Melinda "The Mushy".

Admittedly, I do have a “mushiness” streak. I love sappy movies and stories that make me cry, albeit happy or sad. I love Lifetime movies and old Hallmark commercials, books that I can leave tear-stained and sappy feature articles in the local paper.


Some of the greatest movies are the ones that make you cry. Don’t get me wrong, I love all sorts of movies--comedies and dramas, children’s movies and action flicks. They all have their time and place. When I feel like a comedy nothing else will do. However, if I leave a theater with no makeup left on my face, red eyes and swollen eyelids, there is no doubt that I wholeheartedly enjoyed it. Or at least it ended well.


I’m mushy in my every day life too. If you are a close friend of mine, you already know this. I’m not shy to tell someone how I feel. Anyone I love knows quite clearly how much I love them. They REALLY know. I am sure they wish that there were times when it was left up to the imagination a little more.

I'm an emotional person. With me you'll always know how I feel. If I am angry, annoyed, happy or if I just have a different opinion, you'll know. But most importantly, if I love you, you'll know that as well. If you are my friend, expect this. That’s what I have to say. You knew what you were getting.


I’m sure I’m going to be "that mom” that doesn't just love her children but really loooooves her children. You know her. Her kids are the ones you hear moaning and groaning, “MOOOOOOOOM!!!!” in disgust as they try to break through the barrier that is their mothers' arms in attempt to escape. Yep. That’s going to be me.

I am quite aware of this fault and to be completely honest, I’m not concerned about it in the least. When it’s all said and done and my children are grown up and living on their own in their own little houses, they will know that their momma loves them. They will probably catch themselves even MISSING the smothering. Perhaps they will even catch themselves doing it to their kids one day and roll their eyes in disgust. But underneath it all, deeeeeeep down inside, there is going to be that warm, lovely, mushy feeling. And they will love it.

I am totally for children being independent thinkers. I do want my children to be their own people without me and without their father. I’m big on being the best you that you can be. The truth is, you can still love your children this much and encourage them to be themselves. I’ll smother you and send you out the door to face the big, bad world on your own the best way you know how. Spread your wings and fly, little ones.


I may get angry. I may not agree with decisions you make. I may have a few things to say along the way. But I will always love you. Just remember that you always have a place to land. You can always come home. I’ll be standing at the door with my arms wide open to smother you some more.

Sunburst Wire Wall Art from West Elm

A few years ago, I requested a catalog from West Elm and since then it's been one of my favorite inspiration sources. This sunburst art is something I am ordering for my living room. I have the perfect spot for it...possibly two. :) My parents used to have a "version" of this in the seventies and perhaps it reminds me of that...only way cooler.

Blue Serving Bowl

This is exactly what I need for my coffee table. It's low and wide--perfect for being able to "look over" while lying on my sofa and watching television. The color is GORGEOUS and I just love the flecks of white glass inside. This is from sirius.fnord's shop on Etsy. She also has some adorable coasters that I keep going back to.

I heart Etsy. :)

Euro Tunic in Pink and Turquoise

This adorable tunic is from Little Overcoat's shop (Etsy). If we adopt a little girl I'm sure I'll become a repeat shopper of her shop. I fell in love the moment I ran across it. The idea is ingenious--and what a great way to reuse beautiful, vintage fabric!

She says it herself best: "Inspired by the tale of an old man who had a little overcoat, and when it became too old he made it into a vest. And when the vest became too old, he made it into a tie. And when the tie became too old, he made it into a button. We use as much recycled materials as possible--you never know what a little overcoat can lead to!"

I love almost everything in this shop and her items are quite reasonable priced. They appear to be well-made; however, I cannot truly vouch for this as I've not purchased anything personally from her. She DOES have 100% positive feedback out of 366, so that's promising.

If you are looking for original and stylish outfits for your little girl, check her out. She also has some other items listed including some adult clothing. I'm keeping her on my list, for sure.

Red Poppy Cards

Everyone knows...I love red poppies. I love their simple lines and bright, beautiful color. The aqua blue envelopes are the perfect accompaniment to the red (I've always loved aqua and red together). The size is perfect for thank you notes and I love that they can be personalized as well. The price is well set for such beautiful cards and the artist has several other stationery items that I have my eye on. I love little notecards like this--I think saying thank you on something beautiful just means more.

I saw these today at MichelleBrusegaard's shop on Etsy. Check her out--coming from the industry, I know how pricey this kind of stationery can be--especially with the colored envelopes and the card stock these are on. She has great prices and beautiful products.

myeena style / adoption blog info.

I've decided to start another blog just for the "style" posts instead of cramming my personal blog with tons of images and comments. They will now be posted at "myeena style" located here .

Feel free to comment and / or subsribe to that blog as you wish. It will be great fun to shop together and compare ideas. I'll post a link on this page to the right as well with an image for easy maneuvering.

I'll soon have the adoption blog up and running and it not will be linked in any way to this page. It's the organizational freak in me, I suppose--but I feel it will be better for everyone and for myself to separate my personal blog from the style posts and the adoption blog. The adoption blog will not be linked to this page for privacy reasons. This is for the children's safety and for my family's as well.

I hope everyone understands! If I know you personally, feel free to ask and I'll give you the link. I have this as a public blog and you will not have access to the adoption blog any other way than through me personally. :)

Thanks for everything--love to you all!!!

I was sent home early from work today due to lack of work. I suppose that's what happens when the day after Christmas falls on a Friday and you are dealing with print shop owners and designers who can set their own hours. They decide to take a long weekend. :) In my free time, I decided to surf Etsy while my hubby lounged on the couch, enjoying his ENTIRE day off from work.

I ran across this ADORABLE recycled book day planner from Doublebooked's shop. This is one of my favorite shops now and I've labeled her as such. She takes old books that are falling apart and soon to be discarded and creates little day planners and journals from them. This one in particular drew my eye as one of my favorite childhood stories. I think this such a cute idea and am now going to be going to yard sales trying to save an old book from destruction.

Family

Winter holds within its grasp so many dear memories for me. The hopeful expectation of cancelled days from school, skating in snow boots with my brother and making snow forts with all of the neighborhood boys. Sometimes I still stand outside in the cold, close my eyes and take a deep breath. There I am. I'm five years old in Ohio--sweating in a snowsuit I can barely move in and having the time of my life.

I remember lying in the snow and looking up at the tree branches, staring at the snow balancing on them. I'd watch it sparkle in the sunlight and I'd drift off into my own little world. And of course, many of those memories involve the Christmas holiday and Christmas break from school. I don't know that it was Christmas day itself as much as all of the love and happy times surrounding the holiday. I remember traveling nine hours to my grandmother and grandfather's house in Kentucky every year. I remember the anxiousness I would feel when I knew were getting close. I remember hoping I'd fall asleep so that the trip would go just that much faster.

But what I remember most of all was all of the love. Coming from a family that didn't spend a lot of time all together, Christmas meant that we would all gather in my grandparents home and get to know each other all over again. Everyone seemed nicer. My parents were more loving and even my brother and I seemed to get along that much better at Christmastime. I remember how I used to wish that Christmas came more than once a year. If only we could do this more often.

I suppose that is where most of the memories of Christmas stem from for most people. It's a time of gathering with the family you may not see that often, sharing memories, and making new ones. It's what so many people look forward to every year...some for many months ahead of time, and some for the entire year.

But I can't help but think...why do families only gather for once or twice a year like this? Are we all so busy that we cannot make time for each other for no other reason than "because we love each other"? I often wonder why this is. Why so many families can make time for other things--scheduling appointments, working around other people's schedules, planning for parties of other sorts...but to do this with our very own family is such a task.

Many people may say that feel this way because I no longer celebrate Christmas. This is true; I do not celebrate Christmas. However, I do remember what it was like to celebrate the holidays. I also realize that people are busy and it's hard to make time out of our busy schedules to get together. I also think it's a real shame that so many of us don't try harder. If one of our family members offered us a free cruise for two weeks to spend that time with them, we would definitely find a way to make the time to be there. How sad it is that we cannot do this more often for that one Saturday on that one weekend without the prize at the end. Or perhaps the time with the ones we love IS our prize.

I am guilty for not making the time I should. I suppose it takes the one person to plan the get-together to have everyone over. I suppose no one wants to "go through the trouble" of the cleaning and cooking and preparing for everyone to be there. I try to do this as often as I can. Perhaps this is something I should work better at doing more often. Loving someone means spending time with them and getting to know them. We may know the people we love...but if we only see them once or twice a year, how well do we really know them?

