The Old is New Again...

In an effort to reduce wasteful spending, I've been shoping in my closet, as of late. Most of the time, around this time of year, I'm all about taking myself to my favorite stores (online or actual stores) and treating myself to some new "school" clothes. And since I work in a school... its more than appropriate.


This year, however, I've been less than thrilled with the idea of purchasing a lot of pieces that within a few weeks of wearing I'll be sick of and complaining to the Hubster, "I have nothing to wear!" (Which he hates, by the way).


"How can you have nothing to wear" he'll say as he points out that I have 3 full closets stuffed with perfectly good clothes.

There he goes, being all practical again.

But the sad truth is--he's right. I do have a ton of clothes... a ton of clothes that don't get worn much before I'm out of love and looking for the next best thing. So this year I'm changing my cheating ways and looking to fall back in love with my old wardrobe.

This year I did purchase a few new items for "school" that I plan to incorporate into my daily dress and build upon. I'm going to try to create "new" outfits from what I have and add in inexpensive items when needed. I can't say I'm not going to buy anything new from now on-- I already have. But the things I plan to buy, hopefully, will be investment type pieces that will last for many years to come.

I'm finding outfit building challenging and it's even sort of fun. Maybe not as thrilling as purchasing a brand new something-or-other at the mall, but it's satisfying in the sense that I'm finding a new way to wear an old thing.

If I get good at this mixing old with new (sort of like my interior decorating style), I'll share some photos. Until then, I'll keep on experimenting.

Bless My Heart Monday...

It's just been one of those days. This morning I woke up, tired and later than I would have liked-- not that I was running behind or anything-- I had just decided that I needed to get up at 6:30am (at the latest 6:45) and at 5 till 7 I was just peeling myself off the bedsheets and heading for the shower.

I forgot to condition my hair, which normally isn't a big deal, but I purposely didn't condition my hair on Sunday, so today I walked around with blunt ends. To top matters off in the hair department-- I must of not used enough hair spray because my bangs that I normally sweep to one side kept falling in my eyes. Unfortunately I didn't discover this lack-of-hairspray problem until I was pulling into work. Oh and did I mention that we live in a greenhouse down here? No, not lately, well it was like a Satan's-little-greenhouse-humid all day long--even inside the school house-- which didn't help the hair situation either.

I had to help with a presentation first thing this morning. I had a very small part in the whole production. I was asked to explain the Problem-Solving Process-- a common-sensical-type-chart. Of the 120 or so teachers that were held captive in the "gym-a-cafe-torium" about 3 of them listened to me. Teachers are the worst audience.

By 2:00 I was searching my pocket book (which is more like a piece of luggage) for a bobby pin to pin up my falling bangs. What I discovered was a busted pack of Bojangles's Dijon Honey Mustard Sauce-- yeah, it was gross-- and yeah, I was saving that stuff (which is sad and so Depression Era of me). After cleaning up that mess and throwing away my collection of receipts to Target and Food Lion along with a fairly nice travel manicure set, I still had no bobby pin. But who needs a bobby pin when you work in a school with tons of paper clips!

Yup, I fastened one large silver paper clip on top of my head to hold back the unruly bangs. No body was going to see me, because I was just working in my office. (Although when I decided to go to the bathroom, our receptionist's daughter gave me a very strange look-- oh well).

Oh well indeed... about that time I was called in to help with some school records where I gathered more strange looks from a couple of families trying to enroll their students for the new school year... (I could almost hear them saying, "they really need to start paying teachers more")

But soon it was time to come home. I found my way to the couch, turned on the Young and the Restless and opened my new Vogue-- the September Issue which is ultra thick and ultra fabulous. Unfortunately I just woke up, under the Vogue-- barely half-way through. Oh well, for another afternoon I suppose.

It's time to start cooking a frozen pizza for supper. Not what I'd call 5 star dining, and even though I love to cook, considering my day, I'd be better off just sicking to reheating than actually cooking.

Let's hope tomorrow is less of a Bless Your Heart kind of day.

Anybody Got Some Extra Gopher Wood...

