So, I dated a lot before I got married. Perhaps I use the term "dating" a little too loosely. I had lots of beaus. I did. They were nice - many of them more than nice.
However, Chris has put them and their romantic overtures to shame. He was the first boyfriend to take me away for a weekend... And now, we've got real New Year's Eve plans. We're getting dressed up and heading over to Chez Pierre for dinner. Then, we're going to a late play - a political satire. It could not be better.
Man, I think this marriage thing is growing on me.
Till 2008 - a new year. I suppose I've been paying too much attention to the TV today - as every channel seems to be doing a year in review.
My family had a lovely Christmas - it was beautiful weather down south, even a little chilly. Since we got grades back - and yes, he passed everything - it's been so much calmer here in our little tree-top house. I feel like I can finally take a breath. I can totally (totally) get through the next two months until the Bar Exam. Remind me of this later.
I got an iPod Nano. After admonishing my mother-in-law that I didn't want a big (or little, for that matter) Christmas gift, I am now so overjoyed with my little iPod. I've wanted one for so long... and now I feel like I belong in my generation.
I can't believe that this year is finally drawing to a close. As much as I'm ready to put 2007 to bed, and with as much hope as I have for 2008 - I can't help to pause: 2007 was HUGE. Dude, I got married.
I used to take offense when I heard women say that this was the biggest day of their life. In the moments leading up to and immediately after my wedding day I was let down. That? That was the biggest day of my life? Wowsahs, I have so much to look forward to. It was really huge. It was really great - and what it represents, that I stood in front of God and my family and friends and pledged to be joined to another human for the rest of my life. DUDE.
Unemployment has continued to plague my family. While Chris was figuring out his path and finishing school he didn't work. Which meant that from day 1 of married life - we've been a one-income household. He paid me the best compliment the other day -- he told me I could stretch a penny better than anyone he knew, better than he thought I'd be able to learn. Getting through the past seven months has been daunting, but each day I wake up - and see my life, I smile. January 15th can't get here fast enough!
My grandmother passed away - the woman who I had hoped to learn so many more things... I was greedy. Of course, I find myself saying things or acting in ways that are so purely my grami I cannot help but giggle. I give unsolicited advice and coo at babies, make sure my car has more than enough gas, squirrel away dollars in a re-used plastic container, I pray. She is all around me - us - and I still thank her for giving me the opportunity to experience all this. Sickness, grieving, grace.
I'm so thankful that I like my job - that it's giving me the opportunity to be smart and creative. I'm still trying to jump hurdles and overcome challenges, but I really enjoy what I do. I'm so glad that I've been able to provide for my family.
I have received so many blessings - and so much hardship - and so much joy this year. I cannot help but to hope for 2008. It will be fantastic - with its own mix of blessings, hardship and joys - with its own lessons and new experiences and opportunities. My best to you and yours - Happy New Year!
Last night, I got a comment on my blog (in response to my disgust with the humid weather in Tallahassee) that I was writing dribble - that I was sad, and pitiful.
WOW! That is like SO awesome! I swear, I now sort of identify with Dooce (she publishes her hater mail and it is hysterical!).
"I am sorry to have been alerted to review your blog. It is filled with such dribble and "poor me contments" I find it hard to believe that you still write such stuff. As if anyone cares how horrible your life was. You must work very hard at believing your own propaganda. Of course there is only you that believes your trite. poor you, so sad. so pitiful. "
a) the misspelling is totally his/hers b) this totally beats the gay-hatemail I got, which was probably from one of my father's spurned lovers anyway. c) Dude, you're sorry? ME TOO! Growing up with a borderline-personality mother is really the stuff good books are written about -- I need to start writing a book, not a blog! I would make a fortune. I could even have guest writers pen chapters - past friends and family explain their experiences with these crazy people! Oh my goodness, this is a great idea. THANKS! d) I'm not the only one who believes Tallahassee is hot! Look at weather.com! That's why I put up the picture.
Anyway, that's my latest installment. Whew, that felt incredible!
Thanks Simpsonville, South Carolina! What a great way to start the weekend!
I'm obsessed with being a foodie. And I'm so not one -- but I read the food blogs which I equate to "food porn." I see beautiful recipes and gorgeous pictures and read about escapades making tomato confit or tiramisu cake... And I think: I can totally do that.
More often than not, I'm right. Sometimes. Even if it comes out a little different. I'll admit it, I love to cook.
ps. Tonight I'm making truffles if anyone wants some.
Since the Strike, watching television with my husband is a complete annoyance. He predicts the plot line (and twist) within the first five minutes. I hate it.
I have trouble with Christmas. As a kid (heck, as a pre-teen), this season was my favorite time of year. Find me a kid who doesn't look forward to Silent Night and Santa Claus... It started with my Mom's birthday and continued with Halloween, followed by Thanksgiving which led to my Dad's birthday, Christmas, New Year's and my birthday. It was fantastic. Celebrations, happy times with family -- I loved it all.
Of course, Christmas turned into something different as I got older. There was never enough to please certain people and I'm not all that good with pressure. So, not to be a total downer, but this whole Chrissy-re-educates-herself-so-she-enjoys-Christmas-thing is tougher than I thought.
So, I am baking this Christmas, serious baking. We're talking truffles and biscotti and biscuits and flavored vodkas (the latest installment is ginger vodka to mix with fresh pear juice) and I'm sorta feeling the whole Christmas Spirit thing. And I'm enjoying it - I think. Presents are starting to appear below the tree and our house smells like evergreen thanks to a giant fresh wreath and I found my favorite pair of Christmas socks (a skiing santa).
Although all of this sort of makes me wish I was Jewish. I'd almost be done by now.
It is impossible to feel Christmas-y when it's 80 degrees plus outside. At noon.
I hit some biggies today -- Target, Michaels and Big Lots. It was actually fun dodging the carts, looking for the perfect ribbon and right wrapping paper. I watched Everyday Italian yesterday (while incredibly hungover) and came up with some Christmas gift ideas. Dude, I hope our families like carrots. Oh, and I now have a crush on Giada's kitchen.
I've seen in a while.... The Southern Strategy Group has been sending this one out. (Not that I agree with their politics, but points for panache folks!)
And get K. laughing on a Sunday afternoon: I found a new blog -- Mimi Smartypants.
Go. Go NOW! You will not be disappointed.
excerpt: TWO MORE THINGS AND THEN I HAVE TO GO MAKE A PIE OH MY GOD
1. The Chicago Sun-Times, a very mockable paper indeed, seems to have a new slogan---"Let's Get Into It." I wait for the bus near a Sun-Times vending box, and every morning now I feel all challenged and testy. You talkin' to me, Sun-Times? You want to get into it? Oh yeah, let's get into it. I have some things to say.
