Grape Did It dot com

www.grapedidit.com is now in full effect!

Grape Did It dot com

www.grapedidit.com is now in full effect!

New blog

Dun Da Da Dun! My new blog is housed at grapedidit.typepad.com. For some reason blogger is not letting me link straight from here. I don't know if it is just jealous or if I am that dumb, so just copy paste, like a cell reproduction. I would so love it if you bookmarked it since I am already having panic attacks trying to get everything from THIS blog imported to THAT blog. In addition, I am working on a grapedidit.com but it doesn't exist yet. Minor detail. Also, I've managed to import a lot of my previous posts onto my new space, but may lose some of the oldest stuff. If you are, or currently are sleeping with (for the ENORMOUS benefits), a computer genius EMAIL ME AND I WILL BE YOUR BFF FOREVER FOREVER.

Yoo can't seee meee

Don't tell me no, a pictorial

Here is Ella playing with my computer. Here is me telling her no. Here she is waving bye to me, as in, get away from me. I'm trying to compose too, bitch.

To be fair, a picture of Georgia (and my dad!), although she is always on here

Don't tell me no

This morning I woke up first at 5:30 to Bud getting dressed to go on yet another business trip. I can't complain, not really, because his company has not sent him out nearly as much as we thought it would. Plus, it's a little like court-ordered breaks. We don't think we need them because we are way too old and way too mature. Then oddly, when he does travel, it stops some of the bickering and childish behavior like yelling, "BOWLS GO ON THE TOP!" and "JUST TELL ME why YOU THINK THE CHAIR IS A GOOD SUBSTITUTE FOR THE CLOSET?" Long trips get to be too much, but short ones give us time to let the pinch-bruises heal. The second time I woke up this morning, Ella was all, "BLAH BLAH BLAH!" in the guest room and so I scooped her up before she woke Summer entirely. We enjoyed a quiet morning of drinking Ella juice (a shot of apple mixed with mostly water) and Auntie Hope juice (coffee). We also did things like climb repeatedly into the rocking chair and climb repeatedly out and then fling wallets across the floor. The wallets, they are so fun. Also? I kept whispering things in her ear like, "I am your favorite aunt and, actually, favorite person, so try to keep that in mind for future macaroni necklace gifts." She didn't really respond, but I am a firm believer in early indoctrination. I am also one of those progressive people who believes you should explain why a child can't do something instead of just telling him or her no. So this morning when Ella wanted to open the outside closet? The one with lighter fluid and plant fertilizer and other combustibles? I told her we couldn't open it because the door? It was closed. I don't think that kind of explanation will fly much longer like, "No, you can't have a beer because, the law says you have to be 21." It certainly didn't work for me and if her 1 year old behavior is any indication of what her 15 year old behavior will be like then all I can say to Summer is. Brace yourself.

My very pretty older sister, Summer

Trying to escape, at Starbucks

Getting a little practice while we can still return her

Because our apartment is a two bedroom we've had to be rather creative in sleeping everyone who is visiting right now. Which boils down to, Ella is in our walk-in closet. Which would be ok except for we have to leave the door open so she doesn't suffocate and each time we roll over you can hear her little elf-ears perk up. Bud and I got into bed last night and I could just feel it coming, in the air, tonight. Like Phil Collins. Her little rustlings around turned more deliberate and sure enough, a wail followed. I froze, Bud cursed. I think the cursing? That helps a sleeping baby. A lot. Finally Summer came and got her which is like handing a drug addict some free coke because guess what? You've been so good today! I think Ella believed she'd won the, "I will cry until I am picked up," portion of the fight and could be heard playing and laughing in the living room where Summer and Georgia were still clinging to those last little bits of hope that said they might actually get some sleep last night. We tried again in our room until my heart broke for the umpteenth time and I picked her up. Then it was really on. Summer moved her portable crib into the living room and I guess mama means business because. She. Stopped. The. Crying. With luck, I will one day wield that kind of power.

Finally caught a hummingbird at the feeder

The ties that choke

Last night my parents came into town to visit and help with the wedding, for a few days. So far there is a box of Prilosec on my couch and I have heard more real estate advice in 24 hours than I usually do in 24 months. "Yes, but that is not within our price-range," is something I finally gave up saying several hours ago. The same moment I decided to push small razors into my food and see what happens. I am exaggerating a lot because mostly, well it's fun. Mom and I went to get my dress from alterations and I loved the look on her face when I stepped out. I do look lovely, if I say so myself, but her reflection of me was better than a mirror. And I get to show off Birmingham: the lovely Whole Foods where we had pizza and cupcakes for lunch and the hotel where we are getting married. The hotel where they tried to steal a Wall Street Journal while loudly proclaiming it was owed them because they were paying for valet parking. Tomorrow Summer and Georgia come to town. Summer with Ella in tow. I cannot wait to see her chubby little self running around the apartment. We have big plans to eat more cupcakes and maybe even tidy up some last minute wedding details.

More quotes from my catshit crazy former boss

You may ask yourself, while reading these, what they mean. He threw them out at meetings and I think we were just supposed to ride the wave that was his craziness. 1. If we are really audited, lot of snake will come out. 2. If you just say you're going to hit him, you don't feel the pain. 3. When you're in trouble, nobody going to cry with you -- you cry by yourself. 4. Being nice to each other is not going to be enough; we got to do our job right. 5. If I'm in trouble, I cannot get one nickel of sympathy.

I'm not sure which snakes he was talking about, probably the ones who raised him. And the "got to do our job right"? Yeah, I remember hearing that all the time. If doing his job right meant falling asleep in front of his computer and eating Kit Kats all day. Don't be tempted to feel sorry for him either. This is the same man who told me to stand when he approached my desk.

The gut of a fine box of wine

The quiet morning hours

I crept out of bed early this morning to be alone with my computer. I have become insanely dependent on a high speed connection over the past year or so, and to come back home to fast internet, sweet fast internet, was, well, embarrassing. Bud, on the other hand, cannot get enough of our new! cable! tv! I do not blame him on this count it's just that he mostly wants to watch sports and I mostly want to watch The Hills on MTV so we compromise. He watches sports and I go online like a creepy old man. This morning I had a huge cup of coffee on the table, next to my computer. The dogs had been taken out, given medicine and properly morning-snuggled. I perused a couple of my favorite blogs for inspiration and then, somewhat excited, poised my hands over this keyboard. And then Bud woke up, stumbled out of bed and began to wallow all over me. It's one of those things where, had it been nearly any other moment I would have loved it and thought it terribly sweet just...not...this...moment. When I politely told Bud, you know I can't write when you are next to me, staring at the screen, he reminded me that he wanted to watch cable tv and I was in front of it. Part of my computer frenzy can be explained because I am exploring the possibility of buying an actual domain - a blog still, but one that I own. And then I might even be able to make it look pretty with things like rainbows and flowers and lollipops because, you know, everyone likes those kinds of things. But figuring out what host to use and then the enormous question of how to build a website is like being blind folded and driving down the Autobahn with a driving instructor scratching away at a notepad.

Copper discovers cows

This video starts from far away, but you get a good idea of what Copper thinks of these new creatures. Earlier in the morning Bud's family dog, Billy, managed to get on the other side of the fence where his bad-ass self was chased by a baby cow. I can't remember anything I've ever seen that was funnier.

Thinking I shouldn't complain about the bugs in Alabama

Texas update

We are here in Texas and Bud and family are doing very well, considering the sad circumstances. I think the hardest part is over and so now we are enjoying a short time together to be a little more lighthearted. It helps I think, the laughter after a funeral. I have a short video of Copper and his discovery of cows and a couple pictures I'd really like to post, but the connection here is slow so that may have to wait. Thanks Sarah, for the sweet comment yesterday!

