sea change

Was it really November when I last posted? Goodness. I could probably be charged with blog-neglect. Well, it's a new year with new beginnings, so let's just start fresh, shall we?

For a while now, my dad has been encouraging me to read the book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. I added it to the already long list of "Books other people have recommended to me," figuring that I would get to it eventually. Eventually finally arrived about a month ago, when I was on a Costco trip with a friend, and I noticed the book in a pile on one of the book tables. We both ended up buying a copy, and I finally cracked open the cover a couple of weeks ago and began reading.

And I was instantly addicted.

By "addicted", I don't mean that I found it to be an enthralling page-turner that I couldn't put down, or that I read it straight through in a matter of hours. Instead, I became addicted to the idea of the book--the philosophy that the book is based on. If you haven't heard about AVM yet, here's a synopsis: Kingsolver and her family (husband and two girls) move from Tuscon, Arizona to a farmhouse in Virginia. For one year, they vow that they will only eat food that they have grown or that has been produced locally, and the book is largely a memoir of their experience.

Now, I have always considered myself more of a city girl than a country girl, and I tend to cringe when people talk about buying land and moving out into the country. The idea of a house and land in the middle of nowhere has never been particularly appealing to me.

Until now.

After reading AVM, I want to live on a farm. I want to grow all of my own vegetables, bake my own bread, make my own cheeses. I want to know the people that are responsible for the food I eat. I want to be friends with a dairy farmer and meet the cows that are producing the milk I use. I basically want to fall off the grid of corporate food culture.

Off course, it is doubtful that Todd and I will be uprooting and moving to a farm anytime soon, but I can now see it as a possibility--even a desirable possibility--for the future. And in the meantime, I am going to plant a garden in the backyard this spring, buy more produce from the farmer's market, and stop relying on Kroger for the food I put into my body.

And I'm also going to start making my own cheese, beginning with mozzarella. I'll let you know how it goes...

counting

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.

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?

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.

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...

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.

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...

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.

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.

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!

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?

progress

Look! We have walls...



And then, there was tile...


Progress makes my heart happy.

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.

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...

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.

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

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.

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.

e. coli party in my belly

I think this is my sign to stop eating grocery store sushi.

Ugh.

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.

Lord have mercy

Video Recaps | Full Episodes | Webisodes

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.

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.