2. One of our aquarium fish has given birth and now there is an itty-bitty orange fish zooming around the tank. I blame myself. I neglected to keep the fish busy with afterschool programs and organized sports. I thought we had plenty of time to have that facts-of-life talk and that they teach that stuff in health class anyway. And now we reap the bitter harvest, my fish are Parents Too Soon. PAPA DON'T PREACH, I'M IN TROUBLE DEEP GLUBGLUB. We are all coping with the situation as best we can---Nora has named the little fish Hubert and is naively excited about the development, LT pours himself an extra bourbon and tries not to let on how disappointed he is, I yell into the tank about GODDAMMIT YOU NEED TO AT LEAST FINISH HIGH SCHOOL. Oh, and I also am sprinkling in some extra food and hoping that the teen mom does not decide to simply solve the problem by eating her baby. So far so good. Go Hubert!
---mimi smartypants cranberried your sauce.
ps. Craphonso is from Tallahassee. No freakin' joke.
My live is changing. My life has changed. I know that these two facts will be ongoing challenges -- however, it seems that in the past year my life has changed more than I expected. I remember telling that to my first lover -- that while our teens seemed tumultuous (just think - in one decade we had gone from sixth graders to freshman in college), our twenties would be the biggest decade we've got in terms of major life changes.
And here we are. I'm more than half way through my twenties now -- I've graduated from college, moved from my first (second and third) job, my hometown, my home state. I've reorganized my family, I've gotten married. And, to top all this off - I still rather expect to have my first child in this decade. Man - that's a busy decade.
Where am I going with all this - besides to freak myself out? My friendships have changed. I don't live down the hall - bedrooms away - from the gals that knew all my secrets, knew how to throw a party and probably could tell you which guy I was trying to flirt with at that very moment. And then we all moved around and away -- we got married, involved and started new pursuits.
And everything changed. Some of us are permanently out of cell range - either by choice or because we're too busy with their own lives and our lives have changed. Like mine. I can't say it's wrong. I watch older grown ups -- and see how their friendships have survived the longest lengths of bad cell service. I hope mine can too.
I've watched ER on Thanksgiving... There are freak Turkey accidents and someone always brings in a carrot instead of a thumb.
Nothing quite that dramatic happened. Like, not at all - my mandolin and I aren't getting along this morning. My first turkey Thanksgiving Dinner went quite well. The stuffing, while not exactly like Nana's, will suffice. And the sweet potatoes were quite yummy. The Turkey, thanks to several suggestions, was fantastic -- according to K. anyway... I'm not really a turkey fan. :) I even made my own gravy -- which was really interesting.
The crowning glory of the evening was the Bourbon Pumpkin Cheesecake - quite tasty and even prettier. I loved being lazy all day. It was fantastic...
When we made the decision not to travel for the holiday, it seemed like the perfect idea. After all, it had been eight weekends (and a few weeks) where I had not been in my house. We are both exhausted. And, after discussing our favorite Thanksgiving traditions - we settled on a small turkey breast, green bean casserole and stuffing -- and some sort of pie.
That feast has quickly grown. Little did I know that my husband "needs" a turkey leg. Who am I to forgo that tradition and desire. So... Now we are having a true Thanksgiving feast. The only difference is that our various casseroles and side (save for the stuffing) are made for five servings - not fifteen. I got the smallest whole turkey I could find - 9.5 lbs. (Still too much turkey). We're having Bourbon Pumpkin Cheesecake with a pecan crust because we couldn't decide between Pumpkin or Pecan Pie. Scalloped Sweet Potatoes, Green Bean Casserole, Sausage Sage Stuffing, Mushrooms, Gorgonzola Mac n' Cheese, Blood Orange Cranberry Stuff and Rosemary Turkey Gravy. Whew.
We even got firewood for a fire! And Beaujolais Nouveau! And the makings for Bloody Marys while we watch the parade! And oh my goodness - way too many exclamation marks!
I'm hoping to document the cooking and baking over the next two days. We'll see.
It's my first Thanksgiving - my first real one where I'm doing it myself. I've made a spreadsheet. Planned the oven and stove schedule. Yes, this is nuts. But, at least this is a good test run for the future.
There is so much stuff that keeps reverberating in my head from the past few months. Tonight, a good friend told me that she thought I was handling this whole thing remarkably well. I don't really know about that.
There are so many things I want to write about. Get off my chest. So many things I wish I could sort of vomit out of my life. We all traveled to New Jersey last weekend for the final service. The service was unbelievable. Perhaps it was sitting in the church where my brother and I were christened, where my parents were married, where my aunts were married, where my great-grandparents went to church and my grandmother grew in her faith... Or maybe it was just being in New Jersey -- realizing that my husband's father grew up two small towns over from where my whole family lived. Or maybe it was knowing that my grandmother, the most important woman in my life, was really really really gone from this earth.
After packing up the car to drive over to our flight in Jacksonville, I reached for my phone to call Grami -- to tell her we were on our way. I couldn't help but laugh. And then, cry. As soon as the racking sobs seem to take over my life - they're gone. Wet eyelashes, that's what I've got.
And the parents - the oh so crazy, ridiculous folks that gave me life? Well, I suppose I am forever thankful for entrance into this family - my grandmother, my two aunts, my two uncles - great aunts and uncles and some cousins that are entirely too much fun.
I was incredibly nervous before Saturday. I was apprehensive leaving Florida, anxious while getting ready before the service. It was bad. Until I figured out why -- and after I named that fear, it was gone. Maybe that Saturday will be last time I see my natural parents, maybe not. Either way, I know that I will never have to interact with them again, and that is good.
We brown bagged at a fantastic Italian joint on Friday night. K. was sure it was "connected." I talked with Aunt Patty at length - for the first time feeling like a real, grown-up adult. I have bonded with both of my uncles in new ways. We're planning a Kids Table Reunion that should be quite the party. I met some of my grandmother's oldest friends - smiled and introduced my husband. I realized that I am the eldest of my generation and will most likely be the first to start the next one. I am amazed at all the treasures that are before us.
that the first person I ever lost would be Grammers. Seems right that she would be the one that helped me figure out that dying is not - and should never be - scary.
We gathered - all her beloved family together and she left us. She left us, but only to return in a shower of perfect moments, memories and gentle lessons. I have never met a woman so good, so true of heart, so humble.
My aunt just called from Greenville to let me know about a fire in North Carolina. I paused, listened - six Carolina students? Dead? I jumped on The State and read that the students might also be members of Delta Delta Delta.
The sisterhood at South Carolina has given me strength - may it continue to do so this week. My thoughts are with you all.
I dated a guy once who made me a sports widow. I could barely be in the same room when he watched a game -- let alone talk to him. He didn't watch basketball that much - but that didn't matter, college baseball had started. I vowed that I would never become a sports widow.
Tonight, after eating a delicious dinner of asparagus tart and stuffed mushrooms, K. turned on the USF v. Rutgers game. All things considered, I suppose I'm a Rutgers fan. My maternal family is from Highland Park, NJ - right next to Rutgers (New Brunswick). Go Scarlet Knights!!!
My husband is rather vocal during games. I'd go as far as obnoxious. LOUD. ANNOYINGLY LOUD. Last Thursday when FSU was loosing to NC State, I made him close the windows because I was worried that the family that lives four houses away would fear for their kids' innocence.
While he's passionate about his football, I have no worries of becoming a football widow. He just looked at me - and in all honesty - asked if I wanted to make out during the timeouts. Ahhh, love.
