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.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Saturday, April 3, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Christmas Cards
Fact: I love Christmas cards. The truth is that I actually love all types of cards. I love sending them [even though I don't do it nearly as often as I should], and I love receiving them. For years, one of my favorite parts of Christmas has always been picking out Christmas cards and then sending them to all of my favorite people. And then I started this little venture known as graduate school. As a result for the past three years, I have not sent out Christmas cards. Look, I know that I don't really have an excuse because somehow mothers who have small children and jobs and husbands to feed have no problems sending out their Christmas cards in a timely manner. It's just that by the time that end of the semester finally gets here in early December, my brain is kind of spongy and tired. However I am happy to report that next year I will not have the excuse of school standing in my way so I'll be back and better than ever on the Christmas card circuit. Just wait and see.
I'm not here to report on my shortcomings though. There will be plenty of time and bandwidth for that another day. Today I want to talk about how much fun it is to go to the mailbox each afternoon beginning shortly after Thanksgiving because inevitably there will be a Christmas card or two amidst the junk mail and carpet cleaning coupons. I love the pictures. I love the updates. I love them all. To me, it seems that the daily trip to the mailbox is the perfect prelude leading up to Christmas. There's a little bit of anticipation each time you go to the mailbox [the good kind of anticipation...not the kind that comes when you fear the IRS is about to audit you or something].
That's the fun of this season: the anticipation. ...Of the unknown. ...Of what is yet to come. ...Of something good and cheerful and bright on the inside of a beautifully wrapped package. ...Of something that has been picked out especially for us by someone who cares about us. As I was thinking about this whole matter of Christmas cards and Christmas day and the build-up and excitement that starts gradually and only intensifies the closer that we get to the 25th, I couldn't help but think of how Christmas morning is the perfect prelude to what is coming next for those of us who have the joy down in our hearts. This is the time in which we surround ourselves by the ones we love. We want to be close to home. Sure, we don't know what Heaven is going to be like, but we naturally long for it because we know it's our permanent home. It's unknown...it's yet to come...it's good and cheerful and bright...it was created and designed for us by someone who loves us more than we can ever imagine. It's like Christmas. Except it's every morning. And every night. The best part? We won't have to wait a whole 365 days for it to come around again.
I'm not here to report on my shortcomings though. There will be plenty of time and bandwidth for that another day. Today I want to talk about how much fun it is to go to the mailbox each afternoon beginning shortly after Thanksgiving because inevitably there will be a Christmas card or two amidst the junk mail and carpet cleaning coupons. I love the pictures. I love the updates. I love them all. To me, it seems that the daily trip to the mailbox is the perfect prelude leading up to Christmas. There's a little bit of anticipation each time you go to the mailbox [the good kind of anticipation...not the kind that comes when you fear the IRS is about to audit you or something].
That's the fun of this season: the anticipation. ...Of the unknown. ...Of what is yet to come. ...Of something good and cheerful and bright on the inside of a beautifully wrapped package. ...Of something that has been picked out especially for us by someone who cares about us. As I was thinking about this whole matter of Christmas cards and Christmas day and the build-up and excitement that starts gradually and only intensifies the closer that we get to the 25th, I couldn't help but think of how Christmas morning is the perfect prelude to what is coming next for those of us who have the joy down in our hearts. This is the time in which we surround ourselves by the ones we love. We want to be close to home. Sure, we don't know what Heaven is going to be like, but we naturally long for it because we know it's our permanent home. It's unknown...it's yet to come...it's good and cheerful and bright...it was created and designed for us by someone who loves us more than we can ever imagine. It's like Christmas. Except it's every morning. And every night. The best part? We won't have to wait a whole 365 days for it to come around again.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Drinking Coffee: A Bittersweet Tale of Conversion.
My daddy was the biggest coffee drinker that I have ever known. As a child I always hated going out to dinner on Friday nights because we would inevitably sit at the restaurant for an eternity while he drank a cup (or two or three...depending upon whether or not we were with friends) of coffee after our meal. And when you're 9 years old and life revolves around things like Full House and The Babysitter's Club books these additional moments spent at a restaurant are sheer agony. In fact I find it surprising that Child Protection Services never stepped in to serve as my advocate. On the rare occasion we dined at a place that daddy wasn't a very big fan of the coffee then we would always drive to another place whether it be Waffle House, Dunkin Donuts, a designated convenient store (not just any one would do)...somewhere so he could get his after-dinner-coffee fix on the go. Obviously I much preferred this plan unless we ate in Roswell and he decided he wanted coffee from a place in Canton. And no, I'm not kidding. Heaven forbid he actually use the coffee maker sitting in the kitchen at home to actually make coffee himself.
