Thanksgiving Aftermath...

We made it through the first major holiday in one piece... and surprisingly in the same pant size.  Considering that we attended and feasted at (count 'em) 3 Thanksgiving Day meals, remaining the basic weight and size is quiet a feat. 

So Thanksgiving Day went off without a hitch and we even got our Christmas Card pictures taken, designed and ordered!  Yes, the Hubster and I were on the Holiday ball, so to speak.  Thanksgiving night we drank hot chocolate and watched our favorite Christmas movie-- "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation"-- our first steps in starting our holiday off right.

We had decided to get the tree on Saturday.  We went to Spanky's near the Johnston Memorial Hospital which was the same place we went last year (see last year's post about our monster tree) and had very little trouble deciding on a nice 8 a half to 9 foot tree.  He paid for it, they loaded it up and we were off to the house to begin the decorating.

Everything was as close to perfect as it was going to get.  The Hubster was going to grill steak and string the lights-- he was even going to help get the boxes and boxes and boxes of ornaments and decorations from storage upstairs!  It was just great.

Most years, or at least since we've been married, the Christmas tree has caused us much trouble-- yelling, screaming, cussing, fussing-- you name it, we've either done or said it all while trying to get the damned tree to work.

Things were going too easy and neither one of us wanted to admit it.

Saturday night we started on the task before us.

We got the white tree down from the storage room upstairs.

We got the storage bins with all the decorations down from the storage room upstairs.

The Hubster started stringing lights.  And it was good.  No strands burned out... no bulbs shorted out.  It was good.  And we never argued about anything, not one little bit!

We noticed that the tree was a little bit off center-- it was leaning just a little bit.  But I started my job-- the decorating... because, it is a tree-- a live-honest-to-goodness-not-perfect-tree! So it might lean a little bit.  Big deal!

The first attempt tree decorations-- about 10 minutes into decorating...

Looking back, maybe we should have laid off the Crown and Coke... maybe we should have been a little bit more careful in our decorating.  Maybe I shouldn't just focus on the front side of the tree.  But in the moment, I was fearless, happy, and carefree.  What's the worst that could happen?

I remember going to bed so happy Saturday night.  I had successfully decorated our tree and it looked good.  My last thought, however, as I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep was, "Tomorrow I'll move that picture frame so it isn't even with the other picture frame." 

Sunday morning rolled around.  I was happy.  The tree was finished and all was good-- I made myself some cereal and told the Hubster that that afternoon I'd work on the white tree and then we could probably go to the Hanging of the Green's ceremony our church put on each year. 

I was making my way to our bedroom to change out of my pj's and into real clothing when I stopped to adjust the ornament my grandmother gave us for Christmas last year.  I took it off the tree and placed it on the table near where I was standing.  I remembered my thought about the picture frame... I reached to move it and....

BAM!

The tree, fully decorated went tumbling down.  The sound of broken glass and limbs hitting the hardwood floor interrupted my scream.  We righted the tree.  Thankfully, my Radko ornaments were safe-- all but one...  my favorite one.   We, in a daze quickly pulled off the ornaments, pulled up the soaking wet rug and swept up the mess.

Tears wouldn't come. 

Yelling wouldn't come.

We knew we were at fault.  We should have paid more attention to the leaning tree the night before.  In the confusion I told the Hubster-- "Next year we're getting a fake tree!"  and he retorted, "Never!  We are no quitters!"

So, Sunday night, almost in a panic, instead of attending our church service, re-hung our own Greens.  My sister and her soon-to-be-husband came over and argued about furniture.  I had her re-work the tree topper.  Strangely I think the tree looks much better now...

We are the Griswold's...

Merry Christmas

Lapland, Orphans, and Thanksgiving...

With the prospect of eating three Thanksgiving meals tomorrow, I'm forced to reflect on how this came into being.  Best I can figure, its all because of one word-- Inbreeding.  Where I'm from, it is highly regarded as truth that everyone born east of I-95 Highway is... oh how should I put this?... Is his own grandpa. 

Now this little "truth" doesn't bother me much.  My family tree branches off quite nicely, if I do say so myself and if my forefathers were relatives, there isn't much evidence to prove it.  Although, I do recall back in high school a teacher making us outline our family tree as part of a project.  A few of my classmates/neighbors ended up with a stump instead of a nice full tree.  But I digress... it seems to me that the whole problem with tomorrow's meals lies with inbreeding.

It's my own fault.  I married a boy from just around the corner.  My father always joked that a true "redneck" finds love by looking out their front door.  I found my love on a tractor one summer while standing up to my eyeballs in a tobacco field... and even though his last name overlaps some of my people's last names, I have never once saw any of his kin at any of my family reunions.  I don't think that quiet makes me a redneck or inbreed.  Maybe my future children, however.

My dear friend, Olivia, when we were in college called me, "Sweet Home Alabama" because I was, according to her, just like the character Reese Witherspoon played in that movie.  I beg to differ though-- I've never lived a fabulous life in New York, my father-- although he serves on the local historic association board- does not reenact the Civil War, and my parents live in a very respectable two story brick home and are the biggest Democrats you'll ever meet.  That being said, I do talk slow and my address does fall in the "east of 95" district.

Regardless, tomorrow the Hubster and I will be eating at 12 o'clock, 1 o'clock and thankfully, 5:30pm instead of 3 o'clock as my uncle had intended.

Now how does this, eating three times, relate to inbreeding?  Well, looking back on it, I should have married someone from far away.  Like someone from Lapland.  I don't think those from the "land of the midnight Sun" even celebrate Thanksgiving-- probably because there is little to be thankful about when it is daylight at 2:00am .  But if I had of married someone from far away I'd, at best be eating two big meals instead of three.  When you live 'east of 95' and you marry someone from that same region, you don't pick who you eat with-- you just cram it into one big day.

My grandfather, who was always full of infinite wisdom said this:  "Always marry an orphan."  And after being married for a little over three years, I get it what he is saying.  Families make life very difficult, even when they don't mean to.  Do you think that my mother-in-law is purposely planning her Thanksgiving celebration just an hour after my mother's?  No.  At least I hope not. It's just how she's always done it and so she isn't about to change a whole routine just to make life easier for me and her son (even though that would be greatly appreciated). 

Next year my mother has already decided to move her celebration to the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving.  It's a rather smart idea because this way she's getting to be the first of the many marathon meals, as my sister will be married this time next year to another local boy who isn't an orphan either.