It's something we all need to work on, I'm sure. It's something that I have been thinking a lot about lately, considering the adoption and the expansion of our immediate family. When you are just a family of two it's easy to consider the other. When you become a family of three or four, it takes more effort. But it's definitely an effort that is well rewarded. Truly our children learn how to love by watching how we love each other. Love is what Jesus stood for most of all and what the basis of his teaching was about--the greatest gift from Jehovah God to us was founded upon love...and it's the greatest gift that we can give to each other as well.

Nest Egg Necklace

I was shopping Etsy today and ran across this gorgeous necklace at All Those Threes' shop. I absolutely love the simplicity and the beauty of it. I've seen several other "nest egg" necklaces that are an actual nest with pearl eggs inside...and always liked those. But this one is so different and unique. I also love the way it hangs on the neck--so gracefully.

I think this would be a great gift for someone adopting. (hint hint haha) The nest necklaces are said to symbolize a mother and her children. To me, this pendant symbolizes the awaiting of a child to come to you through another means...a symbol of hope and faith.

Election Day

As most of you know, I do not take part in voting, elections, or politics in general. I suppose at this point in my life, you could say it is for religious reasons; however, before I took my religious stand I didn't take part in things things either. I just don't believe that one candidate is better, good, or well qualified than the other. Each candidate puts different things on the table but they all (and I express this on a local level as well as the presidency) ultimately stand for things that I can't put myself in the mix of...and that's that.

This is my personal opinion and yes, I am entitled to it--just as anyone else is entitled to theirs. I don't judge those who do take part in all of the hoopla...it's just not for me. There will always be people out there that will judge me for having this specific opinion. That's okay. If it weren't, one could say that I was the judgemental one, I suppose. I just know what is right for me and where I stand. That really is not a bad thing. :)

I will say that I will be SO happy when this is all said and done. From the television ads to the roadside signs...to the daily discussions at the workplace to the radio announcers that rack my nerves. I'm ready for it to just be over with. I've had all of the mud-slinging I can hack for four years.

Regarding the presidential election: the most aggravating thing about this election has been the religious undertone that is the primary factor here in what I lovingly refer to as, "The Baptist Belt". This really has played a lot in my discussions with other people and has affected me personally. For the record: I do not salute the American flag and I do not recite the Pledge of Allegiance. As a matter of fact, I do not pledge allegiance to any country or any man for that matter. My allegiance is to my God and Him alone.

The day I was born in 1975 was the day in which I became an American citizen. I know that I enjoy a certain lifestyle that is largely due to where I was born and I know what took place to get those luxuries I am used to. However, there are people in other countries that enjoy the same (often more) luxuries and they didn't have to slaughter innocent people to get it. Understand...I am not "Anti-American" by any means. I am simply not "Pro-American" or "America-is-better-than-everyone-else" either.

After all, I am an American and most of the peole I know and love are American as well. I do not believe that we are any better than the citizens of any other country. My belief is that we are all created equal and this whole idea of "God Bless America and no one else" goes completely against what Jesus taught and against what I wholeheartedly believe in.

That being said, to state that someone is or is not an American citizen based upon their religious stand is completely unconstititional. Remember that whole, "Freedom of Religion" thing? That still applies as far as I know. Therefore you are American by birthright or you are sworn in as an American citizen. Your religion has nothing to do with your citizenship and it shouldn't. This is one of the things this country was founded on. So many take pride in that and yet want to use it against others when it's convenient.

That goes for ethnicity also. There are many Chinese-Americans and Japanese-Americans and God knows---how many of us would be considered Americans if only those who were Native Americans qualified? The founding fathers so many hold dear--they themselves wouldn't be considered Americans if this logic applied.

So there you go. That should last me about four years. Whatever happens in the end will directly affect me, yes. But honestly, it will affect me either way as a citizen of this country. Some say if I don't vote I can't complain. These are the people that say if you aren't trying to do something about it then sit down and shut up.

Enter in freedom of speech. If you are going to support everything American you cannot deny the rights of the American Constitution. Some could say that I "pick and choose" certain freedoms granted by the Constitution to my benefit. But let's paint a clearer picture: those are my birthrights and are there for me to use as an American citizen--like it or not. I don't mean that to be smug. That is just how it is as a matter of fact.

The truth is, I try not to opinionate publicly about the problems and / or the issues we have in this country for that very reason. Many people cannot see where I am coming from and this is the response I often get from them. From my eyes, I'm stating things the way I see them. Just because I do not cast my vote in a voting booth does not mean that I am not entitled to a personal opinion and/or point of view. I don't believe the election of any new president will solve all of those problems...or even come close for that matter. I believe that only one thing will solve all of those things and that is what I put my hope and faith in every day.

So may God Bless EVERYONE...no matter who you are. :)

How to Turn Me On #2

Have chicken noodle soup hot on the stove for me when I come home from work 1/2 day sick.

I Have Found the Cure-All to Any Child with Self Esteem Issues.

They need to go spend a few weeks at my friend C****'s house.

My friend C**** has a daughter that is 11 years old. She’s a good girl…sweet but sassy and very intelligent to boot. This could be a deadly combination in many pre-teens; however, this girl is all but typical. She definitely knows how to work what her momma gave her…that’s for sure. This girl knows when to turn on the charm, but she isn’t going to let anyone run her over either. She has sarcasm to an art and her timing is quite impeccable. She’s my kind of girl.

Miss Thang (as I prefer to call her and will in posts for privacy reasons) is “only” 11 but she’s taught me a few things, for sure. You gotta love friends that are honest enough to tell you how it is…even when you don’t wanna hear it. With this girl around I never have to worry about if I have food in my teeth or if I have toilet paper hanging in a trail from the back of my shoe. She would point this out to me in an instant, roll her pretty brown eyes at me and ask me, “Who leaves the restroom without looking to see if anything is stuck to their shoe”? I love that girl.

We live in a Podunk town in Northeast Georgia next to another Podunk town that is next to another Podunk town. It's small town America. Now there are good things about living in small town American and bad things about living in small town America...but that is another post for another day.

In said city they have what is basically soapbox derby racing during the city's annual festival. For this year's derby, Miss Thang had enrolled in her group (the groups are separated by age) and was awaiting her turn down "the stretch" when we first saw here there. There was another girl in this group as well---totalling TWO in this age category. Soon they announced her age group and she and her friend took off racing each other in their matchbox cars twice (as it was double elimination). Miss Thang not win but had an excellent time nevertheless.

When her race was finished, Miss Thang walks around the crowd to her mother who was standing beside me and exclaims to us all with a proud smile spread across her face, "I got second place!"

You heard me right. She did not lose.

She came in second.

There are no self-esteem issues with that one, I tell you. She can see the positive light in any situation...or at least how she can benefit from it. ha! She's great. Did I mention I love this kid? Ya. If I ever have a daughter she and Miss Thang are so gonna hang. You truly have to admire that kind of attitude, I don't care who you are.

My friend came up to me at work the following Monday and said, "You should have seen it. The Falcons won their game this weekend and *** (her husband) was all like, 'THE FALCONS ARE THE BEST TEAM IN THE NFL!!!!! WE ARE UNDEFEATED!!!' and I was like, "***. That was their first game of the season."

I think I may move in.

When it Rains, It Pours.

I don’t think I ever realized how true that very statement can be.

I’ve been through a lot in my 33 years on this earth, but I have also been very blessed in many ways. I’ve had to watch my best friend, who was truly a sister to me, die slowly before my eyes week after week. At the same time, I had to watch her 6 year old daughter lose her mother. Don’t let me get started on the issues I have with my parents / family or my first marriage. But--I also have a wonderful new family and a husband whom I love dearly and who loves me the same. I have many great friends and a job I can stand going to every day. I have my faith first and foremost which has brought me so much joy, hope and peace. I can’t complain, truly I cannot. There are some things that I wish I could change…sure. But as a whole, my life has been (and is) a good life. I know this.

Sometimes when we receive bad news it seems like the world is crashing down around us. This is where I have been for the past couple of days. I am still trying to pull myself out of it. I know that there are so many things to be thankful for…but right now…at this moment…they have faded to the background. I found out a couple of days ago that one of my dear, dear friends from high school has lost the baby she was carrying and I cannot be there to support her. This breaks my heart because I want more than anything to be in Ohio right now helping her and doing whatever I can to nurse her back to health and to be an emotional lean-to for her. But I am a ten hour drive away.

I wish that I could afford to hop on a plane and spend at least a few days with her, but I just cannot afford it right now. I’ve missed so much in her life during the last several years…it kills me to know I can’t be there when she really needs me the most. I know that she is strong enough to pull through this emotionally, but she is not physically doing well at the moment either.