Now, mama does not like coffee. Not. One. Little. Bit. She always says "I love the smell, but I just can't get past that bitter taste." So anyone who knew me prior to college knows that if my mama didn't drink coffee, then never would I ever consider drinking the stuff because I took most of my cues from her on what is good or bad or right or wrong. I'm not saying that this is a terribly wrong way for 12 year old to make decisions, but we did differ on matters such as lima beans and black-eyed peas even then. She's a fan of the former, I the latter. Naturally, because of her aversion to java, I didn't try to drink it once I was old enough to do so. [Is there really a minimum drinking age for coffee? I'm not sure, but it just seems a little unnatural for a 7 year old to be drinking it during snack time.] Besides, who needs coffee when there is hot chocolate? No one, as far as I was concerned.
So I spent the majority of my college years scoffing at coffee (except during that "experimental stage" when I tried it on a couple of occasions but I could never get the mixture of creamer and sugar correct and drinking it straight black was just too bitter so I stopped trying) Instead I chose caffeine substitutes like Diet Mountain Dew until that time right before Rush of my senior year when I was literally all jacked up on Mountain Dew and had to cut out caffeine cold turkey. Basically I have been content to spend the cold winter months keeping warm by drinking hot chocolate or caramel apple cider (otherwise known as "Heaven in a paper cup").
Over the years daddy's drinking habit (ha!) subsided a little and he even cut back significantly at one point, but he did always enjoy a good cup of coffee. So imagine the irony when in spring of 2009, this guy enters the picture, and I quickly learn that he is a big fan of after-dinner-coffee. Initially I stuck to my guns and continued to turn my nose up at the idea of coffee. Ok, let's be honest, I politely declined - I was still trying to make a good impression. However, Ryan introduced a new player in the after-dinner-coffee equation: dessert. Um, hello...now you have my attention. He explained that the bitterness of the coffee perfectly compliments the sweetness of the dessert to create a state of euphoria known primarily by those who are big Jerry Garcia fans. Alright, I made up that part about Jerry Garcia just to see if anybody is still paying attention. And let me tell you something...he's right. [And no, I'm not just saying that because I'm trying to make a good impression.] Together, the sweetness of the dessert does absolutely reduce the bitterness of the coffee.
Now I was learning all about and testing the whole "coffee + dessert = awesomeness" theory around the time that daddy got sick and passed away. [Sidenote: Wouldn't it be great if we were allowed maybe one edit to the story of our lives? If we were, then I think that I would choose for daddy and Ryan to enjoy a nice cup of after-dinner-coffee together.] But today I'm not going to dwell on the things that cannot be changed. Instead I am going to focus on the fact that I myself have developed a taste for coffee. In fact, I even drink it on random Wednesday mornings sans dessert because I really enjoy the taste of it. I understand that some will argue that my fondness of it is all because I fell under the spell of a charming blonde with blue eyes. While those blue eyes certainly helped, I'm also always reminded of daddy each time I drink coffee. They are little moments that I have every once in awhile to remember him. Granted, if he were here today to see me drinking coffee, I can only imagine that teasing that would ensue. I'm sure he would also take the opportunity to remind me of how I lived in a town for 10 years that I refused to move to when I was a little girl because it was "too podunk". Relentless teasing. It's what he did. But only because he loved me.
Now, mama does not like coffee. Not. One. Little. Bit. She always says "I love the smell, but I just can't get past that bitter taste." So anyone who knew me prior to college knows that if my mama didn't drink coffee, then never would I ever consider drinking the stuff because I took most of my cues from her on what is good or bad or right or wrong. I'm not saying that this is a terribly wrong way for 12 year old to make decisions, but we did differ on matters such as lima beans and black-eyed peas even then. She's a fan of the former, I the latter. Naturally, because of her aversion to java, I didn't try to drink it once I was old enough to do so. [Is there really a minimum drinking age for coffee? I'm not sure, but it just seems a little unnatural for a 7 year old to be drinking it during snack time.] Besides, who needs coffee when there is hot chocolate? No one, as far as I was concerned.
