Sometimes, I feel so blessed that I think it must be illegal. Seriously, it sounds silly, but when I stop to think about what I am thankful for (as so many people are wont to do this time of year), I am stunned by how many good things I have in my life.
Family: My family is, simply put, amazing. My parents are loving, encouraging, and supportive...they always have been, and I know they always will be. I have close relationships with my siblings--I can truly call them my friends, and we thoroughly enjoy each other's company. I have two precious nieces who adore me (but not as much as I adore them, of course). I have a wonderful, thoughtful, loving husband. And while many people complain about their in-laws...I think mine are absolutely great.
Friends: I have beautiful friends. Not just in Nashville, but spread out across the country. I have friends who make me laugh, who let me cry, who encourage me, who bring me flowers for no reason, who show up at my house to help scrape paint, who keep me honest, who teach me new things, who love me. And I love them. And the thing I love most about my friends? So many of them are doers. They are givers. They truly strive to make the world around them a better place. My mom always told me to surround myself with balcony people, and when I look around at my friends, I realize that I have done exactly what she advised.
Work: Not only do I have a job, which in itself is enough to be thankful for...I have a great job. I have a job that others envy. I love my co-workers--they constantly make me laugh and keep me encouraged. I have a boss who values me and believes in me, which makes me feel empowered. I have ample vacation time and personal days, so that I can take time for myself when needed. And I feel rewarded when I hear the laughter of students ringing through the hallways, because I know that what I do helps make that possible.
Health: I just had my yearly physical and got an A+. But I am not only thankful for my own health, I am thankful that everyone in my family is in good health right now. My 90 year old grandmother had a bit of a scare over the summer, but she has recovered and is back in good spirits. All is well.
And the thing is, the list could go on and on. I don't need fingers to count my blessings, I need an abacus.
And I am so incredibly grateful. So deeply, humbly grateful. I have so much to celebrate--not just on Thanksgiving--but every day. I thank God for these blessings.
And I thank you, my family, friends, balcony people, for all of the joy you bring this life.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
idealistic, more or less
For the past six or eight weeks, I've been in a bit of a funk. I've had this feeling that's been gnawing at my insides, and I haven't been able to identify it. I just knew that it wasn't a pleasant feeling, and it made me sad.
And then this morning, it hit me. The feeling I have been struggling with is disappointment. A general disappointment in people.
My disappointment isn't directed at any one person or person(s) in particular--I think it has been fueled by multiple events and experiences. I have been disappointed by people personally and professionally...and even by people I don't know, whose stories I have heard on the news or second-hand through other folks. And I guess part of the disappointment comes from the fact that I just don't understand--that I can't understand what motivates people to do the things they do or say the things they say or act the way they act.
I think sometimes this whole fallen world business gets to me, and I crave redemption. I wish for better. I wish for more. Specifically, I wish:
- that people would love more...and hate less
- that people would give more...and take less
- that people would forgive more...and be bitter less
- that people would think of others more...and of themselves less
- that people would encourage more...and complain less
- that people would smile more...and scowl less
- that people would help more...and be less selfish
But mostly, I wish that people would love more and hate less, because I think that would help solve a whole lot of problems.
I'm not trying to be Pollyanna, and I know that I myself need improvement in all of these areas (well, except maybe for smiling more...if I smiled any more, people might start thinking that I'm a clown). But I do think that if everyone chose to work on these things--or even just one of these things--it could make a significant difference...in our families, in our friendships, in our workplaces, and in our communities.
So why don't we?
And then this morning, it hit me. The feeling I have been struggling with is disappointment. A general disappointment in people.
My disappointment isn't directed at any one person or person(s) in particular--I think it has been fueled by multiple events and experiences. I have been disappointed by people personally and professionally...and even by people I don't know, whose stories I have heard on the news or second-hand through other folks. And I guess part of the disappointment comes from the fact that I just don't understand--that I can't understand what motivates people to do the things they do or say the things they say or act the way they act.
I think sometimes this whole fallen world business gets to me, and I crave redemption. I wish for better. I wish for more. Specifically, I wish:
- that people would love more...and hate less
- that people would give more...and take less
- that people would forgive more...and be bitter less
- that people would think of others more...and of themselves less
- that people would encourage more...and complain less
- that people would smile more...and scowl less
- that people would help more...and be less selfish
But mostly, I wish that people would love more and hate less, because I think that would help solve a whole lot of problems.
I'm not trying to be Pollyanna, and I know that I myself need improvement in all of these areas (well, except maybe for smiling more...if I smiled any more, people might start thinking that I'm a clown). But I do think that if everyone chose to work on these things--or even just one of these things--it could make a significant difference...in our families, in our friendships, in our workplaces, and in our communities.
So why don't we?
UPDATE: Ironically, just a couple of hours after I posted this, I read that Oxford American Dictionary has chosen their 2009 Word of the Year. And the winner? "Unfriend." Again--sad. Especially since one of their considerations in the selection is that the word "reflects the ethos of the year." Sigh.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Why blog?
Lately, I've been wondering about my own motivations for blogging and pondering if I should continue. There are thousands, perhaps millions, of blogs out there, and each has its own reason for existing.
Some people blog because they've made a business of it. Some people blog to share interesting news or tips. Some blog because they love food. Some people blog to keep friends and family updated on their kids. Some people blog to express anger without having to talk to someone face-to-face. Some people blog to offer reviews of restaurants, books, etc. Some people blog to share their hobbies. Some people blog with pictures. Some blog just for fun.
So the question is: why do you blog?
And, out of curiosity, why do you read this blog?
Just some blog thinking on a Monday morning...
Some people blog because they've made a business of it. Some people blog to share interesting news or tips. Some blog because they love food. Some people blog to keep friends and family updated on their kids. Some people blog to express anger without having to talk to someone face-to-face. Some people blog to offer reviews of restaurants, books, etc. Some people blog to share their hobbies. Some people blog with pictures. Some blog just for fun.
So the question is: why do you blog?
And, out of curiosity, why do you read this blog?
Just some blog thinking on a Monday morning...
Monday, November 02, 2009
Halloween...or Christmas?
Honestly...don't these end-of-the-year holidays all just run together anyway?
This year, we channeled Yukon Cornelius and Hermey, the misfit elf who wants to be a dentist, from the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer t.v. special. And the best part? I can totally wear my costume again at Christmas dinner. And don't think that I won't.
This year, we channeled Yukon Cornelius and Hermey, the misfit elf who wants to be a dentist, from the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer t.v. special. And the best part? I can totally wear my costume again at Christmas dinner. And don't think that I won't.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
updates from the hole
Even though I've been living and working in my hole for the past couple of months, a few things of interest have happened (and no, mom, I'm not pregnant...sorry!)
* I celebrated one really fast year of marriage with Todd. It's amazing how much can happen in a year, and how quickly that year can happen. Really--it's mind-boggling. But in a good way.
* We got a couch! And a dining room table! The house is starting to feel less and less like a college dorm, which is a very positive thing. We no longer own a futon. I call that progress.
* In not-so-positive news, we have mice. Yes, after battling the fleas, and the termites, and the brown recluse spiders, instead of getting a respite, we get mice. I knew something was up when Tucker started acting really crazy (and yes, as his mom, I can tell the difference between his normal crazy and his something-is-actually-really-wrong crazy). And then I went to make a piece of toast the other day, and there was a mouse enjoying a snack inside the bread bag. Right--the mouse was still in the bread bag. That I was holding. I'm not sure which of us was more scared, but I know I definitely squealed the loudest.
* Todd was convinced that he wanted a yellow kitchen, so I spent one of my fall break days painting the kitchen yellow. It's definitely an improvement from the fluorescent lime green color, but now when I am cooking, I feel like I am standing in the middle of the sun. It is yellow. And now I think Todd is convinced that he doesn't want a yellow kitchen. Although it does go nicely with all of the cheese on the mouse-traps...
* I celebrated one really fast year of marriage with Todd. It's amazing how much can happen in a year, and how quickly that year can happen. Really--it's mind-boggling. But in a good way.
* We got a couch! And a dining room table! The house is starting to feel less and less like a college dorm, which is a very positive thing. We no longer own a futon. I call that progress.
* In not-so-positive news, we have mice. Yes, after battling the fleas, and the termites, and the brown recluse spiders, instead of getting a respite, we get mice. I knew something was up when Tucker started acting really crazy (and yes, as his mom, I can tell the difference between his normal crazy and his something-is-actually-really-wrong crazy). And then I went to make a piece of toast the other day, and there was a mouse enjoying a snack inside the bread bag. Right--the mouse was still in the bread bag. That I was holding. I'm not sure which of us was more scared, but I know I definitely squealed the loudest.
* Todd was convinced that he wanted a yellow kitchen, so I spent one of my fall break days painting the kitchen yellow. It's definitely an improvement from the fluorescent lime green color, but now when I am cooking, I feel like I am standing in the middle of the sun. It is yellow. And now I think Todd is convinced that he doesn't want a yellow kitchen. Although it does go nicely with all of the cheese on the mouse-traps...
Monday, August 31, 2009
the hole
Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!
That would be the sound of me falling into a hole--the hole that I tend to fall into every year around this time. It's my fall hole. The school-is-back-in-session-and-everything-I-am-responsible-for-kicks-off-in-September-and-October-hole. The no-I-haven't-blogged-in-a-month-because-I'm-so-busy-that-I'm-just-trying-to-remember-to-breathe-hole. And, this year in particular it is also the Holy-crap-I-have-to-raise-a-million-dollars-and-the-economy-is-still-in-the-shitter-hole. That last one really does make me want to crawl in a hole and hide until May.
So, it will be relatively silent around these parts for the next couple of months, unless something just incredibly exciting and newsworthy happens. Like I find the winning lottery ticket at the bottom of the hole, or I somehow manage to get pregnant.
See you in November.
That would be the sound of me falling into a hole--the hole that I tend to fall into every year around this time. It's my fall hole. The school-is-back-in-session-and-everything-I-am-responsible-for-kicks-off-in-September-and-October-hole. The no-I-haven't-blogged-in-a-month-because-I'm-so-busy-that-I'm-just-trying-to-remember-to-breathe-hole. And, this year in particular it is also the Holy-crap-I-have-to-raise-a-million-dollars-and-the-economy-is-still-in-the-shitter-hole. That last one really does make me want to crawl in a hole and hide until May.
So, it will be relatively silent around these parts for the next couple of months, unless something just incredibly exciting and newsworthy happens. Like I find the winning lottery ticket at the bottom of the hole, or I somehow manage to get pregnant.
See you in November.
Wednesday, August 05, 2009
aww shucks
I love seafood. It is one of the main reasons I enjoy taking trips to the coast. I always make a point of eating as much fresh fish and seafood as I possibly can whenever I am near the ocean.
In my trips to the gulf, I have learned that you are most likely to have a delicious dinner if you seek out the hidden, hole-in-the-wall local joints...or just go to a seafood market, buy the fish, and cook it at home yourself. Definitely stay away from all of the popular, beachfront places that have throngs of sunburned tourists gathered outside...for some reason, most of these places seem to think that the best way to prepare seafood is dip it in heavy batter and drop it in a deep fryer, which to me completely kills the whole point of having fresh fish, anyway.
On this last trip to PCB, I discovered a true gem: Hunt's Oyster Bar. It is located away from the main beach area in historic downtown St. Andrews. It looks like something straight out of the 70's...a rather plain square building, painted bright yellow, with lots of woodgrain detailing inside. The first night we went, I ordered an appetizer of the raw oysters...and as soon as I put the first oyster in my mouth, I thought "OH MY GOD...I have found heaven." The oysters there are the best I have ever had in my life...I'm talking melt-in-your-mouth, briny-but-not-bitter, smooth-as-butter oysters. LIKE BUTTAH, people.
(note: I did not eat all of these oysters. But I totally could have.)