The very next day I find out that Joey has leukemia. This just totally knocked me off my feet. For those of you that do not know, Joey is a little boy that I had in my daycare for around four years. I was especially close to him as he spent so much time with me and my family. He was there quite often…staying for days at a time for several nights in a row…more often than not, to be honest. We grew exceptionally close and I loved him as if he were my own nephew. I still do and I always will. I’ve said before that it was just as hard for me to leave Joey as it was for me to leave Jordan. THAT is how close we were.

He is a big piece of my heart and I cannot even begin to explain what I am feeling right now. I don’t think I even know. Right now I just know the shock of it all and the worry. I keep hoping that Joey has enough “fight” in him to win this battle. I know that if he doesn’t I will see him again someday. But he is only 8 years old. It just seems too soon for him to be leaving us. He has so much ahead of him. In his fight, yes, but in his life as well.

I have never known a more loving child, or a kinder one. He has brought so much to me and my life and to many others that have been privileged to know him. He has so much more of that to give. The fact that he has to go through this now…breaks my heart. I just hope with all I have that he is strong enough to beat this. If he isn’t, I pray that he will be able to enjoy the time he has to the fullest.

He asked his mom if he could go to school today. He just came home from the hospital yesterday. His biggest worry is losing his hair and he probably has more understanding of what cancer is than most adults. (This child is unbelievably intelligent and wise beyond his years.) I’m not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing…but it seems as if his spirit has not been broken as of yet.

He has three more years of chemo to go through. Such a short time can seem so long when you are fighting a battle like this each and every day. I am keeping Joey and his family in my heart and prayers. I will be able to talk to him on Monday. I don’t know what I’m going to say and I don’t know that I have even thought about it until just now.

I’ll probably end up talking about video games and third grade. :)

Baby Update:

I haven’t written in quite some time. I appreciate the interest many have shown in our little adoption story and I apologize for not keeping you more up-to-date. Many have drifted off from boredom due to my slacking on updates, but I have good reason:

I haven’t had time.

It sounds so lame when I say it "aloud". I used to say that as an excuse for things and believe it to be true…but it turns out that I was dead wrong. Since delving into this little journey of ours-NOW I really have learned what not having time is all about.

We have officially decided to adopt from the foster care system. (DFCS) *GASP* I know. It was a scary thought to us at first, I have to admit. But once you really learn about the process and start looking into it, it seems a shame to go any other way.

There are SO many bi-racial and African American children in foster care awaiting homes. Any child over 12 months who is in any way African American by bloodline is considered special needs. (sad as that is) We are 100% open and willing to take a child in regardless of their race and for some reason...not many are. (Which doesn't make sense to me considering how many people think nothing of going to other countries to adopt a child of another race. BUT that's another blog for another day.) Special needs adoptions are much easier to come by and there is no agency expense to do so. The waiting list for a non-special needs child is 4-7 years. We can adopt a special needs child / family in as soon as six months from the date of the home study completion. Ya.

We are about halfway through our IMPACT training for our home study (week 4 of 7). If you know anything about foster care and / or adoption from foster care, you know why I’ve been gone for so long. It is SO involved (understandably so) and it has literally consumed every spare moment we have had. From filling out 50 pages of paperwork to converting our office to a bedroom…we no longer have what we used to refer to as “down time”.

Not that I’m complaining. I completely understand why things have to be so involved...so detailed. I’m glad those things are put into place for the child’s benefit. I’m just tired. So if you feel that we have been ignoring you…that we have been antisocial…please don’t take it personally. We are either painting, baby-proofing, at an appointment, in a class, being fingerprinted, scheduling, filling out paperwork, looking through photo listings, or doing research. I suppose you could compare it with 9.5 months of pregnancy all crammed into one lovely month. :)

I’ve decided to start a blog JUST for the adoption. I have realized that it’s completely consumed this blog and some people don’t come here for that. Some readers stop by only for that. SO…I’m working on it. WHEN? I don’t know. I have heard that there is someone that will set up the site for free as long as it is adoption-related. I just may take her up on it. I COULD set it up myself and make it all wonderful and pretty…but why not let her do it and I’ll give her a little donation for her time? She does a wonderful job--and I wouldn't have the hassle. The donations go to an adoption fund for her and her husband and I think it’s a wonderful idea. It’s so crazy expensive to adopt. No matter how you go about adoption…it’s costly in one way or another.

I’ll keep this blog posted of the move if anyone wants to follow along they may. If not…it can be our little journal this crazy roller coaster ride to our newest addition. :) Perhaps someday she may want to read all about this experience. Or maybe when she is a teenager, I’ll make her read it from start to finish. I’ll then point out what we had to go through to get her here and she owe us one big time. You know, nothin’ like a good 'ole guilt trip.

Mwahaha.

To top things off--we are also pondering a move as well. We have heard about this house in a subdivision about 5 minutes from Corey’s job that is coming available in December. If it is still open in January we may be walking through. It’s a 3 bedroom 1.5 bath and the neighborhood is great. It has an open layout and a great room so that would be very nice. The biggest complaint I have about the house we are in now is that the rooms are so split up. Well that and the Cracker Jack box bathroom. Ugh. I will definitely not miss that. We can manage in our 2 bedroom but we really do need that third one for an office (or perhaps a daycare room?). We’ll see…

In the meantime…we’ll just keep plugging away filling our tiny brains with all kinds of “handling techniques”, rules and regulations.

If only we could truly learn by osmosis…

August 2008

My Mother's Favorite Heathen.

Crackhead.

M: “Okay. THAT girl really does look like a crackhead.”
C: “She’s not. She’s always looked that way.”
M: “Ooooh. I see. You know the crackhead.”
C: (laughing) “She looks just like her mother. But she isn’t a crackhead. (pause) She’s inbred.”

My Crazy, Wonderful, Insane, Amazing Friends

A few weeks ago, my husband and I (and another couple) were at our friends’ house having a cookout. My friend took us all on a tour of their garden to show us all of the little lovelies she had planted there. There actually was quite a few things growing (much to our surprise) and growing quite well.

As she was showing us the plants and explaining what they were she pointed to this leafy vegetable that was growing quite well. It was by far the largest and most advanced plant in the garden and by far the “star plant”.

“THESE are our watermelons,” she stated with pride. Everyone looked a little puzzled as what was growing on the stalks were not round as watermelons usually are, but an oblong vegetable dark green in color. We all just sort of shrugged it off--confused and bewildered but giving her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they were “special” watermelons…

Today my friend came up to me to tell me a little story. She begins by telling me how her daughter has been calling to check up on the garden. (Her daughter is in Savannah visiting family.) My friend then tells her that she thinks something is wrong with the watermelons because they are fading in color. She asks her to look it up online while she is at the library on the internet.

My friend proceeds to go to her garden to investigate. She decides to pick one of the “watermelons” to see what the inside looks like (in attempt to find out what is wrong with them). She slices one open and…tadaaaaaaa…it’s a cucumber.

You know…cucumbers…watermelons…what’s the difference?
I’m still a little curious to know if it is really a cucumber or if in fact it is a zucchini. But that, my friends…is another blog post for another day.

Taking Offense to the Hat.

Tonight we were watching this weeks' episode of "Top Chef" when Corey started commenting on Spike's hat--not this exact hat, or course, but one similar. For some reason this kid and his hats really do bother my husband. There have been a few episodes of this show that Corey and I have have caught together. (We do not watch regularly.) Each and every time he's made little off-the-wall comments about Spike's hats. It's one of those things where typically I just roll my eyes around in my head and blow Corey's comments off as if I didn't hear it and / or care one way or the other about whatever it was he just said.

(Don't act like you all don't do that to your husbands at some time or another.)

However, tonight my dear, sweet hubby threw me off guard completely. He started in on how annoying Spike's hats were to him and I (without hesitation) started my typical routine with a genuine, long, drawn-out sigh when suddenly I am completely thrown off guard by the following comment that was sent spewing from this sweet man's lips:

"You know...he really is disgracing that hat." ...LOL

If you cannot find the humor in that...either:
1. You do not know my husband....or

2. You do not realize that my husband really is straight.

Yes, I realize that there are straight men with good style. Many of them are also metrosexuals. Which, again, my husband is not.

He just likes to give the hat it's well deserved honor and respect. All that I can say is that you truly must admire a man that insists on giving props to a good hat.

Testicles? Ow.

"Freeze!...or I'll kick you in the testicles!"