Threads

A few weeks ago Bud's mom called to let us know that his grandmother wasn't doing so well. They x-rayed her at the hospital and, couldn't be sure without a biopsy, but thought it was probably lung cancer. Over the last couple of weeks she slipped into sleeps where her blood pressure dropped and then took a while to return to normal. This morning she passed away. I didn't know her very well and so I feel a little fake writing something about her, except that I am about to marry her grandson. And maybe in that way know her very well. Am inexorably tied to her, will have her great-grandchildren who may just carry a gene that allows them to take something complicated apart and then put it back together. Or, a child who smiles like an old picture of Evelyn and another who laughs a laugh I've never heard, but the world heard first 70-odd years ago.

you.registered.for.a.dogbed.

Yes, yes I did. And anyone else who has a problem with it can look Copper in his big, sweet face and tell him YOU DON'T THINK IT'S APPROPRIATE.

While watching "In the Womb", National Geographic

On cell reproduction: "It's all like copy/past, copy/paste!" .......... Overvoice: The male determines the embryo's sex "Ok, I'd like one boy and two girls, hm, no wait, maybe two boys an one girl," .......... "I just didn't think there'd be so much open space in there, it's so cavernous." "Well I think that's because the egg is microscopic - even the fallopian tube looks like a cave." .......... "Yuck." .......... "I don't like that you're writing all my quotes down." .......... "Everything, like, floats in this movie." .......... "I think I see a twig and berries!" "It's a girl." .......... Overvoice: The placenta filters out harmful chemicals, "Yeah, like heroin," .......... "That baby has a giant-ass head!"

The live version of the graphic art on our wedding invites

A good Friday laugh

This is funny. Gets funnier if you watch it more than once. Keep your eye on the lower left-hand side of the screen.

Flowers picked on a walk Sadie did not want to be on. She prefers the couch.

Our children may not be so well-adjusted

"Hey, I liked that email you sent out, pertaining to your genealogy." "Yeah, so, you like the name Lassater?" "I love it!" "You think you want to name one of our children that?" "Yep! I'll call him Lassie for short."

Butcher, baker, candlestick maker

Georgia and I. And Bud and I. Are discussing What I Should Do Next and this conversation is very necessary and also very annoying. Very necessary because Bud is tired of listening to me moan endlessly about the tips I don't make and the guy I work with who has 3 drunk driving charges on his record. And then, at the end of the night, we all watch him RUN to the package store, with what little tip money he made. Because he doesn't have a car. Because, see above. And although it is funny, some of the odd decisions and scrapes the people I work with get in, it is also sad and hard to be around all the time. Then of course there is also the matter of making very little money and, after spending the time on college, well, might as well try to use it, huh? The pet-finding business did work. Does work. It just doesn't work exactly how I wanted it to and call me spoiled, but I find myself putting less and less energy into it which is exactly how to ensure that it does not succeed. At least in not any particularly sparkling, sustainable way. So long story short, I am proud to have run a business in my 20's. Happy to know what it takes and how to start one again should I decide to later in life, but also, I think, letting this one go. Wow, it feels oddly good to say that. Also scary because now what the hell? Which brings me to the annoying part. Ever since, hm, maybe 18 years old, this has been a central issue in my life. It starts as, "What will you major in?" and then "Why will you major in that - to teach?" and then, "What're you going to do when you graduate in 3 weeks?" and on. And on.

He's the overachiever, I'm sure he can make it happen

A friend of mine recently asked, in an email (Hi Emily!), if I planned to take Bud's last name. To which I replied yes, and I am excited to, but it will also be a little sad to let go of McClure. And then, upon thinking about it I also said, hopefully Guerin and Mary will have a boynopressure.

How often do you think she hears, "I dabble in photography myself!"?

Yesterday I met with our photographer for the wedding and liked her immediately. I cannot say the regard was mutual though because I got the distinct feeling she was leaning away from me as I breathlessly sucked down coffee and asked her dumb questions, "So, um, do you...get the...red eye out?" I'm kind of guessing her pictures don't have red eye in the first place since that usually only applies to the point and shoot dorks of the camera world read: me. I would so love a real camera. A big hunk of technology that shoots in all kinds of different light and allows me to make choices, the kind that now my camera makes for me. Slaps my hand away and decides which part of the picture will be fuzzy and which will be clear thank-you-very-much! But I understand my inordinate capability for laziness and so do not want to adopt an expensive piece of equipment that will sit on my dresser in the bedroom and everyday say, "waste of money, you don't know how to use me and won't take the time to figure me out properly," and he will be right. Oh so right. After work today I meet with the florist and then tomorrow I go to the shady part of town and beg for some off-shelf "nerve pills".

New cabinet

This is the one Bud and I have been working on for the past week or so. I got it from the consignment shop for free, I'm assuming partly because it was so rusted out when I lugged it home. This picture also cracks me up because of the shutter speed - that fan is on. And I know to technological people that's no big deal but that it can click that fast...makes my mind whirl.

You all have to sleep in a cage too, huh?

At Whole Foods, we like to giggle at the hippie remedies

I am not all bitter blue-collar, for the record

This is the kind of story where you need a little background detail, but just enough to understand what I'm talking about. Not enough to need specific specifics so don't worry about all the its and thats and hers. I am protecting the innocent. Except not my mother. Hi mom! A friend of a friend asked if she could show someone else (see what I mean?) my blog, in order for this friend to get a feel for my personality (that mattered, for a reason, but not for the story). I said sure, of course, so long as she knows my blog is meant to be taken extremely seriously. For real. Fast forward a couple of days and I remembered that a friend of a friend of a friend was maybe stopping by to read. And I'm on the phone with my mom. And I explain the story to her and then realize, huh, my top 10 waitressing comments: "Hopefully she didn't come by to read it the day I posted that...oh God, the feel she is going to get for me is HAG!"

So now he knows

"Making any progress on the honeymoon plans?" "I didn't realize that was up to me?!"

The first-born, second-born joke is bad. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Chuckle all you want Bud, oh worker of a job 8-5, but the wedding planning, waitressing, blogging, email for work, email for personal, phone calls up the chute and howling dogs are making me feel a little like my head is going to explode. Today I woke up late and so am trying to gain back those two hours by working on both our desktop and laptop at the same time. I am responding to a work email and find myself g-chatting Georgia, "I would be happy to schedule a consultation," and then realize she will have no idea why I chose to write her that, when we are talking about what size I am in wedding dresses. No, no, between an 8-10, no sorry, your missing dog! Saturday we go back to the hotel to sign the actual contract, promise our first born in deposit, (second born is the final payment), and discuss a few more catering details. Monday I meet with the photographer over coffee which is JUST WHAT I NEED right now and then Tuesday, the florist. Speaking of coffee? I am drinking so much recently that I shake a little sometimes at work. Shake an entire glass of ice-cold water all over a guy at someone else's table. She can thank me later for the lack of any kind of tip. But a small secret before you pull out your tiny violin and play for me (you know who you are!). I do enjoy some of this. I like the bustling around, getting ready for a big party, even if it does mean I will be locked down for the rest of my life. The rest. Of. My natural life.

