Just Joy: Confessions of a Moody Mom

TORNADO: The Sequel

2012-01-24T12:35:00.003-06:00

Welcome to the South were we have not one, but TWO tornado seasons!

Our unusually warm January weather made for the perfect climate for some nasty weather, and at 4:00-ish yesterday morning, a tornado tore through parts of the Birmingham Metro area.

By now, I'm sure you've seen James Spann on the national news (smart guy, we love him here) and saw the pictures of devestation.

This time, the tornado chose as it's target the Centerpoint/Clay/Chalkville/Pinson area. And, my office.

Never So Happy To Be A Tiger!

2012-01-19T12:38:00.003-06:00

Oh my goodness! I have NEVER been so glad to be a Tiger in all of my life.

Apparently, some bammer has been filmed rubbing his private parts all over the face of some LSU fan at Krystal's in the Big Easy!

Yes...filmed!

The "victim" in question, apparently at one point, drunk and beligerant, (aren't they always in stories such as these?) passes out at a table in Krystal's. He is surrounded by bammers, who are all laughing and amoung other things, stacking Krystal boxes on his sleeping head, pouring Coca-Cola on him and sticking their fingers up his nose. Then, this guy comes into the frame, drops his shorts and tries to put his "parts" in the sleeping guys ear! He does it more than once! What is amazing is that all the other bammers are standing around watching (and at least one is still fiming). I can see a kid in the background, wearing a black apron. I can only assume that this kid is from Krystal's, but not really certain. Finally, someone pulls the guy off of him.

I've seen it with my own eyes...well, sort of. I've seen it peeking through my splayed fingers, but I'm pretty sure he's guilty. And the sad part of it is, this is not a student/student-aged person.

This was a full grown man!

Now the saddest part of all is that, while they did arrest the bammer fan, they can't do anything to him unless the LSU fan comes forward to press charges.

Here is a link to one of many news stories regarding the incident.

Now, I have a few questions:
How drunk do you have to be to pass out in public?
How drunk do you have to be to drop your shorts and try to have "relations" with some guy's ear?
How do you stand around and watch?
How do you film it?!
How can you let this act go unpunished, and NOT come forward?
How can you come forward when you have been made a laughing-stock?

I don't think bammers have been this embarrassed since Harvey Updyke!

On the other hand...it's GREAT to be an Auburn Tiger =)

~En-Joy

Well Thank Goodness That's Over

2012-01-10T13:44:00.002-06:00

Well thank goodness that's over.

Now I have to listen to the bammers gloat and ponitificate for the rest of the year.

But I will say that something interesting has come of it. The bammer nation can't count.

ESPN is reporting that this is only their 9th National Championship.

Where do they get 14?

As a matter of fact, ONLY the bammer nation is saying there are 14.
Everyone else reports there are only 9.
Could all those media sources be wrong??

Decide for yourself.
~En-Joy

geaux tigers or roll tide...Who Cares?

2012-01-09T12:35:00.003-06:00

Really....who cares?

Both are overinflated blow hards.

I'm hoping for a miracle...that the game is scoreless and neither wins.

A girl can dream, right?

One Really Long Day.

2012-01-06T17:13:00.003-06:00

Well today was one really long day. I mean reeeeeaaaallllllllllllyyy long.

I already knew I'd have to stay 30 minutes over to cover for one of my closing shift people who was on vacation today. Not bad

Then one of my opening shift people called in!

I didn't have anyone else to cover! Guess who that leaves......me.

So I came in an hour early too. I'm exhausted =(

And this last 15 minutes is killing me.

Why do the longest days always start slowing down at the end?

Paying for Washing Clothes on New Years

2012-01-04T12:39:00.002-06:00

Okay, today I'm paying for Darling Hubby washing clothes on New Year's.

I'm about to pull my hair out and I can feel my heartbeat in my eyeballs.

And everyone is looking at their little puzzle piece rather than looking at the big picture.