Luckily, Thanksgiving night is all ours... the Hubster and I plan to watch a little movie we love called "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation" and get ready for putting out the Christmas Decorations.

Happy Thanksgiving Y'all!

Scences from Charleston, South Carolina: October 29th, 2010

This pink hotel-- the Mills House-- is where we stayed while in Charleston.  It was recommended by a friend and Southern Living Magazine and I must say the service was awesome.

This last picture may take some explaining... it is an antique tin ceiling tile that the Hubster purchased for me in at the market in Charleston.  It was my birthday present and I intend to hang it on my living room wall in our new house.  It is over 100 years old and it is just fabulous.  Yes, we looked like idiots carrying the thing back to our hotel room, but we did get some positive comments from the people that stopped to stare. 

MIA...

So I've been on a bit of a blogging vacation-- well, actually I've just been too bogged down with other things to steal a few moments to record my thoughts.  Since my last post I've done a few things that I wasn't really expecting to do.

First of all, we did end up in Charleston over my birthday this past weekend.  It was fabulous.  I'll post pictures later, I only made a few, but as the Hubster and I rode in a carriage listening to a tour guide I kept thinking to myself, "I'm in love with this place!"  It was that sort of town.

I'm also very excited about the tin ceiling tile that the Hubster bought for me from Charleston-- its over 100 years old and I can't wait to have it hang in my new house!  Again, I'll post pictures of it, but not now.

Secondly, the house stuff is sort of coming along.  After giving the go ahead to a contractor, the Hubster's first cousin, who also is a house builder, gave us an offer we couldn't refuse and it looks like the cousin is going to get the job.  I personally feel much better about this because the cousin is as anal and detail oriented as I am.  We are supposedly meeting with the bank this week and then we'll start pulling permits.

Finally, I cut my hair.  I didn't mean to.  I just went in for a trim and some much needed highlights and the next thing I knew I was telling my stylist to just cut it own up!  The Hubster loves it and so says everyone else, yet I'm still on the fence.  I miss my hair but at least it will grow back! 

I hope to get back in the habit of blogging... there's plenty to rant about.  But for now, this will do.  I've got to go take a prenatal vitamin or something similar to entice my hair to grow, grow, grow!

I'm Thinking I Might Need Professional Help...

I've still not made up my mind about the Charleston trip.  I have narrowed my hotel list down to two, but I just can't seem to commit.  Funny, before I got married I was the most decisive person I knew... and now, after going through the hell that is wedding planning, I've totally lost my ability to make decisions.  What's wrong with me?

On the home front, the Hubster and I are trying to move forward with house building.  We met with our contractor and now we are working on loan information.  I have a feeling that it is going to take several months before we can decide, happily, on the bank we want to commit to as well.  Again, I ask, what is wrong with us?  Am I rubbing off on the Hubster or is he rubbing off on me?

Anyway... last week was a pretty crazy couple of days.  I found out that I have peri-oral dermatitis around my mouth/lips and that's why I've been walking around looking like I drank a gallon of red colored Cool-Aid.  Apparently this condition is common in women... and apparently it takes a while to clear up.  I have a topical cream to rub on my mouth twice a day...

My doctor also could not tell me why two of my finger nails were turning orange.  She did a blood panel and it showed nothing.  I started noticing the orange tint when I started taking a super-dose of vitamins.  She told me to lay off them and see what happens.

Weird, huh?

Anyway... its raining--- finally raining and apparently it's going to get pretty bad because they've delayed school in the morning.

So there are my random thoughts and observations for the week.  Have a good one y'all.

Vacation Planning...

The Hubster and I have not been on an honest-to-goodness-just-me-and-him-vacation since we got married.  For the last 3 years we've talked about going somewhere... for our anniversary or just to get away but when the time is good for me, it's plain awful for him and vise versa. 

So after years of talking I finally made up my mind that a vacation was going to happen-- come hell or high water.  We've decided on Charleston, South Carolina-- actually, I made up our minds for us.  And now I'm trying to decide on hotels.  I want to stay downtown.  I don't want to have to find a parking spot each and every day... I just want to wake up and start walking around town. 

This trip is all about architecture.  With the dream house looming... I really should think of a less depressing word than "looming" but at this point I'm all out of bright and happy words... I need to have my ideas in mind and documented in pictures.  I keep hearing that once we get started contractors do not like to wait on the wife to make up her mind.  They like to keep moving.

So why not take the end of October, over my birthday, and take in the sites, eat some great food and relax a bit? 

I've got my mind set on three hotels.  We are staying three nights-- maybe I should book a room at each for each night?  But seriously, I'm freaking out about hidden costs.  The most expensive hotel, that is right downtown seems to be the best bet, because parking seems to be included in the cost.  The other hotel that I like that is just a little bit cheaper charges for parking.  The third hotel is sort of in the same boat with the paying for parking thing...

I just wish someone would make up their mind for me.  It would be so less stressful... I think I know why the Hubster and I haven't been on a "just us" vacation in three years!

Obscure Objects...

I just love it when the Hubster comes home, unresponsive and looking for some obscure object that he may or may not have brought home several days, months and/or years ago and then appears mad with me because he suspects that I may have moved said obscure object-- or worse, thrown it away!

The Hubster brings home lots of objects.  I have a green vase/bowl full of receipts, change, nails, nuts and bolts, match books, lighters, business cards, small wrenches, flashlights, batteries-- you name it, I've got it and I got it because it came home in Hubster's pockets.

Just now the Hubster burst through the door and immediately started tearing through one of the basket that I keep his "junk" in and when I asked him-- "what are you doing home so early?" I get a sarcastic reply and a series of grunts.

I helped him look, of course-- this time for (I think) the attachment to an air hose.  I'm almost positive that I've not ran across anything similar since we blew up the starter pool back in June.  And since that time the air tank is back at his parent's house and/or possibly the farm.  So I decided to let him alone to figure this one out on his own.

I'm not sure if he found it or not.

I wish I lived in a house where everything thing-- including obscure objects-- had a place.  I wish I was one of those wives that could automatically produce whatever it was that her husband or family was looking. Obviously I'm not that sort of person.  As I write I have stacks of mail over-flowing my kitchen table... on this very computer desk are several documents that need to be either A) thrown away or B) filed away, neatly.