For my main course, I had the crab cakes, which were exactly as crab cakes should be: mostly fresh, juicy crab meat--with just enough breading and seasonings to hold them together, barely (they were falling apart a bit on the plate, which--in my opinion--is a good thing). The sides were nothing to write home about--simple broccoli/cauliflower/carrot mixed veggies and corn on the cob--but the hushpuppies were delicious, crispy-fried on the outside and moist with good seasoning on the inside.
So when you have a meal like that, what do you do? You go back the next night. I usually try not to visit the same restaurant twice when I am on vacation, as I like to experience different things, but I made an exception in this case.
On the second visit, the ladies sat at the bar, right in front of one of the oyster shuckers, Rick. Rick was one of those people who obviously loves life and loves his job--he was singing and dancing around as he was shucking, and he made it his job to ensure that we had a great time. He kept the oysters and the wine flowing...and there was not a single bad oyster in the bunch. Some of them were almost as big as my hand, but I was up for the challenge.
After three dozen oysters and multiple glasses of wine split among the three of us, we got our checks, and the total was just over $12 each. Amazing. The Hunt's experience definitely ranks as my favorite in PCB...not just on this trip, but including all of my trips to the gulf. So, if you ever find yourself in the Bay County area of Florida, go find Hunts Oyster Bar, and ask for Rick, the "aphrodesiologist" (as noted on his business card). He'll make sure you have a shuckin' good time...and serve you with the freshest and most delicious oysters you've ever sucked down your gullet.
Yum.
In my trips to the gulf, I have learned that you are most likely to have a delicious dinner if you seek out the hidden, hole-in-the-wall local joints...or just go to a seafood market, buy the fish, and cook it at home yourself. Definitely stay away from all of the popular, beachfront places that have throngs of sunburned tourists gathered outside...for some reason, most of these places seem to think that the best way to prepare seafood is dip it in heavy batter and drop it in a deep fryer, which to me completely kills the whole point of having fresh fish, anyway.
On this last trip to PCB, I discovered a true gem: Hunt's Oyster Bar. It is located away from the main beach area in historic downtown St. Andrews. It looks like something straight out of the 70's...a rather plain square building, painted bright yellow, with lots of woodgrain detailing inside. The first night we went, I ordered an appetizer of the raw oysters...and as soon as I put the first oyster in my mouth, I thought "OH MY GOD...I have found heaven." The oysters there are the best I have ever had in my life...I'm talking melt-in-your-mouth, briny-but-not-bitter, smooth-as-butter oysters. LIKE BUTTAH, people.
(note: I did not eat all of these oysters. But I totally could have.)For my main course, I had the crab cakes, which were exactly as crab cakes should be: mostly fresh, juicy crab meat--with just enough breading and seasonings to hold them together, barely (they were falling apart a bit on the plate, which--in my opinion--is a good thing). The sides were nothing to write home about--simple broccoli/cauliflower/carrot mixed veggies and corn on the cob--but the hushpuppies were delicious, crispy-fried on the outside and moist with good seasoning on the inside.
So when you have a meal like that, what do you do? You go back the next night. I usually try not to visit the same restaurant twice when I am on vacation, as I like to experience different things, but I made an exception in this case.
On the second visit, the ladies sat at the bar, right in front of one of the oyster shuckers, Rick. Rick was one of those people who obviously loves life and loves his job--he was singing and dancing around as he was shucking, and he made it his job to ensure that we had a great time. He kept the oysters and the wine flowing...and there was not a single bad oyster in the bunch. Some of them were almost as big as my hand, but I was up for the challenge.
After three dozen oysters and multiple glasses of wine split among the three of us, we got our checks, and the total was just over $12 each. Amazing. The Hunt's experience definitely ranks as my favorite in PCB...not just on this trip, but including all of my trips to the gulf. So, if you ever find yourself in the Bay County area of Florida, go find Hunts Oyster Bar, and ask for Rick, the "aphrodesiologist" (as noted on his business card). He'll make sure you have a shuckin' good time...and serve you with the freshest and most delicious oysters you've ever sucked down your gullet.
Yum.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
what can chase away the blues?
Yesterday, Todd and I received a care package from The Princess Bakery out of Chattanooga. It was filled with deliciousness: different kinds of cookies, muffins, and blonde brownies (my favorite--I swear those brownies are manna from heaven.) Everything was completely divine, and it was definitely the highlight of my week.
So where is this Princess Bakery located? Well, it operates out of a place known as MaMaw's House, and it is run by two adorable young ladies:
(this is a scanned image of the card that was included with the package--as you can tell, they are quite serious about their work.)
It seems that the girls had heard that their Aunt TT and Uncle Todd had a stressful couple of weeks, so they decided to send a little cheer our way. I mean, seriously, what better way is there to deal with stress than to throw cookies at it? Especially if those cookies have been homemade with love--and probably lots of giggles.
I'm not even going to tell you how much of that box we were able to polish off in just one night.
Thanks, sweet girls!
So where is this Princess Bakery located? Well, it operates out of a place known as MaMaw's House, and it is run by two adorable young ladies:
(this is a scanned image of the card that was included with the package--as you can tell, they are quite serious about their work.)It seems that the girls had heard that their Aunt TT and Uncle Todd had a stressful couple of weeks, so they decided to send a little cheer our way. I mean, seriously, what better way is there to deal with stress than to throw cookies at it? Especially if those cookies have been homemade with love--and probably lots of giggles.
I'm not even going to tell you how much of that box we were able to polish off in just one night.
Thanks, sweet girls!
Monday, July 20, 2009
and how was your weekend?
The quality of writing in this post probably won't be very good (not that it is usually stellar anyway), because I'm having trouble even putting words together today.
Let's just look at a few elements of my weekend, shall we?
* The drywall guy, Fred, stood us up again (yes, for the second time) this weekend, so we still don't have completed walls in the bathroom.
* I made about 5 trips a day to Home Depot, Lowes, etc. to purchase things, and then take them back when they didn't work, and then buy new ones, and then take those back when they didn't work---because apparently, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING can just be easy, especially not when it has to do with this house.
* If you've seen the house (or pictures), you know that the front door is beautiful, and it has a lovely large stained-glass style window. Well, last night while we were sitting on the front porch, the dogs started barking inside, and Todd went to bang on the window to make them hush--and as soon as his fist hit that beautiful glass window...KERACK! Shattered.
Ahhh...but that's not even the kicker. Wait til you hear this next part.
* We met the previous owners of the house yesterday, because they were back on the street visiting some of their old neighbors. We started talking to them about the house, and I mentioned that our next project was going to be the kitchen and laundry room addition. And she says, "Yes, that used to be a porch--but something had happened, and the people that were the previous owners decided to close it in." And I said, "Oh yeah, there was a kitchen fire, right?"--because that's what the next door neighbor had told me. And she looked at me kind of funny and said, "Well, something happened..." So I press her on it, and she finally says, "Someone was murdered in the house."
I'll give you a second to let that soak in.
So she tells me the story...about how an elderly black lady had lived there, and someone had cut into the house through the porch and killed her...and after her death, the family decided to enclose the porch. And as she is telling me the story, she says, "I knew that something must have happened because of the issues I was having. None of the neighbors wanted to tell me what happened, but I finally got the story." So I stupidly ask, "What issues were you having?" And she responds, "I would see her in the house."
Great. So if you are keeping track, in addition to living with fleas and termites and spiders, I'm also sharing my home with an older black woman who doesn't realize that she isn't living there anymore.
Can I move back now?
Please?
Let's just look at a few elements of my weekend, shall we?
* The drywall guy, Fred, stood us up again (yes, for the second time) this weekend, so we still don't have completed walls in the bathroom.
* I made about 5 trips a day to Home Depot, Lowes, etc. to purchase things, and then take them back when they didn't work, and then buy new ones, and then take those back when they didn't work---because apparently, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING can just be easy, especially not when it has to do with this house.
* If you've seen the house (or pictures), you know that the front door is beautiful, and it has a lovely large stained-glass style window. Well, last night while we were sitting on the front porch, the dogs started barking inside, and Todd went to bang on the window to make them hush--and as soon as his fist hit that beautiful glass window...KERACK! Shattered.
Ahhh...but that's not even the kicker. Wait til you hear this next part.
* We met the previous owners of the house yesterday, because they were back on the street visiting some of their old neighbors. We started talking to them about the house, and I mentioned that our next project was going to be the kitchen and laundry room addition. And she says, "Yes, that used to be a porch--but something had happened, and the people that were the previous owners decided to close it in." And I said, "Oh yeah, there was a kitchen fire, right?"--because that's what the next door neighbor had told me. And she looked at me kind of funny and said, "Well, something happened..." So I press her on it, and she finally says, "Someone was murdered in the house."
I'll give you a second to let that soak in.
So she tells me the story...about how an elderly black lady had lived there, and someone had cut into the house through the porch and killed her...and after her death, the family decided to enclose the porch. And as she is telling me the story, she says, "I knew that something must have happened because of the issues I was having. None of the neighbors wanted to tell me what happened, but I finally got the story." So I stupidly ask, "What issues were you having?" And she responds, "I would see her in the house."
Great. So if you are keeping track, in addition to living with fleas and termites and spiders, I'm also sharing my home with an older black woman who doesn't realize that she isn't living there anymore.
Can I move back now?
Please?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
noises off
One thing that this moving/renovating/exterminating process has taught me is that I don't deal well with disarray. With every single move I have ever made in the past, all of the boxes have been unpacked and everything put away within 48 hours of returning the moving truck. That is just how I operate. Call me anal, call me a control/clean freak, slap an OCD sticker on my forehead...label me as you will.
It's this simple: when my house is out of order, my mind is out of order.
And I can tell it has been really bad this past week, because there have been so many times that I have been driving along in my car when, all of a sudden, I realize that the radio is turned down, and I have been driving in silence the whole time. But the noise in my head was so loud--the thoughts racing so quickly and the anxieties swirling so furiously--that I didn't even realize it was completely quiet around me.
There are a lot of things I can deal with--a lot of stressors that don't bother me much--but I am discovering that home-stress affects me deeply. I NEED for my house to be a haven. A clean, orderly, comfortable, anxiety-free haven. I want home to be a place where I can drop my worries outside the door and relax--not pick up a whole new bundle of worries. And when my home doesn't feel like that haven, I am thrown out of whack.
So if I seem off to you-- if I appear to be down or pensive or discombobulated or just plain crazy--you know why.
And if I'm quiet, I don't mean to be--I'm just trying to make sense of all the noises in my head.
It's this simple: when my house is out of order, my mind is out of order.
And I can tell it has been really bad this past week, because there have been so many times that I have been driving along in my car when, all of a sudden, I realize that the radio is turned down, and I have been driving in silence the whole time. But the noise in my head was so loud--the thoughts racing so quickly and the anxieties swirling so furiously--that I didn't even realize it was completely quiet around me.
There are a lot of things I can deal with--a lot of stressors that don't bother me much--but I am discovering that home-stress affects me deeply. I NEED for my house to be a haven. A clean, orderly, comfortable, anxiety-free haven. I want home to be a place where I can drop my worries outside the door and relax--not pick up a whole new bundle of worries. And when my home doesn't feel like that haven, I am thrown out of whack.
So if I seem off to you-- if I appear to be down or pensive or discombobulated or just plain crazy--you know why.
And if I'm quiet, I don't mean to be--I'm just trying to make sense of all the noises in my head.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
please excuse the mess
So we moved into the new house on Monday, and I can't believe it is only Thursday, because as hard as we've been working, it feels like we have been there a month. Amid fighting fleas and tackling termites, we have managed to get about 80% of the boxes unpacked, and Todd has already begun the renovation of the bathroom.
Unfortunately, I didn't manage to get any "before" shots prior to Todd jumping into the project, so if you didn't get to see it in person, just imagine that walls used to be here-- except that they were all moldy and mildewy and basically falling apart and crumbling into the shower.
Here's the demo progress...
Wall where the sink used to live
I'm calling this series "The (re)Making of Mansfield Manor." Stay tuned for more updates.