Grrrr...=(

Omigosh!!

2012-01-01T13:13:00.002-06:00

Is that the sound of my washer?!

Darling Hubby is washing clothes!!! On New Year's Day!!!!!!!!

Is he crazy?!?!

My grandmother is rolling over in her grave right now!!!!!!!!!!!

I swear Meow-Meow...it wasn't me...I know better!

If we are cursed this year, it's all on him!!!

>circle, circle, spit, spit, and a pinch of salt over left shoulder <

Happy New Year!

2011-12-31T20:37:00.003-06:00

I'm ready for 2011 to be over.

I am currently at my best friend's house, waiting on her to get back. I'm listening to my son, Tigger and his girlfriend, Miss Mac talking about mythical creatures and her son, Matt-man telling them to be quiet because he "can't concentrate" on his Wii game.

It was beautiful day today! 65 degrees, which means Winter will last into April. I got my nails done and wandered around our mall.

I didn't get to do any laundry today, which means I'll be in dirty clothes tomorrow. I WILL NOT be tempting fate and washing clothes on New Years Day. That is one New Year's superstition I will not break!

Kit-Kat went to a lock-in at the skate-place. I seriously think that someone is off their meds to have 200 teenagers locked up in a skating rink from midnite to 6am!

Darling Hubby has gone to watch the Chickfila Bowl at a friend's house. He keeps texting TOUCHDOWN AUBURN to my phone. I just recieved my fourth. I don't know if that's good or bad, because, as you know, I can't watch the game. I know "The Curse" is still in effect because we didn't start scoring until I stopped watching.

I'm ready for 2011 to be over. Oh, I said that. 2011 has been a really rough year. Between another bleeding ulcer, the tornado, a fall from the roof, I'm not sure what else we can endure.
I'm ready for things to be BETTER.

I've decided that 2012 will be the Year of Self-Improvement!

After finding out that I am gluten-sensitive, my health is slowing getting better. My blood-sugar has been better than it's ever been! I'm losing the pudge. It's a start.

Zumba starts back up in a few weeks. I plan to hit that hard. Really hard. I'm really tired of being this fat.

My mother got me a Kindle for Christmas. With a wealth of knowledge at my fingertips, I plan to start reading again. I've always loved to read. Mother tells me that my love of reading began when I was 4. By 5 I had read every Little Golden Book we had. By the time I was 6, I was reading on a fifth grade reading level. I thought something was wrong with me when they would send me to the library at reading time and I had a teacher all to myself. Who knew? So I plan to re-Kindle (get it?) that passion.

Maybe I will work a little harder on my "bucket list."

That's about it for "resolutions."

Cyn is here now, so I'm getting off now.
Happy New Year Y'all

~En-Joy 2012!
I know I will!

25 Questions: Holiday Style

2011-12-30T12:57:00.004-06:00

Okay, so I'm bored and I "borrowed" it from another blog I read.

25 Questions: Holiday Style

1. Eggnog or hot chocolate? Egg Nog....heavy on the "nog"

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? Santa usually just leaves them under the tree but since Julz was going to be late getting to the house, this year, he wrapped them all in one big box. That prevented Kit-Kat from swapping out the gifts she didn't like before everyone got up.

3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? White....colored lights are tacky

4. Do you hang mistletoe? NO! My husband is oversexed enough as it is.

5. When do you hang your decorations up? December 15th. Exactly 10 days to look at them. Then I put them up the day after Christmas

6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? Ambrosia ...they don't call it "the food of the gods" for nothing.

7. Favorite holiday memory as a child? Well, it used to be Christmas, all of them. They were all magical and wonderful. Now, not so much.

8. What is on your Christmas wish list? A Kindle Fire

9. Do you open a gifts on Christmas Eve? Depends on where we are.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? It's all penguins

11. Snow? Love it or dread it? Never get it, so I really can't answer that.

12. Real tree or fake tree? Fake! No needles, or having to water it or any of that hassle.

13. Do you remember your favorite gift? Not really

14. What’s the most important thing about Christmas for you? The birth of Jesus! Isn't that everyone's most important thing?