Obviously I'm not that sort of person-- I'm the sort of person that let's her husband keep a green vase/bowl full of obscure objects and when that vase/bowl fills up I get him another basket to fill.

Can you say Hoarder?  How 'bout enabler?

I Hate Hog Slat...

Thursday night, maybe it was over supper, the Hubster told me that we'd be, most likely, going to the Reverse Raffle that the local fire department was holding Friday night.  I'll be honest with you, I was less than thrilled at the idea of spending my Friday night in a dark, loud, uncomfortable banquet hall straining to hear over the music, so I could hear what the person standing beside me was saying.  But, as with most things where the Hubster is concerned, I didn't get my way.

We got to the Reverse Raffle late.  Late enough I was positive that our names were already drawn out and that we'd be able to leave and eat real food, instead of the finger foods that the Fire Department was offering, real soon.  We get in the door and my in-laws tell us that we are still in the drawing for the $10,000 bucks.  I can't lie, I was little disappointed because I was hungry and I didn't want to have to stay... after all, the Hubster won one year already so what's the chance of him winning again?

You see, the whole point with a Reverse Raffle is to not have your name called out.  If you're the last name called, you win... and you could win a lot of cash.  It is a pretty fun fundraiser, in my opinion, except for this night, I just wanted to go back home and veg out on the couch while watching TLC's "Say Yes to the Dress: Atlanta."

So the band stopped playing and the firemen started calling out names.  Amy Richards... Greg Holland... Tom's Tire and Auto... etc., etc., etc.  I was surprised that our name hadn't been called.  The announcer stopped at the last 10 names and said the band would play one more set and then the winner would be announced. 

At that moment I realized we were still in it and we possibly could win!  I got nervous and I started to regret that I had ate so many cucumber sandwiches earlier in the night.  I was pretty muched sucked in at this point.

The Hubster and I quick conferenced... if we get in the top five we'd split with the remaining names and go home with $2,000 bucks.  $2,000 bucks sure would replace all that money we spent on a second set of house plans this past summer and there probably would be enough money left over that the Hubster could finally buy (guilt-free) the pair of boots he's been lusting after for as long as I've known him.

After what seemed like an eternity, the band stopped playing and the firemen came back to call out the rest of the names.  Richard & Carmen Jones... Paula Vann... Erin Winbourne... Brinkley & Bob Zornes... Josh Peters.  We were in the top five.  They called the Hubster up along with the other four ticket holders.  You could see them talking and I could see the Hubster saying "split."  I just knew that we'd be coming home with $2,000 dollars and suddenly I didn't really care that all I had had to eat all day was a bad sandwich at work and 3 cucumber sandwichs and cheese cubes at the drawing.  Suddenly I started thinking about how wonderful it would be to put back the money we spent this summer into our savings account.  Suddenly I was just in the very best of moods... and then suddenly the annoucers said, "Well, the rules say, ladies and gentlemen, that if one ticket holder refuses to split then we've got to keep going on with the drawing, and Hog Slat's representative says she won't split, so we've got to keep drawing out names.  Sorry folks." 

Hog Slat is a local company that has millions upon millions of dollars and they now are my least favorite company in the world. 

We were all standing back, praying that the next name out would be Hog Slat and then they could split.  But it wasn't.  We were now in the top four.  If the next name out was Hog Slat, then we'd be going home with a little more than $2,000 dollars.

It all happened really fast.  The announcer spoke clearly and fast.  Rest assured, it was our name and we were out.  The Hubster took the walk of shame back to where I was standing, disappointed and mad.  Hog Slat made it to the top two and luckily lost out to a much more deserving couple. 

I stayed mad well into the next day.  I was pretty much on my 3rd cup of coffee at my Daughters of the American Revolution meeting at the country club Saturday moring before I was even fit to be around.  Y'all I really hate being right all the time, but I'd been so much better off on my couch Friday night completely clueless as to what was going on at the drawing.  No more Reverse Raffles for me... I can tell you that Hubster.  And Hog Slat, you'd better just figure that y'all won't be getting no business from any of mine for a good long while.

If You're Marring My Sister: Please Don't Read Any Further...

So I promised I'd finish writing about our Marathon Beach Vacation... but I think that ship has sailed.  Since coming home from the beach, work has started back, my brother-in-law is home from Basic Training, and my cousin's boyfriend who was diagnosed with cancer two years ago (a month before their wedding) is dying...so I don't feel like telling you about how my cousin drank a FourLoco while on vacation and thought that Aquafina bottled water was from the devil.

Seriously, though... it's been a very hectic couple of weeks.  And to make matters a little more hectic, my sister has been shopping for a wedding dress.  For the last few weeks, our weekends have been spent shopping for the elusive "perfect" dress.

People that have never been wedding dress shopping think it is going to be just fun piled up on top of fun.  In my experience it's really more stressful than fun.  First of all, the dresses are designed to be beautiful... so they all pretty much look nice on you.  Second of all, people make you think that you are to have some sort of emotional reaction when you like a dress, which only puts pressure on the bride-to-be because what if you're the one bride in the United States of America that never gets that teary-eyed feeling?  What does that say about you?

So wedding dress shopping, for my sister, turned out to be pretty much one headache after the other, until today.

Today we found the perfect dress...

It's a Spanish designer that I can't remember the name of.  The sash was my idea.  Once the dress comes in, we are going to have a slight sweetheart neckline added and make the back V.  We are thinking of having the sash remade with parts of our mom's wedding dress which I think, if it can be done, is an awesome idea.

We brought along my sister's best friend and college room-mate.  She was our emotional thermometer and cried anytime she liked a dress.  It was good to have her along because we are all dead inside and don't cry about wedding dresses.

For those of you in the Raleigh area-- the place we shopped at was Victorian Rose Bridal on Glenwood Avenue, downtown.  I got my dress their three years ago and anytime I know someone getting married I always refer them there.  The ladies their are great... the dresses are great... and you get top-notch assistance.

Hopefully, now that we have the perfect dress things will start falling into place!

Beach Vacation, Part II Putt-Putt Putting Around...

After leaving Myrtle Beach we made a little stop over at the old homestead.  The Hubster had some work to attend to and I wanted to get a handle on our dirty laundry.  So he went to work on Tuesday (last Tuesday) and I did laundry and re-packed.