I love the old Ball Coach. I do. I am encouraged and excited and thankful. However, this is wrong... Just wrong.
The State has an interactive game, accessed by clicking here, which allows people to dress up Coach Spurrier. Seriously? I don't want to see Steve in his skivvies. Do you?
The husband and I took the weekend off. While we had friends over for dinner on Saturday night, it was a pretty low key weekend. Which was fabulous.
K. made me a headboard. I'm pretty impressed with the kid lately -- although we have a mutual pact that has all home improvement project on hold. I love how he can take an idea and just make it happen.
And so the week begins. It seems to me that when I've had a quiet weekend, the week seems to start with the force of a hurricane. It's the universe balancing out all the laziness.
1) We got Miami tickets (I think). I've never been to a Miami game, however I can't imagine that Miami fans are any worse than LSU fans. (Have I ever told you that story? 8 am on the Friday before the LSU v. Ole Miss game -- I'm getting coffee on the Square at Bottletree Bakery (it's so amazingly good). Anyway, I turn away from the counter and there are four men in varying degrees of full body paint. It's Friday. 8 am. It's not game day. Those folks are intense).
2) I'm in love with HBO's Tell Me You Love Me. After I got past the sex scenes (of which there are many), I am enthralled in the stories of the couples. It's intimate - and that's why I think I can get past what would be, on any other show, gratuitous sex. It's on Sunday at 9 pm.
3) Today might actually be cool in Tallahassee. I say "cool," when what I really mean is the outside world won't resemble a sauna. WahOO! I cannot wait for fall. I love the month of October. Yesterday, I posted October's Party - which my mom would usually read to us in the beginning of October. K. saw that and sent me flowers yesterday - all he said was "Happy Fall." Who does that? How did I get this lucky?
October gave a party, The leaves by hundreds came. The chestnut oaks, and maples and leaves of every name. The sunshine spread a carpet, Miss Weather led the dancing Professor Wind the band.
The chestnuts came in yellow The oaks in crimson dressed The lovely Misses Maple In scarlet looked their best; All balanced to their partners And gaily fluttered by; The sight was like a rainbow New fallen from the sky.
Then, in a rustic hollow, at hide and seek they played The party closed at sundown and everybody stayed. Professor Wind played louder They flew along the ground then the party ended in jolly "hands around".
Today I walked outside for lunch and I couldn't tell if it was almost spring or almost fall. It was hot, but bright. And the leaves either look they're about to burst or fall off. We don't get much of a fall here in Tallahassee... which Law Hobbit was only too quick to point out this evening.
Okay, so I have a mental illness. Who doesn't these days? I mean, seriously? I think more about finding the perfect buffet for my dining room than I do about the fact that four years ago I was diagnosed with something.
While others choose to make mental illness their life struggle, I don't. It just doesn't seem like something I need to worry about every moment. Do I ever have a day that seems harder than the one before? Sure! However, I think I'm safe to assume that most everyone on the planet has the same experience.
Why do folks who advocate for mental health make it the end-all-be-all? It's important - and it deserves advocates, but I don't think the men and women that advocate for seat-belt laws make it their reason for living.
This weekend has been busy. (And it's only a little after 3 pm).
I took a trip to Destin on Friday, went to dinner with my sister-in-law and fell asleep early. On Saturday, I bought my first piece of real furniture. And by that, I mean a piece of furniture that either: did not come in a box, come with a wood-colored marker or was picked out of the Goodwill Showroom.
None of those things are bad -- in fact, a new desk I bought at Target is much more than I expected. However, with Parent's Weekend approaching, I wanted something real. Lemme tell you -- Haverty's has a clearance room in the back! Overstocks and scratch/dent furniture seriously marked down. I am so excited! It arrives on Saturday.
I returned home to my husband only to discover that he was itching for a project. So, around 3:30 pm on Saturday we started to pull up our carpet. The living room was first, then the hall. I drew the line at the bedrooms or office. We refinished some floors.
So, now -- after renting a sander at Home Depot (www.homedepotrents.com), we're waiting for our gloss stuff to dry. Next weekend it's on for the rest of the house. I feel like I belong on TLC or Design to Sell.
I have a love/hate relationship with Justin Timberlake.
And yet, after reading one of my new daily reads, fourfour, I'm totally over him. You too should read the analysis of the Sexy/Future/IMessedWithBrittany'sHead/Goober Tour. Read it here.
K. found this fact hard to believe. I've gone away for weekend getaways, but never have I been taken. I'm usually the one making the plans. He left me a message on Thursday and told me to pack a bag. He had plans. Plans.
I was swept off my feet. We went to the Forgotten Coast -- it was gorgeous. The oysters were unbelievable, our Inn was just lovely and the weather couldn't have been better. This morning over brunch we made retirement plans for our entire family.It's only been four months (yes, I'm counting), and I am so very glad that I am so much in love with my husband. I had no idea it could be this good.
I was in Greenville all last week. And the Panera in Greenville closes at 9 pm, which does not allow enough time to check both work email and blog.
My grandmother is sick. She's dying -- and, as she'll remind you, we're all dying. She has brain cancer and I've been trying to figure out how much a 6 cm tumor weighs.
The Hospice nurse (I will be praying for their strength until I'm no longer on this earth) said something that resonates... "People die the way they lived. If they lived in denial for thirty years, they'll die in denial. If they lived with spirit, they'll die with spirit."
Thus, she'll be the fighter, the loving supporter and the fascinating woman she's always been. And so far, she's proving me right.
I spent time with her -- and it was incredible. To use a word I use too much, precious. And that might be all I have to say about that. For now.
Not to get entirely too personal -- wait, who am I kidding? So, today I had my Yearly appointment. And I had a great experience. (Which is saying A LOT).
It absolutely threw me -- the having a conversation with a doctor (a trained professional) about planning a family. And it wasn't in vain either; it wasn't solely about preventing. I cannot believe how it threw me.
This might not even make any sense, but all of a sudden I was planning for twenty-six months from now. Twenty-six months, which would make it November 2009 that I should be having a conversation with my husband about what could potentially happen in August of 2010. And how the heck I came up with twenty-six months is still a mystery.
I'm watching old episodes of Sex & The City (t was either that or Sell This House on HGTV) and I cannot sleep.
Chris left this morning for Tampa and I leave tomorrow morning and it reminds me of the days when we were dating and we'd only see each other on the weekends.
I can't sleep. I'm sure I'll be singing the praises of Red Bull tomorrow morning.
I've reverted my old comforts -- a handmade blanket, frozen oreos and sappy movies. A few years ago, when I didn't quite know how to cry for things that were worth crying about, I would watch sappy movies and cry from the first scene till the last credit.
If I couldn't cry for myself, I would cry for some ridiculous wanna-be heroine.
Today, however -- well, the last few weeks -- I can't seem to stop tearing up for the greatest heroine I've ever known. And so, I am now eating frozen oreos and drinking sweet tea straight from the jug. It's okay, the eating of the oreos and the snuggling under a blanket.
It's okay because I'm not sure how else to get through this.