Unfortunately, I didn't manage to get any "before" shots prior to Todd jumping into the project, so if you didn't get to see it in person, just imagine that walls used to be here-- except that they were all moldy and mildewy and basically falling apart and crumbling into the shower.
Here's the demo progress...
Taking it all down to the studs
Wall where the sink used to live
A wide view
I love that, in this shot, you can see Todd's "Axe" bath sponge hanging from the shower head (he is still determinedly using the shower--I am opting to utilize the facilities at the Y.)
I'm calling this series "The (re)Making of Mansfield Manor." Stay tuned for more updates.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
sweet home sunnymeade
Dear newest homeowner of 1217 Sunnymeade:
Although we've never met, and we only know each other through scribbled signatures on contracts, I wanted to share with you some information about the house you are buying.
I know it seems a simple house--just some bricks and plaster with a little wiring and plumbing woven throughout--but it is a special place. I don't know very much about the history of the home, but I know that in the last four years I have grown to love this house more than any other house I have lived in.
The first time that I looked at the house with my realtor, I fell in love. I put in an offer immediately, but unfortunately so did someone else, and their offer was accepted over mine. So I kept looking, but I continued to compare everything I saw to Sunnymeade, and nothing else could hold a candle. Luckily, the other contract fell through after a couple of weeks, and I got a second chance. Their misfortune was my blessing, and I closed on the house in April 2005.
When I first bought her, she was rather plain. The previous owner had done some renovation work, but had painted all of the walls white and all of the trim yellow. Four years later, I still can't understand why that ever seemed like a good idea. So, my first project was infusing the house with color. I had lived in apartments for a few years, and I was so tired of beige and white walls that I vowed I would paint every single wall in my new home with color. And I did.
Before:
After:
Although your home inspection revealed a laundry list of little things that needed to be fixed, I can assure you that she is a sound home. A true brick house. She is an older model, showing some signs of wear and tear, but her foundation is firm. I always pay attention to the energy of a house, and I can tell you that she has a happy soul. I've always felt safe here--even when I was living alone.
One thing you might not discover immediately is that you have amazing neighbors. Alma, the elderly lady next door, is a watchdog. She once almost called the police on my ex-boyfriend, because he locked himself out of the house and she saw him climbing in one of the windows. She is hard of hearing, so she won't understand a word you say, but she will happily talk to you. Just don't tell her family that she comes out on the side porch for cigarettes.
Definitely go to the Hargrove brother's Labor Day party. My first year on Sunnymeade, I received the party flyer in my mailbox, and I decided to check it out. I am so glad that I did. It's a great party and a fabulous way to meet all of your neighbors. (Even though we are moving, I still plan to show up this year.) The Hargroves are good people, and they will make sure that you feel welcome on the street. I am going to miss my neighbors. Terribly.
Since living on Sunnymeade, I have done a few updates on the house. We ripped off the ugly white vinyl shutters, and Todd helped me build the new wooden shutters. The pantry in the kitchen is also Todd's handiwork--it was one of his Christmas presents to me (being married to a carpenter definitely has its privileges!) If I could rip that pantry out and take it with me, I totally would. It is a work of art, made with love, and I adore it.
The backyard used to be enclosed by a chain link fence, but our dog Tucker could jump it as easily as an Olympic track athlete could clear a hurdle, so we ripped it out last summer and built the wood fence. Many of our friends and neighbors pitched in on the project. It was a labor of love, and my friend Haley can attest that it is sound, because I personally checked it out with my face (which explains just one of the inside jokes you'll find scribbled on the chalkboard walls in the bathroom.) We specifically built the fence very tall with the "pretty side" in so that Tucker couldn't jump it. He can still jump it. But as long as you don't have a crazy-ass dog, it should suffice just fine. (Tucker also had the distinction of being the "loudest dog in the neighborhood"--so the neighbors probably won't miss him quite so much.)
I also wish that I could take the landscaping with me, as we just planted everything last summer and have only had a year to enjoy it. I was afraid that many of the plants wouldn't survive the intense heat last summer, but they pulled through and look amazing. Even the oak tree in the back yard that I bought for $5 and the dogs half destroyed is blooming. There must be some magic dirt in that yard.
Just a few of the things that have happened while I lived on Sunnymeade:
I met and fell in love with my husband (we almost held a luau-themed wedding in the backyard, but decided to elope instead. On a side note, I have a lot of luau supplies if you should need them).
We adopted Tucker. Apparently, that didn't make our lives crazy enough, because a year later, we adopted Levi. You can blame them for all of the dog hair, which I am sure you will continue to find in corners and crevices for years to come.
We hosted numerous dinner parties, brunches, game nights, cookouts, and hang-outs.
We entertained multiple nieces and nephews, and entertained the idea of having our own children (part of the reason for our move).
A few other random notes of interest about the house:
If you ever decide to plant a garden, don't put it in the back left-hand corner of the yard. The black walnut tree's roots emit some sort of chemical into the ground that inhibits the growth of vegetables. We found that out the hard way.
The corner between the arches is a great place for a Christmas tree, and you can see the lights through the windows on the front door.
Speaking of the windows on the front door--dogs love them. It provides a perfect lookout, so they can make sure you know if someone is coming.
Space is limited in the house, but the upstairs area can serve as an impromptu dining room for a large dinner party. As long as everyone doesn't mind sitting on pillows.
Oh, and at one point, Joe Dirt lived here.
As you can tell, a lot has happened in the last four years in this house--it is a history that is full of love, laughter, sweat, tears, friends, neighbors, family, and dogs. I could share many more stories from my time at 1217 Sunnymeade, but now it is time for you to create your own stories. Enjoy your new home, and please take care of her, because she is precious. Love your neighbors, and they will love you (and sometimes even mow your lawn).
Welcome home.
TT
Although we've never met, and we only know each other through scribbled signatures on contracts, I wanted to share with you some information about the house you are buying.
I know it seems a simple house--just some bricks and plaster with a little wiring and plumbing woven throughout--but it is a special place. I don't know very much about the history of the home, but I know that in the last four years I have grown to love this house more than any other house I have lived in.
The first time that I looked at the house with my realtor, I fell in love. I put in an offer immediately, but unfortunately so did someone else, and their offer was accepted over mine. So I kept looking, but I continued to compare everything I saw to Sunnymeade, and nothing else could hold a candle. Luckily, the other contract fell through after a couple of weeks, and I got a second chance. Their misfortune was my blessing, and I closed on the house in April 2005.
When I first bought her, she was rather plain. The previous owner had done some renovation work, but had painted all of the walls white and all of the trim yellow. Four years later, I still can't understand why that ever seemed like a good idea. So, my first project was infusing the house with color. I had lived in apartments for a few years, and I was so tired of beige and white walls that I vowed I would paint every single wall in my new home with color. And I did.
Before:
After:
Although your home inspection revealed a laundry list of little things that needed to be fixed, I can assure you that she is a sound home. A true brick house. She is an older model, showing some signs of wear and tear, but her foundation is firm. I always pay attention to the energy of a house, and I can tell you that she has a happy soul. I've always felt safe here--even when I was living alone.
One thing you might not discover immediately is that you have amazing neighbors. Alma, the elderly lady next door, is a watchdog. She once almost called the police on my ex-boyfriend, because he locked himself out of the house and she saw him climbing in one of the windows. She is hard of hearing, so she won't understand a word you say, but she will happily talk to you. Just don't tell her family that she comes out on the side porch for cigarettes.
Definitely go to the Hargrove brother's Labor Day party. My first year on Sunnymeade, I received the party flyer in my mailbox, and I decided to check it out. I am so glad that I did. It's a great party and a fabulous way to meet all of your neighbors. (Even though we are moving, I still plan to show up this year.) The Hargroves are good people, and they will make sure that you feel welcome on the street. I am going to miss my neighbors. Terribly.
Since living on Sunnymeade, I have done a few updates on the house. We ripped off the ugly white vinyl shutters, and Todd helped me build the new wooden shutters. The pantry in the kitchen is also Todd's handiwork--it was one of his Christmas presents to me (being married to a carpenter definitely has its privileges!) If I could rip that pantry out and take it with me, I totally would. It is a work of art, made with love, and I adore it.
The backyard used to be enclosed by a chain link fence, but our dog Tucker could jump it as easily as an Olympic track athlete could clear a hurdle, so we ripped it out last summer and built the wood fence. Many of our friends and neighbors pitched in on the project. It was a labor of love, and my friend Haley can attest that it is sound, because I personally checked it out with my face (which explains just one of the inside jokes you'll find scribbled on the chalkboard walls in the bathroom.) We specifically built the fence very tall with the "pretty side" in so that Tucker couldn't jump it. He can still jump it. But as long as you don't have a crazy-ass dog, it should suffice just fine. (Tucker also had the distinction of being the "loudest dog in the neighborhood"--so the neighbors probably won't miss him quite so much.)
I also wish that I could take the landscaping with me, as we just planted everything last summer and have only had a year to enjoy it. I was afraid that many of the plants wouldn't survive the intense heat last summer, but they pulled through and look amazing. Even the oak tree in the back yard that I bought for $5 and the dogs half destroyed is blooming. There must be some magic dirt in that yard.
Just a few of the things that have happened while I lived on Sunnymeade:
I met and fell in love with my husband (we almost held a luau-themed wedding in the backyard, but decided to elope instead. On a side note, I have a lot of luau supplies if you should need them).
We adopted Tucker. Apparently, that didn't make our lives crazy enough, because a year later, we adopted Levi. You can blame them for all of the dog hair, which I am sure you will continue to find in corners and crevices for years to come.
We hosted numerous dinner parties, brunches, game nights, cookouts, and hang-outs.
We entertained multiple nieces and nephews, and entertained the idea of having our own children (part of the reason for our move).
A few other random notes of interest about the house:
If you ever decide to plant a garden, don't put it in the back left-hand corner of the yard. The black walnut tree's roots emit some sort of chemical into the ground that inhibits the growth of vegetables. We found that out the hard way.
The corner between the arches is a great place for a Christmas tree, and you can see the lights through the windows on the front door.
Speaking of the windows on the front door--dogs love them. It provides a perfect lookout, so they can make sure you know if someone is coming.
Space is limited in the house, but the upstairs area can serve as an impromptu dining room for a large dinner party. As long as everyone doesn't mind sitting on pillows.
Oh, and at one point, Joe Dirt lived here.
As you can tell, a lot has happened in the last four years in this house--it is a history that is full of love, laughter, sweat, tears, friends, neighbors, family, and dogs. I could share many more stories from my time at 1217 Sunnymeade, but now it is time for you to create your own stories. Enjoy your new home, and please take care of her, because she is precious. Love your neighbors, and they will love you (and sometimes even mow your lawn).
Welcome home.
TT
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
writing my recs
I have used this blog more than once to talk about some of my negative experiences with businesses, so I thought I would try to balance things out and offer a couple of glowing recommendations.
Since I just posted a picture of my fun new haircut, I will start off by showing some love to my fabuloso hairstylist, Eve. Eve is absolutely magnificent. Very rarely have I been to a stylist whom I trusted enough to say "Do whatever you think will look best." But with Eve, no worries. She definitely knows hair--she knows what cuts will work with specific hair textures; she can make cowlics behave; she will shoot straight with you and let you know if what you are asking for won't work on you; she won't try to push the expensive Aveda products on you, but will recommend what you could use instead. In short, she rocks. You can find Eve at Bishops Salon in the Bellevue area of Nashville.
Also in relation to a recent post, I would highly recommend my general practitioner, Dr. Christopher Peterson. After 14 years of living in Nashville and just going to minute clinics when illnesses would arise, I finally decided it was time for me to find a primary care physician. I picked Dr. Peterson randomly out of a Humana network providers list, and boy, did I luck out. He is a very nice guy, and he takes his time with his patients. He asks good questions, listens well, and has helpful answers and effective solutions. And I have never had to wait more than 10 minutes past my appointment time to see him, which is also a big plus in my book. He can be found at Heritage Medical Associates in the Bellevue office.