At this very moment I'm supposed to be at a "Living History" program at the local Civil War Battleground Historic Site. But it has decided to rain-- and rain very hard with thunder and such. My UDC chapter is helping out at the site today-- answering questions, selling a few items, and passing out itineraries to the confused tourists wanting to know what time the cannon is being fired. Only in the South can you see fully grown men, dressed in wool Confederate Army uniforms in the dead of summer firing off cannons.

I'm not particularly upset that I'm not out there-- it is nearly 100 degrees and as humid as a greenhouse. As soon as I set foot outside my makeup starts to run and I start looking like I'm melting. Seriously, it's like I'm made out of wax or something.

But just as I was about to walk out the door and head for the Site, it started to fall a flood and so I've decided to just sit my butt at home and wait for this to pass.

This summer it has rained so much I'm starting to wonder if I need to build an Ark. Yet according to the drought meter the State of North Carolina is using, my county is experiencing abnormally dry conditions. I'm not so sure something isn't wrong with the meter. If this is dry-- then what does normal look like?

In our backyard we have a sweet little creek-- almost a branch-- that flows through to a pond on the edge of the property. Most of the time our sweet little creek is less than two feet across and no deeper than a foot or so. At this very moment our creek is about 8 foot across and is coming dangerously close to Buddy's (our bulldog) home.

The good news is the storm seems to be slacking up and the water level will fall. The bad news is I think I have to go to the Battleground now to see some sweaty men in wool uniforms.

The South may rise again, but chances are the stink will come first as a warning.

My New Post is in July...

For my new post click here.
I started it back in July and just got around to finishing it.

Stress Free By Design...

When people find out I work with children, most people sort of smile and some even comment on how rewarding my job must be. The truth is, my job is rewarding, but being a school counselor is pretty stressful and stress is not my favorite thing to deal with.

To keep my stress level low I engage in a couple of things. Every six weeks I get a very relaxing and much needed facial. When I get stressed my face tends to breakout and unfortunately I was born with naturally large pores (I think-- my facialist says they aren't that bad) that tend to get clogged so not only does the facial help to clear my skin, it also helps minimize my larger-than-I-would-like pores. Besides facials, I shop for shoes, handbags, wallets, clothing, accessories, as well as home products on a pretty regular basis. I find the art of buying almost as cathartic as writing this blog. But the most effective defense against stress is creating.

Recently I started doing a little interior decorating and consulting for hire. I'm told I have an eye for it. I've always loved to paint, color, draw and for a while now one of my favorite things to do is put together rooms.

It's rather thrilling and I hope it turns into more jobs. Currently I am just helping a client with color choices and accessories. I like to build on what a person already has in place and capitalize on their established style-- not my own personal taste. And let's face it, in this economy people do not have the money to be throwing around on trendy items and furniture or things they don't really love. My goal is for the client to walk away happy with their taste and style represented in their spaces.

So I'm probably going to be keeping my day job (I come cheap right now)... but at least I have an outlet that will keep me balanced and happy. And balanced and happy is very important... after all I work with the emotional health of children!

Call of the Wild...

I've mentioned that I live in the country... right? No, but you figured as much. Well, it's true. I live basically in a very cozy middle of nowhere kind of place way out in the country. And in my middle of nowhere kind of home I generally encounter wildlife of various shapes and sizes throughout the day.

Each morning from my bathroom window, while drying my hair, I can peer out at a pair of Cardinals or watch a Fox Squirrel (the Cadillac of the Squirrel World) forage for food and basically enjoy nature, just as I would prefer--from a distance.

Now, I'm no nature girl, but I do care deeply for our environment and her critters. And even though, at this very moment, I'm sipping a sweet tea from McDonald's which comes in a huge Styrofoam cup, I try to do whatever I can for our planet-- unless it means not drinking McDonald's sweet tea which would truly be unthinkable (relax, sometimes I reuse the cup).

But seriously, I encounter nature's creatures on a regular basis, even if I'm not out seeking them. For instance this morning I watched a tiny flock of sparrows hunting up some breakfast under our Magnolia tree while brushing my teeth, which was nice.