You Are My Sunshine My only sunshine. You make me happy When skies are grey. You'll never know, dear, How much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away
When I was young, I had the paparazzi (aka Mom & Dad) snapping pictures constantly. In high school, I usually had the latest innovation - the throw away camera - in my backpack. And in college, I had friends who took pictures (lots of pictures) and would even go the extra mile to post them online. But now, I need to be own paparazzi. Who'll take pictures of our life?
This stems from seeing pictures of my grandmother and her friends at parties. Full skirts and rocks glasses -- lots of smiling young faces. K. and I have been rather social lately. I was joking that in the last two months we've had more people over than we had the previous year.
So, I'm not sure what to do. I feel like I should hire Snaps! the function photographer that took many pictures of me in the years 1999 - 2003. It's sort of amazing what pictures do - what stories they tell.
So, Snaps -- if you'll travel to Tallahassee, I've got a job or two.
"I asked him how he'd expect the American people to give him loyal fellowship if he was having a hard time getting it from his own family."
Giuliani's response: "There are complexities in every family in America. The best thing I can say is kind of leave my family alone, just like I'll leave your family alone.
Apparently, a NH woman asked the above question to Republican candidate, Rudy Giuliani. There's a lot of that going around -- Obama's wife claiming that if you can't run your house, you can't run the White House -- it's starting to get personal.
Shouldn't it?
Katherine, the woman asking in NH, was honestly wondering what makes Rudy so unfit that his own children won't support him. And his response - well, it hit me in the gut. "...Just like I leave your family alone." But, as president, he wouldn't be leaving my family alone. He'll be leading policies that will not only affect my immediate family - but all generations to come. Will my son go to war? Will my daughter have a good public education? Will my grandchildren have clean air? Will my husband and I have health insurance in our old age --- He's doing a lot to affect my family, God forbid, he gets elected.
And why is it so off-limits? Why aren't we asking what these folks are doing in their personal lives and their fitness for leadership? If a man can't stay faithful to a woman he pledges his life to (or even the second woman), what does that say about his decision process?
I'm not sure if I shared this story... My grami - the one and only - gave the blessing at my wedding reception. She stood, all five-feet-four of her, and while asking God's graces for my new union, she called me a Shithead. Honestly, I'd have to watch the DVD to recall if she actually said or just spelled it out -- but she did it in some way or another.
She also called me by my nickname - and she is the ONLY person on this earth I let do so.
I'm sure some folks were shocked to see this sweet little old lady curse. However, I know... She taught me how (and when and where) to use the word "fuck," along with how to love family, trust in God and believe in the people around you.
I'm not a huge KISS fan -- not that I don't like some KISS, it's more that I just don't have a feeling either way.
However, I adore The Family Jewels on A&E. Kramps has decided he needs to found a rock dynasty so he can be Gene Simmons. Meanwhile, I could totally be a mom like Shannon Tweed. It is hysterical. Smart.
I've been a married woman for three months today. I feel silly -- as though a part of me was still the high-schooler celebrating a month-a-versary.
This quarter feels somehow more like a milestone. We made it! High FIVE! We haven't killed each other yet! We've only mentioned the word "divorce" seven times if you don't count that time at Po' Boys...
Kidding aside, I'm proud of us. We've gotten so much better at this thing. I know things I didn't know a few months ago. Dude, I am so excited about the next quarter.
It's August. And there's always something about the start of August that makes me remember when I was starting school. (How long ago was that?)
I walked through Target this morning and there was a huge sign welcoming students back to town -- specials were everywhere: cheap bookcases and pillows, extra-long sheet sets and let us not forget the economy-giant-size easy mac boxes. Meanwhile, I was struggling to open my eyes, gulping my Target latte (which, no matter what, is never as good as real starbucks).
Chris is heading back to school. He's taking a few credits to finish up his masters. I keep kidding him that it's been a long time since I dated a student...
I cannot wait for football. And Fall. And when it's 93 degrees at 10 am in Tally, autumn cannot come soon enough!
I'm not gonna lie - this marriage stuff is tough. I've asked my friends - the ones that got married last year -- what their first year was like. My first month was tough. It wasn't so much us, as much as it was the crap that was thrown at us.
But then again, life always throws crap at you. It's more how you handle it that matters. It's not going to stop - it never will. I'm amazed at the folks around me -- the ones that handle things well, that struggle and manage and get through the very stuff that's hard.
I'm not sure I always do. I got an email from Lynda today - and instead of ignoring it like I usually do, I responded. Nothing all too emotional - just a response. We're human. I guess the best thing about that - it didn't bother me all too much. I didn't get upset afterwards. I remember once - while I was still in college and trying desperately to disentangle myself from their craziness - she sent me an email that said, "Hello Gorgeous." I cried for HOURS. HA!!! Dude, who has time for that sort of emotional upheaval? Not me.
Last year - on August 8, 2006, it was 8 pm and I was leaving this town - driving back to Columbia. I did not want to leave. I was scared to death of returning, petrified of the major shift my life was about to take. I had a ring on my left hand and I had made a promise.
It was a Tuesday night. I bought an eggplant pizza from Decent and met my new fiance in the park at Lake Ella. It was raining and we ate in the back of his new car. I needed to get on the highway - up I-10 to 295 to 95. Up through Savannah all the way into South Carolina where I would merge onto 26 back to Columbia. Six and a half hours. And I was procrastinating.
I got in my car, my brand new shiny little car, and headed home. I was exhausted - emotionally and physically. I drove for ever - returning to my rented room in Shandon at a little past 3 am. My roommate, if you could even call her that, had put the keychain locks on the doors and it was nearly four before she woke up to let me in.
I went to work early, left even earlier. And that was the end of that story.
I got back in my car - which was loaded up with various things: good shoes and shorts and party dresses and one interview suit. I had mascara and some random cosmetics. I brought a picture of my grandmother. And I left.
I left Columbia, the life I had known, my state. I had left once before, but this time, I knew I wouldn't be returning. And, it was amazing. Difficult? God yes. But so very amazing.
Tomorrow, I will have been living in Tallahassee a year. Not quite a resident or a voter -- but very much living here. Wow.
Last year, in an attempt to be funny, I made a MySpace account for our puppy, George.
Do you have a pet? Have you ever thought about what their voice sounds like? Some dogs are little toughy dogs and some are whiney and George -- well, George sounds like a cross between a drunk Kappa Sig and one of the guys from Flights of the Conchord.
Anyhoo, the MySpace profile was written in George's voice -- his profession was a "pooper" for goodness sakes! And today, I got an email from MySpace alerting me that George's profile had been deleted for a Violation of the Terms of Service.
I'm pretty damn sure there were wasn't any nudity -- but George has been home alone a lot more lately. Lesson learned: You never know.
I wrote the other day that "Heating Pads are God's way of telling us that everything is going to be okay."
And it's true - there's nothing like it. It's not often that I am in need of a heating pad's healing powers. But this week - OHMYGOD - I need the heating pad.
It's ridiculous - this overwhelming feeling of feeling like a GIRL. Ridiculous. I cannot imagine people who handle this every month.