And yes, I realize that both of these people I have recommended are in Bellevue, which some would consider to be about as convenient as East Africa, but trust me...in my opinion, they are worth the drive.
Since I just posted a picture of my fun new haircut, I will start off by showing some love to my fabuloso hairstylist, Eve. Eve is absolutely magnificent. Very rarely have I been to a stylist whom I trusted enough to say "Do whatever you think will look best." But with Eve, no worries. She definitely knows hair--she knows what cuts will work with specific hair textures; she can make cowlics behave; she will shoot straight with you and let you know if what you are asking for won't work on you; she won't try to push the expensive Aveda products on you, but will recommend what you could use instead. In short, she rocks. You can find Eve at Bishops Salon in the Bellevue area of Nashville.
Also in relation to a recent post, I would highly recommend my general practitioner, Dr. Christopher Peterson. After 14 years of living in Nashville and just going to minute clinics when illnesses would arise, I finally decided it was time for me to find a primary care physician. I picked Dr. Peterson randomly out of a Humana network providers list, and boy, did I luck out. He is a very nice guy, and he takes his time with his patients. He asks good questions, listens well, and has helpful answers and effective solutions. And I have never had to wait more than 10 minutes past my appointment time to see him, which is also a big plus in my book. He can be found at Heritage Medical Associates in the Bellevue office.
And yes, I realize that both of these people I have recommended are in Bellevue, which some would consider to be about as convenient as East Africa, but trust me...in my opinion, they are worth the drive.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
chop chop
Just thought it was time for a new short summer style...
No ponytails or optical illusions here...that's all the hair that's left on my head.
No ponytails or optical illusions here...that's all the hair that's left on my head.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
tiresome
I think I have mentioned this before, but I do not have very good luck with tires. I go through tires like the octo-mom goes through diapers. Seriously, it's bad.
So I really shouldn't have been surprised yesterday when my running partner pointed out that the metal tread was showing on one of my tires, which meant that it needed to be replaced immediately.
But when I started to think about it, things didn't add up. Because I'd had so many flats and mishaps, I knew that none of the tires on my car were original, and all had been replaced in the last couple of years. Should they really be wearing out that quickly?
So I dug through all of the receipts in my glove box and found the ones for the tires currently on the car. The oldest tire had been replaced in Dec. 2007 when there were 36,000 miles on the car. I checked the odometer, which showed 68,000 miles. So the tire had 32,000 miles on it--definitely less than the 50,000 mile warranty.
I buy all of my tires from American Tire in Rivergate, so I gathered the receipts and drove there to make my case. I showed all of the info to the clerk, and he went out to investigate the tires. He confirmed that I needed a new tire--actually two new tires, because the other front tire was worn pretty badly as well.
But about that warranty....ahh, it's always that word "limited" in the limited warranty that screws you, isn't it?
He said that based on the wear on the tires, my car was probably out of alignment, and it also looked like the tires had not been rotated regularly. So, warranty voided.
Ok. Hold up. So I referred again to the multiple receipts, which showed a timeline of all the tires I had purchased over the last 3 years (I have bought 7 tires from American Tire in 3 years. Seven, people--and I only own one car). And I asked--"Wouldn't you all have rotated the tires each time I got a new one? Isn't that part of your responsibility?" And I even pointed out on one receipt where they checked the alignment last summer when a tire was replaced.
Was that good enough? Oh honey, of course not. So if you ever hope to redeem a warranty on your tires, take it from me---you better be documenting that you rotate your tires every 5,000 miles and that you have your alignment checked regularly. Of course, then they would probably find some other reason to exclude you, like "Have you taken a road trip out of state? Too bad. VOID." Or "It looks like you've parked in grass at some point. VOID." Or "Have you every carried more than 200 pounds in your car? VOID."
Come on, American Tire. Seven tires. Regular customer. You'd think I'd at least get a free smoothie at this point. Sigh.
UPDATE: I did a little research on the Goodyear Integrity tire (the tires that were in question) and apparently, they are just crap tires--even though they are supposed to be the "mid-range" option (in "Good. Better. Best." they would be the "Better"). Oh well. Now I've got 2 new ones on my car. Next time, I'm going with Kellys.
So I really shouldn't have been surprised yesterday when my running partner pointed out that the metal tread was showing on one of my tires, which meant that it needed to be replaced immediately.
But when I started to think about it, things didn't add up. Because I'd had so many flats and mishaps, I knew that none of the tires on my car were original, and all had been replaced in the last couple of years. Should they really be wearing out that quickly?
So I dug through all of the receipts in my glove box and found the ones for the tires currently on the car. The oldest tire had been replaced in Dec. 2007 when there were 36,000 miles on the car. I checked the odometer, which showed 68,000 miles. So the tire had 32,000 miles on it--definitely less than the 50,000 mile warranty.
I buy all of my tires from American Tire in Rivergate, so I gathered the receipts and drove there to make my case. I showed all of the info to the clerk, and he went out to investigate the tires. He confirmed that I needed a new tire--actually two new tires, because the other front tire was worn pretty badly as well.
But about that warranty....ahh, it's always that word "limited" in the limited warranty that screws you, isn't it?
He said that based on the wear on the tires, my car was probably out of alignment, and it also looked like the tires had not been rotated regularly. So, warranty voided.
Ok. Hold up. So I referred again to the multiple receipts, which showed a timeline of all the tires I had purchased over the last 3 years (I have bought 7 tires from American Tire in 3 years. Seven, people--and I only own one car). And I asked--"Wouldn't you all have rotated the tires each time I got a new one? Isn't that part of your responsibility?" And I even pointed out on one receipt where they checked the alignment last summer when a tire was replaced.
Was that good enough? Oh honey, of course not. So if you ever hope to redeem a warranty on your tires, take it from me---you better be documenting that you rotate your tires every 5,000 miles and that you have your alignment checked regularly. Of course, then they would probably find some other reason to exclude you, like "Have you taken a road trip out of state? Too bad. VOID." Or "It looks like you've parked in grass at some point. VOID." Or "Have you every carried more than 200 pounds in your car? VOID."
Come on, American Tire. Seven tires. Regular customer. You'd think I'd at least get a free smoothie at this point. Sigh.
UPDATE: I did a little research on the Goodyear Integrity tire (the tires that were in question) and apparently, they are just crap tires--even though they are supposed to be the "mid-range" option (in "Good. Better. Best." they would be the "Better"). Oh well. Now I've got 2 new ones on my car. Next time, I'm going with Kellys.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
Lord have mercy
I am ashamed to admit it, but I managed to get sucked into a couple of episodes of "I'm a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here!" Yes, I know...completely and utterly shameful. And all I have to say is, oh my God, Heidi and Spencer, shut up!
I mean, I can't personally speak for Jesus, but I seriously doubt that these are two people he wants representing him on national TV. As a Christian, I can say that they certainly aren't people that I want representing Christianity as a faith. No wonder so many people think that Christians are crazy and obnoxious--because look at the examples that are so readily available to them.
Honestly, it's enough to make me want to travel all the way to Costa Rica just to slap some people. Forgive me, Lord, but I just think that some people deserve a good old fashioned smiting.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
dog days
Saturday:
Sunday:
Around this time of year, the cool kitchen floor is one of their favorite places to be. I just didn't have the heart to tell them that it's only the beginning of June, and we haven't even gotten close to the true, sweltering, dog-days of summer.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
60 days and counting to insanity
So we've got 60 days to find a new place to live (no pressure), and do you think that I am at all stressed or discombobulated by it?
Well, let's see...how did today go?
1. Broke down at work and cried when I heard that interest rates jumped from 4.8% to 5.5% in just one day.
2. Completely lost my train of thought in the middle of a speech at a luncheon and skipped some important information.
3. Showed up at someone's house at 5:30 p.m. for a party that didn't start until 6:30 p.m.
4. Got home and realized that I walked around all day with the "Medium" sticker still stuck on the outside of my new skirt.
Umm, yeah. I think the stress might be getting to me.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
moving on up
Even though this picture is quite possibly the worst picture taken of me today this month this year ever (honestly, I look like I swallowed a refrigerator for breakfast and then styled my bangs with superglue), I decided to go ahead and post it, because I am just so darn proud of my little sis.
Congratulations, Miss Nema, on successfully finishing middle school. Now it's off to the high school adventure. I hope my nerves can take it.
Congratulations, Miss Nema, on successfully finishing middle school. Now it's off to the high school adventure. I hope my nerves can take it.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
our boys
I thought I would share some great new pictures of Goober and Goonie (their newest nicknames), taken at our Mother's Day brunch by the wonderfully talented Erica.
She somehow managed to catch Tucker in the one shining moment he was not barking--and even got him to smile for the camera. That feat alone should earn her a photography award. They look so adorable in these pictures that you would never even suspect that one of them is The Most Vocal Dog in the Entire World (and if they discover other worlds, I have no doubt that he could qualify for Most Vocal Dog in the Universe), and the other one is the Destroyer of Everything, able to rip apart magazines, shoes, remote controls, etc. in 2 seconds flat.
Ahhh...but we love them. I mean, come on...look at those faces!
She somehow managed to catch Tucker in the one shining moment he was not barking--and even got him to smile for the camera. That feat alone should earn her a photography award. They look so adorable in these pictures that you would never even suspect that one of them is The Most Vocal Dog in the Entire World (and if they discover other worlds, I have no doubt that he could qualify for Most Vocal Dog in the Universe), and the other one is the Destroyer of Everything, able to rip apart magazines, shoes, remote controls, etc. in 2 seconds flat.
Ahhh...but we love them. I mean, come on...look at those faces!
Monday, May 11, 2009
weekend wrap-up: symmetry and kid's menus
I'm not certain, but I think I might have broken my right pinky toe Friday night. I crammed it on a chair leg pretty hard--twice (because, you know, once just wasn't quite painful enough), and judging from the swelling and the purple and blue coloring that has spread from the toe onto the right side of my foot, I did a bit of damage. On a positive note, I had broken my left pinky toe back in college, so now both my pinky toes are all wonky, and symmetry has returned to my feet.
On Sunday we had Todd's family over for Mother's Day brunch, and half of our guests were children. I tried to make sure that the menu was pretty kid-friendly--here's a list of what we had:
Cheese plate
Sausage balls
Mini quiches (florentine and lorraine)
Bagel crisps with dill cream cheese and smoked salmon
Bacon, egg and cheese strata
Parmesan potato pancake
Caprese salad
Fruit salad
The sausage balls were a hit--of course, we didn't tell everyone that they were actually soy-sage balls until after they had all been consumed. I expected that the strata would go over much better with the kids than it did, because in my mind, I thought "Bacon. Eggs. Cheese. Bread. What kids don't like those things?" I think in their minds, though, the thought process went more like this: "If that is bacon, eggs, and cheese--why is it square? And why did it come out of a casserole dish? Dude, I know what casseroles are--they are things adults use to hide veggies. I'm sticking to the potatoes and fruit." So, the fruit salad disappeared pretty quickly, but Todd and I will probably be eating on the quiches, smoked salmon, and caprese salad for a few days. And I might need to practice cooking for kids a little more before we have our own. Chicken fingers and fries, anyone?
On Sunday we had Todd's family over for Mother's Day brunch, and half of our guests were children. I tried to make sure that the menu was pretty kid-friendly--here's a list of what we had:
Cheese plate
Sausage balls
Mini quiches (florentine and lorraine)
Bagel crisps with dill cream cheese and smoked salmon
Bacon, egg and cheese strata
Parmesan potato pancake
Caprese salad
Fruit salad
The sausage balls were a hit--of course, we didn't tell everyone that they were actually soy-sage balls until after they had all been consumed. I expected that the strata would go over much better with the kids than it did, because in my mind, I thought "Bacon. Eggs. Cheese. Bread. What kids don't like those things?" I think in their minds, though, the thought process went more like this: "If that is bacon, eggs, and cheese--why is it square? And why did it come out of a casserole dish? Dude, I know what casseroles are--they are things adults use to hide veggies. I'm sticking to the potatoes and fruit." So, the fruit salad disappeared pretty quickly, but Todd and I will probably be eating on the quiches, smoked salmon, and caprese salad for a few days. And I might need to practice cooking for kids a little more before we have our own. Chicken fingers and fries, anyone?