Yet, all my encounters are not so sweet and Disney-like. Six months into being 16 I was hit by a deer on my way home one night. The deer basically committed suicide on the hood of my car. Luckily no one was hurt, except for the deer and the radiator in my brand new car. The insurance company said it was an "Act of God." Since that incident I have hit several more animals-- a puppy, a pair of black cats, a couple of snakes, a possum, and a raccoon-- oh, almost forgot--a goat (a story for another time). Generally these animals have ran out in front of my car and it was either run them over or wreck.

Again, I love animals and I never purposely try to hurt them. Well, some of the snakes I purposely ran over-- but snakes don't really count do they?

Now, the animals that I have ran over on my car (the same car that hit the deer-- a bright red Honda Civic that gets wonderful gas mileage and has another 100,000 miles to go) seem pretty normal. I feel like most people around here have probably hit a dog or a cat. Most would say that they have had an encounter with a raccoon or possum at some point, possibly a deer. I dare say that most people I know from my community would also admit that they have crossed the yellow line a time or two or three to kill a snake. But I don't know that many of them could say they've had an encounter with a Herring.

The other day, while coming home from the grocery store I hit a Herring-- or the Herring hit me. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but I noticed the huge, long-legged bird on the shoulder of the road. I remember seeing the bird and cringing just a little-- long-legged birds freak me out for some reason (Emperor Penguins also scare the mess out of me--did you know they grow to be 4 foot tall? That's as big as a Kindergarten student). I remember looking at the bird and judging that it was a good six feet or more from my car and completely out of danger. And then I remember screaming as a dirty brown colored wing draped over the windshield of my little red car followed by the unmistakable sound of an animal hitting metal.

The Herring, which is normally notorious for standing at the edge of ponds or bodies of water very still stalking prey (it appeared that this Herring was stalking something in the ditch beside the road), evidently it decided that he or she was in grave danger and decided to fly from the threat of my car, except he miscalculated and hit my car.

I looked back in my rear-view mirror just in time to see a huge brown blob falling onto the side of the road. If I hadn't been terrified of the animal, I might have turned around to see if I could be of assistance, but since I can't stand the thought of being near it's long stick legs, I had to keep on driving.

I feel terrible about the whole incident and I'm starting to wonder if nature sees me as it's Dr. Death. You know, about 4 months ago a bunch of wild rabbits jumped out in front of my car and I about flipped my car over trying not to hit them. You reckon they were suicidal too?

All boiled down-- I expect to hit four legged animals from time to time. However, I never thought I'd hit a huge flying bird.

Just Call Me Angry in the Morning...

Is it normal to wake up in the morning and be completely & totally angry that one has to get up and get out of bed? I hope so. Today was my second day back at work, which means I have to get up early, yet again. All summer long, I leisurely awoke when I got good and ready unless the Hubbster decided to wake up in pain (still no Kidney Stone passage as of this afternoon). And now, all of a sudden, I'm back waking up violently to the sound of my cell phone's alarm clock and incredibly angry.


Am I angry at my job? Goodness no, after all I'm only on day two of 215. Am I angry that I didn't have the good fortune to marry Prince William like I always said I would back in 6th grade? Nope, he turned out to be less good looking than I thought he would-- and who wants all that family drama anyway? Am I angry that I can't do what I want anymore, at least for a while? Probably so... sounds right.


I hate to admit it, but really, if I had my way, I'd never work another day in my life if it meant getting up before 9:00am. But my job is to work with children and working with children means getting up really, really early and forcing a smile even when you're really, really angry that you had to get out of bed.

Now I realize that I'm blessed to have a job and able to work every day. I know plenty of people that are sick and/or afflicted that would give their eye teeth to just be able to get out of bed and do an honest days work. That being said, knowing how fortunate and lucky I am to be able bodied, I still get a little jealous when I think about all those wonderfully rested retired people that get to do basically whatever they feel like all day long.

The good news about my early morning anger-- it quickly erodes into acceptance. Acceptance of the fact that if I want a new car and the dream house, I've got to get my bony butt out of the cozy warmth that is my bed, and get in the shower and start my day.