Anyway, K. got me a fantastic new one. It has ~moist~ heat. Perfect.
You know what I mean -- the blog posts on myspace where some loser writes, "This is about you and you know who you are. We may never speak much anymore. I want you to look at yourself and ask yourself what your purpose is in life. Why does the drink mean so much to you."
Yeah, um - dude, I don't know who you are talking about, and just for that reason -- I'm not real sure I want to remain your myspace friend.
I've almost been in Tallahassee a year - and what a year it has been. I was surprised at how moving catapulted me back into Middle School. There were clear cliques and lines... And, quite honestly, I wasn't sure where I fit in to the whole thing.
Friends run the gamut no matter where you go - from fun to spiteful and accepting to catty. It's so very interesting to discover new dynamics -- no matter where you, somehow it's all the same.
I had dreams of boats. Which according to the Dream Dictionary I found online, represents either romance or escape.
I'll take both. No, not escape... Although I do plan to get away for a weekend soon. I'll take smooth seas for a while. For the longest time, I waited for a shoe to drop. The last year has put me at the bottom of a garbage shoot, and while I wouldn't have had it any other way, I'm ready for a change in location.
I am in an awful mood. And I can't seem to shake it. It's cloying and hangs off of me like dirty Harry Potter robes (No I haven't bought it yet). I breathe it in and it fills my head and all that comes out of my mouth sounds sharp and at the same time incredibly dull.
Tonight, we turned on the Democratic Debate (innocuous enough). I am homesick - again. And it's not just because I saw glimpses of folks I knew a lifetime ago and it's not because I have a hankering to visit Charleston -- it's a homesickness for a life I used to have.
I hate watching anything remotely liberal with K. He's rude and he doesn't quite know when to shut up. I manage not to watch (or listen) to too much Republican propaganda -- not that it's a sacrifice.
Anyway, I'm in a bad mood. Awful mood. And I need to f'in shake it.
I'm not sure what I thought the first few months of marriage would be - most movies stop after the wedding. Or at least there's some silly montage after the wedding that ultimately (and quickly) ends in a nursery. TV sitcoms didn't leave me much to emulate... Who would we be?
There's a lot to marriage. I didn't quite realize how it would feel different. I feel so much more responsible. It's BIZARRE. I've never felt so responsible. And it's AWESOME.
So, we moved recently. First, let me tell you -- I am not a good mover. I don't enjoy it, don't look forward to it. My husband is not that good of a mover either... Case in point - he has boxes at (at least) three previous abodes. Dude.
So, when hauling some old furniture to the curb, I was informed that I moved furniture wrong... I quickly called a moving company. Talk about a rite of passage - oh my goodness. Meanwhile, half way through the three hour move (as the very strong men were moving our countless boxes and heavy-as-hell furniture up very steep stairs) my husband looked at me and said (wait for it), "Thank you. You were right: this was a good choice." HALLELUJAH!
Our house is darling. It's in the part of town I love, close to both our offices, and delightfully quirky. I'm having to be creative about my storage (dear Lord! did we get a lot of stuff for our wedding!), but I adore it. Plus, it's all ours.
Yup, sorry about that. I'm not giving up blogging. You don't have to read it or anything, but I'm so not going to stop blogging because I'm afraid my father is going to post a nasty message.
Screw it -- I'm a Diet Coke girl and while I tried to transfer my beverage blogging on over to boxed wine (it seemed like a good idea), I still drink more diet coke than wine any day.
I will not write regularly. I promise. But, I still have a craving to write every now and again, and this is place to do it. I'm jealous of the folks that have the free time to blog regularly. I don't have the time. But, I do love doing it. It seems I have ideas while walking down the aisle at Publix or driving my car down Miccosukee - I should probably write them down in a notebook like a real writer. Thank goodness I'm not a real writer!
Today is an anniversary -- a day that I didn't realize was coming up. It has been a year since I have laid eyes on Mel & Lynda. Can you believe it? A year ago today, my husband asked my father for my hand in marriage. And that crotchety old bear proceeded to tell him everything I had ever done wrong -- from the D I got in Honors Chemistry to the time I checked myself in to a mental hospital.
Gawd, good thing I told my beloved about the D beforehand. That would have absolutely been the last straw!
I've almost reached the two week marriage mark. I realize it's not a huge milestone, but it's the longest I've ever been married.
There are so many moments that I remember from the past few weeks. Most, if not all, include my family and friends. The people that make up my tribe -- the people that know me best, knew me before K. It was amazing to celebrate with women that I have known since we were all girls. To dance and giggle and toast with folks that have known me since the day I was born.
It was all too much. Overwhelmingly beautiful and precious and fast.
While I am excited that you have ventured into this, I am a little alarmed... I'm supposed to buy a vacuum cleaner, a birthday card, a bottle of wine and NOW A WEDDING DRESS? I can't decide if I hate the idea or if I'm just jealous it didn't happen before my whole shindig.
Or Jamaica. Whichever is closer. I'm back. And I am a married woman. In the past week and a half, I have wondered: When the hell did this happen? I am in awe of all of it. While I realize it's difficult to be unhappy while sipping fruity concoctions on a tropical beach, I must say - this marriage stuff is really nice.
I've got a ton of stories and observations that I will, most likely, bore you with. Some of it funny and some of it revealing my incredibly mushy goober side. I really liked getting married; I never want to do it again.
However, this morning - I better get moving. I'm off to the Social Security Office, the DMV, the post office to change my passport and the bank. I am officially dropping "Stauffer." I'm procrastinating.
Here's my favorite picture from the Honeymoon (one of about five). Just so you know, it rained every single day - several of those days it rained straight through. I loved every minute.
This is the point when split pea soup comes up through my nose and my head spins around as if my neck is its axis. (Having never seen the movie, I'm trying my best here to paint a vivid picture of the estimated stress of this week).
I am so excited.
I'll be back. After traveling south tomorrow and playing with family and dancing with friends and wearing a veil and then spending a lovely and ridiculously long time in Negril.
Convention Weekend -- the first one in ten years I haven't been to. Heck, I remember when we didn't even have them every year! I missed that, a lot. Thanks, ALB, for filling me in. It was the next best thing to being there.
I need sparklers for the weddin'.K. wanted pyrotechnics and we compromised on sparklers. Well, duh... You can't ship firecrackers. Don't know why I didn't think about that. So, I called my aunties and asked them to bring the contraband into Pinellas County next week. I must really be homesick if firecrackers are making me weepy.
By the way, if you ever decide to get married and you think to yourself, Hmmm, I think I'll just make my own veil. Don't. Unless you're directly related to Martha or that chick on DIY with far too much confidence in her bedazzle skills, just don't.
Do you ever imagine things? I sort of think it as an active daydream that I direct. Positive thinking with a movie screen. I did it when I imagined myself winning the officer of goober at Girls State or when I imagined myself opening the rejection letter sent my USC Law.
I've been doing it. I'm trying - hard - to keep focused on things at hand. Normal daily things, work things, life things. The dog does not care that I am getting married but he does want his morning kibble.