So I spent the majority of my college years scoffing at coffee (except during that "experimental stage" when I tried it on a couple of occasions but I could never get the mixture of creamer and sugar correct and drinking it straight black was just too bitter so I stopped trying) Instead I chose caffeine substitutes like Diet Mountain Dew until that time right before Rush of my senior year when I was literally all jacked up on Mountain Dew and had to cut out caffeine cold turkey. Basically I have been content to spend the cold winter months keeping warm by drinking hot chocolate or caramel apple cider (otherwise known as "Heaven in a paper cup").
Over the years daddy's drinking habit (ha!) subsided a little and he even cut back significantly at one point, but he did always enjoy a good cup of coffee. So imagine the irony when in spring of 2009, this guy enters the picture, and I quickly learn that he is a big fan of after-dinner-coffee. Initially I stuck to my guns and continued to turn my nose up at the idea of coffee. Ok, let's be honest, I politely declined - I was still trying to make a good impression. However, Ryan introduced a new player in the after-dinner-coffee equation: dessert. Um, hello...now you have my attention. He explained that the bitterness of the coffee perfectly compliments the sweetness of the dessert to create a state of euphoria known primarily by those who are big Jerry Garcia fans. Alright, I made up that part about Jerry Garcia just to see if anybody is still paying attention. And let me tell you something...he's right. [And no, I'm not just saying that because I'm trying to make a good impression.] Together, the sweetness of the dessert does absolutely reduce the bitterness of the coffee.
Now I was learning all about and testing the whole "coffee + dessert = awesomeness" theory around the time that daddy got sick and passed away. [Sidenote: Wouldn't it be great if we were allowed maybe one edit to the story of our lives? If we were, then I think that I would choose for daddy and Ryan to enjoy a nice cup of after-dinner-coffee together.] But today I'm not going to dwell on the things that cannot be changed. Instead I am going to focus on the fact that I myself have developed a taste for coffee. In fact, I even drink it on random Wednesday mornings sans dessert because I really enjoy the taste of it. I understand that some will argue that my fondness of it is all because I fell under the spell of a charming blonde with blue eyes. While those blue eyes certainly helped, I'm also always reminded of daddy each time I drink coffee. They are little moments that I have every once in awhile to remember him. Granted, if he were here today to see me drinking coffee, I can only imagine that teasing that would ensue. I'm sure he would also take the opportunity to remind me of how I lived in a town for 10 years that I refused to move to when I was a little girl because it was "too podunk". Relentless teasing. It's what he did. But only because he loved me.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Floods and Droughts
Hello, blogosphere. I'm back. I know it's been quite awhile since my last post so I felt compelled to post something...anything...just in case my 3 readers still stop by every now and again.
I think that the title of this post best sums up many aspects of my life these days...There have been floods and there have been droughts.
For instance, I have been in a bit of a blogging drought. I have been flooded with school work and work work. Up until about a month ago, I was in a spiritual drought. In a sense, I feel like daddy's death took a lot out of me. Sure, I didn't realize it at the time because I was constantly in "go mode" and I busied myself with other things. Since I have a degree in psychology, I know to chalk those behaviors up to my coping mechanisms. But then one night I was home alone (Cash was at mama's house) and it was quiet. And I allowed myself to be still. It should come as no surprise that my eyes were flooded with tears. Those tears were cleansing. Not only was I flooded with tears and emotions, I was flooded with God's grace and love. Sure, I am each and everyday because I am one of his imperfect little kiddos, but an image that comes to mind is the difference in my plants after I water them after about a week without any watering. It's like the life comes back into them. I was reminded yet again that our Heavenly Father is our ultimate sustainer [is that a real word?] and provider along this journey that we are on known as life.
Many of my days have been spent being flooded with fun times and great trips with a fun guy. If you want to see what I've been up to for the past month look here and here. Warning: there is potential that you could be flooded with envy so prepare your heart accordingly before looking.
Floods and droughts are cyclical in our environment. Ok, maybe they aren't really but it sounds good right? We just had a pretty severe flood in Georgia after a couple of summers of drought so I'm going to pretend to be an amateur meteorologist and make this declaration. Floods and droughts are cyclical in our lives, too.
Through them all, my cup runneth over.