So start my day I did, in anger, which melted into acceptance. Tomorrow I probably will do the same.

Jammed-packed with Summery Goodness...

When I was younger-- like elementary school younger-- I used to hate the start of the school year and I swore that when I was older-- like I am now-- that I'd never work in a school for that very reason. But as my father used to tell me, "don't say what you won't do," I somehow ended up working in a school. I'm a school counselor, which is a pretty awesome job, in my opinion, and even though it can be very stressful and often very sad, I find it rewarding.

The thing I don't like about the job, however, is the start back to school (imagine that). Every year I find myself just days away from the start of the school year, as I am now, and a little panicked because I want to make sure I jam-pack those last few days with as much summery goodness that I can.

On Monday I spent the day with my mom, my granny, and my sister. The whole day was pretty nice and resulted in an impromptu trip to Target for a blender (my sister is drinking these Herbal milkshakes in an attempt to lose some weight she put on). Yesterday (Tuesday) I was planning on getting a beautiful back-to-the-grind hairstyle and highlights, but Hubby got the Stones (refer to previous post) and that was shot to hell. Although, after the ER and all that goodness, we did get to have a nice lunch at BoJangles (I'd marry those chicken biscuits if I wasn't married already). And I did manage to paint a new pot for my dying house plant so it could have a new home, that maybe he'd like better.

At the start of my summer vacation I had vowed to do a lot of jobs around the house as well as work on some projects that I'd put to the wayside (like re-potting my sickly houseplant). I had good intentions but I've always heard that the road to somewhere very hot was paved with them... so somehow all those jobs I vowed I'd do, I'm doing today-- my next to last day of summery fun.

Today, after sleeping late for the next to the last time this summer, I typed up all the minutes from my United Daughters of the Confederacy (we are not a hate group) meetings from this past year. It was a bigger job than I thought (took almost all day) and something I should have done a long, long time ago. With that behind me I have now successfully re-potted the dying house plant (see above picture) and I'm hoping that he doesn't feel too sickly because I had to remove a whole bunch of root-bound roots. Today I also found the time to clean up all the stemware that I display on the above-the-sink-shelves, after all glass should be see-through, not cloudy from dust and atmospheric cooking grease.

For tomorrow I'm planning on visiting the grocery store, something I don't do nearly enough, and I have to run into work to have a last minute meeting with my Principal. If there is enough time after all that running around, I'm thinking of tackling the shower that I've not touched in 3 weeks. Later that evening my dear friend is coming over to discuss my granny's medication (she's a pharmacist) and her upcoming lingerie shower I'm throwing her in the Fall.

How's that for summery goodness? Okay, so it's not laying in the Sun or taking a road trip down I-40 to the beach... but it will have to do. I don't lay out anyway.

No, but the Suspence is Killing Me...

This morning I was rocketed awake by the lights of my bedroom being violently flicked on at 6:30am. Most mornings, even the mornings where I don't have to get up early, like this particular morning, I'm generally not that annoyed by being jolted awake because there is nothing better that going back to sleep after a brief interruption. I was preparing myself to fall into that wonderful deep sleep when my poor husband announced that he was sick.

Apparently he was jolted awake at 5:00am because nature was calling and after passing blood in his urine and then continually feeling the urge to go, but with no results, decided that at 6:30am, he should tell somebody before he left for work.

I immediately sprang into action, firing up our Dell to hit up the symptom checker on WebMD.com. "You've got a bladder infection" I told him, almost giddy at the thoughts of being an Internet doctor.

I once had a bladder infection, back in high school. It was the sickest I've ever felt; constantly having to pee, yet it hurt like hell to force out the liquid and on top of that feeling like you're going to vomit at any moment. But Husband was in no pain and with that instructed me to locate a doctor (as he doesn't go to the doctor, ever) and he would try to go this afternoon. Little did he know that in a matter of sheer minutes, he would be telling a different story.