Waitressing brings out the mean in me

1. If you don't have the money to tip well don't. go. out. to. eat. You cannot afford it. 2. If having a servant for half an hour really gets you off, see a therapist. 3. If you ask for a glass of water with 7 lemons in it, order a lemonade. We see through you. 4. Do not hand me your menu when I am scribbling furiously to get your order written. 5. Do not discuss, loudly, how a waitress once gave you incorrect change and by God you made her go back and fix it. You probably owe her that extra nickel you worthless miser. 6. If you want your steak not as pink as medium well, but not as done as well, go fuck yourself. 7. Don't eat half of your food and then tell me it wasn't prepared correctly. 8. You are a douche if you tip off the discounted price you get from a coupon, or special deal. 9. Don't ask for an item that is not on the menu. We don't have it. 10. Do not come to lunch, in a hurry, in a group of 15, request separate checks and then tap your foot impatiently. Law of credit card processing: the more you give me, the longer it will take. Douche.

This post is all over the place

It looks like we've decided on an historical hotel, in downtown Birmingham, for the wedding. It is old-fashioned beautiful and gives me a 1940's, The Notebook, feeling. Bud reminded me that everything reminds me of The Notebook and this hotel was actually built in 1914. Eh, whatever. I have half a mind to pretend as if I'm deciding between the two loves of my life. I will fling myself around the getting-ready suite, in chunky heels and slicked back hair with a curl at the bottom, bemoaning my flattering situation. Do you feel The Notebook now? Because I certainly do. I have that problem explaining myself to Bud a lot. How can you feel a hotel? How can a ROOM in someone else's house, smell like your grandmother's house? Or worse, the town you used to visit growing up? A town has a smell? The cold water in a lake reminds you of Maine? What the hell. Which reminds me of something. Bud has just recently jumped onto the WTF bandwagon. Like a parent who finally realizes what a piece of slang means and begins using it, to the alarm of his kids. At which point the word becomes extremely embarrassing. That is what our household is like these days. Double-you-tee-ef! Quit pinching me! Double-you-tee-ef! Leave me alone! What? Has he been hanging out at the local middle schools, two years ago?

I think this sums it up quite nicely

We're not allowed to talk on our cell phones while we're on the clock at work. Which makes sense except when you first get there and there is no one sitting at your tables yet and there is nothing to do. And that is when I walked into the back dining room to make a short call. And then that is when my manager threw a peanut at my back, reminding me, hey! no talking on the phone!

Don't move, there's something on your back

In the last week I have used nearly two cans of Raid on two cockroaches. Or "waterbugs". Makes no difference to me what you call them, they are the singularly most disgusting things ever to have creepy crawled. Wait, have I mentioned how much I hate them? I feel a little like the Briar Rabbit, but in reverse. Instead of acting like I like them, so no one understands my weaknesses, I have put it out there for everyone. I think, in the Darwin view of life, I would have been eaten long ago. Last night I felt a - I don't know - soft edge of the sheet, my own hair brush my arm? And began banging my hand all over everything like, get it off! get it off! At which point Bud jerked awake and said, "I think it's on me!" I leapt out of the bed catlike, while Bud urgently asked me to turn on the light. Which I did to find...nothing. No bug. I kept mumbling about cockroaches until I fell back asleep only to repeat the process a couple of hours later. This time Bud did not even flinch as I jumped out of bed, brushing the imaginary legs off of my arms. I can't deal. The south breeds bugs like a petri dish and all of those throat cultures I gagged on growing up.

Asking if they can be in the wedding

I wanted to get a little shot of just how affectionate the dogs are and also, how stupid my voice sounds on video.

And I majored in English

"Flowers, dj, dress...wait a minute!" "WHAT?" "I thought, with this hotel, the suite was included. We got a honeymoon suite if we had the wedding there!" "Oh...ah...oops, I guess I don't know how to spell suit. Your suit, to wear, for the wedding."

Gyming it up, b****!

File under insecurities

When we were little, the three of us girls would climb onto my parent's king size bed with small hair rubber bands in hand and "do" my dad's hair. Which meant shoving as many man-length-haircut hairs into a rubber band as would go, wiping our sweaty hands on the sheets and grabbing another small fistful to repeat the process. By the end he looked something like a gay porcupine. Then we would yell for mom to come look and it would take her the inevitable twenty minutes any mom takes as she finishes the breakfast dishes, cleans the dog food bowls and writes three bills to be put in the mail. Anything that prolonged our wait seemed to become an urgent matter. When she would finally walk into the bedroom we'd sit on the bed, next to our creation like, snicker, snicker! She hasn't seen this forty times before. Haha, we made your husband look like a doof. And then the Question. The same question every time because it needed to be asked, EVERY time. "Mom, mom, no mom! Listen, listen! (giggle) Would you have married daddy if he looked just like this when you met him? (snort!)" And, bless her, instead of rolling her eyes and giving us all the finger before walking out, she instead would say, "yes, I would have." I started to think about that last night. Wait, no, let me back up. I first imagined falling down the stairs in my wedding dress, legs splayed, comfortable granny panties on display for everyone. And then thought about how embarrassed Bud would be, and THEN started to think about the porcupine hair. And THEN started to think about how, it's not always just a stupid hair-do. Sometimes you have a year when looking back, really, you're not all that proud of yourself. Or a situation where you knew full well what the right decision was but took the lazy way anyway. Or, a misstep in the way you dealt with a delicate friendship or job. The kind where you look back and think, I will never have half the character (the person/people you look up to) has. THEN do you think you still would have married me?

I am still confused about this conversation

"Scuze me, do you know where the Exxon is? The one under construction?" "I'm sorry, what?" "The Exxon station, near construction?" "Uuhh, what exactly are you looking for?" "My brother."

The best I can do

It's harder than it looks, keeping your hand still enough in order to not use the flash because the flash whites the whole thing out. But here are a couple of better pictures of the ring. Not sure I'm happy about how my hand looks, but these are pretty good representations of my new, sparkly ring!

Plan B

Friday after work Bud and I drove to a potential wedding site. It fit the bill with regards to availability, beautiful-ness and cost. I kept my fingers crossed as we drove past houses with broken windows and stores with spray paint on the sides. Hopefully our little area of the neighborhood would be better. Um, yeah, it wasn't. Although the house itself was very pretty, it had a 6 foot wooden fence around one half of the yard - I guess for picture taking purposes. Backed up to the house was a "bakery" except I got the distinct feeling that it wasn't. Everyone coming out looked like they were NOT carrying fresh loaves of bread or small, pretty cakes. Nor did they look like they ate much of anything. Ever. At first we tried to be positive - the house and grounds were very pretty. It even had a quaint swing hanging from a branch of one of the largest trees. Could we get pictures without an odd symbol spray painted in the background? Could we be assured a bottle wouldn't come flying over the fence and hit our middle-class heads, from the other side? And, I just KNEW no matter how many people said, "Oh it's ok, I didn't even notice the smell of stale urine!" I would know they really, in truth, had. It eventually just felt like too much compromise and we're back at square one. But I did realize something cool once I started telling my restaurant coworkers the news. Hey, I work in the restaurant industry and they do things like, cater! Or know people who do. Or even know people with wineries and other cool, foodie things. So I'm on to Plan B.

Using my left hand a lot these days

We should be friends! I ware a cape too!

I get those junk friend requests, like everyone else, at least once or twice a week since joining MySpace. Since I've become used to them, I largely ignore them, unless the name sounds familiar, which they generally don't because anyone can be named Jen Without-A-Last Name. Except today I bit, because I did used to have a friend named Jen and since hope springs eternal I checked her profile. This is an actual quote (under the "blurb" section):

"Whenever I go to a theme party I try as hard as possible to incorporate my cape. I am a total animal lover. If you don't ware ankle socks then please don't talk to me thanks..."