Thursday, May 07, 2009
sunshine of the mind
So I could write yet another blog about the weather...and how rain seems to have become a daily constant. I could talk about how it has gotten to the point where it isn't even good for the plants anymore, because it is drowning the farms. I could say that it is starting to make me SADD, and it gives me yet another reason why 2009 and I aren't friends.
But instead, I am going to try to focus on a couple of positives. Things that make me happy.
1. Electronic hole punches. Ok, not that using a manual hole punch is really all that difficult--unless you have raging carpal tunnel syndrome--but have you used one of these electric ones? I have been assembling multiple reunion planning packets this week, and this gadget has made my life so easy. I can punch perfect holes in 20 pages at once with just my pinky. Pretty powerful. And awesome.
2. Long-term friendships. Today is the birthday of one of my dearest friends. We are now both 32, which means that we have known each other for 20 years...and amazingly, after all that time we still love each other and enjoy each other's company. Most marriages don't even last that long. But even without a binding contract, we have managed to put up with each other's madness. She has seen me through many unfortunate hairstyle choices, some pretty random dating relationships, and a whole lot of laughter and tears. There are far too many inside jokes to even begin a list. But only she understands why fishing lures + eyebrows = funny.
Here's to the little things--and the big things-- that make this life brighter. Even when it won't stop raining.
But instead, I am going to try to focus on a couple of positives. Things that make me happy.
1. Electronic hole punches. Ok, not that using a manual hole punch is really all that difficult--unless you have raging carpal tunnel syndrome--but have you used one of these electric ones? I have been assembling multiple reunion planning packets this week, and this gadget has made my life so easy. I can punch perfect holes in 20 pages at once with just my pinky. Pretty powerful. And awesome.
2. Long-term friendships. Today is the birthday of one of my dearest friends. We are now both 32, which means that we have known each other for 20 years...and amazingly, after all that time we still love each other and enjoy each other's company. Most marriages don't even last that long. But even without a binding contract, we have managed to put up with each other's madness. She has seen me through many unfortunate hairstyle choices, some pretty random dating relationships, and a whole lot of laughter and tears. There are far too many inside jokes to even begin a list. But only she understands why fishing lures + eyebrows = funny.
Here's to the little things--and the big things-- that make this life brighter. Even when it won't stop raining.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Don't panic
So the first case of swine flu was just confirmed in Tennessee.
And it is in Nashville.
And the infected student attended a school right down the street.
And a bunch of students from that school were just on our campus a couple of days ago for an admissions event.
So do you think the Bellevue Wal-mart is sold out of face masks yet?
And it is in Nashville.
And the infected student attended a school right down the street.
And a bunch of students from that school were just on our campus a couple of days ago for an admissions event.
So do you think the Bellevue Wal-mart is sold out of face masks yet?
Monday, April 27, 2009
for love of whimsical things
I was flipping through a coworker's graphic design magazine, and an ad for a website caught my eye.
So I visited allymoon, and I fell in love. I think I want one of everything from the collections.
I might just buy a pocket mirror for my purse, my car, my office, my nightstand, and anywhere else I can think of stashing a tiny mirror. And I don't even like looking at myself that much...although it can be helpful to know when you've got something stuck in your teeth.
So I visited allymoon, and I fell in love. I think I want one of everything from the collections.
I might just buy a pocket mirror for my purse, my car, my office, my nightstand, and anywhere else I can think of stashing a tiny mirror. And I don't even like looking at myself that much...although it can be helpful to know when you've got something stuck in your teeth.
Monday, April 20, 2009
curb your enthusiasm
So last week I blogged about my passion for food, my voracious appetite, and my distaste for dieting.
And now, I may have to eat my words.
You see, I had a humbling experience over the weekend (and by "humbling experience" I actually mean a complete and total meltdown that involved alligator tears, blotchy red cry-face, and clothing being hurled at the mirror), and it made me realize that I'm going to have to cut back a little on my consumption. Or else my clothes closet is going to turn into a non-functional art installation entitled "Smallness that Mocks Me." Of course, Todd's response to my lament was "But isn't it a good thing to get to go out and buy a whole new wardrobe???" Ah, my sweet, sweet husband.
So, starting today, a few things are going to happen.
1. I am going to start exercising much more regularly. I might even invest in this program--I've heard some pretty good reviews.
2. I am going to cut back on my portion sizes.
3. I am going to alter my diet slightly, limiting myself to the following things:
* fruits and vegetables
* fish
* a very small amount of cheese/dairy
* non-gluten grains
And maybe, if I stick to this, it will be safe for the full-length mirror and I to see each other again...
And now, I may have to eat my words.
You see, I had a humbling experience over the weekend (and by "humbling experience" I actually mean a complete and total meltdown that involved alligator tears, blotchy red cry-face, and clothing being hurled at the mirror), and it made me realize that I'm going to have to cut back a little on my consumption. Or else my clothes closet is going to turn into a non-functional art installation entitled "Smallness that Mocks Me." Of course, Todd's response to my lament was "But isn't it a good thing to get to go out and buy a whole new wardrobe???" Ah, my sweet, sweet husband.
So, starting today, a few things are going to happen.
1. I am going to start exercising much more regularly. I might even invest in this program--I've heard some pretty good reviews.
2. I am going to cut back on my portion sizes.
3. I am going to alter my diet slightly, limiting myself to the following things:
* fruits and vegetables
* fish
* a very small amount of cheese/dairy
* non-gluten grains
And maybe, if I stick to this, it will be safe for the full-length mirror and I to see each other again...
Friday, April 03, 2009
hungry
I found a new snack obsession:
Notice that the bag is already half-empty in this picture. That's because I managed to inhale half the bag in the time that it took me to drive from World Market to my house.
I have a problem.
You see, I love food. I love talking about food, reading about food, thinking about food, eating food, shopping for food, cooking food, trying new food...sometimes, I even dream about food. It is truly a wonder that I don't weigh 300 pounds, because I eat ALL THE TIME.
I hear people talk about "forgetting" to eat, and I think "how in the world is that possible?" When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I think about is what I want for breakfast. And by the time I have finished breakfast, it is very likely that I have already planned out my meals and snacks for the remainder of the day.
I also know some people (like my husband) who usually eat just one meal a day and the idea of that hurts me. Seriously, my stomach aches right now just thinking about limiting myself to one solitary food experience per day. That sounds way too close to fasting.
When I go to lunch in the cafeteria, I watch my co-workers dab little bits of cottage cheese on their plates, add a few pieces of lettuce and maybe 2 ounces of chicken, and call it a meal. Meanwhile, I find the biggest container possible and load it up. I don't eat a side salad--I don't even eat a bowl of salad--I eat a mountain of salad. The word "dainty" does not have a place anywhere near my appetite.
Fortunately, my metabolism has been able to keep up with my appetite for most of my life, but it is starting to slow on me. Love handles, muffin-tops, and cellulite have begun to make an appearance on my body, but I refuse to deny myself deliciousness. Diet is a dirty four-letter word in my book.
So if you wonder why I drag myself out of bed at 5:00 in the morning to go to the gym, or why I challenge myself to run half-marathons...well, it's simple. Is it because I love the smell of sweat and spandex in the morning? God no. Is it because I enjoy the way my knees feel like they might explode after 5 miles of jogging? Not so much.
I do it because I LOVE. TO. EAT. But I also quite enjoy having my pants fit. Sigh.
Notice that the bag is already half-empty in this picture. That's because I managed to inhale half the bag in the time that it took me to drive from World Market to my house.
I have a problem.
You see, I love food. I love talking about food, reading about food, thinking about food, eating food, shopping for food, cooking food, trying new food...sometimes, I even dream about food. It is truly a wonder that I don't weigh 300 pounds, because I eat ALL THE TIME.
I hear people talk about "forgetting" to eat, and I think "how in the world is that possible?" When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I think about is what I want for breakfast. And by the time I have finished breakfast, it is very likely that I have already planned out my meals and snacks for the remainder of the day.
I also know some people (like my husband) who usually eat just one meal a day and the idea of that hurts me. Seriously, my stomach aches right now just thinking about limiting myself to one solitary food experience per day. That sounds way too close to fasting.
When I go to lunch in the cafeteria, I watch my co-workers dab little bits of cottage cheese on their plates, add a few pieces of lettuce and maybe 2 ounces of chicken, and call it a meal. Meanwhile, I find the biggest container possible and load it up. I don't eat a side salad--I don't even eat a bowl of salad--I eat a mountain of salad. The word "dainty" does not have a place anywhere near my appetite.
Fortunately, my metabolism has been able to keep up with my appetite for most of my life, but it is starting to slow on me. Love handles, muffin-tops, and cellulite have begun to make an appearance on my body, but I refuse to deny myself deliciousness. Diet is a dirty four-letter word in my book.
So if you wonder why I drag myself out of bed at 5:00 in the morning to go to the gym, or why I challenge myself to run half-marathons...well, it's simple. Is it because I love the smell of sweat and spandex in the morning? God no. Is it because I enjoy the way my knees feel like they might explode after 5 miles of jogging? Not so much.
I do it because I LOVE. TO. EAT. But I also quite enjoy having my pants fit. Sigh.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Did I mention?
I'm pregnant--we're pretty sure it's twins.
We just adopted two cats and a kangaroo.
We sold the house--don't know where we're gonna live.
Todd might take a job in Kalamazoo.
I had a great big steak for lunch.
There was a bomb threat today at school.
I won the lottery--I have a hunch.
Oh, and of course...April Fool!
This was a total rip-off (and a feeble one at that) of Shel Silverstein's piece:
Oh Have You Heard
Oh have you heard it’s time for vaccinations?
I think someone put salt into your tea.
They’re giving us eleven-month vacations.
And Florida has sunk into the sea.
Oh have you heard the President has measles?
The principal has just burned down the school.
Your hair is full of ants and purple weasels—
APRIL FOOL!
We just adopted two cats and a kangaroo.
We sold the house--don't know where we're gonna live.
Todd might take a job in Kalamazoo.
I had a great big steak for lunch.
There was a bomb threat today at school.
I won the lottery--I have a hunch.
Oh, and of course...April Fool!
This was a total rip-off (and a feeble one at that) of Shel Silverstein's piece:
Oh Have You Heard
Oh have you heard it’s time for vaccinations?
I think someone put salt into your tea.
They’re giving us eleven-month vacations.
And Florida has sunk into the sea.
Oh have you heard the President has measles?
The principal has just burned down the school.
Your hair is full of ants and purple weasels—
APRIL FOOL!
Monday, March 23, 2009
whenever I see your smiling face
I smile a lot. It's chronic. I guess you could say that I'm generally a happy person.
I mean, come on, when I've got people like this in my life:
how in the world could I not smile?
You can choose your friends, but you're pretty much stuck with your family. And I have to say that I feel extremely lucky that I'm stuck with a bunch of fun, loving goofballs as relatives...and as friends.
I mean, come on, when I've got people like this in my life:
how in the world could I not smile?
You can choose your friends, but you're pretty much stuck with your family. And I have to say that I feel extremely lucky that I'm stuck with a bunch of fun, loving goofballs as relatives...and as friends.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
because i just might throw a sheep at you
I enjoy Facebook. I really do. It's fun to connect with friends across the country that I may or may not get to see very often, to stay updated on their lives, and to see pictures and videos of their families, trips, etc. It's an uber-easy way to network and stay in touch.
But.