Like a good wife, I found the number to the local medical practice in town that he had mentioned wanting to go. I had written said number on a purple post-it note and carried myself and the note back to bed. The office didn't open until 8 o'clock and since Husband was feeling fine, no big deal right? I set an alarm and began to try to sleep.

Not five minutes into my sleep I get a call from Husband, a little more panicked, reminding me to make an appointment. Five minutes after that I get another call from Husband instructing me to get out of bed because "we are going somewhere, I don't care where, but get the hell up-- I think I might have Kidney Stones." With that I sprung into action, again.

Now, it must be said, my husband lives in fear of Kidney Stones like I live in fear of Hemorrhoids (I capitalize their names out of respect). My husband's father is a long time sufferer of KS and the pain has been so horrific that at times, my father-in-law has been reduced to a weeping puddle of nerves laying on the floor riving around in agony. The horror stories he can tell about these little renal rocks send shivers down the spine of any man I know. I understand and respect my husband's fear of these little pee pebbles because for as long as I can remember the chronic illness at my home has been the Hemorrhoid (or as my father described it to me once: "it feels like you have this thumb on the outside of your ass hole"-- enough said, I don't want 'em).

So I'm springing into action-- I'm reading myself as quickly as possible. I make a quick call to my mom to ask where the closest Urgent Care's happen to be in each surrounding town/city. Husband busts through the door, riving around in pain and pale as a ghost. He quickly dashes into the bathroom for a quick shower, as he was covered in dirt (from laying on the ground and rolling around during the attack) and sweat (from the sudden and unexpected pain). Within minutes we are in my sad little car heading for the nearest help.

The pain is bad enough that we decide to just go straight to the local emergency room at the nearest "hospital" (more like Band-aid station). I hate hospitals and I especially hate emergency rooms-- especially this one. The floor is dirty and there are sick people everywhere. I'm generally not a germ-a-phobe but suddenly I'm very aware that Swine Flu is making a huge comeback in our area and I start profiling the people all around us. I start listening carefully for any tidbits of their private conversations to see if they might be caring the dreaded virus. I suddenly feel stupid for wearing Jack Rogers sandals-- Hubby had on flip-flops-- we were practically barefoot just centimeters away from dirty, germy hospital floor.

Hubby's pain was much, much better once we got to the ER. His color started to return, but since we were already contaminated with ER germs, we decided to just stay-- and if the pain was to return the doctor's office would send us right back to the ER anyway. About 45 minutes of waiting, more like watching the other patients, especially the suspicious man with the medical mask, we were called back. It was just like ER (the TV show) but dirty. My husband was directed to lay on a bed that was curtained off from the other moaning patients. A young Yankee doctor came by and told him what to expect.

Long, long story short. Hubby has a 2 to 3 mm stone just above his bladder that he will have to pass. Apparently Kidney Stone's only hurt when they move, so until this little rock decides to travel towards the light, Hubby probably will feel just fine. They told him to drink plenty of liquids, gave him prescriptions for pain killers and antibiotics and sent him on his way.

We now are waiting for the renal rock to make its self known. And as Kramer (from Seinfield) said when asked if he had passed his stone, "no, but the suspense is killing me"-- we completely understand where he is coming from.

Don't Mess with Me...

We are back from vacation... just in time for work to get back started. My first day of the 2009-2010 school year starts on Friday. Surprisingly enough, I'm pretty numb to the idea of it. Normally by this juncture in my 8 week hiatus from work, I'm a complete wreck mourning the loss of my mornings in bed and watching bad TV for the majority of the day. But since I've been praying for my Y&R buddies as of late-- I think it's time for some structure (wouldn't you say so?)

Our vacations were interestingly dull, to say the least, except for the attempt against my life. The first few days were spent in South Carolina at Myrtle Beach with my in-laws and the last few days were spent in Atlantic Beach, North Carolina with my whole family (my uncle rents a beach house for a week each summer). Generally, the two trips do not fall within the same week, yet somehow, they did this time. I'm not complaining. Actually, it turned out for the best.