Polished and edited

I like to compare planning a wedding to the feeling I get when Sadie barks and I tell her to stop. Then she keeps barking and the sound is like someone unwrapping a snack cake the second you fall asleep for a long nap. Then I tell her to stop again and my voice gets louder. STOPBARKINGPLEASEFORTHELOVEOFGOD. Then I mentally throw her off the balcony and the thought makes me feel so guilty I pick her up lovingly. Ooh I think I've just figured out why she keeps barking. So far we've called 18-thousand places and I just want the whole thing to be tied up in a nice little Tiffany-like, blue box package. Except I want it to be mine, all mine, the thoughts, the decorations, the natural feel of it all. Which means details and that brings me back to the barking.

Sad summer day

Decisions

"So, are you going to make me wear a wedding band? My dad never did." "Make you? I'll let you make that decision yourself." "Iwanttowearaweddingband!" "Good choice."

My Big News

Let's see. About a week and a half ago Bud left his cell phone in his pocket and I washed (and dried!) it. I guess blame is about 50/50 there but, we like to assign guilt in this household, so I'm saying he's old enough to empty his pockets before dropping clothes in the magic bucket that cleans and folds them. After much cursing around the house, he ordered a new phone on Ebay and a few days later it showed up. It was a very nice phone and we hated to hurt its feelings but no matter how many times it got banged onto the couch or shaken in a fist, it would not quit humming in the background of all phone calls. I think it was just trying to get attention but Bud wasn't having it. He got BACK online and filled out a return form, stuck the phone in a package and sent it back. Because I tend to take on the optimistic role in our relationship I told him I was sure it would show up within a few days. He countered that no, it would not, it had to carry its happy ass back to California, be processed and then a new one sent back. Total of AT LEAST 12 days! (Remember California, that is important). We bet on it. I said it wouldn't take 12 days, he said it would, winner would be taken to Moe's for lunch of dinner. (Remember food, that is important. Never make a bet with me that involves food.) Friday I heard a loud knock on our door and, after wading past the barking! dogs! who! never! stop! barking! I signed for a package from, YES! California. That was it, I didn't even think...not at all, if you can believe that about me. I was so convinced about being right and if there is something this household likes even more than assigning blame, it is being right. I ripped and tore through 3 packages until, yes, a certificate fell out and I saw a small velvet box. You may try, but you cannot imagine the excitement that was this apartment that day. I held my stomach, my head, my heart and then, grabbed the phone and started dialing. Sisters. Because that's what we do. In her all-too-calm voice Georgia told me to hang up the phone, speed over to UPS and have that ring repackaged pronto. As if possessed I did exactly that, just keeping her calm, sure voice in my head. The two teenage boys behind the counter were impossibly cute about the whole thing and even took the package outside (after properly recreated) and "roughed it up" a little. They threw some dirt on it too, for good measure. Bud waited TWO SWEATY DAYS LATER to ask me. And then, in a tumble, because I have never been a big secret keeper, I told him the entire plot. He didn't have much of a reaction except to say, "I'm just a little nervous at how well you hid everything." Ah yes, don't ever get too comfortable. And the cell phone? Looks like I will be buying Moe's.

The junk store thingy, I repainted and put on my newly orange walls!

Taking a moment to reflect

I have some big news and it goes with a big story but, since I have not spoken to all of the people I know I really do need to speak to about this Big News, I am not posting about it yet. Although if you think, really hard, you can probably even guess the BN. But I will tell you this. As I was going through a list of people this morning, I heard my voice mutter, "Who is this cracker?". And then I stopped and realized, I had just referred to someone as a CRACKER. I don't know where it came from, I didn't even know I knew that word could be used in an inappropriate way. I just started saying it, like a little kid who recently overheard her neighbor who waters the lawn in his underwear, say something bad. Then repeats it.

Fear of God is the first step toward knowledge

And here I thought I spent some good money on college. Come to find out, all I have to do if be afraid. Very afraid! That is an, honest to goodness, church marquee sign I saw on the way home from my dad's family's town yesterday. We went for a day visit and on the way home, I kept seeing these small, hand painted signs tacked to trees. They went on for miles. Stuff that said things like, "Praise the Lord, please!" and "Love Jesus, please!". They all seemed to end in a polite plea, sort of like, "Save yourself, believe in Jesus, or get ready for some hot weather, please!" Please, huh? Well, since you asked nicely. Living in Alabama is never boring.

A grasshopper visited our porch this morning

Obsession, reaching an all-time high

And last night? I dreamt I opened the chocolate and my Wizard Card was Dumbledore. God I feel like a Trekkie.

Romance

The identification of people in this post is at the request of Georgia, and Bud. HOPE: "Can I have a kiss?" BUD: "If it means you'll get out of my face."

This just may sum up what I hate about authority

My driving record is, for the record, less than perfect. And yes that is a bad attempt at downplaying something in order to be funny. When I was in my early twenties, I had negative 11 points on my license. I didn't really know what that meant until I got a letter from the state saying I was in danger of having my license revoked, should I accrue any more tickets. This "straightened me out" for a couple of years, enough time for some of the points to drop away. I have straightened me out in quotes because I have yet to believe that speed, in and of itself, is reckless. Yes, I realize excessive speed is stupid just like just about anything in great excess is stupid. And I really don't want to write a speeding diatribe this morning. This is just an intro to a lovely email I received from my mother (thanks, mom, no sarcasm there, truly thanks!): Subject: FW: FOR YOUR INFORMATION... Date: Mon, 23 Jul 2007

"During the week of *August 13-18, 2007*, the Alabama Department of Public Safety will have every supervisor and eligible staff person in uniform and on the roads. This will add approximately 150 more Troopers to the Highways during this week. It is my understanding that they will be maintaining a "zero tolerance" rule on speeding and other violations, meaning that if you are 1 mile over the speed limit, you will be ticketed. They will also be looking for other traffic violations, such as not wearing seat belts and reckless driving. This was told to us at the Judges Conference by a Department of Public Safety official. Michael Gregory Administrative Office of Courts 334-546-7251 cell"

Aside from the fact that he randomly capitalized things like Troopers and Highways, I appreciate the warning. I guess. Although it also smacks of a threat and, and, one mile over? I know. I know that a lot of people drive 30 miles over a speed limit, drunk, high, un-belted and then slur, "don't yoush have anything better to do? go get shom of thosh murderrrerrs goddamit" but I think one mile? Yes, go get some of those murderrrerrs.

Still in need of some organization - but now! in orange!

Overheard in the restaurant kitchen

"Yeah, we'll have our house paid off in...29 years!" "I done f***ed my credit up so bad, they won't sell me a bicycle!"

I mention Harry Potter again, I'm sorry, my mind can only handle one thing at a time

I realize it is my fault for staying up until 2 AM reading Harry Potter last night. But the two double shifts in a row really aren't my fault unless you want to get into the "choices we make as adults" and other mature stuff I am too sleepy to handle this morning. Waking up to your brother yelling, "HOPE WAKE UP!" on the answering machine, at least an hour before you absolutely need to get up now! is definitely not my fault. And that last bit? That was supposed to be said in a threatening whisper. Nor is the fact that our phone jack is in the bedroom. Only. So I am often jolted out of sleep by someone desperate for a phone call about a lost pet or a family member wanting to catch up or a friend...who....you know....just wants to say hiii. Haven't spoken in a while. And perhaps we won't for another while, if you keep waking me up.

Domestic bliss (have I used this title before?). In that case, more domestic bliss.