I've been picturing myself walking down the aisle.I've been picturing myself dancing my first dance with my husband. Or cutting the cake or putting the ring on his hand or signing my name for the last time on the marriage certificate.
I have loved the Big Couch Kleenex commercials since the beginning. The one with the Katrina Survivor? The one where she says something like, tears do not compromise my strength -- it makes me tear up. I love it. I adopted it as one of my personal mantras.
Okay, well - now there are commercials -- still with the big couch -- with folks talking about their moms. Ugh. "My mom is my best friend." "My mom is my inspiration." "My mom is the most amazing woman I know."
Dude, where's the person on the couch with the three thousand dollar therapy bill that says, "I am finally over my mother." Or maybe, "I no longer blame my mother." Let's have some reality. Not all mothers deserve a hallmark card on Mother's Day. Some deserve a restraining order.
I have not had good experiences with Mother's Days in general. I never could find the right card - even if I bought one or three. Don't even get me started on a present. There were many, in a row no less, where we weren't even speaking on the second weekend of May.
I would like, just once perhaps, for some truth in advertising. I personally like the one about no longer blaming the mom. I am almost, almost there. Almost.
My mom has a large yellow bowl. As a kid, we used it to make cookies or mac'n'cheese or some other recipe. It seems so simple - that innocent memory of a kitchen item.
I received a yellow bowl from a dear friend. And this past weekend I used that big yellow bowl to make dinner and it brought back so many dear, sweet memories. Dude, it's a bowl. Weddings make you emotional.
Okay, okay... I felt like all I was writing were boring wedding details. Do you really care if I tell you about my family frame project or perhaps the moss pomanders I've created? No. No, you don't. Honestly, at this point - I barely do.
It's twenty days. Wait, nineteen. Ask K., he keeps a better count than I do. And I know that those days will go by in a snap. And then... Then I will be MARRIED.
I'm humbled by all of it -- folks coming together, making plans and traveling. It's a huge celebration and I'm amazed that it's coming together. It floors me.
I've been taking inventory of my closet recently. There's so much stuff in there -- the gorgeous aqua silk dress with tiny light blue embroidered palm trees? Yup, I love it. But will I ever really fit into a size 8 again? And, more importantly - do I even want to?
I pulled out stuff that I haven't worn in a year... You know, the clothes you keep because there's that one day when you haven't done laundry in sooooo long and there must be something that fits that you can squeeze into and pair with a cardigan or jacket so it's somewhat presentable. (And yes, that was a long sentence. I hope you could follow it).
Goodwill will soon be receiving a large, random assortment of party dresses and jeans. My personal collection of clothing from the last three years --- gorgeous things with labels and then my favorites from Target.
Meanwhile, I realize I need to procure additional summer dresses. A) Summer has already started in Tally. B) This wedding stuff? It requires a bunch of cute dresses: showers, luncheon, rehearsal dinner - hello! Honeymoon. C) I am fat.
So, I've been looking. I thought I had time. Where did the time go? I have no time! I thought the white dress was the one I needed to worry about the most. Yeah, perhaps the most -- but not the only.
While the Greenville News has disappointed me once again -- can't you spell people? It's K. with a "p." Get a new copy editor - whatever it takes. It's spelled correctly in the announcement (the part that I wrote). But in the photo caption -- they got it alllllll wrong.
We made it into the St. Pete Times. While K. can't stand the St. Petersburg Times, it might just be my favorite Florida news source. It's not owned by a big conglomerate and yet, it still manages to be the tenth largest paper in the country.
Anyway, the thing about being down south in the other south -- newspapers don't take the whole wedding announcement page that seriously. How many engagements were in the Greenville News? At least twenty. SPT -- probably three.
Six weeks from today I'll be a married woman. wow.
We've been to some weddings lately -- we're of the age, our friends are starting to pair off. We went to a beautiful wedding in Chattanooga the weekend before we were engaged -- we knew what was coming, and the romance of the evening swept us off of our feet. But, I had no idea the intensity and beauty of what it would feel like to know (really know) that I was getting married.
In 47 days.
I think we should probably practice our vows or something. They're good ole Methodist vows -- but the way I goober, I'm not sure I'll be able to actually say anything.
It's the real countdown now -- we're in the home stretch. Wow.
(Oh, and thank goodness... Even though the Greenville News had screwed it up at first, we were finally announced yesterday. For the girl who reads the announcements every Sunday, it blew me away to read -- in my hometown paper -- that I am engaged to be married. Weird, how those little things work. We're also in the St. Pete Times & the Tampa Trib, but those folks don't realize the importance of posting online!)
It was a most incredible weekend. My fiance and I traveled to see my aunt get hitched. It was gorgeous.
When I arrived at the mountain lodge and went to see her before the ceremony - I was breathless. My beautiful aunt: the wise, challenging, supportive, enlightening woman I knew... She was a bride. She wore flowers in her hair and I swear, she looked nineteen. And twenty-five, and thirty-two and forty-nine -- and all that she had ever been. She was completely herself. It was unbelievably beautiful. She was in every detail.
She walked down the aisle with my grandmother - to my grandmother's favorite hymn. And I cried. Sitting next to me, Chris held my hand - we looked across the lake and listened to my aunt and her now husband saying vows that bound them together.
Whew -- and what a party! When your seventy-five year old great aunt kicks off her shoes to do the Charleston you know you're having a good time. Everyone was happy - beamingly happy. Watching Chris talk, share stories and laugh with my family -- it was a joy to behold.
Thanks McCormicks, it was an honor to be present at your wedding. And it was a joy to see such love.
I had intended to join my best friend in Jackson this weekend. As much as I wanted to see the SBQ (and have a fabulous reason to use my egg plate), I'm staying home this weekend. I wanted nothing more than to see K-Cali, wear my Vagina Monologues tiara and play. I wanted to climb a tree; I was looking forward to a road trip in my new car.
Things happen. I swear it seems like things are always happening to me. Since I've removed the weirdo genetic material from my life, that feeling has dissipated. However, the recent blitzkrieg shook me just a bit. I am so glad - so indescribably happy - that I have the grace, understanding and support to take the ugliness I receive and turn it into something beautiful.
I am fine. I am going to be fine. And my life - it's something beautiful.
Dude. Love the new FITSNews -- and love the highlight of Dr. Verdin's son. Verdin's district is next to the district where I grew up. I pride myself on saying I'm from Greenville, but let's be honest - the city line does not protect me from the Rams from Simpsonville or the Blue Flames from Pickens. And, I don't really want to be protected --
Seriously, if they (meaning the gods & goddesses at Coke) can figure out a way to make my Diet Coke Habit healthier -- I don't even have words.
While Kramps likes to joke in the grocery store line about my addiction to coke, I realize that drinking a Diet Coke in the morning - and the late afternoon - is something I am not willing to give up. However, having a sparkling beverage might just make it easier for him to stomach.
I remember this warning/article from the Charlotte Observer years back. I'm not quite at her level, but I do share her hierarchy for fast food drive-thrus. Sometimes, a draft is all I need to turn a bad day into a good day.