I think that the title of this post best sums up many aspects of my life these days...There have been floods and there have been droughts.
For instance, I have been in a bit of a blogging drought. I have been flooded with school work and work work. Up until about a month ago, I was in a spiritual drought. In a sense, I feel like daddy's death took a lot out of me. Sure, I didn't realize it at the time because I was constantly in "go mode" and I busied myself with other things. Since I have a degree in psychology, I know to chalk those behaviors up to my coping mechanisms. But then one night I was home alone (Cash was at mama's house) and it was quiet. And I allowed myself to be still. It should come as no surprise that my eyes were flooded with tears. Those tears were cleansing. Not only was I flooded with tears and emotions, I was flooded with God's grace and love. Sure, I am each and everyday because I am one of his imperfect little kiddos, but an image that comes to mind is the difference in my plants after I water them after about a week without any watering. It's like the life comes back into them. I was reminded yet again that our Heavenly Father is our ultimate sustainer [is that a real word?] and provider along this journey that we are on known as life.
Many of my days have been spent being flooded with fun times and great trips with a fun guy. If you want to see what I've been up to for the past month look here and here. Warning: there is potential that you could be flooded with envy so prepare your heart accordingly before looking.
Floods and droughts are cyclical in our environment. Ok, maybe they aren't really but it sounds good right? We just had a pretty severe flood in Georgia after a couple of summers of drought so I'm going to pretend to be an amateur meteorologist and make this declaration. Floods and droughts are cyclical in our lives, too.
Through them all, my cup runneth over.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
He's down with D-Qwon's sweet dance grooves.
I love this kid. I don't know who he is, but I love him. Let's not talk about how appropriate (or inappropriate) some of his "moves" are, but I'm definitely planning to use some of them the next time I hit the dance floor. Specifically the one that Johnny Castle also uses in Dirty Dancing and Jillian used on The Biggest Loser last night.
And now for a fun bonus question: Who is D-Qwon? If you know and are the first one to give me the correct answer in the comments, then I'll send you a flippin' sweet $10 iTunes card. Seriously. [I knew the day would come when I would start bribing people with prizes to leave comments on my blog. I just didn't know it would be today.]
And now for a fun bonus question: Who is D-Qwon? If you know and are the first one to give me the correct answer in the comments, then I'll send you a flippin' sweet $10 iTunes card. Seriously. [I knew the day would come when I would start bribing people with prizes to leave comments on my blog. I just didn't know it would be today.]
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
09.09.09
Hello, blogosphere. It's been awhile since I have blogged for the sake of blogging. So in honor of today's date, I'm back and I am sharing 9 things. It's not that I just have 9 things to write about, it's just that if I shared any more or any less, it wouldn't really go with the date and we all know how much I appreciate continuity. Without further ado...
I'm pretty sure that the "Swine Flu Epidemic" is a tactic implemented by the government to stimulate the economy. I came to this conclusion in the airport on Thursday after paying $3.20 for a 1 oz. bottle of hand sanitizer. I'm sure all of those people I observed in the airport coughing and sneezing all over the place (which was the source of inspiration for said purchase) are paid actors.
Speaking of the airport, I opened up my purse this evening in class only to discover that the aforementioned $3.20 bottle of liquid gold managed to pass through airport security along with my liquid concealer outside of the confines of a quart sized plastic bag. Now I no longer feel safe flying the friendly skies because if I managed to unknowingly smuggle liquids through under the radar, then I can't even imagine what the bad guys will do with their travel sized shampoo bottles.
I think that my classes this semester are two thorns in my side. I'm just saying.
I am excited about getting my puppy dog back in a couple of days. I haven't seen him in almost 2 weeks and I miss him tremendously.
Speaking of missing, I have gained a whole new perspective on what it's like to miss people. It's a perspective that I could have gone for oh, pretty much forever without gaining, however as a result I've learned to not take opportunities for granted and if there's something that I need to say or do then I had better do it.
I think that everyone who doubts the existence of God should just get in his or her car and just drive across a part of the United States. Start with California. I'm pretty sure that geographical design is no accident. We won't discuss the accidents in the state brought about by us humans.
Speaking of driving across a part of the United States, I traveled almost 5,000 miles in 6 days...1,300 or so by car. I think that I cannot wait until the next time I get to do that.
In said 6 days, I drank 3 Coke Icee's. Until then, the last time I had a Coke Icee was probably in the mid-90's.