First author's note: this is especially funny because I was never "the finder" in my family. Quite the opposite actually. "Hey, sorry about waking you this morning, I was just stressed about finding my keys." "Mm hm, it's ok, I just got up. I'm so sleepy from reading Harry Potter." "What time did you fall asleep?" "Definitely after midnight." "Well, let me know if you find my keys, ok?" "Mrph urgl..." "Are you brushing your teeth?" "Mm hm...hang on, let me look in your pants from the other night...oh, here they are!" *Second author's note: I am about halfway through Harry Potter and I'M NOT GIVING ANYTHING AWAY but am savoring each word, each page, it is so good. And the last.

On beginning Harry Potter VII

"I don't know, I'm almost too nervous to begin. I feel emotional and I haven't even started it yet." "Look at you! You've already got tears in your eyes!"

Should I stop talking about the painting project?

The paint brand that I'm using is called Evermore. Typed above the name, it says, "NOT RETURNABLE". NOT RETURNABLE Evermore. I just feel like telling it to stop being so dramatic.

Peanut butter pinecone bird feeders

The Project has started and so two walls of this room are now painted orange. Bud woke me up this morning to inform me, "there is an orange glow coming from the office," and before I was entirely coherent I bolted up, thinking, where the hell are the dogs and why is there radio-active material in the guest room? Practice for being a mom, I guess. When I saw his smile I realized, no, no, Hope, you painted it yesterday. I love the color so far. I got this young, Crayola feeling last night as I looked at the first half of the fruits of my labor. That same feeling I always got when the art teacher would come to our class room and thunk! down a big hunk of clay. I knew I wasn't particularly artistic but the prospects were so exciting! Here mom, it's a bird! Oh, how about it goes right next to the macaroni necklace - in the back of my closet?

Acting like I have authority, at the Home Depot

"So, wait, why did you pick a flat?" "Well, personally, I just think glossy paints are cheesy looking." "Oh, right." "But you've got kids, so you probably want some gloss, in order to clean the painted surface." "Uh huh, so I went with eggshell?" "Yep, that sounds like a good choice." "Excuse me, but I'm getting this for my friend and I don't know what exactly she wants. I told the guy flat but he said, since it's for a kids room, I should go with flat enamel?" "I think that's right, not glossy but still cleanable. Your friend won't be able to tell the difference, it's so small." "Ok, great, thanks!"

Growing gangbusters

A little succulent I brought back from NC in a Solo cup. It was less than half this size when I re-planted.

Our new paint color

Follow-through

Bud has relented and is letting me paint our office orange. To be specific, the color is called "pumpkin pie" and maybe, ok probably, I partially picked it because of the food reference. It is a warm, dark orange and all I have to do now is the work. I have two consignment shop items I also need to paint and am thinking now that I am more of an ideas person than an actual "doing work" person. One of the things I got at the little junk store down the road is an old medicine chest. In such good shape, the owner let me have it for free. I realized why yesterday, when one of the doors fell off. Poor Bud, his weekend is shaping up quite nicely.

Cause I'm here, and I'm real

That's a quote from an Ani DiFranco song and I don't write that because I believe I am the only original person who has ever listened to her music, but because I am deathly afraid of anything resembling plagiarism because I am deathly afraid of anything resembling jail. Have you heard what is considered preferential treatment in jail? It's like getting a toilet seat on your toilet. Paris may have received it, who knows, but I can't say I begrudge it of her. I'm pretty sure she still didn't enjoy her stay. Whenever I'm at a loss for something to write, that song lyric buzzes through my head, taunting me. As if to say - yeah, you exist, I'm sure SO many people want to read about THAT. I'm not really sure why I post to this blog so much. Yes, of course there is a small part of me that just barely a little bit dares to hope I will be a real writer someday. But come on, even with the naive personality it takes to hope such a hope, I don't expect it. I do know though that I am happiest in front of my laptop, writing something. I know, just like so many songs are my "favorites", I am happiest doing a lot of things. Eating is another one of them. Being with Bud trumps them all and driving with the radio blaring is probably a close second. But writing some kind of story, vignette or thought gives me a runner's high. And there's this other quote I think about a lot - it comes from the movie Hope Floats and, to paraphrase, says something like, "we all try to find that one thing we love to do and then cram it into a box in order to make money from it, whereby the pleasure disappears." Which sucks. Maybe I like writing because I don't make money from it. Because it is a total choice still. I do not, however, get a runner's high from waiting tables.

Lamenting technology like an old person

"I can't spell anymore. My spelling skills have declined significantly in the past few years." "I know, damn spell-check." "I don't know what my problem is, but I have to look at a word like 8 times to remember how it's spelled, it's embarassig." "Embarassig, yes."

Your mom

Decisions, they are not my strong suit

Crack cocaine

Sarah has cable! It is like discovering candy, coffee and wine all in the same day. I would write, but I am just SO busy watching Kathy Griffin, My Life on the D-list. She is funny. And I need more coffee.

I just have to give Alison another shout out

You are getting very sleepy...

Why I am the best house guest

Today I leave to visit Sarah (hi girl!) in Athens, GA - about a three hour drive from here. My restaurant schedule is so puny this week I figured I could stick around and lose my sanity from being in an apartment too long with two sweet, lovable, annoying-as-shit dogs or go visit a friend. I choose the visit, although losing my sanity is always tempting. There's nothing quite as fun as realizing you have been muttering to yourself all day long. Or even better, constructed a lengthy and complicated countdown to the arrival of the newest Harry Potter book. Sarah and I are planning on taking a Body Pump class once I arrive and although I used to love that class when I took it in Blacksburg, I also realize that it will, in fact, kick my ass since I have not maintained any of those muscles I developed. Yes, I developed muscles, for a short time. You probably didn't even notice because they only lasted four days. Four days when I was traveling alone. We will also drink wine I have no doubt and maybe paint some of the walls in her new house. We might even paint drunk, in which case I will try to take pictures and then never be invited back.

We kept feeding her cottage cheese for the faces

While watching "NOVA: Origins", last night

"You know, growing up, when we'd learn about the Earth's crust, in science class? I used to get hugry." "Haha!" "Well, it's not a joke."

She has never preferred being alone

You never gave us your new address, now we will eat your money

Yesterday I called into work to get my schedule since restaurant schedules are only posted a week before (or is that dis-organized, and only at my restaurant?) and since I was on vacation for a whole week, I didn't know if I was supposed to show up or not. Turns out I was, and I did, and then jotted down the entire 5 shifts I am supposed to show up for work this week. 5 shifts is sarcastic because normally I have at least 6 or 7 and although I get tired of rolling silverware, I do not get tired of depositing money in the bank. Because I like to buy things like extra virgin olive oil even if Target only has one measly bottle left. Because I have a light schedule this week, I am at home today trying to get organized. I will pause for a minute to let that sink in. My desk was piled high with "things to get done", a few of those things being changing my address since I moved - 4 months ago! I pawed through each slip of paper or receipt or reminder of "things to get done" until I came to a yellow slip of paper. A yellow slip that I had ripped from an envelope that said, "hey, you still haven't given this stupid company your new address and we're not going to keep forwarding much longer," except, in an organizational flurry, I had only ripped the little slip that said, "forwarding address." That is how organized I am. All I had was my new address staring me in the face, on a yellow piece of paper, reminding me that some company! somewhere! does not know my new address. And now either a magazine, or bank, or better yet my retirement fund, would be cut off to me forever.

When my skepticism begins to fail me

"Hi. You have been a great waitress. Is there something I can pray for you, for?" "Uh, thanks. Hm. My life is pretty good, that's a tough one. Well, my little dog is sick, how about that?" "If it's important to you, it's important enough to pray about. Will do."