--Bones 6.10

One of a Kind You are, My Dear

My friend Christina is one of those rare people that truly understands me. In most instances, I can say six words to her and she is all, "I totally get it". Which, makes the following Christina quote completely unreasonable yet reasonable at the same time.

(That last statement is something probably only she, my husband, and a select few others will even understand. Which goes on to further prove my point.)

The quote of the day goes to you, my little Collected Catastrophe Part Deux.

"Yeah, I suppose I should get going, too. I have to go water my dead flowers that I bought today on clearance."

Somehow that statement completely encapsulates your personality...all six of you.
I'm COMPLETELY kidding. We all know there's only three. ROFL

I'll stop before she posts my Starbucks story.
I love ya galfand.

Did You Want Cheese on That?!

One day last week one day when we had absolutely no time (imagine that), we drove through a McDonald's drive thru for dinner. This is the McDonald's, mind you, that prides itself on their gourmet menu and "classy" environment. It is also of those that have the "double drive thru" intended for saving time and allowing more customers to go through the line.

We had already ordered and were waiting at the window to pay when we heard the guy behind us placing his order. He had to have been a regular to this particular McDonald's which was obvious by his overly-simplistic order.

"Thank you for stopping at McDonald's. How may I help you?" asked the cashier/drive-thru girl.

"Yes, we would like two double cheeseburgers and a McChicken, please."

"Okay. I have a double cheeseburger and two McChickens, correct?"

"Noooooooo..."(States the customer in a very slow, sing-song, talk-to-her-like-she's-in-preschool tone)

"That was TWO double cheeseburgers *insert pause* (allowing the cashier to comprehend) and ONE McChicken."

"Um...okay. Two double cheeseburgers and a McChicken."

"Yeeeees..." (insert long, loud sigh)



ROFL -- and imagine, it was even funnier in person.
As my husband and I tried to regain our composure, we pulled up to the window to see a teenager in ponytails and a giant ribbon. This didn't help matters. Those of you who know me KNOW how WELL I am at controlling my reactions and /or regaining my composure.

"Obviously you do not need to be well educated to work here," stated my husband.

I replied, "No, really? You know..they should post a notification on the sign in front when hiring that states, 'You really do not need to be smarter than a fifth grader to work here.' They would definitely get a bigger response."

Here's hoping the registers never break down and they actually have to COUNT CHANGE.

Creepy Guy to Rock Star

CONGRATS to my little David. I've got to say, he's come a long way. He started out (imo) as the weird creepy guy of the season always trying to seduce the camera--which of course, totally turned me off from him due to my past experiences with American Idol Creepy Guys.

The creepiness started with Constantine. He was the original and definitely the creepiest. From there the eebie jeebies spread to Sanjaya and then to David Cook.

O, but David.

He overcame the creepiness when he realized it was creepy. He moved above and beyond to shine galantly as a rock star. Cool and collected David Cook. I'm so glad he walked away with the honor last night.

I know that Archuletta will still be around for a good while and will continue to put the world to sleep with his lullabies for years to come. I'll give him the credit he is owed. He's a talented kid and he has a beautiful voice. I just don't think he's America's next musical superstar. It's hard to pull off album after album of nothing but ballads nowadays.

I personally think David Archuletta should go gospel. Or perhaps musicals--certain ones, perhaps...definitely something besides "pop star".

We cheered for David Cook upon the announcement. No, we never voted...not once. Yes, we are "those" people that don't vote and then sit back and complain when our favorites are voted off.

Whatevah.

If you are good and in the final 5, you'll get a contract somehow or another. That's how I see it. When it comes down to it, that is what they are all after anyway.

I'll be waiting anxiously for David Cook's new album.
Rock on David.
Rock on with your Non-Creepy Self.

May

Not Organic, Free Range, or FDA Approved

Natural Prozac

My Husband Wants to Drive Me Over the Edge--I'm convinced.

My husband has a habit of pointing out and / or stating the obvious...even when the obvious is something you were trying very hard to block from your mind. He read my post Saturday. On the way home from our assembly yesterday he nearly made me have a semi-panic attack outside of the sushi bar when he made this comment out of absolutely nowhere:


Corey: You know that if the car were to roll down the side of the mountain that holding a pillow to your head probably wouldn't do anything to save your life.

Me: Oh my freaking...SHUT UP! Why do you have to put new ideas in my head?

(Insert pause for thinking and attempting to maintain an even breathing pattern.)


Me: Great. Now I'm going to have to keep a football helmet in the car.

You Can't Reason it Out of Me--I've Always Been this Way and. I'm. Stubborn. to. Boot.

Admittedly, I'm not the most calm and collected person in the world. I've never claimed to be--in any way, shape, or form. I know that I can be (at times) completely neurotic and irrational. I fully embrace these tendencies despite all of the time consuming and mentally deteriorating work my mother put forth trying to "insult this out of me" from childhood.

I often envision the "worst case scenario" when faced with a difficult situation or frightening circumstance. My husband lovingly refers to me occasionally as the "Queen of What If's". I attempt to excuse reason away my paranoia to the very best of my ability. In MY world all of this makes absolute sense and is only preparation for what potentially may happen. If I think things out completely, I will know how to react for whatever consequence befalls me. Yep. Truly, I'm not a big fan of surprises.

After all, how imposible is it really that the car may go off of the road and roll down the mountain? If it did, I just know that my window could bust on a giant rock. This rock would crush my skull and I would then bleed to death on the mountainside. All because there are NO GUARDRAILS.

I mean, really...it could happen.

These kinds of thoughts are the VERY reason you may see me riding around the north Georgia mountains in the passenger seat of our car with a pillow secured against the window and me clutching it as if it were to move, I'd surely die. Because you know, that pillow will prevent my brains from being some racoon's dinner later that night if this little scenario really DID pan out.

Ok...so it sounds a little crazy all written out like that. BUT IN MY HEAD IT IS A VERY REAL POSSIBILITY. I already know I need drugs, so save yourselves from unwanted advice and concerns. It's never worked for anyone else and I seriously doubt that you will be the one to turn my life all around.

I love you anyway.

I was reading something earlier today that inspired this post. I started to think back to where this all began... I don't know if this is the FIRST episode, but this is the first that I can recall:

I remember lying in bed as a little girl on many cold winter's nights in sub-zero Ohio dressed in layers of clothing that included two pairs of socks and gloves. Stranger yet, (as if that isn't strange enough) is that I don't remember ever waking up drenched in sweat from all of that clothing. (Perhaps this was because my mother made us keep the thermostat just above freezing in order to save on the electric bill?!?) Nevertheless, I was prepared.

"For WHAT?!" you may ask.

FOR A FIRE.




Duh.

I also had a small suitcase packed in the closet that held everything near and dear to my heart. It contained some family photographs, a locket my grandma gave to me, some friendship bracelets, and a few letters from my aunt. This "survival pack" also included contents of two piggy banks, two Capri-Suns, and three candy bars.

Note: Occasionally the food was replaced during a midnight snack or two.

The food items were in case I were to be out there for a while before anyone found me and I started to get hungry. There was also the possibility that the entire family would be burned to death and I were to be left to fend for myself, I'd at least eat for a day. I'm not really sure what my line of thinking was, but I'm sure it was one of the two.

I kept this suitcase near the front of the closet so that I could open the closet door and grab it quickly with one fluid motion if the need were to arise. This of course would occur right after I shoved the blanket under the bedroom door to give me a little more time for my escape.

I also kept a 'Lil Slugger underneath the bed...and a brick. (Indeed, I had a backup plan.) These weapons of mass defense were there just in case I needed to break the window because it wouldn't open to let me out.

My brother and I used to have these stickers on our windows that were there to let the firemen know that there was a child inside of that room. I used to be SURE that the snow on the other side of the window didn't cover that spot and actually taped florescent stickers around it so that they were SURE to see MINE. I was evidently also very self-centered as a kid because I don't ever remembering worrying about anyone else in the household.

It was all about my escape and survival.

What's really odd is that my parents seemed to be completely oblivious to this little freakiness I had going on in the back bedroom. I don't remember them ever asking WHY I had those things in my room or why I slept in so much clothing.

Perhaps they just thought I was collecting things and was cold?! I have no idea. Maybe they really didn't know. I would think that if they did my mother would have found this the perfect opportunity to enroll me in some secretive kind of therapy. (Because you know, of course we can't let people KNOW that we as a family are completely crazy and disfunctional.)

I remember this starting when I was probably around ten years old. I also really only worried about this happening in the dead of winter. I suppose I thought that if it happened in the summer there wouldn't be so strong a need for survival tactics?