Wednesday we left for Emerald Isle.  As mentioned in an earlier post, my uncle rented a huge house for us to stay in.  Huge really doesn't describe it.  Seven bedroom, ten bathrooms-- every shower except for two had five shower heads!  The views were breath-taking and almost all were oceanfront.  The bottom floor had a movie theater in it. An. Honest. To. Goodness. Movie. Theater.   It even had real theater seats-- except they were nice and clean! 

This house even had an elevator.  I refused to ride in it, but there was an honest to goodness elevator!

The pool and the hot tub were awesome.  Everything was just awesome.  It made coming home a little sad.  But I saw my Uncle and Aunt a few days ago and they are already planning a trip for next year!

Golfin' Dolphin

We got down to Emerald Isle just before it was time for supper.  Ribs and Chops were on the menu and they were fabulous.  I wish I had some right now.  After supper we, the cousin's, the cousin's boyfriends and husbands, and friends of cousins, decided to head out for a little putt-putt.  I dont' know what it is about being at the beach that makes people want to play putt-putt?  I wasn't really game, but I tagged along.

It took two large SUV's to get us to the Golfin' Dolphin. 

Putt-Putt makes my sister very happy.

Her happiness makes her pose by trees next to artificial blue water rivers with our cousin Audrey...

And the happiness makes her pose on-top of rocks.  Now that's a keeper!

My cousin Annah strikes a very interesting pose because Putt-Putt also makes her very happy.

Some people, like Marshall, take Putt-Putt very seriously and like to keep score.

And some people, like Christian and Ashton, like to comment on every one's game. Jessica is smiling, but she is dying inside...

Putt-Putt brings people together...

And drags them apart...

It makes my cousin Michael thoughtful by large waterfalls.

Putt-Putt makes some people contemplate the world around them while posing on artificial rocks...

But Putt-Putt can be dangerous and make you bleed.  Poor Brooks!

Putt-Putt can make people pretend to fall...

All-in-all, I think Putt-Putt is good for your self-esteem.  See how happy everyone is?

And eventually, it comes to an end.

Which is a good thing, because I'm pretty sure our party offended the family behind us with all our posing and camera flashing and potty mouths.

But end the end... it was worth it!

Next Post:  Fun at the Pool

Beach Vacation, Part I Sun Stroked...

I'm a little ticked... I carried my camera and every thing ready to pop a picture of something for my blog about the first part of my beach marathon vacation... however, that didn't happen.  Nothing note worthy really took place-- other than I almost died on the beach...

Before the end of the school year I made a vow that I would read Jane Austen.  I took American Lit in college and so Jane was lost to me. My high school, a large rural school, could have never put Emma on a reading list without the uproar of several hundred deer hunters.  So on Sunday, I'm on the beach with the Hubster, his middle brother, his middle brother's girlfriend, and the Hubster's mom and dad.  I'm reading Northanger Abbey and laying out in my new mismatched J.Crew two-piece.

I took extra care not to get burned-- I lubed up on SPF 30 with double protection from the Sun's UVB rays as well as the UVA rays.  I had on my Jarrett Bay sun visor and a huge pair of sunglasses... so what could go wrong?

Sunday was especially hot, but there was a breeze and I was pretty much okay.  The men were in the water, the ladies on the beach.  Between chapters we would talk about clothes, shopping, and what we wanted to do later that night.  After a short time, a few in our party decided to go hang out at the pool.  The Hubster was still in the ocean and I was fine reading, so I didn't go with the others.  Soon it was just me on the beach with my book while the Hubster floated in the green, green water.

Occassionally, I'd look out on him and make sure he was still there, floating just beyond where the waves break, with thoughts of Shark Week still fresh in my memory.  He really loves the ocean. I tolerate it.

Meanwhile, back on the beach I'm starting to get a little hot.  I'm starting to feel a little sick too.  But I shake it off.  Afterall, I didn't eat much of anything for breakfast and I certainly had had no liquid other than a sip of the Hubster's morning Mountain Dew and a sip of his Bud Light.  I chalked up my bad feeling to the aforementioned and that I had been reading-- which sometimes makes me a little dizzy, especially if I read in bright sunlight.

Eventually the Hubster got out of the water and made his way back to where I was set up.  He laid around while I complained a little about the heat.  I had made up my mind that I wanted to leave and I was going to leave... he came with me.

And that was when I thought I was going to die.  I started seeing black spots and my legs didn't want to work.  I could feel that sick feeling sort of spread from my stomach to the back of my throat.  I was hot and my heart was beating way too fast for the amount of exercise I was putting forth-- we were just walking up some stairs, hardly any cardio at all considering the slow rate we were moving.

I was conveniced that I was going to throw-up or faint... when we stopped at the outdoor shower to rinse off the sand I bent down to center myself.  The Hubster was embarrassed-- I could tell-- and little scared as to what to do with me if I did fall dead. 

After what seemed like a long time, we made it back to the house-- which really is a very short walk.  I got some water and ate a little something and things started to get better-- at least for me to stop shaking.  Later that night we had sometime to go around to all the Wings, Eagles, and Bargain Beach Marts to look at inappropriate tee-shirts and sharks' in a jar.

I'm not sure what exactly happened earlier that day... I'm not sure if I was starting to Sun Stroke or if I just got too hot, but all I know is that I was scared and I don't want to do that again.

Today we are to go to part two of vacation.  I plan to be more considerate of myself this time around.  I'm adding hydration to my check list along with my camera and my sunscreen.

Next week I'll be back at work... the last few days of summer... better enjoy them!

Random Ramblings (The New Fist-Puming Rednecks & Naked Men in Wells)...

Tomorrow at this time I'll be on my way to the Redneck Rivera... otherwise known as Myrtle Beach.  That means about three hours before right now, tomorrow, I'll be frantically packing up myself and the Hubster.  I forgot to pack his underwear one time-- you think he'll let me forget this time?  Maybe he'll just start packing himself. 

Tonight, date night, we will be dining at Mucho Mexico with a few other friends and couples and after that my sister is going to cut the Hubster's hair.  She isn't a hair stylist by trade-- she just learned to groom dogs with my Aunt Arlene when she was in high school and says cutting people's hair isn't that much different.  She now cuts his hair, my father's hair, and her boyfriend's hair exclusively.

The Hubster wants to look, "fresh-to-death" for the beach.  We've got to stop watching "Jersey Shore."