I talked a friend this weekend who giggled (who am I kidding, she cackled) when I told her I was nervous. She claims there's a quote - somewhere in this blog - that claims that I won't get stressed about this whole wedding thing that's happening in what - 68 or 67 days. Who was I kidding?
Dude. I am nervous. Not for one second about actually being married -- I would go to the courthouse this morning. I cannot wait to be married. But, all the details - all the tasks - all the projects ----- it's going to rot my brain.
And, just as a hint - and this could totally just be me, but if you (as a supportive person on the street or SPOTS, as it were) could just not tell me to relax, that would be greeeeeeeaaaaaat. You telling me, in your supportive way - or perhaps to just shut me up, to relax, only makes me more nervous. The pressure! What, I'm not supposed to be nervous? Really? Oh, okay - no prob. Snap!
Oh, and if I did this again -- as romantic as it is (and rather easy to remember) to plan a wedding on the day you met, the week after Session might not be the very best time.
I realize you want to have an early primary. It brings a lot of attention to your state - your leaders get to rub shoulders with would-be-presidents. Heck, who doesn't want to play a part in choosing a national candidate?
However, shove off.
_________________
Florida's political parties are having a shoving match with South Carolina. Both the Dems and the R's want to have early primaries -- before South Carolina's. I get that Florida is a big and bad state with a lot of electoral votes. And there is a lot more diversity here in Florida than anywhere in the South. Period.
But, if you take away South Carolina's early primary you negate the South's impact on the general election. Not only is not good for message, it's not good for the very folks you're courting. You want a southerner's vote? You need to come visit.
And for the love of God, Florida is not the South. Not even the southern parts of Florida (meaning North Florida) are Southern. It's close -- it's darn close, but it's not the South.
Plus, Florida, do you really think it's a good idea for candidates to waste money in high-priced media markets when they could be advertising in Greenville? Seriously?
Florida already gets tons of attention from potential nominees and then, nominees. Y'all already get the opportunity to have a bigger say in the election than any other Southern State. And, I hate to say it -- but what makes you think you can even handle this? You guys couldn't even get it together to defeat Bush! Why should we reward you by having an early primary???
My groom is not really all that big into planning. It's difficult for me; me being a planner and all. So, when it came to his bachelor party, he was having some difficulty creating a list. I looked at our guest list and made another spreadsheet and sent it to one of his groomsmen. Now, since my groom wanted his dad and grandfather to attend some of the bachelor party festivities, I also included their contact information. I stressed with Fish, the groomsman, that the grandfather's email address is a shared address. Grandad shares the email account with his wife.
Unfortunately -- or fortunately depending on how you look at it, Fish didn't heed my advice. The list of guys invited to celebrate the end of Kramp's single life grew and the guys started responding to the planned activities. Gotta love Reply All emails.
These gentleman didn't stop at alerting the coordinator of their availability for the planned weekend -- oh no! There were comments about stripper glitter, midgets and a $1K tab at a club in New Orleans. Emails were flying... And all of these lovely stories and comments - from a mojito overdose to questioning my sanity - were also sent to the grandfather.
And, hence, the grandmother. Because every grandmother needs to know about her grandson's strip club habits. Priceless.
HYSTERICAL! OH MY GOD! I AM STILL LAUGHING! OH MY GOD! GOOD THING I REALLY LIKE THIS GUY.
I have a good guy - a really good guy. And, Valentine's Day is not my favorite day... I mean, I like Conversation Hearts and chocolate. But, I'm not a roses girl. And stuffed animals are not, um, me.
It's funny, the small gift I got my Valentine arrived late - today. And, although he pre-ordered the re-release of my favorite movie - it comes in tomorrow. However, I did get the chance to watch Breakfast at Tiffany's - and that was quite nice.
Oh, and OMG -- I made dessert. A small flourless chocolate cake with a rosemary chocolate ganache. It was so freakin' good. It has the potential to be my signature dessert.
Oh, and I cannot explain the joy of being in love with this man. I am so unbelievably lucky.
I am not quite sure why the melodrama of Grey's Anatomy is making me weepy tonight. I suppose, that part of all of this is that it's been a hell of a week.
Damn, sometimes I wish I had the balls of Dooce and I would tell y'all some of the things that actually happen in my life. I would write with a clever wit that would make you smile (wryly of course) and admire my courage. However, since I do not have that damn clever wit, I will spare you the whining/heartache/desire to write an episode of a bad Spanish soap opera that is the permanent companion of having a mother with borderline personality disorder.
George, the puppy that eats too much paper, had quite a week. He's been recovering from his surgery. Tomorrow is supposed to be the big day that the stitches come out.K. is convinced (convinced!) that George still has one remaining testicle. I'm so not thinking about this. You have no idea how much I am not thinking about this.
Also, this week - I have discovered that I am really excited about my wedding. So is my groom. And, the fact that I'm getting married - it's really quite awesome.
I was sick all week. Sick as in my coloring was gray, I had no voice and I lived in a pair of cut off sweat pants and an FSU sweatshirt. There were various TShirts last week, but by God I had on that sweatshirt.
I haven't been that sick since I was an elementary school kid -- as an example of my hallucinations while on the fabulous gold elixir also known as my cough medicine, I allegedly asked for my mother. I was sick.
I had, however, weeks ago scheduled our engagement photo shoot for Saturday afternoon. I wanted to cancel, but our schedule is packed. If I wanted a picture in the Tampa Trib or the Greenville News in any sort of timely fashion, Saturday afternoon I needed to show my smile.
OMG. I love our photographer - Lindsay Osborne is absolutely amazing. We both had such a good time - we giggled and smooched all over downtown Tallahassee. Goodness, while in front of the Old Capitol someone yelled for us to get a room! I was relaxed, Chris was happy and I'm pretty sure the pictures are going to be fantastic. Lindsay was disarmingly gentle -- she caught exactly the type of pictures we wanted. Plus, her husband is from Easley! Small world strikes again. I totally recommend her. I cannot wait for the wedding!
Meanwhile, Kramps and I have been giggling like newlyweds all weekend. I think the timing was perfect. While I might still sound like Rita Cosby and Saturday required a whole new technique of concealer application - kicking off the remaining three months of our engagement with our photo shoot was a great idea. I am really (and finally) getting into the whole wedding excitement. Perfect. Gosh, I am so blessed! ps. Totally figured out the engagement announcement wording this morning. I'm vain enough, don't worry, I will link the announcement in a couple of weeks.
I, like many of you, am used to checking the LaurinLine - run by the talented Laurin Manning several times a day. Honestly, sometimes more. During the past few months while Laurin determined the future of her blog, I waited. I lived through registering and Alex Stroman-the-idiot-boy and a whole host of new folks posting on her blog. There were new banners and blog lists and I love them all. And now, she's closing it down and starting something new.
I met Laurin as a teenager. We traveled to USC to participate in the American Legion Auxiliary Girl State program. I was elected Governor - and she was awarded the very very high honor of First Citizen. She had (has) it all -- she was well liked and smart and put South Carolina first. As counselors the next year, I remember laughing with her, late one night in the computer lab as I struggled with the newspaper.