I think that I should be in the bed.
I'm pretty sure that the "Swine Flu Epidemic" is a tactic implemented by the government to stimulate the economy. I came to this conclusion in the airport on Thursday after paying $3.20 for a 1 oz. bottle of hand sanitizer. I'm sure all of those people I observed in the airport coughing and sneezing all over the place (which was the source of inspiration for said purchase) are paid actors.
Speaking of the airport, I opened up my purse this evening in class only to discover that the aforementioned $3.20 bottle of liquid gold managed to pass through airport security along with my liquid concealer outside of the confines of a quart sized plastic bag. Now I no longer feel safe flying the friendly skies because if I managed to unknowingly smuggle liquids through under the radar, then I can't even imagine what the bad guys will do with their travel sized shampoo bottles.
I think that my classes this semester are two thorns in my side. I'm just saying.
I am excited about getting my puppy dog back in a couple of days. I haven't seen him in almost 2 weeks and I miss him tremendously.
Speaking of missing, I have gained a whole new perspective on what it's like to miss people. It's a perspective that I could have gone for oh, pretty much forever without gaining, however as a result I've learned to not take opportunities for granted and if there's something that I need to say or do then I had better do it.
I think that everyone who doubts the existence of God should just get in his or her car and just drive across a part of the United States. Start with California. I'm pretty sure that geographical design is no accident. We won't discuss the accidents in the state brought about by us humans.
Speaking of driving across a part of the United States, I traveled almost 5,000 miles in 6 days...1,300 or so by car. I think that I cannot wait until the next time I get to do that.
In said 6 days, I drank 3 Coke Icee's. Until then, the last time I had a Coke Icee was probably in the mid-90's.
I think that I should be in the bed.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
My palate and purse have never been so pampered.
This time last week I was in fabulous Las Vegas, Nevada...
And as luck would have it, I'll be back there in less than a week but that's another post for another Saturday night. Until last Friday, I had only seen the famous Vegas sign in passing, but I'm sure glad that Ryan had the idea of stopping for a quick photo op on our way to dinner. You see, we were on our way to one of those fancy all-you-can-eat buffets down on the strip which is why Ryan was suited up and I was wearing a dress that is never allowed to be thrown into a washing machine. Ever. Or else all of the George Jefferson's of the world will have to file for bankruptcy and move on down to the West side.
This doesn't even include the bread. My favorite was the buckwheat cherry roll. Nor does it include some little treats that we had in the beginning that were compliments of the chef. I'm telling you all...Alex will treat you right. Nor does it include the little sweet treats that we got at the end of our meal. Nor does it include the cappuccino. And then just when you think there couldn't possibly be anything else, there was. As we were rushing out the door to the show, I was handed a little pack of macaroons for the road. Yum.
Speaking of the show, Ryan got tickets to La Reve which is also at Wynn. Holy cow. It was amazing. I'm pretty confident that I just sat through the entire show wide-eyed with my jaw dropped because that's what happens when country girls are taken into town to see a show. If you ever find yourself in Vegas, I highly recommend that you get yourself to this show especially if you like acrobatics and dancing and music and water. And if you don't like any of those things before the show, I promise you will afterward if you just give it a shot.
It was definitely a night out that I will not forget, and I know that I am quite a fortunate [and very appreciative] girl to get to experience such fun. The rest of the weekend was great as well. On Saturday, Ryan made omelets and we made perhaps a slight dent in the ever-growing list of movies that I've never seen but must see by watching Glory, Tropic Thunder, and Miracle...along with a couple of episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Perhaps the common theme that runs straight through this entire blog post is our appreciation and respect that we have for quality entertainment.
Sunday we went to church, had lunch with a family that Ryan knows, went to see The Time Traveler's Wife [insert my two cents here: read the book, rent the movie], had dinner, and then it was time to head to the airport and say goodbye. But who really likes goodbyes, anyway? As luck would have it [or something like that], my plane was broken which meant that my stay was lengthened for a few more hours. No complaints here. And the cherry on top of all of the other cherries on top? Delta dollars for my "trouble".
