the Kitchen, With the Knife.

If you have no CLUE what I am talking about, get a CLUE or just watch this CLUE.

You might laugh. I hope you don't cry.

Whatever you do, don't cut onions at 8:30 in the morning.