But speaking of that little screen gem, "Jersey Shore," the Hubster and I have decided that no one can really make fun of Southern people anymore, can they?  We're all equal now.  Thanks to the power of TV all of us people in the South, who grew up thinking that we were backwards can now feel that we've been vindicated.  We know your dirty little secret UP NORTH.  How does it feel to have your own version on a Redneck? 

But I digress, tomorrow will start our first day of our annual marathon vacations.  First Myrtle Beach and then onto the Anna Victoria in Emerald Isle.

The following week I go back to work.  I am not sure how I feel about this prospect.  I neither dread it or relish it... happily I have a brand new co-worker that I'll be working with and I'm very excited.  We met yesterday for a few hours and discussed our plans for the coming school year.  I'm very pleased.

I'm hoping to come home from the beach with a good number of photos and stories.  Stay tuned.

But before I leave, I heard a very funny and unfortunately true story...

So we were at Cousin Micheal's barn enjoying a fish fry and celebrating Cousin Wayne's birthday about a week ago when one of the guests starting talking about his sister-in-law, the Sunday School Teacher. The people around this fellow were laughing and acting like they understood the whole story-- my parent's included.

I being nosey, had to find out what was funny...
So here it goes... A few weeks ago a man from Carolina Beach found himself in the lower portion of the county-- a good hour and 30 minutes from home.  He parked his Lexus on a little back road and decided to take a walk-- Naked as a jaybird, excepting the red baseball cap he wore on his head!  He would later say that he was "exploring the universe."  He walked or better yet, explored to the end of the road and made his way onto Devil's Race Track Road, where the Sunday School Teacher and her family lives and broke into her house.

How this man walked down the road naked a pretty good ways and no one said anything is still a wonderment to me, but then again, people tend to mind their business and I don't know anyone that would want to question a naked stranger man.  Do you?

So the naked man broke into the house and decided that he had to use the bathroom.  He found his way to the Master Suite where a bathroom was located-- but instead of doing his business in the proper place, he took a nice big number two right on top of the Sunday School Teacher's bed!  He used her granddaughter's stuffed animal as toilet paper.  I think he then got himself a snack from their kitchen.

Upon leaving that house he explored some more, found his way onto another road and got himself noticed when he tried to break into some more houses and a car. Eventually the police were called.  The naked man decided that the best place for him to hide was at an open well nearby.  He jumped into the well and stayed there until the police and fire crews pulled him out.  I read about the naked well man in the paper a few weeks back, but had no idea that this man had gone and done his business at someone's house.  No, that little tid-bit was left out of the papers!

While all this was going on, the Sunday School Teacher was discovering the gift left for her and when the police came to question her and take a look around that was when she made them an offer.  According to her brother-in-law she pleaded with the policeman to bring the naked man to her so she could kill him.  When the police told her that he wasn't at liberties to do such, she then said, "well then, I'll go to him and kill him at the jailhouse." I'm pretty sure she was serious too.

I can't say that I blame the woman.  Right after I burned my bedding, the mattress and the frame, I'd be casing the jailhouse myself. 

They family had to empty out their refrigerator, freezer and practically Clorox the whole entire house and probably repair where the man broke in.  Apparently this man has done this sort of thing before.  I was told that the had priors and that police were looking into his mental health.

When you think you've heard it all... 


Have a good weekend y'all!

Pretty Pink Flowers...

When I was a very little girl I knew very little of what my father's job entailed.  I knew he farmed and farmed a crop that caused him a lot of trouble.  He'd come home and talk of the suckers and clay dirt and I would think he was talking of candy and play-dough.

Turns out he was talking about tobacco.  The crop that in a very few short years I would grow very familiar with-- tobacco. 

It grows green from a very small seed that will result in a baby plant that has to be transplanted by hand from a greenhouse to the field.

The plant itself, depending on what type of soil it matures in and weather conditions, can grow to be almost taller than myself. And once it matures it shoots out this beautiful pink flower, right out the top.

As a little girl I couldn't understand why in the world would anyone want those beautiful pink flowers out of the plant.  I remember one afternoon my parents pulling into a field of tobacco and walking down the rows popping out the tops, those beautiful pink flowers, and throwing them on the ground.  I walked behind them, my sister and I, and picked up the bunches and made wedding bouquets.

How pretty they were! 

They were very pretty until it was time to go.  When I put them down, I discovered sticky hands.  My greatest fear!  I hate sticky and still do to this day.  The tar and the gum wouldn't come off by wiping my hands on my shorts.  It would take a good washing in hot water and Lava soap to rid them of that sticky residue.  I was throughly disgusted by the pretty pink flowers...

I later learned that the pretty pink flowers take away nutrients from the plant and cause the tobacco leaf to weigh less.  Since you sell tobacco by the pound, you want the leaf to have more weight, therefore the pink flowers have to come out... along with the suckers that grow between the leaf and the stalk.

a picture of a sucker on a trash pile of tobacco

To think, once, I thought that my daddy grew candy and had mountains of play dough that he wouldn't share with me!

There is a Man in India that Thinks I'm Crazy...

"Can you read?" a very rude and very heavy Indian accent flooded the end of my phone receiver.  Indigently, I replied that I could so read.  The reason for such a question was because earlier last week the Starter Pool's pump died.  And because of its demise, I was forced to call the company that makes the starter pool which evidently outsources its customer service overseas. 

I was already in a bad mood when I called because, even though the pool is still under warranty, we threw away the pump manual and no longer had the serial number that would ensure us a completely new and free pool pump.  So I wasn't happy.  And even though I wasn't overly friendly, as I generally try to be when calling a customer service hot line, I wasn't being rude either.  So I was quite gotten away with when the grumpy little voice on the other end of the line asked me if I was capable of reading!

Of course he needed the model number off the pool's pump-- which was when all the trouble started.... 
I couldn't see the number-- even though he said it was after the word "CAUTION".  I told him I could see the word CAUTION but I couldn't see a number.  The word after CAUTION was not a number and to be more specific-- the character after the word CAUTION was a colon, not a word-- but I figured that would really tick him off and so I just started reading the entire sentence after the colon to the grumpy man in India who asked if I could read.   Apparently we were experiencing a language barrier.  He should have said "under" instead of "after" because when I looked down a few lines, there was indeed a model number.

The problem was taken care of and now that the pump as arrived, all will be forgotten-- eventually.