And as luck would have it, I'll be back there in less than a week but that's another post for another Saturday night. Until last Friday, I had only seen the famous Vegas sign in passing, but I'm sure glad that Ryan had the idea of stopping for a quick photo op on our way to dinner. You see, we were on our way to one of those fancy all-you-can-eat buffets down on the strip which is why Ryan was suited up and I was wearing a dress that is never allowed to be thrown into a washing machine. Ever. Or else all of the George Jefferson's of the world will have to file for bankruptcy and move on down to the West side.Now, those of you reading this who know me at all will immediately know that I would not be caught dead going to a buffet dressed in something that has a belt with it. In reality, Ryan had made dinner reservations at the nicest restaurant that I have ever been to. EVER. And no, I'm not using sarcasm or facetiousness here. It was that nice. Let me tell you, that Alex over at Wynn certainly knows how to make a meal. In fact, he's so good that he has his very own restaurant. 
Admittedly, I was slightly nervous to eat in such a nice restaurant because well, being a Brownie Girl Scout in elementary school and a member of a sorority in college can provide a girl with only so much social know-how. Fortunately, Ryan recommended that I go with the tasting menu which meant that the only thing I had to do was pick out what bread I wanted when the bread boy [that's his official job title I'm sure] came to our table and tell the waiter how I wanted my Wagyu prepared....which apparently I enjoyed the steak tartare so much that I went a little crazy and said medium rare, but the waiter advised me to go with medium. So I went with the expert's advice.
The truth is, I have referenced this meal at least once in conversation every day since last Friday night. But it's absolutely worth referencing so I'm going to continue to do so until I'm at least 75. Let's see, I don't even know where to begin. Maybe the little chair that was beside our table specifically for my purse. I was sold the minute Ryan pointed that out because I know that any place that will treat my purse well will certainly be good to me too.
Now for the food. It was amazing. I tried to narrow it down and just pick out a few favorites but I couldn't. So for you foodies out there, enjoy...
*Heirloom Tomato and Octopus Carpaccio with Parsley Puree, Brioche Croutons and Osetra Caviar Delamotte, Brut, Le Mesnil Sur Oger, Champagne, France MV...[Remind me to tell you three readers a little story one day about how I almost choked on my octopus during this course.]
*Butter Poached Maine Lobster with Sweet Corn Custard, Chanterelle Mushrooms and Coral Butter Tensley, Blanc ,Camp Four Vineyard, Santa Barbara County, California 2006
*Olive Oil Poached Kanpachi with Wax Beans, Roasted Purple Artichokes and Black Olive Oil Henri Boillot, Les Charmes Premier Cru, Meursault, Burgundy, France 2005
*Veal Sweetbread Vol-au-Vent with Red Chard, Sherry Soaked Bing Cherries and Toasted Almonds Louis Jadot, Corton Pougets, Grand Cru, Burgundy, France 2005
*Japanese Wagyu Strip Loin with Black Truffle Pommes Dauphine, Roasted Porcini Mushrooms and Sauce Bordelaise Elderton, Shiraz, Command, Barossa Valley, Australia 2003
*Coconut Tapioca with Tropical Fruit, Toasted Vanilla Custard with Maple Poached Peaches and Crème Fraiche Ice Cream
Klein Constantia, Vin de Constance, Constantia, South Africa 2004
This doesn't even include the bread. My favorite was the buckwheat cherry roll. Nor does it include some little treats that we had in the beginning that were compliments of the chef. I'm telling you all...Alex will treat you right. Nor does it include the little sweet treats that we got at the end of our meal. Nor does it include the cappuccino. And then just when you think there couldn't possibly be anything else, there was. As we were rushing out the door to the show, I was handed a little pack of macaroons for the road. Yum.
Speaking of the show, Ryan got tickets to La Reve which is also at Wynn. Holy cow. It was amazing. I'm pretty confident that I just sat through the entire show wide-eyed with my jaw dropped because that's what happens when country girls are taken into town to see a show. If you ever find yourself in Vegas, I highly recommend that you get yourself to this show especially if you like acrobatics and dancing and music and water. And if you don't like any of those things before the show, I promise you will afterward if you just give it a shot.