Babies, they make me post smooshy

This morning Guerin stumbled into the room where I am sleeping, plopped Alison in the bed with me, mumbled something like, "she wants to see you," and high-tailed it out the door. I was a little confused at first, thinking maybe he handed her to me in order to make coffee, but Georgia and I soon realized he was back in bed, sound asleep. Alison has taken to me, and only me (besides her parents), in such a flattering way that I cannot figure out what I did? Yes, this was my master plan all along, but I never thought it would happen this fast, or hold this tight. Georgia and I are staying in a room together and so I cuddled Alison in the bed with us for a while, still sleepy, still confused, and she would tentatively play with Georgia but then crane her neck around just to check. You still there? Good, stay. After a while I pulled us both out of the comfortable, warm place, because yep! didn't look like I was getting anymore sleep and she helped me make coffee and take the dogs out. She does this thing. This little thing where if you catch her in the right moment she'll smirk, trying hard not to all out smile and then when she can take it no more, bursts into a grin. And I've always wanted kids, lots of them. But also always felt this fear in my chest. Like Oh God, I won't be a child anymore. And I will always have something, someone, to worry and take care of. But now, I'm really not that scared anymore.

The one that got away, no, really, he flopped off the pier

It's true what they say, how they make everything new again

We couldn't do fireworks last night because, well actually we did a couple and the babies started to wake up. And a sleeping baby is worth one thousand screaming ones or perhaps three million. Anyway. Instead early tonight we set off the handful we'd bought - the ones that amount to not much more than large sparklers with maybe some whistles thrown in for good measure. Why is everything illegal these days? My mom talks about bombs, I'm not kidding, I think literally small bombs were allowed on July 4th back in the good old days. The good old days when we were free to light our pants on fire. I held little Ella in my lap while we watched from the deck as Peter lit the dazzling display and I'm not kidding, I preferred watching her face as it reacted to the show, than the lights themselves. It was like watching fireworks for the first time, all over again.

Geography is not my strong suite

"Are these the Smokey Mountains?" "No." "I think they are the Appalachian." "They're all the Appalachian." "Oh. Then, I think they are the Alps." "Yeah, that's right, they're also the Andes."

Getting to know! you

The old man is snoring

Genetics don't lie

We're leaving for the North Carolina mountains tomorrow morning, early (at least, according to Bud) so today I've been walking around the house, picking things up, doing a last load of laundry. Trying to get the apartment getting-back-from-vacation ready. I walked into our office/guest/storage room and muttered, "there's just crap! everywhere!" And that is when I realized, I sounded precisely like my dad. That is a direct quote I heard from him, oh, once a week, growing up. Whenever it was time to "de-clutter". I can run, but I will never be able to hide.

Pearl is BACK

I can't get enough of this little girl. Unfortunately, she is retiring. But I just feel like if I met her, we could really be friends.

I'll show you f*&%*&^ flair!

This morning, on gchat as is our tradition, Georgia and I talked about life. It was very exciting - all about going back to school and maybe trying this (no, too hard)? Or how about this? Yeah, nah. I prefer to waitress and complain. OH wait, I've got it! You are just meant to be a failure. That? That I can probably get on board with. And wow, please don't post a comment on how, Hope, you are NOT a failure. My point isn't really that. It's that I don't know that I have a figuring out to do. Our conversation started because, ok, because last night at the restaurant another waitress breezed by and explained that "the woman at your table? It's her husband's birthday." And while I was just SO excited for him to turn another boring year older (this is the snob in me, it is - but if you are above 15 and trying to celebrate your birthday by having humiliated wait staff yell and throw peanuts, or sing, or clap - you are boring in real life). So I ignored it. And I knew it was wrong because if she chose to celebrate her husband's birthday that way, then, well, I guess we all have a right to exist or something. But the kicker? Upon walking out she told my manager! What? Was she hoping to accomplish? Oh come back next year, we'll make it extra special that time! Or maybe she was just angry and hoping I would get in trouble. Although she told the manager I'd forgotten. And if I'd forgotten, why not remind me? SLUT. So I got called out and I felt embarassed and then, angry. I know it was on me to do the birthday. I just resent that false flair we're supposed to live out while waiting tables. And throwing peanuts. Which led me to making choices in my life. Which led me to I can't wait tables much longer. Which led to what are my options and that's when I told Georgia, I don't think I have any. She responded in this way: that's why I think we mate, it gives us the opportunity to do what we want. Um, yeah.

I think I make him proud

These past couple of days Sarah has been visiting and, our friend Chuck has also been in town because he works for the same company Bud does, just in South Carolina. It has been two and a half days of ice cream, the pool, red wine, shopping and trying hard not to make an ass of myself in front of Bud's coworkers. Because he works there and, unlike me, has to continue to show up every morning, regardless of his girlfriend trying to kick someone in a parking lot. I guess it sounded good at the time but really I just don't remember. I did WHAT?! And then got mad when you tried to stop me? Please, please continue to stop me. In fact, next time just lock me in the truck before I order those last two shots of Southern Comfort. Do you want those iced? NO! I want them chilled! That's what I meant...iced. Yes, I was even probably on the bartender's nerves. Last night Bud's company hosted a big barbeque and as Sarah and I showed up in our lovely dresses, I told her I was just waiting for the moment when I fell over into the lake and mooned everyone. You might laugh but not when it is YOUR REALITY. Luckily this time nothing like that happened except for when I leaned into one of Bud's coworkers for a hug. A hug. That I think he had no intention of giving me.

Drinking dark whiskey, telling white lies, or in our case possibly kicking someone in the parking lot

Ah yes my friends. Sarah is visiting and you know to look out when we start singing Gary Allen.

The Apocalypse

Friday I received a cryptic message in my inbox saying that "A" had left a message on my MySpace page. Recently I have begun to delete the emails from Candy and Crystal because, hey, let's face it, I don't know anyone by that name. Even if I HAD known someone in high school who decided, yes, this year would be a good one to change my name, it would have been to something much more sophisticated like Katherine Chanel Williamson because I am from McLean and we are nothing if not sophisticated. But in this case something told me to go ahead and open it, go ahead and see if indeed I do know someone named "A" because that lends itself to all kinds of possibilities. Turns out I DO know "A". Turns out "A" stands for Alison. My mother. Is on MySpace. And I think that says enough, for one post at least.

Another river aquisition

Jonah the Rock

At the pool again, this time with little kids

"Daddy! Daddy, help!" "No, no, don't say that unless you're actually drowning."

My mom should win an award

For sending me this video.

Deja Vu

Bud gets home today! Again! From another trip! I was talking to a (long-distance) friend this morning about just how incredibly lonely it is to be in a place without close friends. And how cloying the advice to "join a club" is - even though given with the best of intentions. Go out! Talk to someone at a coffee shop! But I know, and really they know, that should I lean over and try to make small talk with a woman my age at a coffee shop all I would get is a nervous stare. And then she would leave and for the rest of her day wonder who that creep was. And frankly, I wouldn't blame her. Because I would probably do the same thing. I went to the pool yesterday, alone (but see how brave I am?!), and held my breath pretending not to listen to the conversation of the big, happy group next to me. Because actually? I was just jealous of that fact that they had each other. And were hanging out. Their conversation was incredibly dumb (a sample of which I will put below) but I think it was mostly dumb because I wasn't a part of it, and wish I had been. I roll my eyes whenever I see a gaggle of squealing girls and yet, I want to be part of that gaggle and when I have been, I squealed stupid things just as much. Or more maybe. And the thing is - I, we, have lots of friends. We've just scattered so much over the years and it seems to get harder to make true, intimate friends after college. And so my life consists of extraordinarily boring weeks combined with extraordinarily fun, if irregular, visits. I just want it to even out a little. Spying at the pool: "She's a virgin," "Oh really!? She is?!" "Yep, and so he's got to pretend he's all good too now! Hahaha." ...... "SO, are you hooking up with Chris?" "I don't know." "How can you NOT KNOW?" ...... "Do you realize you walked into the wrong house last night? You could've been arrested!" "I know, I like to get in trouble." Pause. "No you don't, you're never in trouble." "You're right, I mean, uh, I like to almost get in trouble."

