The 8th Wonder of the World

A blog post devoted to nothing.

I've got nothing to report. Other than the fact that my sheer excitement in my last post over the departure of my neighbors was apparently a bit premature. Much of their stuff is seemingly gone except for the essentials: their cars, the [loud, obnoxious] dog, and the scary bulldog planter/hanging basket on the patio. I would like to think that it's the disappointment over their continued presence that has drained me of all things witty, intelligent, or thought-provoking to discuss, but that's giving them far too much credit.

Maybe it's the revived presence of pine tree pollen that is to blame. I thought that maybe somehow I had managed to escape the wrath of spring awakening this year, but as it turns out, my sinuses are just a late bloomers. [Does anyone else wonder why I don't have my own television show? Because with lines like that, I should have filled the 11 pm slot at TBS.] On Sunday I woke up with the old familiar ache in my head that always instills a little bit of anxiety in me that I do in fact have a tumor or an aneurysm. Or as I affectionately refer to my condition: tumerysm. Fortunately my tumerysm is only seasonal.

Perhaps it's because my brain has been forever altered when I was exposed to the Twilight venom on Saturday morning. NO, I haven't read the books [yet]. I blame the free Shotime preview weekend. It was free. I have DVR. It seemed like a win-win combination at the time, but now I secretly find myself saying things like "I'm totally on Team Edward". Really?!? That should be a sure sign that I'm losing brain cells by the minute. Alright, all of you Twilighters, I'm only teasing...no need to get all worked up and send the evil vampires my way

I'm considering beginning my independent study that is due in oh...2.5 weeks. Because that is what I should be working on feverishly, I'm bound to come up with plenty of blogging material in the mean time.

Stay tuned.

So they loaded up the truck and they moved to Beverly.

Apartment life is nothing that I really prefer. It just happens to be the best option for me during this little phase of my life called graduate school student/full-time state employee with furloughs. I wouldn't mind it so badly say if current residents had the opportunity to interview prospective residents. My primary requirements are non-smokers who don't use candles, fireplaces, or ovens. That's not asking too much now is it?

About this time last year, a couple moved into my building. They are quite impressive. His truck sat in the parking lot with a flat tire for a couple of weeks. For a couple of more weeks his truck sat in the parking lot with a washer and dryer in the back. They loved the pool during the summer. So much so that they carried their best glass bottles filled with their adult beverage of choice and ALL of their rowdy friends down to it to hang out until the wee small hours of the morning all weekend. Every weekend.

Towards the end of the summer, they got a yellow Lab because the girl just loved Cash so much. I guess she loves dogs that bristle up and begin to bark immediately upon seeing her because that's what Cash did. Every time. Perhaps it's because I've taught him to detest the scent of cigarette smoke. Not really, he just doesn't like smokers for some reason. So, Buddy, their yellow Lab grows into a big, strong, rowdy Marley & Me type Lab. Except it's not friendly. It's mean. It barks. All the time. It chases cars. Yes, it chases cars because it's UNLEASHED. These people never leash their rowdy dog. In fact they just send him out into the woods behind our building to do his business. The way that they get him to come back is by screaming at him until he meanders back inside. I do feel badly for the dog because obviously it has never been properly socialized, nor do its owners treat it as it should be treated. I mean, good dog owners do things like this with (er, I mean to) their dogs.

Back to my point of this post. Because I do have one. I promise. Today when I got home from work, I saw the most glorious sight that I have seen in weeks.

The Clampett's are leaving! Can't y'all just picture that yellow dog perched up on top of the trailer? Just like on The Beverly Hillbillies. Best of luck to them (and those bungee cords) as they move on to bigger and better concrete ponds.

Fools For Each Other.

Hello, blogosphere. I'm back. I can't guarantee for how long since obviously I've been on a bit of a hiatus, but I did feel the need to blog today. You see, 33 years ago today, my mama and daddy said "I do" and began their happily ever after.