The first leg of the trip-- I found it to be a tad bit annoying. Myrtle Beach is a huge place with thousands of places to shop, millions of shows to watch, and most importantly, billions of unique restaurants to frequent. Yet, because of all these entertainment opportunities, Myrtle Beach becomes overrun with all sorts of people (mostly Yankee's that love to make fun of my Southern accent) which makes it almost impossible to enjoy the attractions unique to Myrtle Beach.

Never in all my life have I witnessed so many young boys wearing match stick jeans and skateboard shoes. While in one popular tourist trap (Broadway on the Beach), I spied a misguided young girl in a pair of skinny jeans that can only be described as the color "Highlighter Yellow." Her poor "friends" had abandoned her outside a Ben & Jerry's (probably out of embarrassment because how else would one lose the girl wearing day-glow yellow pants? or the flip side-- how easy to avoid her!)

What was more annoying than the crowds, was the rain. Not a day went by without some sort of mild to moderate extended rain shower. It rained us off the beach, it rained us out of the Tanger Outlets (by the way, don't waste your time at Kate Spade-- it's basically out of business), it rained us out of most everything we attempted. However, Hubby and I did manage to spend way too much money-- he fell for a pair of Maui Jim sunglasses and I got trapped in a dressing room with an over zealous sales girl and ended up with some very unneeded (but desperately wanted) swag. One day I'll have to write about the difference between a want and a need.

The second leg of our vacation was much more relaxing and it didn't rain, not once, while we were there (I was starting to worry it was us). Now, some people (my husband included) may think that my family (myself included) is a bit strange. Yes, it's true that the majority of us have no desire to ever be in water deeper than what ponds up in the tub while showering and it's true that we are basically okay to sleep late and lay around in our PJ's while on vacation. But that is the true beauty of my family on vacation-- anything (within reason) goes.

(my sister and her boyfriend trying to take a cat nap after eating breakfast)

My family, regardless of location, believes in food and eating (my uncle owns several restaurants and we all fancy ourselves fabulous cooks). Each morning we woke up to a beautiful and filling breakfast (pancakes, toast, biscuits, chocolate, grits, eggs, sausage, bacon, and ham) and at night an equally beautiful and filling meal would be prepared-- which is sort of crazy when you think about it-- after all, we are trying to look good in a swimsuit... aren't we? My sister says she gained six pounds on vacation (she stayed the entire week).

Speaking of swimsuits, there was some unsettling events that almost led to the end of my marriage. As mentioned a few paragraphs prior, I'm not a big water fan. I hate the water. I swim, but not well, and if I do get in the water, please, for the love of God and Jesus, please, just leave me alone! Don't try to pick me up, don't try to dunk me, don't even swim towards me... just stay away and don't touch or make eye contact with me. I thought my dear husband knew that I'm basically Autistic in the water but somehow, he forgot.

There I was, sitting on the pool step, minding my business, when Hubby came up, jerked me off the step as I made a futile attempt to cling to the rail. I felt the rough farmer hands of my husband prying my tiny fingers from the cold metal rail. I felt my body being pulled into the middle of the pool and suddenly I was under the water. Stunned, I began to breath which resulted in a sputtering and hysterical Emily gasping for air with an almost wardrobe-malfunction. And then I cried for about 30 minutes after that, quietly behind my large dark sunglasses, and reviewed which lawyer I would use to draw up my divorce papers. But luckily for Hubby, around that same time my cousin (who just turned 21) decided it was time to visit Aunt Betty's Cookie shoppe (the local ABC store) where he came back with enough liquor to calm my nerves and make everyone really, really happy and really, really sunburned.

So vacationing is over, back to reality, back to the grind. Next year my Uncle has his eye on a 10 bedroom place that looks like castle. I plan on packing my water wings and bodyguard for protection and who knows, maybe I can talk Hubby into wearing some Day-Glow Orange Matchstick pants in Myrtle Beach!

Oh...and not to harp on my near-death experience at the hands of my so-called loving husband, but don't tell me that Karma doesn't exist. Hubby came home with a horrible sunburn on his belly, just were his pants like to sit. He's been miserable for days and he just started to peal today. See what you get for messing with me!