Anon says:

"I knew your post was about Zaina, but at first I couldn't figure out which of you idiots was saying what."

Probably why we are such close friends

"It is so hot in here. Our air conditioner isn't working and neither is the fridge." "Ha. We hardly turn our air conditioner on - we're too cheap these days." "I know, but the fridge isn't working. I can't even get cold water!" (I think to myself, the above comment is odd because, doesn't it come out of the faucet cold?) "Yes, well, sounds hot." "It is, I think I'm going to faint." Pause. "You. Are. So. Dramatic. Sometimes I can't believe you aren't a southern belle."

Sometimes it is fun to buy-in, ok all the time it is fun

A few days ago I got a call from my aunt Ann (does everyone have an aunt Ann? I seriously think this is a very popular name for aunt's) that my Arbonne order had come in. A couple of weeks ago she hosted an Arbonne party at her house and, aside from the incredible donuts she served from a nearby bakery, trying on different lotions and makeup was the best part. I tried on a lip gloss that has "plumping qualities". You know the kind where you first apply a coat to plump and then apply a color/gloss coat? This one actually worked! And no, I am not considering a career in Arbonne, I was just truly impressed. I came out of the bathroom with lips on fire but hey! they were plumper! I tried persuading my cousin Jill to try some on too but she couldn't stop laughing at the fact that I'd plunged ahead and tried on a gloss that may just eat your lips right off. And kept insisting that no way was she trying it on. She is adventurous like that. Because I have been reading Dave Ramsey's Total Money Makeover (I am a regular walking billboard today), I only bought one small makeup purchase at the party. But I am convinced, that this little eye pencil will do wonders. Because that is the promise I was made at the party.

Check out my new collar!

I never lived, before I knew you

"Well! You're never going to fit all those dishes in there if you keep loading that way!" "Ah, I forgot how nice it is to have you home."

THAT is true love, ya'll

Today Bud comes home and the way I am looking forward to it suggests I have no life outside of my relationship and friendship with him. Which, aside from my dogs, I don't. Not really. And I know we could get all psycho-analytical about why having many outlets and girlfriends of my own are important. And that those would be good points, made by well meaning and intelligent people. But mostly I just want to tell those same well meaning people to suck it. I am going to the gym and maybe the pool and, at said I-have-no-life-partner's request, maybe to call a few tire stores for estimates on truck tires. That, everyone, is called romance! No but you know what really is? While on the phone this morning, Bud told me he bought Copper a John Deere collar.

It will be a good weekend, I can feel it in my bones

The sleepless week continues. The week for which I believe God is preparing me to have a child. I work a double today. A double that comes after a night where I fell asleep on the couch watching Sex and the City A Tribute! I don't CARE about a damn tribute - I was all set and ready to watch the last few episodes of the last season - I am the only person on the entire planet (seriously, I'll bet even my 86 year old grandmother has seen those last, elusive episodes) who hasn't seen whether Carrie picks the Russian or Big. AND, and I was reading online the other day and someone said she was SO OVER SATC. What!? I haven't even finished. So I was forced to watch the tribute - twice because there were some good clips - and then passed out on the couch like a sad bachelor who pretends he's living the awesome single life to all of his friends but actually spends most nights drooling on the sofa with a beer slipping farther and farther to the ground. Then I woke up at 1-ish and stumbled, confused, to bed. Woke up at 4 dying of thirst (see rum and Koolaid) and could not fall asleep again until 6. Woke up at 8 to the incessant jingling! of the dogs collars. Oh and at 4 in the morning? I got up for a bowl of cereal and found Copper lounging on the couch. The couch I spent an HOUR vacuuming Tuesday. It has been a lovely week. Sing it with me though: but I still got my health, so what do I care? No, really, I mean that, God forbid God takes this post seriously and smites me with boils or something.

Like a geeky 15 year old boy, my mom found this link

I don't want one of these yet, but show me a few of the enticing commercials for them - you know the ones where everyone is dancing around in a silhouette and looks way better than I ever will (but it's the hope! keep the hope alive!)? You don't have to watch the whole video to get the gist, but it does look pretty cool. (Thanks, mom!)

Why I missed a table entirely on my lunch shift yesterday

I have been waking on recent mornings feeling like I have not had any sleep the night before and wondering why my eyes feel like toothpicks have been jabbed through the front, holding them down to my eyeballs. And then I remember that I have been putting both dogs in the bed since Bud is out of town and apparently they are the King and Queen of Sheba with the way they treat me in my own bed. Copper stuck his giant face right next to mine at, I don't know, sunrise? And let out the loudest, most theatrical sigh I have ever heard. It's time for me to go out and, if you hadn't noticed, I can't open the front door. So get up lady. Also, I'd like extra peanut butter with my medicine this morning. Thanks! I don't know what's worse - being nervous that at any minute a perfectly executed crime will take place in my living room, or waking up at the break of day to an impatient dog?

And also

In reference to the below post? I told Bud I wanted a third dog. He told me to shut up.

Post dog owning depression

"barkbarkbarkbark yip! barkbarkbark!" "I GET it, Sadie! We have neighbors! Now shut up!" "BARK! YIP! barkbarkbarkbarkbark!" "Sadie, I'm warning you, I might drag myself out of this warm bed to make you be quiet." "BARKBARKBARKBARK!" "Copper! Do NOT let her drag you into this! It is only our neighbor going to work!" "barkBARKbarkBARK yip! BARKbarkbarkBARKBARKbark!" "Waaaah, I just wanted to sleep, you mangy mutts!"

Molly the Mollusk, our newest addition

Needing one of both

Last night when Bud informed me he would have to be gone, oh pretty much for the next three weeks straight, my reaction was not nearly as mature as my (older) sister Summer's would've been. Georgia is still a stronghold - I can always count on her to murmur in an understanding way when I explain, "so I just threw the damn thing out the window, it seemed like a smart reaction at first, but now I'm feeling a little sheepish." She can always one-up me with a, "don't feel bad, I didn't just throw it out the window, I lit it on fire first!" And thus the beauty of having not just an older or younger sister, but one of both. One I check myself against, "what would Summer do in this situation? Probably the most logical and perfect thing a person could do and so...I will do the exact opposite and then call Georgia for validation."

A perfect little fruit, from our patio

And always with the whining about the broken toe

Last night I went with a couple of friends from the restaurant to my very first drag show. And one of the dancers, she was hot. Mostly I was jealous of her legs which began at her neck, and her ability to move around the stage. She was a mesmerizing combination of beauty and power. Our friend, who was also one of the performers, came out in a feathery leotard for her second routine and now I am just wondering where I can get one of those? Because Bud? Well, no, Bud would laugh his ass off, but still. Ultimately we had to leave a little early because someone's toe got stomped on and when we piled back into the car, the conversation went like this, "Wait, why are we in such a hurry to leave again?" "Because you stomped on my toe! And I seriously think it might be broken!" "Oh, Ooooh, that was you? I knew I hit someone's foot pretty hard..."