Before I talk about their anniversary and marriage though, I feel it important to share the story of how they met. Primarily because it's so out of a storybook unrealistic that if I hadn't heard it myself a thousand million times, I would never believe it. Daddy and Mama met as mere children. And by children I mean, daddy was 17 and mama was 15. Or maybe it was 18 and 16. [Needless to say, they were young. Especially if you're comparing them to me, the girl who had never been in a serious relationship until she was 30, that is.] It was the month of July. Mama and her friend, Lisa, went to FHA camp. Daddy and his friend, Hal, went to FFA camp. It just so happened that the future homemakers and future farmers were camping at the same place. Coincidence? I think not. The first time mama saw daddy he was playing volleyball with the guys. She thought he was so dreamy out there with his shirt off and the huge scar down his back. [hey, I'm just reporting the facts because I could never make up the "back scar = dreaminess" component] So before she even talked to him, she told Lisa that she was going to marry him one day. Really?!? Is that how it works? You're 16 and you see this tall cute guy at summer camp playing volleyball and know immediately that you're going to marry him?!? Pff. Granted, it wasn't that perfect from the beginning. They dated for a few months. Then he just one day stopped calling. [Typical teenage boy] She dated people from his school to try to see him out and about in Snellville. [Typical teenage girl] Eventually he [wizened up!] and called one day and then they started dating for real until they got married when she was 20 and he was 22. See? I told you it was pretty much a storybook tale. Oh, I forgot this chapter. Lisa and Hal (their friends) also married each other. And until I was 14, we lived just across a little pond from them and their family. The end.

I digress...

As a child, I never really thought much about their wedding anniversary. Except for the fact that each year whenever it came around daddy would tease me and say that their whole marriage was a joke and that they weren't really married. (April Fool!) Of course I would always get a little bit concerned about this information, but each year mama would reassure me that they were really married. I was content until the next year when he pulled the same stunt. Finally I just learned to roll my eyes and respond with a "whatever" in my teen years whenever he would say it. In retrospect, I feel that I should have acknowledged their anniversary more because after all, if there had been no wedding and no anniversary to remember that day, there would have been no me. And what would this world be without me? Bor-ing. That's what. Kidding. Kind of.

Honestly, I'm not really sure how to handle this "first" in the year of firsts since daddy passed away in June. Especially considering that I had honestly never acknowledged it other than to say "Happy Anniversary" to each of them. And the reason why it never really seemed like that big of a day to me was because more often than not, they spent their anniversary at the softball field with me and later at the baseball field with the boys. Now that I am older, I understand that's just something that parents do. Or mine did anyway. Once they had us, they were continuously making sacrifices on our behalf.

I have said it countless times before, but I am absolutely blessed to have been raised in a home with both parents residing under the same roof. I never had to know the struggle of dividing time between parents for holidays or sharing weekends or the shuffling back and forth between two homes. I am so grateful for the example and picture of marriage that I have been given by my own parents. That is not to say that everything was always perfect and they lived in constant peace and harmony. However, through their example I was able to see that it's ok to disagree with the person that you love more than anyone else. It's even ok to be frustrated and aggravated with them beyond measure. But just because you are, it doesn't mean that you are always going to be. Eventually you kiss and make up and move past what was more often than not a minor issue as opposed to a major one in the grand scheme of things. It's just what you do when you're married and you love each other.

Naturally, throughout life, we are faced with major issues too. My family was not exempt. With the grace of God and their love for each other though, mama and daddy did not let these challenges destroy their marriage. When we were seemingly losing a lot in terms of material things, we never lost each other. They showed me and taught me that while life isn't always going to be easy, it is manageable. Especially when your number one cheerleader remains in that role instead of becoming your biggest rival. That is one of the greatest lessons and gifts that they ever gave me. Sure, this "gift" came at a pretty high price, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that at the end of the day, it's not the stuff that matters most, it's the people that you share your life with that are of most value.

Another thing that I observed in mama and daddy's relationship is that marriages do change over the course of time. I believe that there are some days when it's easier than others. When daddy got sick, my mama was a saint to put up with his moods. Talk about honoring a commitment. I don't say that out of disrespect, I say that because that is a perfect example of a situation that will either make or break a marriage. I learned that there are times in a marriage when one of the people is doing much more giving while the other is doing much more taking. People say that raising children is a selfless act. I think that being a spouse ranks right up there in terms of selfless acts as well. Granted, I can't report any of what I'm saying as fact since I haven't experienced marriage myself, so all of you married people all there who are just shaking your heads and thinking to yourself "poor girl has no clue", please just respect my naivete today, and then send me a padded reality check tomorrow. Thanks.

Even though it was mortifying during the pre-teen and teen years, I'm so glad that my mama and daddy were affectionate towards each other. Goodbye kisses and saying "I Love You" was commonplace in my house. However having more children when I was in 8th grade and during my freshman year of college was a bit much. Kidding, kidding. Because they had fun together, we all had fun together as a family. The good times far outweigh the bad times.

One of my biggest regrets is that I am realizing much of this in hindsight. Fortunately, I will be able to tell mama how much I have learned from them and what a good example she and daddy have been for me, but I do regret not being able to tell daddy as well. He always told me that one day I was going to realize what a smart man he was. He was a smart man...for marrying my mama! I pray that one day I will be a similar example to my own children.