Nevertheless, for some reason this fear suddenly disappeared when I turned thirteen. I'm really not sure why but after that I don't think I ever really thought about it.

Maybe it was because I had come to realize that the chances of this happening were quite slim...and moved past the insanity. Perhaps it just manifested itself in another way. This sounds more reasonable to me.

I probably found something else to focus on that entailed much less work.

Or maybe it's because I was hitting puberty and with all of those hormones raging though my body all of that clothing was just too damn hot.

You're Charming on Your Own but When you Start Throwing Around those Compliments...My Knees Start Wobbling.

"I'm NOT rude."

"You ARE rude. Yesterday you compared me to Weird Al Yankovic from behind."

"He has great hair and a small ass. Learn how to take a compliment."

--'Til Death 4.16

Oh Brother.

Pregnant Man?
Okay...in no way, shape, or form does this count as being a pregnant man. This is more like a woman with a penis gives birth.

I wonder why they didn't give that spin to the story. That really would have been more accurate, in my personal and constitutional opinion. I mean, you can't be considered a man if you still have the plumbing. That's just not right. The world is a racket, I tell you.


That's like saying Burger King sells real fries. Technically, they are fries. But I mean, come on.

Who really says...oooh let me go to Burger King and get some fries. Nah. They just come with the combo. That's the only reason people get them.

Just like no one believes that it's a pregnant man. They know it's a pregnant chic with a penis. Give us SOME credit.

Word.

You Must Admire a Man with Proper Priorities

"I don't care if my announcement order is going to be two days late. My wife ran into a four-foot bright yellow sign in the Wal-Mart parking lost last night. She did a total of $3,000 in damage to her car. She didn't see it and she didn't hear the collision. Those announcements are low on my list of concerns."

---Scott, one of my clients

Dear Al--The Next Time I See You...You Will be Smiling.

I've been thinking a lot about Alison lately. It seems like in the last week so many things have come up that make me think of some story about things that we did and times that we shared. Orange lilies, Air Supply, the red cardinals outside of my window, canolis...it's funny how those things were mere passing things to me once upon a time, and now hold such valuable memories.

I remember when I used to feel nothing but sadness every time I thought of her. I remember just grieving for what seemed like years....perhaps it was. I remember trying not to think about her because it was the most painful thing I could even think of.

She was my best friend. The only friend that I really stayed close to after high school and one of the few friends I've had in my life that I can say I could trusted 110% with everything I was. She was more than a friend to me. She was my sister and I loved her as though she were.

After she died I remember crying myself to sleep for weeks. I remember so many times when something would happen--something sad, something crazy, something wonderful in my life and the first thought in my head would be to pick up the phone to call her...only to come to the heartbreaking realization that I couldn't anymore.

I remember how empty I would feel after that happened. How I just wished for one more day...one more chance to let her know how much I loved her. I've always known that she KNEW how much I loved her. I guess you just always wish for the chance to tell someone one...more...time.

I still miss her, yes. But now when I think about Alison, it's more about thoughts of happy times; great moments that we shared together. I suppose that is what getting past the grief is all about. I feel guilty sometimes for not being completely saddened when I think about her. Perhaps that is part of the healing as well. But what is different is that now when I think about Alison it's usually a memory of a stupid moment that we shared...corny jokes, dorky comments, or some crazy song from 1994 that takes me back to all of the times we shared driving around acting like complete morons. And loving every minute of it.

Those things far outweigh all of the sad times toward the end. The cancer lasted two years. We had eleven great years before that. We even had some really great times--touching moments that I will remember forever that took place during her illness. Actually, they were some of my favorite times. Sitting on her bed watching reruns of "The Cosby Show", eating strawberries and peanut butter, telling Matteson (her daughter) stories of what we used to do when we were young, and writing it all down for all of history--those were the best of times, truly they were.

I've often thought about what I would say if I had the chance to tell her one more thing. I am pretty sure I know what it would be.

"Al, I love your goofy ass...always will."

April Masthead 08

Only Bites Occasionally.

95 is Just a Number.

The other day while we were at work my husband reminded me of a story I have yet to tell about my grandmother. This actually happened while my grandmother still lived in Newark--I believe this was close to three years ago.

Mother: "Let me tell you what my mother did today."
Me: "Wait," I said, pulling up a seat.
Me: "Let me give you my full, undivided attention." (I knew enough to know this was going to be good.)
Mother: "So um...today your grandmother and I went grocery shopping."
Me: (On the edge of my seat.) "Yeah. You told me you were going to swing by to pick her up and that you'd be home late."

Mother: "Okay well...when we got back to her house and got out of the car to take the groceries inside, we realized that Grandma had locked herself out of the house."
Me: "Oh greeeeat."
Mother: "Yeah. So she locked herself out and she KNOWS there is a key somewhere."
Me: "Somewhere." (insert sarcasm)
Mother: "Exactly. SOMEWHERE. She can't remember where it is, of course."

(snickering)

Me: "So you and Grandma were outside of her house searching for this mysterious hidden key for exactly how long?"
Mother: "Oh...for a good while. UnTIL Until I went to look for it inside of the birdhouse and turned around to ask if we should call John (my mothers' brother who lives down the road from my grandmother) and saw Grandma crawling in the window."
Me: "Really....she really needs to give you a k---WHAT?! Did you say crawling in the window!?"

Mother: laughter.

Me: "I don't even know what to say (laughter). I really just...don't even know what to say. Okay--I believe you. But does she know she is NINETY-FIVE and has already broken one hip?! (pause) She is ninety five and has broken a hip and she is freaking crawling through a window."
Mother: "Yup. She had her leg heisted up into the bathroom window."
Me: "Oh gaw. I don't even want to picture that, Mom. Lovely. (pause) I hope she was standing on the good hip."

pause.

Me: "So...did she get in?!"

more laughter.

Mother: "Well...yes. But only because I was trying to pull her out of the window and John drove by and saw us. He then handed me a copy of the key."

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah lovely.
I surely do hope that if I live to be 95 I am either:

1. In the new system living happily.
or...
2. Someone has invented some really great drugs.

But you know...if flexibility is genetic, I think I'm good.

Proof that We Do Not Exclude Anyone

So funny. I don't know many churches of any denomination that would actually invite Maxine to their church with her fowl mouth, bad attitude and disgusting habits. But JEHOVAH'S WITNESSES WOULD DAGNABIT.

Many of you may think things of this nature offend us "Jehovah's" as we are commonly referred to; however, truth be known--most of us find things like this hilarious. Just because we follow the Bible does not mean that we do not have a sense of humor, folks. God definitely has a sense of humor. I mean...look around.

What's ironic is that many ppl call Jehovah's Witnesses a cult. This is why most people slam the door in our faces. (Which...btw...if you just say, "No thank you, I'm not interested," we really will leave. I promise that we will not try to break down your door, peep in your windows, or follow you to church to be certain you really ARE Baptist.)

Technically, a cult is a group of people that seclude themselves from society and worship / follow a man as if he were actually Jesus Christ himself. (Sidenote: Jesus never asked to be worshipped either.) Truth be known...we invite everyone...as Maxine here proves. You can hardly say that a group of people that knock on strangers' doors to invite them to share in a scripture are secluding themselves from society, right? And the fact that we don't even have a designated preacher is besides the point.

Well there are those things...and the fact that we don't ask anyone to drink "Holy Lemonade" to follow us to the "Promised Land".

Jezebel

"Do you think it's a sin for people to wear makeup?"
"Well Ma'am, I think it's a sin that some people don't."

--My husband Corey, quoting his grandfather.

If My Dog Were Human, She'd Most Definitely be a Lesbian.

It's true. My little Daisy is a bona-fide crotch lover. I've never seen an animal so dedicated to any one certain chore. The amount of effort and determination she has for panty chewing is unreal.

Imagine if you will, a child that has never in his life had cake. Now imagine how that child would react once they tasted cake and they realized how amazingly wonderful it was. You then proceed to give that child an entire piece of cake all to himself. Imagine how excited that child would be to devour it completely...the sheer joy on his face as he finished the last little morsel.

Daisy is that kid; panties are her cake.

She has successfully ruined about five pair of my panties in the last few weeks and we have to literally blocade her out of our bedroom to prevent any further possible damage. Not that there are panties lying around for the taking. You do not understand the madness. The dog smells them out in the laundry hamper and PULLS THEM THROUGH THE HOLES.

What did I say about sheer determination?

And of course it's only MY underwear she has this fascination for. Corey's underwear have had a few run-ins with the Crotch Monster, but usually it's because that is the only other choice she had. Second best, if you may.