It's that Time Again...

June was unbearably hot-- which resulted in us buying the Starter Pool.  July is upon us and at least it has brought some much needed rain along with the heat and humidity.  Summer is in full swing and that means vacations are just around the corner.

Every year we go for a couple of days with my in-laws to Myrtle Beach around the end of July.  My in-laws are the type of people that love to entertain with activities.  When we come down for a few days we end up sight-seeing, eating at very crowded chain style restaurants and shop-shop-shopping until we are literally about to drop dead-- except we still have to visit long-lost relatives that happen to live near by.  It's fun.  But it's not relaxing in the least. 

Luckily, at the beginning of August we also take a tiny break and head to Emerald Isle with my family who vacation in the most opposite fashion.  Relaxing by the pool with a drink in your hand... laying on the beach with a good book... waking up to a giant breakfasts' prepared especially for you... eating a large fabulous meal each and every night in the comfort of your PJ's... it's just the most relaxing vacation you'll ever take with a group of people.

My Uncle-- who is fabulous and owns a couple restaurants (which explains the food mentioned above)-- always rents a place for a week or so and we all go down.  This year he's rented the Anna Victoria.  We stayed across the road from it last year and lusted after it's massiveness.  He said that if we all came down for a couple of days, he'd rent it for us.

So, duh... we all agreed that we'd come down for a little bit. 

I'm not sure I'm going to want to leave!

Dressed-Down Sort of Dressed-Up...

I have a closet in my house that holds nothing but dresses. Beautiful dresses that may or may not have ever been worn.  Some were worn to parties and weddings while others have only been to work or church.  And then there are the few that have the tag still on and have never been worn nowhere.  I've got a bad habit of buying dresses with no place to wear them. 

This week I ordered a pretty little dress from Urban Outfitters.  I had a code to get 15% off and when I saw the little strapless number with the ruffles down the front and read that it was made from vintage material-- I had to get it.

It came yesterday and now I'm dying to wear it.  Tonight, I'm pretty sure that we will be going to one of our 'regular' places... Mucho Mexico.  It is not a fancy place-- just a cheap and fun place to hang out at... drink a beer and have a taco sort of place... and I want to wear this dress.

But I know when I do-- I'll hear the groans from the Hubster-- "Why are you wearing a dress?"  I'll hear the "Oh.  You dressed up" from my sister when we arrive at the restaurant--late of course.  And then I'll have to be all like, "no, this is a casual dress" and no one will understand. 

If I wore pants... or shorts... or even a skirt-- I'd not hear "Oh!  You dressed up."  But the moment you put on a dress-- you've dressed up.

And then there is men... Why is it that men wear the same thing, over and over and no one cares?  The Hubster wears the same type polo shirt over the same type chino shorts with the same type of boat shoe every where we go and no one ever cares! He's even worn this same type outfit to sort of fancy parties and no one cares because all his friends dress this way-- it's like a club or something! 

Oh the pressures of being a woman!

Pool Update...

The pool is fun.  By Friday I had achieved perfect pool chemistry and I'm pleased to report that on Friday, Saturday and Sunday the Hubster and I enjoyed the cool waters of the Starter Pool.

Also, on a somewhat related note-- the relation being happy news-- my sister and her long-time boyfriend became engaged atop a lighthouse off the North Carolina Coast Saturday night... the Black Lab puppy that took up residence at our house has now found a new home with my brother-in-law... and finally, my mother's lab reports came back normal!

I think I'll go and enjoy the pool now!

The Starter Pool...

I've been home on summer vacation for about nine days now.  In these nine days-- I've been back to work three times.  The first two days were for interviews.  Today I had to briefly stop in to sign a paper that my boss had to refile.  In the last nine days I've also cleaned my house-- cooked a few delightful meals-- and pretended to be a housewife.  Yesterday I helped put up corn from Grandma's garden and tried to find the owner of the little puppy that has taken up at our house. 

In these nine days the Hubster and I have also became the proud owner of a starter pool.  You know, some young couples purchase starter homes.  Not us, we bought a pool.  And rather on impulse, I might add.

The weather had something to do with it.  I don't know about how your weather has been lately-- but 'round these parts... well, it has been horribly h-o-t.  And humid.  And rainless.  So on Sunday, after we'd done the Father's day thing at my house and at his house, we found ourselves in the Mount Olive Wal-Mart talking to the Sales Person about pools.

After a few embarrassing comments from the Sales Person about how our kids will just love this pool and us informing her it was for us-- that we have no kids-- we were the proud new owners of a 1,500 gallon 3 foot blow-up pool and an $8 dollar blow-up raft.

The box read:  Easy set-up!  Be relaxing in the pool in 14 minutes! 

Liar.

It took hours.  Days!

As of today, we've yet to even dip our toes in the water. 

In the five days that we've had this pool, I've made two trips to the pool store for supplies.  Trip #1 consided of buying chlorine tabs and testers.  Trip # 2 was a fact finding mission where I found out the heat is what is making my pool water look a little greenish.  I also found out that I needed to add more chemicals-- stuff to balance the pH and something else that I can't figure out how to spell along with Shock.

The Pool Guy told me that I'd have to Shock my pool at least twice a week to keep that green tint from coming back.  He also told me that since we used well water to fill the pool, the Shock might also make the water green because there could be copper or iron in my water.  If the water turns greener, then I'll make trip # 3 for a Pool Magnet.

When I was a little girl, we had a pool.  A rather large above-ground and I remember it being such a pain for my parents that it didn't last but a few weeks.  My parents instead bought a share to the neighborhood pool and that's where we went up until my sister and I got old enough to be too embarassed to wear a bathing suit in public (and for two completely different reasons-- she was pleasantly plump and I had no boobs).  But the Hubster and I are thinking that we'd like an in-ground pool after we get the dream house built, so this will be our starter pool.

I think it is time to test again-- I'm afraid to find out what is wrong now!  Judging by the way it's looking, I might need to make that third trip for a pool magnet.  Oh, starter pool-- you make me want to purchase a pool share from the local neighborhood pool.

Some Friendly, Unsolicited Wedding Advice-- Series One...