It was definitely a night out that I will not forget, and I know that I am quite a fortunate [and very appreciative] girl to get to experience such fun. The rest of the weekend was great as well. On Saturday, Ryan made omelets and we made perhaps a slight dent in the ever-growing list of movies that I've never seen but must see by watching Glory, Tropic Thunder, and Miracle...along with a couple of episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Perhaps the common theme that runs straight through this entire blog post is our appreciation and respect that we have for quality entertainment. Sunday we went to church, had lunch with a family that Ryan knows, went to see The Time Traveler's Wife [insert my two cents here: read the book, rent the movie], had dinner, and then it was time to head to the airport and say goodbye. But who really likes goodbyes, anyway? As luck would have it [or something like that], my plane was broken which meant that my stay was lengthened for a few more hours. No complaints here. And the cherry on top of all of the other cherries on top? Delta dollars for my "trouble".
Thursday, August 13, 2009
One Friend. Two Friends. Old Friends. New Friends.
This past weekend, Ryan flew into Atlanta and we headed north to Tennessee. Our destination was Dale Hollow Lake where we spent the weekend camping, practicing proper West Nile prevention measures, getting most of our daily allowance of calories from Patrón and baked goods, and lounging around in the water.
Unfortunately, before Ryan left Vegas his iPhone went a little haywire so we had to rely on GoogleMaps from the computer as our navigational guide. Apparently I indicated that we wanted to take the long, scenic route with multiple yard sales because this is pretty much what we saw for the better part of 133 miles...
In case you're upset that you missed this glorious event, no worries: it happens annually so go ahead and mark your calendar for next year or just bookmark this website. Personally the only thing that I can think of that is worse than traveling to multiple yard sales along a curvy mountain road is visiting 5 TJ Maxx and Marshall's stores each on the day after Thanksgiving. Needless to say we did not stop even though Ryan felt that he would certainly find some great treasures for his new home. We finally made it to Byrdstown sometime after the sun went down. Our timing really couldn't have been better though because our camping pals arrived just minutes before we did. Fortunately we did not have to immediately set up camp on Thursday night since we stayed over at the Sportsman's Lodge. And let me tell you, they are quite serious about sports there. In fact, I was introduced to cornhole. Too bad all of those years of pitching as a slow-pitch softball player weren't enough to carry our team through to a victory.
On Friday morning, we were up bright and early to head out to the lake. Holly's parents had a fantastic breakfast waiting for us at the boats because they had the foresight to know that Patrón alone isn't the breakfast of champions. After breakfast, we headed out to get a good spot on the water. Dale Hollow Lake is absolutely beautiful. It's surrounded by all sorts of undisturbed green space. It's quiet. It's clear. And for a girl who has logged most of her lake hours on Lanier or Hartwell, it was a nice change.
Needless to say, I was super excited about lounging around in the water on a nice summer day. The fact that I was keeping such good company only added value to the experience.
After spending most of Friday morning sitting out on the boat and then cooling off in the water, Ryan and I took the Sea-Doo out after lunch for a ride. And then we got lost. Ok, "lost" is a bit dramatic. I like to think of it as our bearings were a little out of sorts so it was a bit of an adventure. I wasn't really worried because we were obviously safe. There was plenty of gas in the tank. It was broad daylight. Besides, Ryan's in the Army so surely that means he's got some sort of internal GPS that can be activated in a worst case scenario situation, right? Luckily we didn't have to find out the answer to that question!
On Saturday, we left camp pretty early to head back out to the lake. And in case you're wondering, "camp" was not the houseboats in the above picture. I just included this picture to remind myself that there are some people in this world whose "once in awhile weekend home" is a bazillion times nicer than my "everyday home". It gives me incentive to continue making the big bucks by working for the state of Georgia.
Skiing was high on the agenda on Saturday. Here, Ryan celebrates after a successful run...
Victory was his! Now I don't really like to brag, but I think that Scott would benefit greatly...
if he just observed me for a little while to pick up a few moves.
...I'm just saying. Skiing was the morning activity, so after a strenuous afternoon of floating and sunning and staying well hydrated, we got all prettied up for dinner. [I use the term "prettied up" very loosely here when referring to myself because let me tell you all, I was a vision. This girl can only go for so many days without her hair products!]
Cruising to dinner on the pontoon was a whole lot of fun though and we were able to enjoy quite an amazing sunset once we got there.
The truth is, the lake was great, the food was great, the drinks were great, camping was great [even though my back still hurts, but we won't discuss the signs of aging that are presenting themselves in my body today]...everything was great. But what made all of those things great was the people.