This is how serious she is about it....she actually has a plan. She waits for the right moment. That one single moment to slip into the room and whisk over and grab a pair in a quick dash to a secret spot to get a quickie in before anyone notices.

In our house, we refer to catnip as "kitty crack". Panty crotches are Daisy's crack--and she is a fiend. *Painstaking flashback to a certain Trailerpark Celebrity trying to be Amy Winehouse.*

"They tried to make me go to rehab and I said, "no, no, no..."

I am sure this is a "natural" thing. I don't get it...but I'm sure that it's one of those devastatingly disgusting "dog things". You know...like eating cat crap, sniffing butts and licking slugs. I'm also hoping that somewhere along the way she finds new interests that do not include the destruction of clothing.

The good news is that this gives me the perfect opportunity (out of desperation, but an opportunity nonetheless) to buy more panties. That's the upside.

The downside is that I'll have to also buy another laundry hamper made of pure titanium to keep Daisy from shredding them to pieces while I'm in the bathtub.

"Dancing with the Stars" is the New Scariest Show on Television.

The saddest thing is that this was taken when she was still ABLE to smile. She has beautiful skin...and she was so beautiful BEFORE all of that. I just don't get why people do this. I mean...you know, looking like an alien being is better than having wrinkles. Word.

?!?!?!?!?! What the #%@*&#$ ?!?!?!?!?!

I'm holding onto this picture of Ms. Presley for a self-esteem booster when I begin to get depressed about wrinkles. I'll just pull this up and think...it could be worse. I could look like THIS. Rock on crows feet, laugh lines and age spots. At least I'll still look human...wrinkles and all.

I just looked at it again.
...and got cold chills.

No Diggity...No Doubt

"We're like Tom Cruise. We believe our own hype."
--DJ FM 105.1

Amen, Sister.

The Bigger the Better? Texas 'Aint Got Nothin' on Ohio.

62-Foot Jesus Along
I-75 Gaining Giant Attention
Visitors Flocking to Solid Rock Church.

When motorists on I-75 see the 62-foot statue of Jesus alongside the highway, many have the same reaction, News 5's Emily Longnecker reports.

It's called stunned disbelief.

"It just makes you, it's like 'Wow,' " said Stephanie Nevels of Fairfield. Yeah. Like Wow.
Tiffany Williams has been hearing about the statue since it was put up outside Solid Rock Church.
"It kind of took my breath away. I was just like, 'Oh my goodness,' " Williams said. "I had no idea it would be that big."

It's big alright...and it cost a whole lot of Simoleons.

The giant messiah is gaining giant attention from newspapers and magazines across the country. One travel website calls it "Super Savior."

Church officials say the styrofoam and fiberglass Jesus is the largest one in America. Thank you Solid Rock Church...you make Ohio proud. The torso-up sculpture has a 42-foot span between upraised hands, and a 40-foot cross at the base. This stance which some may call "arms raised to praise the father"...to me more so resembles the referee sign for "touchdown".
And people are flocking to see it, says Mike Trent, who works at the BP gas station down the street. ...because they can't believe that people have nothing else better to do with their money / time and have to see it for themselves.
"They're asking for directions to Solid Rock and there's been quite a few of them," Trent said.
"I've been a lot of places, never seen anything like it. It makes an impact just driving down the road," said Calvin Bostic of Dayton.

"I love it. I think it makes a statement," said Lashawn Moore Bostic.
But the big statue isn't a big hit with everyone.
"I do go to church. I just think it's a waste of money," Williams said. "It could be going to better causes." Word. World hunger, medical assistance, childcare funding... No, No, No. Giant Jesus is much more important.

The giant Jesus will soon draw even more attention, Longnecker reports.
Solid Rock plans to put a spotlight on the statue.
"I didn't know it would get this much national attention," said Lawrence Bishop, co-founder of Solid Rock Church. "We weren't trying to impress people, we were just trying to help people." Mhmmm...methinks this is the beginnings of a guilty conscience. What does the Bible say about the showing of ones means?
...
The 4,000-member, nondenominational evangelical church was founded by the former horse trader and his wife, Darlene, who also has a ministry. Translation: We are trying to get more people to our church to pay for this blasted thing and still make a profit.

Bishop said his wife first proposed the Jesus figure as a beacon of hope and salvation. Together, they formed the plan for their "King of Kings" statue and spent about $250,000 to finance it.
"We're living in a day when a lot of people feel hopeless, but we believe that when people see him, they will understand he is the hope for the world," Darlene Bishop said. Because a 62-foot Jesus will help remind those that lost Jesus to find him once again...all because of that $250,000 well spent. Rock on, brother.

The real kicker:
The I-75 exit near the statue is marked by a Hustler of Hollywood sign for one of Larry Flynt's largest adult stores and a billboard for Bristol's Show Club & Revue adult club that features a lingerie-clad woman.
The statue "is a pleasant change of atmosphere from what was being projected," Bishop said.

Honestly, this picture doesn't do it justice. In person it's way better. It's just freaking huge. I wish I had a picture of the actual porn mall down the road that they are referring to...and the 100 foot cross in front of the church that sits beside it. Evidently, they were following the trend.

Here is what the real unedited story would have been:

" They put up a porn store billboard beside our church and we showed them. We built us a 62-foot high Jesus, dangit. The bigger the better. That's what we always say. Now come to our church so we can pay for this thing. "

Yeah...you know that whole "do not worship idols" thing? That is in the Bible for kicks. God didn't really mean that...oh wait...he only meant that UNLESS it is a statue of JEEEEESUS....yeah.

That's it.

I still say he's celebrating the OSU game...Jesus style.

If Rednecks Ruled the World, We'd All Have Happy Hemorroids.

"Are you SERIOUS? "

"What's that?"

"Now THAT is a blog post waiting to happen."

"???"

"Okay...ummm...you know those potty chairs that you buy for old people to sit on to make it easier for them to use the toilet?"

"...yeah?"

"Those people have one in their front yard using it as lawn furniture."

(Insert laughter.)

"Seriously. It was like (motioning in a circle) ...lawn chair...lawn chair...lawn chair....geriatric potty chair."

(In best redneck accent): "Grandma ain't usin' it anymore...can't let it go to waste."

(In same painstaking accent): "I paid $35.00 for that chair and I'm gonna git my money's worth out of this daggone thing."

"You know...you gotta hand it to 'em. Rednecks really are the BEST recyclers."

Ado El Stupido

Alchohol may intensify this effect. Use care when operating a car or dangerous machinery.

Understandable...but this is DOG MEDICATION.

Note: If your dog is drinking and driving...perhaps you need drugs of your own.

You know--this is for those SUPER smart people out there (or any drinking and driving dogs) that can read the multi-syllable words on the orange warning label but cannot read the (DOG) in bold large print above that.

Sadly, I'm sure that the real reason this is written on here in the first place is because some idiot human actually DID ingest this dog medication and then go driving. DUI of dog medication. (It really wouldn't surprise me to find that in our local paper.)

I just know that these are in fact the same people that cause me to have to wait for a supervisor's approval on fingernail polish, canned air, and other ridiculous household items in the check out line at Wal-Mart. Remember when we could actually just go through the checkout line and not be under investigation?

Aaaah...the good ole days.

Words of the Wise

“You want to know what’s sad?”
“I have more granny panties than my granny does.”
--Ivy via text message @ 7:30 am

Man and Beast...Living in Peace...

This so validates paradise for me. I have always imagined the relationship between man and beast being like this:

This woman found this lion malnourished. She took him home and took care of him. When the lion was better she called the local zoo. This was the reaction she got when she went to the zoo to visit the lion. http://www.telestereo.com/Archivos/video.html

Amazing.

Harassment Schmassment

Yesterday at my office we had classes in harassment training. We learned about these classes via an email that morning that stated “Harassment Training Schedule”…which to me was the funniest thing I had heard thus far that day...as if we had to be trained on how to harass.

For those of you that do not know…I’ve been getting all kinds of slack at work for my religious beliefs. I live in the “Bible Belt” of America which I lovingly refer to as the “Baptist Belt”. You see the problem…me being so far from Baptist. Anything that is not Baptist is just not acceptable in my office. This I have been made well aware of.

I was laughing at the title of my email and thinking about these things (above) when the very person that causes 90% of the problems for me evidently opened her email.

“Harassment? Harassment Traning? Who’s harassin’ who around here?”
*gasp*

Oh brother. I have a close friend that sits on the other side of the wall from this girl…and I do believe she heard my eyes roll. I promptly received a phone call from her asking me if I had heard the comments.