Red state, blue state, altogether-too-different state

"Who does that?! Who would talk to their mom about an orgasm?!" "Must be in California,"

Next time we will try trading livestock, or gourds of wine or something

Last night we had dinner at our friend's house - a house that has been spectacularly re-decorated by using wedding money. Maybe Bud and I will stop living in sin, if nothing else for the money we could bring to Ikea. Their bedroom now has all black furniture, not your ordinary black furniture but furniture that says, We Are Cool And We Are Different but Not So Different That You Can't Relate to Us. The perfect, jealousy inspiring combination. I like to think Ikea makes that kind of jealousy easy but you never know, it could just be that I have a terrible case of the Gimmes and I will suffer for the rest of my life. After eating, and wine, and some more wine, we played a card game called Cadillac (I will not go into to it now, but once, when we were first dating, Bud and I saw a TERRIBLE, no really, ears-bleeding-terrible, band that seemed to have ONE song all night. The lyrics consisted of "Cadillac Circles! Cadillac Turns!" accompanied by the lead singer miming the turning of a large steering wheel. I don't think I was high (please don't take this literally, mom) but there is almost no other explanation for that night). It's not hard - you pull cards from a stack and decide whether to keep or discard, all the while trying to reach 31, by adding up your cards. As with almost all card games you really just have to go a round or two to understand. We played with peanuts because we have no money and the other people? Well, they'd spent theirs on furniture at Ikea. The problem was, Bud and the host, kept eating their peanuts. They'd lose a turn and we would shake our heads and say, "aha! you lose a peanut!" at which point one of them would look down and say, "what peanut?" YOU CAN'T EAT COLLATERAL! I felt like a little kid again, trying to micro-manage my own birthday party. We're playing in this room! If you don't quit playing in the toilet, I'm calling your mother to come get you! But that obviously just made Bud hungrier for the nuts I kept replacing. And the game, it was fun, but rendered useless since there was nothing to hang over the heads of the losers.

But you do build character

Georgia: I found a note that my boss wrote and it says, "Ga - welcome gift", but I haven't gotten a gift yet! Hope: Yeah, maybe you should hint at it. Talk about all the welcome gifts you've received before, at other jobs. Make them sound good. Georgia: What did you get? From your jobs? Hope: Hm, well, my first boss gave me nightmares and anxiety problems. My second job, a coffee mug, becoming a pet detective: stress with Bud and skepticism from most friends and family and waitressing? A bad back and some free food.

I can hook you up with this kind of drink

"What's in this drink?" "Mr Pibb, Diet Coke and a little Sprite," "What...really?" "Yes," "Why?" "Because I like to live on the edge,"

Oh wait! Did I tell you we had a flat tire on the way?

Our Manly Men fixing it.

Can we make it to the Mexican border?

Why I love this picture

a. Cari looks like she's about to rocket into outerspace from sheer happiness b. Bud looks slightly confused, like I'm forcing him to pretend we are a couple c. I am holding a beer, naturally, truth in advertizing and all that d. The woods and the rocks are so pretty e. For some reason, in this picture, I see my mom in me f. We've made some friends! In Birmingham! g. We really are, all so happy

A narcissistic picture, but don't look too closely

I do, I'll admit I like this picture (we took at the lake this weekend) hence putting it on my blog. But I blew it up this morning to inspect more closely and well, I wouldn't recommend it.

Just a small rant, really

Wait til you guys see the pictures from our boat trip. I had no idea I could drive a boat like that. So little of an idea that when we pulled back into the dock the boat owner accused us of "driving in circles and churning up mud". I can attest to the fact that I was driving in circles, trying very hard to create a wake for us to splash over - a difficult thing with a boat that won't go faster than 15 miles an hour (if that) and has the turning radius of a Carnival Cruise ship - but churning up mud? Dude, the river was many, many feet deep and I know this because everytime I had to pee I jumped over the side. Into the dark water that was slightly frightening and caused me to pedal my feet hard and splutter to the surface. You just want to bully us into giving you more money. That's redneck boater's insurance. I think he got the boat at a yard sale, at the end of the day, when everything drops down to a quarter. It was in good shape. The console almost came off whenever you leveraged it to get out of your seat. And the thing is? I'm not above that boat - I liked it's rickity-ness - romantic even. But to claim we caused all kinds of problems? Yeah, that's like saying I NIBBLED MY HARD DRIVE and that's why it's fried. As opposed to the fact that the computer industry really just has us all by the balls and can keep selling PRODUCTS THAT MELT for several hundred dollars - thousands even - and we keep coming back for more.

Why I am always seen muttering To-Do lists under my breath

So I was this . close to coming home today (between shifts), drinking coffee and watching some Sex and The City reruns (thanks Netflix!) but now have a consultation to cram in before work. And dad gets here at 7 (AY EM) tomorrow. And then another consultation! And then work at 4 and Cari and Neil get here late tomorrow night! And then I pass out from all the adrenelin! And come too and drink more coffee! I told Andy (from work) that I keep having this nagging feeling in the back of my head that I am always missing something, like, I just know I have something I am forgetting to attend to. He looked me back straight in the face and said, "Yeah, I know what you mean, but I think maybe you are just losing your mind," Yes, yes I am.

Why I should maybe think before I speak

I walked up to a table this lunch shift and noticed the woman staring intently down at her chicken. Slightly panicked I asked loudly, "SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR CHICKEN?" "No...we're trying to pray," "OHMYGODI'MSOSORRY"

Gimme

Go ahead and just hand her over.

My very literal mom

"Ok, so daddy's flight will be there at 7 oclock Saturday morning," "So you're saying you expect us to be awake by then?" "...Uh...yes...because I thought you would be picking him up at the airport?"

On my happy little college town that I miss

Yesterday morning Bonnie and Pat left and Bud also hit the road for a business trip. To Blacksburg. I know, that is like being forced to wait tables in heaven where all tips are at least $20 and you get to sit with the guests and eat too and not really wait on them at all. Last night when Bud called I found myself asking him what the weather is like? No, but, I mean it sounds mild, did you have to wear a long sleeve tshirt? Oh ok, but I just love Blacksburg air. Because maybe, just maybe I could be back there for a few minutes, over the phone. And I have no doubt that it's been romanticized in my head what with the years of college that are just a blur of fun and happy and then the next three years that are partially a blur of a boss who was so off his rocker we took notes during meetings but not the kind of notes that are to remember what he said but notes to remember what he said because, no way, it was just THAT CRAZY. Or the times he would bang on my desk, instructing me to stand up when he walked up to it? Haha that was funny. Or funny later, not when I would go home and cry, funny. But even so. Even with the small town politics which really amounted to the university being predictably backwards and sometimes seedy. Even so I miss it. Truly bumping into someone I knew, almost everytime I went to the store. Loading up the cars and trucks with towels and beer and heading to the river. Eating not-so-great appetizers on a restaurant patio when the weather finally turned warm. And all that that I will not keep going on about. It's probably a place I could've moved in my 40's and not liked at all. I know that. But it represents this golden slice of my life and I knew hanging on, hanging out with long hair at the college bars when I was 35, would not work and that moving was probably inevitable. But I still miss it a lot.

I love lamp

It may be wrong, but I have fallen deeply in love with this lamp Bonnie bought me.

Why I have been missing

I am here and I am sorry. I had work last night and Bonnie and Pat have been visiting and the yard saling and the antique looking. Ooh and the roadside vegetable stands! Have needed our attention. But I will be back. Oh yes I will.

The cat stopped having gas when you moved out

And other motherly sayings.