Well, it's just that I don't love the applications. So if you try to send me something and I ignore you, please don't take it personally. The applications that I have allowed to "access my profile" are already starting to annoy me. I mean, I have enough Lil Green Plants to start my own rain forest. Or at least to raise suspicion from any virtual cops that I might be involved in some kind of online illegal growing ring. And then, of course, there's the Flair, which makes me feel like I should be an extra in Office Space--or a part-time server at TGI Friday's.
Maybe I don't like it because I don't understand it...or maybe it's because it seems to take the online virtual realtionship just a bit too far. I mean, if you want to Pass Me a Drink, I'd be happy to meet you down at the Edge or your bar of choice. And if you'd like to Hug me...well, if you're my friend, you probably know where you could find me and launch a full-fledged hug attack. It's just too hard to hug a computer screen.
So, please, feel free to comment on my status or write on my Wall or tag me in a picture (as long as it isn't too incriminating)...but if you want to Poke me or give me a Gift or recruit me to your Cause, just don't get offended when I choose "Ignore".
I promise I'm still your Friend.
But.
Well, it's just that I don't love the applications. So if you try to send me something and I ignore you, please don't take it personally. The applications that I have allowed to "access my profile" are already starting to annoy me. I mean, I have enough Lil Green Plants to start my own rain forest. Or at least to raise suspicion from any virtual cops that I might be involved in some kind of online illegal growing ring. And then, of course, there's the Flair, which makes me feel like I should be an extra in Office Space--or a part-time server at TGI Friday's.
Maybe I don't like it because I don't understand it...or maybe it's because it seems to take the online virtual realtionship just a bit too far. I mean, if you want to Pass Me a Drink, I'd be happy to meet you down at the Edge or your bar of choice. And if you'd like to Hug me...well, if you're my friend, you probably know where you could find me and launch a full-fledged hug attack. It's just too hard to hug a computer screen.
So, please, feel free to comment on my status or write on my Wall or tag me in a picture (as long as it isn't too incriminating)...but if you want to Poke me or give me a Gift or recruit me to your Cause, just don't get offended when I choose "Ignore".
I promise I'm still your Friend.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
moving
So here we are in Tennessee, which most anyone with geographical sense would consider to be in the South, and some might even go so far as to call it the "Deep South."
And yet, it is March 12th, just one day before Spring Break officially begins, and it is 35 degrees cold and sleeting outside. Seriously, I think some schools are even closed.
I can imagine you reading this and saying, "Dear God, is she complaining about the weather AGAIN?"
Why yes, YES I AM. Because I live in TENNESSEE. And my favorite thing about living in the South is not the funny accents or the fried chicken or the insane football fever--it is the lovely, temperate weather. And right now, I am sorely disappointed.
If I have to put on my dog-hair-covered winter coat one more time, I just might scream. And then move to Florida.
And yet, it is March 12th, just one day before Spring Break officially begins, and it is 35 degrees cold and sleeting outside. Seriously, I think some schools are even closed.
I can imagine you reading this and saying, "Dear God, is she complaining about the weather AGAIN?"
Why yes, YES I AM. Because I live in TENNESSEE. And my favorite thing about living in the South is not the funny accents or the fried chicken or the insane football fever--it is the lovely, temperate weather. And right now, I am sorely disappointed.
If I have to put on my dog-hair-covered winter coat one more time, I just might scream. And then move to Florida.
Friday, March 06, 2009
Un-unique, or-- a snowflake, just like everyone else
Out of curiosity, I did a search of my name on Facebook, just to see what would come up. And I discovered that there are no fewer than 75 of me on Facebook. Seventy-four other people with my cognomen...on Facebook alone.
And I remember the days when I couldn't even find my name on a keychain in the giftshop at Cracker Barrel.
And I remember the days when I couldn't even find my name on a keychain in the giftshop at Cracker Barrel.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
underneath
I helped chaperone a sixth grade field trip to the 12th Avenue Mosque today. As I was getting dressed this morning, it didn't occur to me that when you go into a mosque, you have to remove your shoes.
So what was I wearing underneath my tall black boots today?
Yep, Scooby Doo socks. I lost any air of superiority over those kids just as soon as I took off my shoes.
So what was I wearing underneath my tall black boots today?
Yep, Scooby Doo socks. I lost any air of superiority over those kids just as soon as I took off my shoes.
Monday, March 02, 2009
fever
So I was going through the "My Pictures" file on the computer, trying to clean things up a bit, and I came across this photo, taken at one of the many impromptu porch parties from last summer:
When I look at this photo, what immediately jumps out at me?
1. flip-flops and sandals
2. tank tops
3. everything around us is green
Have I mentioned that I AM SO READY FOR SPRING?
Oh, and by the way, it is March 2nd, and there is snow on the ground. "In like a lion", my arse. How about "in like a polar bear"? Sigh.
When I look at this photo, what immediately jumps out at me?
1. flip-flops and sandals
2. tank tops
3. everything around us is green
Have I mentioned that I AM SO READY FOR SPRING?
Oh, and by the way, it is March 2nd, and there is snow on the ground. "In like a lion", my arse. How about "in like a polar bear"? Sigh.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
the twenties
Yes, I know.
On Friday, I promised something that I have not yet delivered. I said that I would post 10 memories from my first decade of life, 10 from the second, and 10 from the third. And what do you see below you? Just 20 memories. And then they stop.
Does that mean that I can't remember much between the ages of 20 and 30? Of course not--those memories should be even more salient to me than the earlier ones (and even though I discovered alcohol in college, I didn't drink THAT much).
It's just that, when I approach the decade of my twenties, there's this period of time that sticks out like a sore thumb. I thought about glossing over it and just picking memories from the early and late twenties, but that 2-3 year stretch in the middle just stares at me like, "uh-uh...no way you can deal with this decade and avoid me." So I continued to sit on those memories from my teens, staring out into my past future, paralyzed.
There were a lot of amazing times in my twenties: the last couple of years at Vandy, a summer of living and working in New York, a backpacking trip through France and Italy, my first job, serving as a volunteer youth leader, working at camps, buying my first home, girls' weekends in Colorado, etc. It would be easy to focus solely on those experiences.
But it also wouldn't seem fair. I could pretend that there were no skeletons in my closet, no demons in my past...but it wouldn't make them go away.
In my twenties, I got married. Perhaps it happened a little too quickly, but I can't use that as an excuse, because I knew full well what marriage meant and what I was committing myself to. But not long after I said I do, I decided in my selfishness that I really didn't. So I checked out. And I treated my husband horribly in the hopes that he would just agree to divorce me.
Remember when I said that divorce isn't ever pretty? Well, it wasn't. And during that period of time, I discovered the absolute ugliest side of me--a side that I never knew existed--a side that I wished couldn't belong to me. When I look back, I think, "Was that really me? That couldn't have been me. That is so not me." And yet it was. I morphed into someone who had absolutely no concern for anyone else's feelings but my own. I lied to everyone, including myself. And I hurt a lot of people. A lot of people who loved me. And a lot of people that I loved.
And now, years later, I recognize that it is past and I can't do anything to change it. I know that God and friends and family have all forgiven me, and I continue to work on forgiving myself. And I know that there will probably be a few people who read this and think, "Good lord, let it GO already. Sheesh." I know. And I try. But at the same time, I think there is an element of that experience that I will carry around with me for the rest of my life. And maybe I should. Maybe those memories should haunt me, so that I remember how far I can fall, and keep me vigil so that I never become that person again.
So there you go. Who knew you were going to get such a raw journal entry for the third installment of my series? I certainly didn't when I started this thing. I promise to keep the next post a little lighter (and not as excruciatingly long as the past few have been).
On Friday, I promised something that I have not yet delivered. I said that I would post 10 memories from my first decade of life, 10 from the second, and 10 from the third. And what do you see below you? Just 20 memories. And then they stop.
Does that mean that I can't remember much between the ages of 20 and 30? Of course not--those memories should be even more salient to me than the earlier ones (and even though I discovered alcohol in college, I didn't drink THAT much).
It's just that, when I approach the decade of my twenties, there's this period of time that sticks out like a sore thumb. I thought about glossing over it and just picking memories from the early and late twenties, but that 2-3 year stretch in the middle just stares at me like, "uh-uh...no way you can deal with this decade and avoid me." So I continued to sit on those memories from my teens, staring out into my past future, paralyzed.
There were a lot of amazing times in my twenties: the last couple of years at Vandy, a summer of living and working in New York, a backpacking trip through France and Italy, my first job, serving as a volunteer youth leader, working at camps, buying my first home, girls' weekends in Colorado, etc. It would be easy to focus solely on those experiences.
But it also wouldn't seem fair. I could pretend that there were no skeletons in my closet, no demons in my past...but it wouldn't make them go away.
In my twenties, I got married. Perhaps it happened a little too quickly, but I can't use that as an excuse, because I knew full well what marriage meant and what I was committing myself to. But not long after I said I do, I decided in my selfishness that I really didn't. So I checked out. And I treated my husband horribly in the hopes that he would just agree to divorce me.
Remember when I said that divorce isn't ever pretty? Well, it wasn't. And during that period of time, I discovered the absolute ugliest side of me--a side that I never knew existed--a side that I wished couldn't belong to me. When I look back, I think, "Was that really me? That couldn't have been me. That is so not me." And yet it was. I morphed into someone who had absolutely no concern for anyone else's feelings but my own. I lied to everyone, including myself. And I hurt a lot of people. A lot of people who loved me. And a lot of people that I loved.
And now, years later, I recognize that it is past and I can't do anything to change it. I know that God and friends and family have all forgiven me, and I continue to work on forgiving myself. And I know that there will probably be a few people who read this and think, "Good lord, let it GO already. Sheesh." I know. And I try. But at the same time, I think there is an element of that experience that I will carry around with me for the rest of my life. And maybe I should. Maybe those memories should haunt me, so that I remember how far I can fall, and keep me vigil so that I never become that person again.
So there you go. Who knew you were going to get such a raw journal entry for the third installment of my series? I certainly didn't when I started this thing. I promise to keep the next post a little lighter (and not as excruciatingly long as the past few have been).
Friday, February 20, 2009
Light the corners of my mind
On to that second decade of life--and what a rich decade it was, with so much material to choose from. The hard part here is going to be narrowing down those memories to a mere ten.
1. My parents divorced when I was ten. I have many vivid memories from that time: the night that the rose-colored glasses shattered, and I suddenly realized that my parents weren't happily married...the first time that I saw my father cry...breaking down into tears in the middle of my 5th grade class as I was trying to process what was happening. I won't go into all of the details that I remember, because, well, divorce isn't pretty. It just never is. (I thought I'd get the heavy one over with first.)
2. I remember being teased mercilessly by other girls in the locker room when I got my first training bra in 7th grade. "Why are you wearing that--you don't need a bra." "Are you just trying to cover up how flat you are?" "You probably just got one 'cause some of us did." Yeah, I think this one falls under the category of "If they could see me now..."
3. I was so happy to change schools after 7th grade. At BBS, I was an enormous nerd. Braces, permed hair, puff-paint t-shirts, awkwardly tall and lanky, teacher's kid. I was the girl that was only "popular" in the sense that everyone else wanted to copy my homework. I was so ready to get out of there, and to have the opportunity to transform myself into someone new.
4. I adored high school. No really, I LOVED it. I know a lot of people who would rather forget their high school experience, but I think of it fondly. I loved the school, I loved the teachers, and I had a phenomenal group of close friends. That's probably more of a fact than a memory--but so many memories from my teenage years are tied to that school and those friends.
5. In my high school biology class, we had to dissect fetal pigs. I remember having to crack open my little baby pig's mouth and break his jaw. This experiment also inspired my first step toward vegetarianism. I would go to the lunchroom after class and see the ham that they were serving, and all I could smell was formaldehyde. No pork products for me after that.
6. I had four wrecks between the ages of 16 and 18. The worst was the last one--a head-on collision that completely totaled my Ford Escort. I had just met a friend at Big River Grille for dinner, and since I wasn't too hungry, I ordered the soft pretzel appetizer as my meal. After the crash, I remember thinking, "Man, that really would have sucked if my last meal on earth had been a couple of pretzels."