Yep. Sure did.

I was scheduled for the 2:30 session. The meeting began with some general information regarding FMLA and changes that started January 1. You did hear correctly….they decided to tell us on March 3 about changes that took affect January 1st. We didn't know about any changes for two months. You see the dilemma. Thus explains the underlying problems revolving around said company.

Shortly thereafter we had a video.
It was like being in junior high school again watching those corny videos about sex education. You know…with Mr. and Mrs. Cleaver discussing to little “Sally” about her body and what changes are happening and what it means for her and her life…complete with the porno music and bad acting. I think I stayed awake for the entire thing.

Upon reading the information that was handed out in the meeting…I found two typos and the following phrase: continuous repetitive. Okay um...I do believe that statement is continuous…and repetitive.

Yes, we are a huge printing company. Evidently one that is in need of proofreaders. I may be looking for a new job soon.

Great Comeback George

“You think that’s funny?”
“Well, Terri—it sure as shit ‘aint sad.”
--Ocean’s 13

Feels Like Thunder...Lightning

Today I saw this Mt. Dew commercial that states:

“Fact: Men are four times more likely to be struck by lightning than women.”

I’m having absolutely no doubt that this is an actual fact. I say that not just because the Pepsi people told me so…I say that because men are the only ones dumb enough to be out in the storm in order to be hit by lightning.

Be honest. You don’t see many women going, “Oh a storm! Let me go out there with an umbrella (pole, on the roof, etc, etc) and see what happens. I know there is a chance I may get hit by lightning…but that won’t happen to ME—I”LL show that storm.”

You WOULD, on the other hand, hear a guy say something like that. If you don’t believe me, then you haven’t watched enough of “America’s Funniest Home Videos” or any other video show in which a man begins the clip by stating, “Hey! Watch this!” and then it ends in complete disaster. It’s almost ALWAYS a guy saying and doing those things.

It’s usually the female that’s holding the camera to get the stupidity on film so that she can prove he’s an idiot for the next 20 years.

So I’m sure that this is an accurate statistic. It just doesn’t have anything to do with anything scientific. It’s mere stupidity.

Kudos to all of the men out there (aka morons) that are going out in storms raising statistics like this and making women look even better every day.

That’s why we continue to allow you on the planet.

I'm Learning to Breathe

As a kid I didn't have a clue about life and truthfully, I didn't care in the LEAST. I was perfectly content in my own little mind. In my 20's, I tried to dissect life in attempts to figure out what it was really about. I did nearly everything wrong. In my 30's, I'm learning how to breathe. If you know me, or have read anything about me...you know that the last decade didn't hold much for me to write home about (as if there was anyone to "write home" to anyway).

Although I'm sure that some talk show or some greedy publishing company out there would be overjoyed to get their paws on the stories that I could tell, (I've never said that the last ten years lacked drama.) I consider it nothing but one colossal learning experience. Perhaps it's because that thought keeps the depression from setting in; perhaps because that's the only way I can put it all behind me.

Nevertheless, I'm estatic that it's OVER. Age is nothing but a number, true. I don't believe that certain things happen because that is the way that they were supposed to happen. I don't believe in destiny, fate, divine decree, or any of the other synonyms that you wish to choose from. This wasn't even about that. This was more like...an awakening of sorts. It's as if I were walking around in a fog that finally lifted. (I know that is cliche.)

The anomaly was that even while confined in this haze, I was painstakingly aware of it's presence. Many people state that they weren't conscious of being in the fog until they had found their way out of it. I, on the other hand, couldn't help but feel it's heaviness surrounding my every move. Then the war had ended. I had surrendered. I was loosed from my prison and free to begin living. The world was mine to conquer. The mistakes that I were to make from here on out were mistakes to be made because I had made the decisions that led to them. Any happiness I were to receive was because I deserved it as well. I was in control now. Even in those moments when I seemingly lose all self-control...I am in charge even then.

I began to see who "Melinda" really was. To my surprise I was actually pleased with the woman I saw before me. There were many flaws, of course. (I'm exceedingly far from perfect.) But what I did see for the first in my life, was a vivid picture of who I was and of who I was capable of becoming. I saw the essence of me. A view that wasn't clouded by the years of negativity thrown upon me by everyone I knew, including myself. I was finally free to be me.

And you know what? Being me felt good....very, very good. :)

March 2008

As Irresistable as that Scab You Just Can't Help but Scratch.

Oh, the Secrets that You Keep

I've talked in my sleep from the day I could speak. It's been something that has haunted me ever since. People used to sit beside my bed and talk to me while I slept because I would TALK BACK to them. Yes, I can carry on full-out conversations while totally asleep.

This little "talent" of mine also came in quite handy to my mother during my teenage years.It's amusing how talent shows itself in me. Some people are amazing singers, some are beautiful poets, and some are exquisite artists. Me, I talk in my sleep. That, my friends, is irony at it's finest.

This lovely skill of mine continues to show it's ugly head to this day. Granted, it's not so much of a problem today as it was when I was trying desperately to keep a secret boyfriend from my mother (another story for another day) but annoying nonetheless. NOW it's more of a form of entertainment that my friends use for kicks.

"Let's see what kind of weird wacked-out story Melinda will tell us in her sleep."

Yeah...great fun...good times. In the past month, I've spoken to someone TWICE via telephone while surfing the crevices of my mind in its subconscious state. The first time I spoke of pina coladas, hawaiian parties, diapers, and babies. During the second incident, I was going on about waterfalls, picnics, wreckless driving, and someone's dog in a pink sweater. So continue to talk to me when you know I've drifted off into dreamland--get your giggles, that's ok.

Laugh it up, kids.But a word to the wise: Sometimes I remember what I've said and sometimes I remember what you've said too. Prying could be very dangerous for you. Ok...it most likely won't be, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it!!!!

Potty Training

Today Daisy emptied out her toybox. This is not unusual...she does this all of the time.
But today.
Today she decided to empty the toybox and then turn around, squat in it, and take a crap.

We may buy her a potty chair.

The Beauty of the Courtesy Flush

Urban Dictionary describes a "courtesy flush" as:

A flush in the middle of the toilet-sitting process in order to reduce the aroma...usually performed on a "foreign throne" as a courtesy to the owner of said throne... in other words, to be polite and not stink up the host's crapper too much.

I've visted every women's restroom in our office at one time or another in the (nearly) two years I have worked there. I understand that the things that happen in there are not always pleasant. Sometimes the things that happen in there are quite frightening and could probably send the most chemically-sedated employee into a sudden panic attack. I take no issue with discussing bodily functions and am typically quite free about my thoughts and opinions of them.

Thus the reason for this post.

I understand that sometimes you just canNOT WAIT until you go home. Sometimes you just have no choice in the matter. By all means...do what ya gotta do, ladies.

HOWEVER.

I will never understand those that do not appreciate the value of a good courtesy flush. Do unto others what you'd have them do unto you...right?

Amen.

Today I had no choice but to be stuck with the stench of someone that chose to come and interrupt my little restroom break with a nose-hair burning, make-me-gag-and-lose-my-lunch explosion into the toilet in the stall next to me. Seriously, though...it takes THREE seconds to do a itty bitty courtesy flush and relieve me from my pain as I frantically try to yank up my pantyhose, wash my hands and run out of there before fainting from holding my breathe because you ate something for lunch that OBVIOUSLY did not agree with you.

I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps the idea of the courtesy flush is unknown to her. Perhaps she has never even considered such a thing. Perhaps she doesn't think it's "that bad".

Sweetheart, it is that bad.

We have people going all "green" everywhere and worrying about what they are doing to the environment and there are princesses like you polluting it left and right.
Perhaps I should set up a training class. We actually do have a "learning and development" team at our office. Maybe I should suggest some classes for things that will really benefit the morale and overall positivity vibe of the company.

New class Monday:
Courtesy Flushes 101
by Melinda.

How to Turn Me On

When you wake up at 2am and I'm staring at you dead in the face because you are snoring so loudly that I was actually DREAMING about it...

Say to me, "Was I snoring and it woke you up? I'll turn over so you can sleep, Baby."

That's real love people.
Real love.

Morning Madness

For Your Entertainment:



Be sure to watch all of them--there are some good tips.

You never know when you may need to know how to peel a potato in 5 seconds.

Redneck Romance

Couple finds love 'in all the wrong places'
Thursday, February 14, 2008 4:15 PM EST
*Names have been changed

All love stories have a beginning. For Mitchell Cornell and Linda Lee Wheeler, their story began at the ************ County Detention Center.