Our anniversary was Wednesday.  We didn't do anything too special for it though.  I had gone for my yearly physical earlier in the day and I was still not over the "physical" part of the phyiscal.  I was unlucky enough to get "handled" by a student doctor who gave me the most painful PAP smear of my life and one of the most uncomfortable examinations I ever hope to encounter while my doctor watched me uncomfortably react. Sounds a little sadistic doesnt' it?   I'm not sure I'm over it yet.  I close my eyes and suddenly I'm transported back to that very long and uncomfortable experience.  I still feel like I have been violated.  But don't feel too bad for us-- the Hubster and me-- we aren't all that into celebrations anyway.  Hopefully this Fall, when things are less stressful, we'll take a little weekend trip to celebrate. (maybe-- I always say that's what we'll do and we never do!)

But I digress.  Thinking back to my wedding, I'd like to offer some friendly, unsolicited wedding advice to any of you in the process of planning a wedding yourself.  I'll call this series one:

It is important that all brides get that "silly" idea out of their heads.  The silly idea I speak of, you ask?  Well, that idea that your wedding day is your day.  As much as it is your day, it is also several other's people's day as well.  Your parents, his parents, your bridal party and most importantly, your invitied guests are spending a great deal of time and money on your wedding and you should treat them well because of that. 

When you take away the ceremony, which truly is for you and your groom, the reception is what is left and it really is a time to treat your guests and bridal party.  It is a time to give back while expressing your style as a couple for the first time.

It is in poor taste when a newly married couple will not allow guests to enter the buffett line before they arrive at the reception because they want to be the first in line.  A few years ago I was invited to my cousin's wedding.  Her parent's had put on a huge spread and had really spared no expense.  When the ceremony ended we were directed a few miles down the road to their home for the reception.  They had the hot DJ of the moment playing soft "cocktail hour" type music and guests were filling in the reception area, except there was no cocktail hour.  Thirty minutes went by and people were milling about... another thirty minutes went by and people were growing a tad restless... another thirty minutes went by and people were hungry and looking for food, but because the bride and groom were not quite finished with the photographer, we were trapped like starving animals in this large reception area with nothing to do.

I remember being angry as I watched that newly married couple start the line for the buffett-- like those eager young kids always do at the family reunion...it was simply tacky. I remember being annoyed and I left shortly after.  Later, a few month after the ceremony I heard my cousin's mom remarking that she couldn't understand why more people hadn't stayed longer.  I knew why-- they were hungry and didn't want to wait any longer for old shrimp cocktail and crab puffs.

If you aren't going to have a cocktail hour-- then start the buffett as soon as possible and don't think that you have to be the first in line.  The reception is a time for you to talk to guests, mingle-- pose for the camera and get complimented on your style and grace. 

Most importantly, being a bride is not just about putting on the white dress and veil.  It is about being a gracious host.  So treat your guests and make them feel comfortable.  If food is your thing-- have the caterers set aside plates for your and your new husband.  This way you will be able to still eat the food you picked out, but won't have to make 200 of your nearest and dearest wait for you to finish other tasks-- like getting your wedding pictures made-- something you are going to not want to skimp on because you will look back at the pictures-- I don't know that you will the food.

So as you start to plan, remember to take out that idea-- that your wedding day is all about you.  In actuallity, it is largely about you and the choices you made for this event.  However, do you want people's first impression of you as a married person to be that of a selfish and spoiled primadonna?

Better yet, show your guests-- your nearest and dearest-- how greatful you and your new husband are to have them celebrate your love and your new status as a married couple.  You want people to leave your wedding thinking, "WOW" and feeling like they were a part of the moment and simply not spectators to the "ME, ME, ME" show.

Series Two :  DJ vs. Band-- Is one really better than the other?

A Brunch or All's Well That Ends Well...

A couple of months ago my sister decided that it would be just a swell idea to throw my cousin-in-law, Candice, who also happens to be a good friend, a nice little post-bridal brunch at my home. I had never thrown a brunch before-- but with the help of my sister and a few friends, it wouldn't be all that difficult, right?


Right away I had ideas. Blue would predominate as the main color choice. Candice had used touches of blue throughout her ceremony back in February and I wanted to honor her choice and have it reflect in our design. To accentuate that choice, we'd pair chocolate brown and subtle touches of green to round out our color scheme.

I have a rather large front porch and the luxury of having no road traffic here at the house. Since moving into this home, I’ve been dying to throw a party on my porch. So it was decided that my porch would be the supreme location for this brunch.

And here’s what I’ve learned about morning parties:

1. It is much, much easier to have a party at night—it gives you more time to prepare. The night before the party I was up well into the morning tying ribbon on the favors which also served as the place cards for the seating arrangement… hot-gluing ribbon on the vases for the centerpieces… making place cards for the favors… mopping the bathroom floor and then mopping it again because I’d become a paranoid clean freak only to fall asleep on the couch and over sleeping the morning of the party and realizing that I’ve not finished spray painting the sticks blue and brown for the kitchen centerpiece and I’ve still got to mop the kitchen floor!

2. Never have a brunch the morning after a South Johnston High School Graduation. I love my rental guy. I think of him as the brother my parents really always wanted. Unfortunately my whole family—my whole extended family—loves him too. My uncle and aunt work at SJHS and help plan graduation and they decided to rent all—ALL 2,000 of his white folding chairs, which meant that we had to pick up our measly 25 chairs the morning of. Which means that at 10:25am—just a mere 5 minutes before our brunch, we were still chair-less and that brings me back to #1.

3. When inviting out of town guests, remember that they may arrive early and bring uninvited guests. The in-laws were from out of town—about an hour or so out of town—and they must have been worried that my home was going to be hard to time—because at 10:00am they were rolling up the drive and I was still in my towel. Again, that brings me to item number one.   Also they brought people that we had no idea were coming-- but it all worked out.

4. And always, always—as soon as you get them—MATCH THE DAMNED TABLECLOTHS TO THE TABLES SO YOU KNOW YOU’LL HAVE ENOUGH!!!! At 9:15am we realized that we didn’t have enough table cloths. My beloved rental guy’s people shorted us two table cloths. Luckily our chair pick up person, Cherish, was still in the area and turned around and got the linens we needed—but this put us behind even further. So yes, when the in-laws arrived, we had bare tables and no chairs.

But that is okay. The party turned out to be a raving success. We're good on our feet. Candice opened her gifts up first in the comfort of the air-conditioning and soon we were set and ready for a lovely little brunch to commence.