This weekend was the first time I had met any of these folks, besides Ryan of course, yet everyone was so nice and welcoming. It really just adds more evidence to my theory that the Midwest is very much like the South except for the fact that "y'all" isn't used on a regular basis. Or ever. As the lone Georgian, perhaps I'll work on the incorporation of slang into the vocabulary of everyone else next year. Or not.
And in case any of you, my three readers, have chosen to live vicariously through me [and might I recommend that you take up needlepoint for some added excitement to your life if you have] and wish to see more pictures from last weekend's fun, you may do so by clicking here.
Unfortunately, before Ryan left Vegas his iPhone went a little haywire so we had to rely on GoogleMaps from the computer as our navigational guide. Apparently I indicated that we wanted to take the long, scenic route with multiple yard sales because this is pretty much what we saw for the better part of 133 miles...
In case you're upset that you missed this glorious event, no worries: it happens annually so go ahead and mark your calendar for next year or just bookmark this website. Personally the only thing that I can think of that is worse than traveling to multiple yard sales along a curvy mountain road is visiting 5 TJ Maxx and Marshall's stores each on the day after Thanksgiving. Needless to say we did not stop even though Ryan felt that he would certainly find some great treasures for his new home. We finally made it to Byrdstown sometime after the sun went down. Our timing really couldn't have been better though because our camping pals arrived just minutes before we did. Fortunately we did not have to immediately set up camp on Thursday night since we stayed over at the Sportsman's Lodge. And let me tell you, they are quite serious about sports there. In fact, I was introduced to cornhole. Too bad all of those years of pitching as a slow-pitch softball player weren't enough to carry our team through to a victory.On Friday morning, we were up bright and early to head out to the lake. Holly's parents had a fantastic breakfast waiting for us at the boats because they had the foresight to know that Patrón alone isn't the breakfast of champions. After breakfast, we headed out to get a good spot on the water. Dale Hollow Lake is absolutely beautiful. It's surrounded by all sorts of undisturbed green space. It's quiet. It's clear. And for a girl who has logged most of her lake hours on Lanier or Hartwell, it was a nice change.
Needless to say, I was super excited about lounging around in the water on a nice summer day. The fact that I was keeping such good company only added value to the experience.
After spending most of Friday morning sitting out on the boat and then cooling off in the water, Ryan and I took the Sea-Doo out after lunch for a ride. And then we got lost. Ok, "lost" is a bit dramatic. I like to think of it as our bearings were a little out of sorts so it was a bit of an adventure. I wasn't really worried because we were obviously safe. There was plenty of gas in the tank. It was broad daylight. Besides, Ryan's in the Army so surely that means he's got some sort of internal GPS that can be activated in a worst case scenario situation, right? Luckily we didn't have to find out the answer to that question!
On Saturday, we left camp pretty early to head back out to the lake. And in case you're wondering, "camp" was not the houseboats in the above picture. I just included this picture to remind myself that there are some people in this world whose "once in awhile weekend home" is a bazillion times nicer than my "everyday home". It gives me incentive to continue making the big bucks by working for the state of Georgia.Skiing was high on the agenda on Saturday. Here, Ryan celebrates after a successful run...
Victory was his! Now I don't really like to brag, but I think that Scott would benefit greatly...
if he just observed me for a little while to pick up a few moves.
...I'm just saying. Skiing was the morning activity, so after a strenuous afternoon of floating and sunning and staying well hydrated, we got all prettied up for dinner. [I use the term "prettied up" very loosely here when referring to myself because let me tell you all, I was a vision. This girl can only go for so many days without her hair products!]
Cruising to dinner on the pontoon was a whole lot of fun though and we were able to enjoy quite an amazing sunset once we got there.
The truth is, the lake was great, the food was great, the drinks were great, camping was great [even though my back still hurts, but we won't discuss the signs of aging that are presenting themselves in my body today]...everything was great. But what made all of those things great was the people.
This weekend was the first time I had met any of these folks, besides Ryan of course, yet everyone was so nice and welcoming. It really just adds more evidence to my theory that the Midwest is very much like the South except for the fact that "y'all" isn't used on a regular basis. Or ever. As the lone Georgian, perhaps I'll work on the incorporation of slang into the vocabulary of everyone else next year. Or not. 
And in case any of you, my three readers, have chosen to live vicariously through me [and might I recommend that you take up needlepoint for some added excitement to your life if you have] and wish to see more pictures from last weekend's fun, you may do so by clicking here.
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