"I was in county jail," he said. "She was in county jail."
"In 2005," she added. Since Cornell had a detail job that would allow him to move about the jail facility, he was able to catch a glimpse of Wheeler.

"I looked up at her and something in her eyes just melted me," he said. "We fell in love writing letters to each other in jail."

"Our song is 'Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places,'" he said. "And we found it." Both agreed that their time incarcerated led to their marriage.

"If I wasn't there and she wasn't there, then we wouldn't be where we are today," he said.
"We couldn't wait any longer," he said. "We had to be one."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This post is just to prove how "in the sticks" I really live.
It gets even better.
This was on the front page of the "bi-weekly" paper.

As the highlight article.

RIP Rock-Scissors-Paper

I shall miss you dearly.

It's official--I can no longer play rock-scissors-paper with my husband.

Those of you who know me may be assuming that this little revelation came to me because I LOSE when playing this game with Corey. Although completely well-founded, this assumption is altogether wrong, my FRIENDS.

I'm the world's GREATEST sport as long as I'm winning. It's when i start to lose that I get upset. I've been known to cheat a little (here and there) in order to stay ahead in the game. My theory is this: girls always win. If the girl is losing, then she's gotta do what she's gotta do in order to win. The husband should let the girl win but not let her know that he did so. I understand that this is unfair and selfish and that it labels me as a cheater. I don't care. Call me what you want. I'll call myself the World's Greatest Winner.

I know that when you are around someone for a substantial amount of time (especially when you are married to that person and are around them for 17 hours out of a 24 hour day) you tend to pick up on that person's thoughts / reactions. I'm sure this is totally normal. I typically CAN finish the ends of my closest friends' sentences and quite often actually do. Don't worry--they do this to me as well. Turnabout is fair play. (Yes, sometimes fairness does matter.)

Me being the Queen of Dorkiness and my husband being the King, we have a natural tendency to follow similar thought patterns anyway. We get a big kick out of it when we same the same thing at the same time or think each others' thoughts. This is not to mention the countless times that we hear someone say something and we bust out with the corresponding lyrics to some wacked-out 80's song that no one but us probably even remembers.

But this, my friends, is an all-time low. All enjoyment that I used to get from rock-scissors-paper has been lost. You can't really play this game if you have the same thoughts as your husband. It's like playing with yourself. (Clean thoughts here, ppl.) Yes, you never really lose. But you never really WIN either. It's so disheartening to me to think that we can no longer make a split decision based on this game because it in itself could take HOURS.

We even tried to "trick" each other. You know...try to break the normal thought pattern and just pull something CRAZY like doing rock instead of paper when you really wanted to do rock. It didn't work. We both tried to trick each other in the same way at the same time.

I suppose this means that we have to make decisions based upon logic, reason, and conclusion. Perhaps this is the last step in officially becoming a REAL grown up. I am fighting it every step of the way.

I still refuse to give up my blanket.

The Wrath of Hell Has Befallen our Home

Don't let this face fool you. She 'aint as sweet as she looks.
Since we first adopted our adorable little Daisy, we have had successfully imprisoned her in the kitchen while we are at work during the potty training phase to avoid daily carpet cleaning. She's actually done very well at using the potty pad while we are at work, rarely going off of the pad.

Every day when we arrive home and unlock the door Daisy is waiting on the other side to come barreling through to greet us. As annoying as this is when you are trying to get in, we have not complained because the other option is to leave her unattended and free throughout the house for nine hours until we return. Besides, her waiting at the door means she is happy to see us, right?

Today something was different.

We first noticed that there was no scratching or whining coming from the other side of the door. Corey unlocked it and walked into the kitchen. No Daisy. We looked around the kitchen slowly...no Daisy. We called her name...silence. We walked over the baby gate that barracades her into the kitchen and saw what we used to refer to the living room scattered with books, baskets, panties (yes, she is a crotch sniffer) and toys. That is when we saw Daisy. She was as happy as she ever is, panting and excited to see us.

sigh.

We walked around the house relunctantly expecting to see piles of dog crap and pee spots randomly "disposed". We found one turd under the sewing machine that Corey's grandmother gave me. No pee spots (thank goodness)--just that one lone turd. I suppose we should consider ourselves fortunate. At least she did USE the pad instead of the carpet when given the option.

What this means is that we know that Daisy is able to jump the gate and we are now at the point of no return. There is no more locking her up. She also learned how to jump onto the bed today as well. I suppose most people would consider these milestones. We lovingly refer to them as catastrophes.

Changing Tides

Even as a little girl in pigtails, I've dreamed of living on the ocean. And I don't mean by the ocean. I mean ON the ocean. In a house fashioned in such a way that whenever I got the urge I could just dive out into the rolling waves and swim away.

At that time, I suppose it was because I just wanted to escape from everything...everyone. You know that feeling--like you just want to swim away and leave everything behind. I suppose it's natural when you have a lot to run away from and not a lot to hold on to.

I tried to break away from it all. I swam and swam...
With each labored stroke, the waves would force me back to right where I began. I didn't seem to be going anywhere. Swimming against the tide can be quite draining, really.

And then, like water disappearing into the sand, everything changes--life changes. My eyes were opened and I could finally see that I had MADE this decision to struggle against these waves. I could also make the decision to stroke with them.

I don't know what it really was that made me see it; I only remember the exhaustion. I knew then that I had to stop trying to fight against everything. I began to melt into the ocean that I had always looked at as both my fence and my freedom. I came to understand that just as the water changes (conforming to everything around it) so does life.

I was in control of ME again. I began to breathe. I have to pick my battles--knowing that some things in life I will have to fight for...nothing good comes easy, right?

"Don't sweat the small stuff," someone once told me. I rolled my eyes when I heard him say it. Now, a smile comes across my face every time I think about it--because really, most of it is small stuff.

Swim with the ripples; fight against the tides.

She Lost Jesus Because of the Weiner Poopie

You have to check this out.

I got this from one of my favorite bloggers, Heather @ Dooce

Watch it over and over again.

This just gets better EVERY time.

FOLLOW UP: The note was actually left by her granddaughter. The note was a joke, but Jean Mansel takes everything seriously and called the news. Jean is very unhappy about the situation and she doesn't think it was funny at all!

How to Get More Hits for Your Blog

How to get more hits for your blog
1 - Write a title that says "How to get more hits for your blog" so it'll get picked up by search engines;
2 - Give out self-evident advice, like Post more often, the more you post the more visitors you're likely to get;
3 - Give out contradictory pieces of advice that annul each other, like Write what other people want to read, not what you want to express... But! Feel really excited about it, people really respond to enthusiasm!
4 - Say something vague, like Try to make good posts, and they will come. As opposed to what you've been doing.
5 - Tell people to join BlogExplosion type of scams, where people pledge to visit each other's blogs. Who needs self-respect, when you can have lots more visitors who only show up out of duty, or so you will visit them back? Getting hits is all that matters. Or better still, manipulate your own site meter manually, so you get exactly the amount of hits you desire each day, given to you by the person who loves you the most: yourself. Eliminate the middle man, I say!

Can You Disagree with People You Love and Still Love Them for Who They Are?

This question has been in the forefront of my mind lately.
In my mind and in my opinion, the answer to this question is a definite YES. You can also disagree with them on certain things and not be trying to force your opinion on them. In turn, allowing them to have their own opinion.

I believe that two adults should be able to discuss both sides of the matter even if in disagreement and come out of it with the agreement that you agree to disagree, if nothing else. If I ever post something and you don't agree--by all means share your point with me. This doesn't mean that I'll debate issues, necessarily. This just means that we are sharing each others' thoughts and opinions.

I love all of my friends. Yet, each one has different opinions and thoughts. If they were all the same how boring would that be?! Realizing that my opinions on certain matters may touch people in the wrong way...I've always had to keep my mouth shut when certain comments were made regarding certain issues. I suppose I will always have to do that to an extent.

However, if someone directly or even indirectly asks me a question regarding an issue...I feel that person is opening a door to discuss the matter and that it is alright for me to give my opinion. Not doing so would be,. as a matter of fact, not allowing me to have my own opinion, correct?

That to me is common sense. If you ask a question you should expect an answer. Isn't that how it usually goes?

On another note...please never assume that you know or understand where I stand on something WITHOUT asking me. Some may think that because of my religious stand that I have certain opinions / thoughts. Does your religion tell you what opinions and thoughts to have about everything??? Neither does mine.

I'm my own person and I have my own mind. If you don't know how I feel about something please do not assume. If something troubles you or you wonder where I stand on something, please just ask.

I'll answer. :)