I had my friend, Olivia come in and take pictures. These pictures, below, are from my camera that my mother-in-law was so kind to snap for me.
So all's well, that end's well...

Enjoy!

The front door wreath... I had the bow made especially for the party.

The view from the road (it's not centered, but don't hold that against my mom-in-law, she's not a photographer-- I'll hopefully be able to post pictures from Olivia soon)

I ordered these cute little fans to serve as functional favors.  We tied ribbons on them which held the name tags (you can't see them from this angle)-- we used fruit (apples and limes) for the centerpieces and since we had a lot left over (and because there was a breeze) we used green apples as another decorative element.  I also like to pre-wrap the fork and knife in a pretty napkin and tie it with a coordinating ribbon-- it is less to carry from the buffett to the table.

Another view of the porch.

The buffett table:  We served a variety of breakfast foods and fruits.  Not pictured was our very tasty drink selections.  These ladies went through three makings of my famous champagne punch!

To the far left-- Candice opening up some presents.

The Last Little Bit...

I should be sleeping... considering that is nearly 3:30am and I've been up since 6:30 this morning.  But I did take a short nap somewhere in the hour of 7 o'clock this afternoon.  But still, all week I've been exhausted because much of my job has consisted on sitting around watching students take their end-of-year exams.  A very boring job it is indeed.  And being so mind-numbingly boring all I've been able to do lately is sleep-- except now.

I think it has something to do with the fact that after supper I came home to start watching a movie called "Towelhead."  It's not what you think.  It was filmed in 2007 and is based off a book by the same name.  Basically it is a coming of age story set in the early 1990's in a suburb in Texas, about a girl of middle eastern decent that is sent to live with her strict father.  It is one of those movies that deals with pretty heavy content and after you finish watching it you want to get a shower because you feel so utterly dirty for watching it.  The worst part is-- during the last 15 minutes-- just as a resolution seemed to be building, and I was gladly hoping for a happy resolution, a storm came up and knocked out the TV.

So I invested almost two hours of my life watching this horrible movie and I didn't get to see the last little bit-- the bit I was counting on to make me feel a little bit better about spending my night watching this movie.

Now, everytime I close my eyes I think back to all the terrible things I saw in that movie.  Frankly it scares me to think that this sort of story could actually occur and that other 13 year old girls have experienced the same sort of thing.  Obviously this girl was experiencing the normal changes associated with puberty but then to be taken advantage of countless times by most of the adult figures in her life-- it was just more than I could bare.

So I'm on line looking at happy things-- like marriage photography pages of local photographers-- and handmade items on Etsy.com

Exciting News on the Homefront...

So after waiting, patiently-- I might add, our house lot is finally double-wide free!  I really felt awful about making the man that lived on our lot leave... but like the Hubster said, "he knew from the time that he bought that double-wide that he'd have to move it off eventually."  And 18 years later, he did.

But I can't help but feel a little horrible about it, especially when I was at the Dollar General (DG) last week trying to buy some painkillers for me and some candy for the kids I'd be testing the following day. While I was looking for my headache medicine, I over heard the man we made move grumbling to the cashier about how much trouble it had been.  He was quick to say that he didn't really have a choice-- it wasn't his land.

But the good news is that the lot is cleared.  I'd post a picture, but seeing how I just remembered to take my picture-taking device home from the office-- I've just not had time to document the occassion.

Maybe soon.

Tan Fat vs. Pale Fat (we already know the answer)...

I'm on a fittness kick these days.  Every year, about this time, I get on a fittness kick.  Maybe it is the Victoria Secret's Swimsuit catalogs that keep appearing in my mailbox... or that my metabolism has slowed since I was in high school... it could be that I stopped tanning in the tanning bed a few years ago-- and we all know, tan fat is better than pale fat anyday... and since I'm a big white mess, I guess I can't stand to look at it and love it anymore.

Oh, for the days of care-free fun and high self-esteem!  I recall days, back when I was in my early (cocky) college years, when the then-boyfriend-now-Hubster and I would go down to the beach in July for a couple of days.  I'd wear my string black two piece and I would be tanned all over from going to the tanning bed.  I'd start going to the tanning bed in early January... you know to make sure I was good and dark... didn't everybody?  And you couldn't tell me shit.  I wasn't in perfect shape, but I remember coming home from those beach vacations and telling the then-boyfriend-now-Hubster how bad everyone looked and how good I felt about how decent I looked and how lucky he was to have me.  The nerve... the gall.  How dare me!

And then I got a pre-cancerous mole on my very special private parts and that ended my love affair with the tanning bed.

I miss those days... living it up in the tanning bed... eating junk all day long and never gaining an inch... laughing, secretly, at my roommates when they wanted to run!  Run!  Exercise?  Sweat-- no way!  And now... I can't seem to get enough work into my workouts.

Most days I walk two miles outside.  That is my base.  I've even cut out Nacho cheese flavored chips for Wheat Thins and sometimes hummus, if I'm feeling extra dangerous.

My goal is to look like my college self-except not as tan.  I'd really like to look better than my college-self... I think I'm more motivated than I've ever been.  I'm even thinking about taking up running.  And I hate to run.

By the way-- this is completely unrelated, but I can hear the TV from our office/guest bedroom...  Who are these "Pretty Wild" chicks on the E! network and how did they get a show?  What makes them so damned special and when am I going to get my own reality show?  I'm just as interesting and rarely cry as much as these girls seem to.

I'm not saying, I'm just saying is all...

But seriously, I think to make myself stick with my fittness kick, I need to set a goal.  So while I'm working on my goal and maybe building back my self-esteem... I'd like to leave you will a little life lesson.

In February my school focused on Fairness... and rightfully so, because school is the only place where fair matters.  The world doesn't care if you don't get an extra cupcake or if you don't get a piece of candy.  The world doesn't care that some people have money and you don't.  The world doesn't care that your neighbor gets a new car and you are still driving the same Honda Civic that you've always drove.

The world doesn't care.  If the world cared and, for that matter, was fair... I'd have my cousin Annah's genes.  I'd have the flat stomach and naturally tanned skin.  If the world was fair I'd look better than I did 5 years ago or 10 years ago.  So as the Hubster becomes better looking, I have to spend a little extra time in front of the mirror just before bed, applying lotions and potions to keep my youthful 'glow'.

So life's not fair... and to make matters worse, we all know that tan fat is better than pale fat, anyday.