7. For one of my birthday parties, we rented out the clubhouse at my dad's apartments and had a big bash. We actually got the cops called on us, because we were having a particularly heated game of "testosterone vs. estrogen" volleyball. Not sure why, but our group of friends did a lot of group activities like that--"testosterone vs. estrogen". Probably because we were dorks.
8. Destin was a very popular vacation destination for Baylor-ites. One one trip (not sure if it was sophomore or senior year), a few of us were really stupid with the sunscreen. Two of my friends positively fried the tops of their feet and could barely wear shoes, and I managed to put sunscreen on my stomach and back, but missed my sides. For almost 4 years, the skin on my sides was darker than the skin on my front and back. It looked like I had a skin disease.
9. My freshman year at Vandy, three of my friends and I drove down to Sewanee for Fall Party Weekend. I realized what a crazy weekend it would be as soon as we walked into the ATO house and saw a parent--not a student-- hanging from the rafters. Lots of other memories from that weekend, but I'll keep those to myself.
10. I got my first tattoo when I was 18, at TJ's Tattoos in Chattanooga. It didn't hurt as much as I expected it to--I equated it to an extended bee sting. My parents had no clue, and I tried to keep it hidden. I succeeded until my mom walked into the bathroom one day when I wasn't completely dressed and spotted it. She said, "You realize that's permanent, right?" And I said, "Yes." And that was that. It went much better than I anticipated.
As I am going back and reading these, I am thinking that I need to go through some of my old albums and see if I can't find some pictures to accompany these memories...
1. My parents divorced when I was ten. I have many vivid memories from that time: the night that the rose-colored glasses shattered, and I suddenly realized that my parents weren't happily married...the first time that I saw my father cry...breaking down into tears in the middle of my 5th grade class as I was trying to process what was happening. I won't go into all of the details that I remember, because, well, divorce isn't pretty. It just never is. (I thought I'd get the heavy one over with first.)
2. I remember being teased mercilessly by other girls in the locker room when I got my first training bra in 7th grade. "Why are you wearing that--you don't need a bra." "Are you just trying to cover up how flat you are?" "You probably just got one 'cause some of us did." Yeah, I think this one falls under the category of "If they could see me now..."
3. I was so happy to change schools after 7th grade. At BBS, I was an enormous nerd. Braces, permed hair, puff-paint t-shirts, awkwardly tall and lanky, teacher's kid. I was the girl that was only "popular" in the sense that everyone else wanted to copy my homework. I was so ready to get out of there, and to have the opportunity to transform myself into someone new.
4. I adored high school. No really, I LOVED it. I know a lot of people who would rather forget their high school experience, but I think of it fondly. I loved the school, I loved the teachers, and I had a phenomenal group of close friends. That's probably more of a fact than a memory--but so many memories from my teenage years are tied to that school and those friends.
5. In my high school biology class, we had to dissect fetal pigs. I remember having to crack open my little baby pig's mouth and break his jaw. This experiment also inspired my first step toward vegetarianism. I would go to the lunchroom after class and see the ham that they were serving, and all I could smell was formaldehyde. No pork products for me after that.
6. I had four wrecks between the ages of 16 and 18. The worst was the last one--a head-on collision that completely totaled my Ford Escort. I had just met a friend at Big River Grille for dinner, and since I wasn't too hungry, I ordered the soft pretzel appetizer as my meal. After the crash, I remember thinking, "Man, that really would have sucked if my last meal on earth had been a couple of pretzels."
7. For one of my birthday parties, we rented out the clubhouse at my dad's apartments and had a big bash. We actually got the cops called on us, because we were having a particularly heated game of "testosterone vs. estrogen" volleyball. Not sure why, but our group of friends did a lot of group activities like that--"testosterone vs. estrogen". Probably because we were dorks.
8. Destin was a very popular vacation destination for Baylor-ites. One one trip (not sure if it was sophomore or senior year), a few of us were really stupid with the sunscreen. Two of my friends positively fried the tops of their feet and could barely wear shoes, and I managed to put sunscreen on my stomach and back, but missed my sides. For almost 4 years, the skin on my sides was darker than the skin on my front and back. It looked like I had a skin disease.
9. My freshman year at Vandy, three of my friends and I drove down to Sewanee for Fall Party Weekend. I realized what a crazy weekend it would be as soon as we walked into the ATO house and saw a parent--not a student-- hanging from the rafters. Lots of other memories from that weekend, but I'll keep those to myself.
10. I got my first tattoo when I was 18, at TJ's Tattoos in Chattanooga. It didn't hurt as much as I expected it to--I equated it to an extended bee sting. My parents had no clue, and I tried to keep it hidden. I succeeded until my mom walked into the bathroom one day when I wasn't completely dressed and spotted it. She said, "You realize that's permanent, right?" And I said, "Yes." And that was that. It went much better than I anticipated.
As I am going back and reading these, I am thinking that I need to go through some of my old albums and see if I can't find some pictures to accompany these memories...
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Thirty-two
I get older on Sunday. I always like saying it that way--as if I'm actually aging an entire year in just one day. It's Saturday, and I'm just 31, and then kabloom! Sunday, I'm 32.
In conjunction with the occasion, I thought I might challenge myself to a little exercise on my blog. Today, I will post ten memories from the first decade of my life, tomorrow, ten from the next decade, and so on. I'll won't think too long and hard on what memories I will share, I'll just list whatever pops into my head...which could be funny, dangerous, or incredibly boring. Let's just start and see what happens...
1. I recall getting my first puppy. I was so freakin' excited, and I remember sitting out by the carport with my dad, trying to think of a name for the bouncy little white ball of fluff. Of course, my ideas all sounded like "Benji" or "Lassie" (I was not the most creative person at the age of four), but we finally settled on Misty. The first thing I taught Misty was to jump up on me whenever I slapped my palms against my thighs. Ironically, now it seems like all I ever do is try to get my dogs not to jump up on me...or on every single person who walks through the front door.
2. From the time that I was two until I was almost five, we lived in a house on Timberlane Trail. I loved the name of the street--it had such a nice ring to it. It also had the same initials that I did.
3. My sister was born when I was four years old. I don't think I really minded sharing my parents with someone else. For the longest time, my parents didn't think that my sister would ever talk, though, because I always did the talking for her.
4. My intestinal issues manifested themselves when I was very young. I remember spending a lot of time in the bathroom with either my mom or my grandmother, just trying to do my duty. Yes, I said "duty." And I totally meant to.
5. I was an avid reader. One time, my Kindergarten teacher had to run to the school office, so she left me in charge and gave me a book to read to the class. I was doing pretty well until I got stumped on the word "engineer," and being the stickler that I was for details, I couldn't just skip the word and move on. So I sat there, stuck. It was mortifying. Especially considering that my dad was a mechanical engineer.
6. I felt slightly redeemed from that experience when I became the school spelling bee champ in 2nd grade.
7. One day while I was watching TV (most likely Laverne & Shirley) and eating an apple, I almost choked on apple peel. When my mom realized that I couldn't breathe, she grabbed me by my ankles, turned me upside down, and shook me until it fell out. I've been very cautious when eating apples since then.
8. I had my first official boyfriend in 2nd grade. His name was Craig, and he was a twin. He was also my first kiss (if you count a quick peck on the lips that happened behind the water fountain on the playground). We actually had to try it twice, because the first time, we moved so quickly that we missed each other. That's what happens when you close your eyes way too early.
9. I loved the Little House on the Prairie book series. I really wanted to be Laura Ingalls and live in her dugout house (from On the Banks of Plum Creek).
10. I experienced my first wreck at my grandmother's house. I was riding down the driveway on a push scooter, and when I hit the part where the driveway met the street, I flipped, went flying over the handlebars, and landed face first on the street. I knocked out a tooth and ended up with a bloody forehead, nose, and chin. I don't think I ever scared my grandmother so much as when I walked through the door with my bloody face.
A random list? Yes. Such is my life. And my thought processes.
For tomorrow: ten from ages 10-20
In conjunction with the occasion, I thought I might challenge myself to a little exercise on my blog. Today, I will post ten memories from the first decade of my life, tomorrow, ten from the next decade, and so on. I'll won't think too long and hard on what memories I will share, I'll just list whatever pops into my head...which could be funny, dangerous, or incredibly boring. Let's just start and see what happens...
1. I recall getting my first puppy. I was so freakin' excited, and I remember sitting out by the carport with my dad, trying to think of a name for the bouncy little white ball of fluff. Of course, my ideas all sounded like "Benji" or "Lassie" (I was not the most creative person at the age of four), but we finally settled on Misty. The first thing I taught Misty was to jump up on me whenever I slapped my palms against my thighs. Ironically, now it seems like all I ever do is try to get my dogs not to jump up on me...or on every single person who walks through the front door.
2. From the time that I was two until I was almost five, we lived in a house on Timberlane Trail. I loved the name of the street--it had such a nice ring to it. It also had the same initials that I did.
3. My sister was born when I was four years old. I don't think I really minded sharing my parents with someone else. For the longest time, my parents didn't think that my sister would ever talk, though, because I always did the talking for her.
4. My intestinal issues manifested themselves when I was very young. I remember spending a lot of time in the bathroom with either my mom or my grandmother, just trying to do my duty. Yes, I said "duty." And I totally meant to.
5. I was an avid reader. One time, my Kindergarten teacher had to run to the school office, so she left me in charge and gave me a book to read to the class. I was doing pretty well until I got stumped on the word "engineer," and being the stickler that I was for details, I couldn't just skip the word and move on. So I sat there, stuck. It was mortifying. Especially considering that my dad was a mechanical engineer.
6. I felt slightly redeemed from that experience when I became the school spelling bee champ in 2nd grade.
7. One day while I was watching TV (most likely Laverne & Shirley) and eating an apple, I almost choked on apple peel. When my mom realized that I couldn't breathe, she grabbed me by my ankles, turned me upside down, and shook me until it fell out. I've been very cautious when eating apples since then.
8. I had my first official boyfriend in 2nd grade. His name was Craig, and he was a twin. He was also my first kiss (if you count a quick peck on the lips that happened behind the water fountain on the playground). We actually had to try it twice, because the first time, we moved so quickly that we missed each other. That's what happens when you close your eyes way too early.
9. I loved the Little House on the Prairie book series. I really wanted to be Laura Ingalls and live in her dugout house (from On the Banks of Plum Creek).
10. I experienced my first wreck at my grandmother's house. I was riding down the driveway on a push scooter, and when I hit the part where the driveway met the street, I flipped, went flying over the handlebars, and landed face first on the street. I knocked out a tooth and ended up with a bloody forehead, nose, and chin. I don't think I ever scared my grandmother so much as when I walked through the door with my bloody face.
A random list? Yes. Such is my life. And my thought processes.
For tomorrow: ten from ages 10-20
Friday, February 13, 2009
my hairy valentine
Considering the state of the economy, I'm guessing that many people are trying to figure out how they can show their love to their significant others on Valentine's Day, without spending $100 on dinner or $50 on roses, etc., etc.
So, what's my suggestion?
Ummm...get creative?
(Just in case you don't know my husband and you aren't very good at spotting obvious photoshop jobs--this is not actually Todd. Todd is much less hairy from the neck up, and much more hairy from the neck down.)
Happy V-Day everyone...and honey, I love your guts.
So, what's my suggestion?
Ummm...get creative?
(Just in case you don't know my husband and you aren't very good at spotting obvious photoshop jobs--this is not actually Todd. Todd is much less hairy from the neck up, and much more hairy from the neck down.)
Happy V-Day everyone...and honey, I love your guts.
Monday, February 09, 2009
2009 continues its malevolent march
Today marked the passing of my aunt, Mrs. Barbara Posey. I wish that I could say that she lived a long and healthy life, but she was only 66 years old, and she spent the last 6 years dealing with dimentia and other after-effects of multiple strokes. She will be sorely missed, although in the midst of the sadness, there is thankfulness that she is no longer suffering.