She is bright and incredibly funny. A gal as comfortable in flip-flops as her aptly named Roach Killers. I deeply share her love of Diet Coke - seriously, no one has ever understood my need for a cold aluminum can like this woman. Everyone she meets is greeted with her warm graciousness and a rich dose of South Carolina politics. I have appreciated her since I met her - even more so since I moved out of state.
Laurin, your website will missed. Your thoughts - easily digestible, often challenging and always interesting will be missed. I wish you all the luck on your next project - as you graduate, etc. Good luck girl. And not to be entirely corny, but I really hope you'd appreciate the reference -- be progressive, wise and strong...
"Raise your voices, Raise them high Sing to Girls State, And here's why Look to Girls State, and you'll find Tomorrow's leaders of mankind
We are the future builders, Builders in a band - And we come from Girls State, the best state in the land. We are up and coming, progressive, wise and strong - And to our own Girls State we proudly sing this song..."
And no, it wasn't the temper tantrum I threw when I met with the lady from the White Chapel. I have an eye infection, ear infections and some sort of upper respiratory/bronchitis thing. Apparently, the nastiness that infected my life a couple of weeks ago stuck around and invited some friends.
This time, however, my dearest beau is being the very example of a loving, attentive caretaker. I'm pretty sure it has something to do with the fact that I have no voice. Let me repeat that - no voice. I can whisper at best.
Meanwhile, life goes on. I'm having engagement pictures taken this weekend - provided the swelling and redness of my right eye goes away. I'm fairly certain there have been some political happenings this week, but as this is the first time I have opened a computer for more than my gmail, I have no idea what is going on...
Remember when I was whining about the weather in North Florida? When I was whining about how I wished it would get cold - allow me to wear my coat and a wool sweater?
I lied people. I so lied. The low last night was 27. It was cold.
Also - just a note... I've been waking up early. Early so I can play with the puppy, do a load of laundry, read the news, etc before making my way into work. And it's dark when I wake up. When I let George out, there's a light on illuminating the small patch of grass that George claims as his own. This morning - it wasn't dark. I looked up at the sky - at the sun beginning to rise and glow and all that amazing stuff. It's a new year - and it's about to be a new season in Florida.
Last night I had a dream about the Devil. It was the weirdest thing -- I don't even believe in the Devil. I mean, Satan - sure - the whole history/mythology of a fallen angel I understand. But a hell? A movie version of a flaming pit? Nope, I don't think so.
And so, it was weird that I had a dream about the Devil in general. I kept trying to figure out if I had listened to the Devil Went Down to Georgia before falling asleep. Or perhaps had inadvertently watched some weird version of Futurama. Then, on my way to work this morning, I frequented the local McDee's to procure a draft diet coke. My total for the purchase? $6.66. (I had also purchased an egg mcmuffin and coke for a friend). But, seriously - 666? Is someone trying to tell me something?
I thought I was in for an awful day - and, surprisingly enough, it wasn't. It was actually a really good day. Quite worthwhile and productive. Until, of course - it came down to having a wedding conversation with the fiance.
I do not get it. Is it a gender thing? Are guys afraid of having retribution from non-married friends? "Duuuude, did you seriously pick out lavender cocktail napkins? How gay!" I'm not asking him to wear tiny hearts on his tux or have anything to do with pink. What is the f'in deal?
And so, that might be where the warning from the devil comes in -- beware of the fiance who wants big but won't plan big. Sigh.
That -- and if anyone has any freakin' idea of how to word an engagement announcement that does not start with the names of the bride's parents, please let me know.
There are several things I'd like to talk about regarding last night's festivities. And my intention is that when the ringing in my ears stops, I will do so. In the meantime - here's one of the stickers that found its way to Kramp's back pocket:
A while back, I read on Dooce about this project - The Cringe Project. Apparently, Sarah Brown of Que Sera Sera started this project which has become a monthly event in Brooklyn:
The first inklings of Cringe came about back in 2001, when Sarah Brown found her old diaries at her parents’ house, and decided it would be a good idea to send the most painful excerpts to her friends in a weekly email. Three years later, she moved to Brooklyn and told roommate Liz Schroeter about this endeavor, prompting Liz to dig out some old teenage zines of her own. The first Cringe Reading Night was held April 6, 2005, at Freddy’s.
I'm pretty impressed and I'd like to go. Seeing, however that I am not really within driving or cab-paying distance of Freddy's Bar & Backroom I am going to have to live vicariously through friends. Luckily enough, I have recieved intel that Martinazzz is going at some point in the future. I promise to report back.
"do the Seminole rap." Seriously. Um, yeah - hi. Welcome to Florida, Tallahassee specifically.
Martinazzz sent this and I got it - you've gotta watch for Deon Sanders (about half way through). OMG, this is incredible. I would pay good money for someone to find something similar from the guys at Carolina.
I leave you, "We are the Seminoles of Florida State. We know we're good; some say we're great. Our goal is simple: Best in the Land... Rockin' to the beat of the Marching Chiefs Band."
This is what I have been waiting for... Carol Khare Fowler announced that she is running for Chair of the South Carolina Democratic Party.
I got an email the other day, asking if I was going to support her. In my mind, no one in South Carolina could return the pride and record of success to our party like Fowler. She has the experience and knowledge to make our efforts viable.
It's no secret that I do not care for Chairman Erwin. And, I'm pretty sure it's no secret he does not care for me. My biggest complaint was that he was exclusive. He existed in a well decorated cubicle, thinking of ways to brand a water bottle --- instead of thinking of ways to reach the vast populations of Democrats of South Carolina.
I've always been puzzled by the folks in South Carolina who are not Dems. Objectively, even with social issues, I wonder -- why would this man or woman side with Republicans? Of all folks who I believe can craft a message -- a palatable, interesting, energetic and far-reaching message -- it's Carol Khare Fowler.
She is above exclusivity. She reaches all audiences - Men and women, Blacks and whites, old and young. And she does it with respect and interest. She listens. And, most importantly, she acts. I am so excited that she is running. I am so thankful that she wants to do this job. And, most importantly, I have faith and hope that the South Carolina Democratic Party will do the work it has to do to make South Carolina a better place.
I'm downstairs - working on a GoLive project, watching SATC and drinking my third glass of wine. The Guy is upstairs watching the presidential idiot attempt to raise his ratings. I would have watched it; really, I would. Except that the Guy has to watch it on FOX. I refused, flat out. It's bad enough that I have to wake up to Preston Scott.
Last year, I watched the State of the Union. I blogged about the State of the Union. I even cared about the State of the Union. This year, not so much. I could care less and that sort of bothers me. I should care - I should care what that man in the bubble/oval plans to do about the messes he's created. And yet, I've got nothing. I'm movin' on.
To where, I'm not so sure.
Meanwhile, I'm also searching for a dress. I have two weddings in March. I would love to avoid buying two dresses, but I don't think that's going to happen. One wedding, early March is an evening dressy type of affair. And the other, in late March, is sort of dressy - but mid-afternoon. Egads! What is a girl to do!
maybe we should try this whole tweeting thing. all the cool kids are doing it.