I don't know why, but when I remember her, I always think of her laughing. I think that she laughed a lot when the whole family got together. Her family was her world.
During these last few years, when her mind wasn't working well, she would often call my mom and have the same conversation, every time. She wanted to go to Hawaii. She was terrified of flying, but she didn't care. She wanted to go to Hawaii, and she wanted to take mom with her.
So, Aunt Barbara, for you, I hope that heaven looks a whole lot like Hawaii.
Much love to you, and may you rest in peace.
I don't know why, but when I remember her, I always think of her laughing. I think that she laughed a lot when the whole family got together. Her family was her world.
During these last few years, when her mind wasn't working well, she would often call my mom and have the same conversation, every time. She wanted to go to Hawaii. She was terrified of flying, but she didn't care. She wanted to go to Hawaii, and she wanted to take mom with her.
So, Aunt Barbara, for you, I hope that heaven looks a whole lot like Hawaii.
Much love to you, and may you rest in peace.
Monday, February 02, 2009
A letter to 2009
Dear 2009,
I think we have started off on the wrong foot. Let's just say that if January was your way of introducing yourself, then you seriously need to work on making a better entrance. Perhaps you should swing by Borders and pick up a book on how to win friends and influence people, because frankly, your first impression stinks.
I realize that we have only known each other for a month now, so I am trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, and I hope that we can work this out and become friends. But let me be honest and say that, based on my feelings right now, I'd rather just go ahead and trade you in for 2010 and pretend that you never existed.
So, howzabout you lighten up a little bit, stop coming on so strong with all of the negativity, and let's see where this can go. I'm trying to be hopeful, so don't ruin it with February. Please.
Thanks,
TT
I think we have started off on the wrong foot. Let's just say that if January was your way of introducing yourself, then you seriously need to work on making a better entrance. Perhaps you should swing by Borders and pick up a book on how to win friends and influence people, because frankly, your first impression stinks.
I realize that we have only known each other for a month now, so I am trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, and I hope that we can work this out and become friends. But let me be honest and say that, based on my feelings right now, I'd rather just go ahead and trade you in for 2010 and pretend that you never existed.
So, howzabout you lighten up a little bit, stop coming on so strong with all of the negativity, and let's see where this can go. I'm trying to be hopeful, so don't ruin it with February. Please.
Thanks,
TT
Friday, January 30, 2009
How to Age Four Years in One Day
I was asked by a former colleague of mine at another independent school to visit her Print Journalism class today as a guest lecturer. I was pretty excited about it, because I thoroughly enjoyed my one shining year as a Latin teacher, and I had not been in a classroom since then. One of the fun things about being a teacher is that you become a student, too, as you are constantly studying and preparing for your lessons and trying to find new information that you can share. I felt like I was back in my element last night as I was reading articles with my highlighter poised over the pages, rehearsing in my head some of the points that I wanted to cover in my presentation.
So as students were wandering into the class today, I noticed a familiar face, and my colleague asked me, "Do you remember Reed?" Oh my goodness--it was one of my former Latin students. How exciting! So I responded, "Of course, yes! Reed, how are you? What year are you now?" And, about the same time that I noticed he was about 3 feet taller than I remembered him, he said, "I'm a senior."
Um, okay...when I taught him in Latin I, he was in 8TH GRADE. And I promise that could not have been 4 years ago. Really, it couldn't be. Could it? He was just in junior high, and now he's headed off to college? It doesn't seem right.
This is why I do not have children--CHILDREN MAKE YOU AGE MORE QUICKLY. I swear it's true.
Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go drink some Geritol and take a nap...
So as students were wandering into the class today, I noticed a familiar face, and my colleague asked me, "Do you remember Reed?" Oh my goodness--it was one of my former Latin students. How exciting! So I responded, "Of course, yes! Reed, how are you? What year are you now?" And, about the same time that I noticed he was about 3 feet taller than I remembered him, he said, "I'm a senior."
Um, okay...when I taught him in Latin I, he was in 8TH GRADE. And I promise that could not have been 4 years ago. Really, it couldn't be. Could it? He was just in junior high, and now he's headed off to college? It doesn't seem right.
This is why I do not have children--CHILDREN MAKE YOU AGE MORE QUICKLY. I swear it's true.
Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go drink some Geritol and take a nap...
Friday, January 23, 2009
January 19-23
I am still processing this past week.
Usually, a week comes and goes without much thought. There's a routine that happens: work, home, friends, tv, sleep, eat, etc. Nothing too complicated. But last week was different.
Politically, it was an incredible week. Obama was officially sworn in as our president, and he hit the ground running, proving in his first few days of office that he meant business. Then, Nashville demonstrated our welcoming and progressive spirit by voting against the English-only proposition and letting Mr. Crafton know that if he wants his way, he'll just have to move to a small town somewhere in Mississippi to get it.
But outside of the political realm, last week felt anything but victorious. Things happened that shook my soul, and I feel like my perspective has been permanently altered. I still don't know that I have the words to explain exactly what shift has occurred, I just feel it. There is sadness--lots of sadness--concern, confusion, fear, disappointment, hurt, and helplessness.
Helplessness is the hardest. I know that, in some circumstances, all you can do is just "be there" for people. But just being there is hard for me. I want to do. I want to fix. I want to heal. I want to make better. But sometimes better is not mine to make. So I just have to be.
And so I'm here. And I hope. And I think. And I pray. I pray, pray, pray. For the best.
Or, at least, for better.
Usually, a week comes and goes without much thought. There's a routine that happens: work, home, friends, tv, sleep, eat, etc. Nothing too complicated. But last week was different.
Politically, it was an incredible week. Obama was officially sworn in as our president, and he hit the ground running, proving in his first few days of office that he meant business. Then, Nashville demonstrated our welcoming and progressive spirit by voting against the English-only proposition and letting Mr. Crafton know that if he wants his way, he'll just have to move to a small town somewhere in Mississippi to get it.
But outside of the political realm, last week felt anything but victorious. Things happened that shook my soul, and I feel like my perspective has been permanently altered. I still don't know that I have the words to explain exactly what shift has occurred, I just feel it. There is sadness--lots of sadness--concern, confusion, fear, disappointment, hurt, and helplessness.
Helplessness is the hardest. I know that, in some circumstances, all you can do is just "be there" for people. But just being there is hard for me. I want to do. I want to fix. I want to heal. I want to make better. But sometimes better is not mine to make. So I just have to be.
And so I'm here. And I hope. And I think. And I pray. I pray, pray, pray. For the best.
Or, at least, for better.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
1.20.09
Contents of the day so far: a few tears, lots of goosebumps, applause, and a swell of hope and pride for my country.
Text of Obama's inaugural address.
Those words are better than any words I could share today.
Text of Obama's inaugural address.
Those words are better than any words I could share today.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
report card
Since it is January 1st once again, I thought it would be a good time to check in on those New Year's resolutions from last year and see how well I did. Most of the time, by December 31st, I can't even remember what my new year's resolutions were (half of them are forgotten by June), but fortunately, a blog is a good record-keeping device, so I went back to January 2008 and found my original list.
My New Year's resolutions for 2008 were:
a) To live a lower-carb lifestyle
b) To read more
c) To do better on saving money (and specifically, to pay off my school loans--finally!)
e) To get back involved with a church (I was quite a slacker on church attendance in 2007)
f) To exercise at least 3-4 times a week
g) To do one new service project every month
Now, for the grading:
a) Lower carb lifestyle--This lasted until, oh, February, when I started training for the half-marathon and realized that carbs were my friends, not my enemies. 2008 was filled with much bread, pasta, potatoes, and so many other foods that make life delicious--so I'll have to give myself an F on this one. But, oh, what a sweet F it is. I think I'll take that F, dip it in chocolate and eat it. For breakfast.
b) Read more--Does Domino magazine count? I don't know that I actually read more in 2008...I probably read about the same amount as I did in 2007. But I did buy a whole lot of books on Amazon that are sitting there just waiting to be read, so this one can carry over to 2009. I'll be kind and give myself a D.
c) Saving money--I actually did add to my savings this year, although that is quickly dwindling with the whole selling-and-buying-a-new-house project. However, I did pay off all of my school loans, which is a HUGE accomplishment (that I have been working on for the past 9 years), so I'm gonna give myself an A on this one. And a big fat WOO-HOO!
e) Churchgoing--I'm a heathen. Why is it so hard to get up and get dressed at a decent hour on Sunday morning? I was a part of a women's bible study for most of the year, and I have done my own devotionals, but I was just about as bad as a C&E Christian as far as churchgoing went. I'll have to give myself a very guilty D- on this one. Thank goodness God doesn't grade like I do.
f) Exercising--Although I didn't always make it 3-4 times a week, I think I did pretty well on this one. Between training for the half-marathon and leading a boot camp, I think I exercised my little fanny off. Well, not completely, but at least it didn't get any bigger, and that's good enough for me. A-.
g) Service projects--I actually stuck with this one pretty well, even during the busy times...until November and December hit. I cooked lunch for the homeless, bowled with the United Cerebral Palsy group, made care packages for people living with AIDS, helped build a house with Habitat, volunteered with the Light the Night Walk, and quite a few other things. As I suspected, this turned out to be my favorite resolution to keep, and I highly recommend it for others. Since I missed November and December, I'll have to take a couple of points off, so we'll go with a B+. And I think this one will be a carry-over for 2009.
All in all, not too shabby, especially when compared to my success at keeping resolutions in the past.So now, I just have to come up with the list for 2009. Any suggestions?
My New Year's resolutions for 2008 were:
a) To live a lower-carb lifestyle
b) To read more
c) To do better on saving money (and specifically, to pay off my school loans--finally!)
e) To get back involved with a church (I was quite a slacker on church attendance in 2007)
f) To exercise at least 3-4 times a week
g) To do one new service project every month
Now, for the grading:
a) Lower carb lifestyle--This lasted until, oh, February, when I started training for the half-marathon and realized that carbs were my friends, not my enemies. 2008 was filled with much bread, pasta, potatoes, and so many other foods that make life delicious--so I'll have to give myself an F on this one. But, oh, what a sweet F it is. I think I'll take that F, dip it in chocolate and eat it. For breakfast.
b) Read more--Does Domino magazine count? I don't know that I actually read more in 2008...I probably read about the same amount as I did in 2007. But I did buy a whole lot of books on Amazon that are sitting there just waiting to be read, so this one can carry over to 2009. I'll be kind and give myself a D.
c) Saving money--I actually did add to my savings this year, although that is quickly dwindling with the whole selling-and-buying-a-new-house project. However, I did pay off all of my school loans, which is a HUGE accomplishment (that I have been working on for the past 9 years), so I'm gonna give myself an A on this one. And a big fat WOO-HOO!
e) Churchgoing--I'm a heathen. Why is it so hard to get up and get dressed at a decent hour on Sunday morning? I was a part of a women's bible study for most of the year, and I have done my own devotionals, but I was just about as bad as a C&E Christian as far as churchgoing went. I'll have to give myself a very guilty D- on this one. Thank goodness God doesn't grade like I do.
f) Exercising--Although I didn't always make it 3-4 times a week, I think I did pretty well on this one. Between training for the half-marathon and leading a boot camp, I think I exercised my little fanny off. Well, not completely, but at least it didn't get any bigger, and that's good enough for me. A-.
g) Service projects--I actually stuck with this one pretty well, even during the busy times...until November and December hit. I cooked lunch for the homeless, bowled with the United Cerebral Palsy group, made care packages for people living with AIDS, helped build a house with Habitat, volunteered with the Light the Night Walk, and quite a few other things. As I suspected, this turned out to be my favorite resolution to keep, and I highly recommend it for others. Since I missed November and December, I'll have to take a couple of points off, so we'll go with a B+. And I think this one will be a carry-over for 2009.
All in all, not too shabby, especially when compared to my success at keeping resolutions in the past.So now, I just have to come up with the list for 2009. Any suggestions?
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