15. What is your favorite holiday dessert? Didn't I already answer this?? Ambrosia

16. What is your favorite tradition? It used to be the "Oooh-Ahhh" but my family is "too cool" to do that. When I was a teenager, every night before we turned out the tree, my mother and brother and me would link arms and stand in front of the tree and go "ooohh-ahhh." We'd do it from three different vantage points, then turn out the tree. Every night. Without fail. It was silly, but fun.

17. What tops your tree? a bow

18. Do you prefer giving or receiving? Well since I rarely get anything, I guess I'd have to say giving.

19. What is your favorite Christmas song? The Christmas Song by Nat King Cole

20. Candy canes, yuck or yum? Depends, are they peppermint or one of those unnatural flavors?

21. Favorite Christmas movie? National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation

22: What do you leave for Santa? milk and cookies like everyone else

23. Do you have a Christmas morning tradition? We go to Mother's house, but the kids are getting too cool for that too.

24. Do you prefer to shop on-line or at the mall? Neither, but is has to be done... > sigh <

25. Christmas letter or Christmas card? If I can get all the kids together, I like to send a photo card. Yet another thing they are too cool for....

I hope you all have a Happy New Year!

~En-JOY!!

Birthday Wishes!

2011-12-28T07:47:00.002-06:00

Happy Birthday Tigger! 18 at last!

Thank you for letting me be your mom

~En-Joy!

Confession Time: Life on the Naughty List

2011-12-18T08:41:00.004-06:00

Here I am again...on the Naughty List.

It is December 18th and I have not bought any Christmas presents.

Not.

Even.

One.

First, because my children are now young adults, and are beyond impossible to by for, ( "I don't know. Suprise me. Just give me the money. Go to hell...") but mainly because I just have no Christmas spirit.

I don't have a tree up. I really hate putting a tree up, because you have to take it down. It's a big hassel. Why bother? There is also furniture arranging, and being inconvienced for 10 days.

Yes, I said 10 days. I really believe that is all that is necessary. Any longer and I get a little stir crazy. I can blame my local retailers for that. "Never too early to shop for Christmas!" I've actually been Christmas-ed out since mid November.

Speaking of which, remember when Christmas started AFTER Thanksgiving? It seems like it's getting earlier and earlier each year. When they started putting out Christmas decorations on one side of the aisle and pool toys on the other, it is time for an intervention! That used to be the best part of Thanksgiving. Eating a good Thanksgiving meal, collapsing in a carb-induced coma, and awakening, at a reasonable hour, on Black Friday to shop in a mall, magically transformed overnight into a Winter Wonderland, is one of my fondest memories.

And the non-stop Christmas music, which also starts about 3 weeks too early. What sadistic yahoo thought THAT was a good idea. They say suicides increase at this time of year. Non-stop Christmas music is surely the cause. There are only so many Christmas songs. How many different ways can you hear "Sleigh Ride" in one eight hour day?

Yeah, I know this rant is pretty much the same as last year's. But really, the complaints are the same.

It's not even Jesus's real birthday. According to scholars, it's actually some time around April. It's just the time we celebrate it because it coincides with some pagan holiday. Now people who aren't even believers celebrate it too.

Christmas is no longer magical, or beautiful, or special.

Next year, maybe I can sleep through it.

Bah Humbug

"Dear 16 Year Old Me"

2011-12-17T11:20:00.001-06:00

This is a very powerful message.

As a quasi-"Ginger" I know that I must be worried about melanoma.

Since I can't tell my 16 year old self, perhaps another 16 year old will see this message.

Either way, I may save a life.

~En-Joy!

Kill Me

2011-12-03T10:37:00.002-06:00

Okay, so I'm dying.

I've been battling a head/chest cold for nearly 2 weeks, with no end in sight.

I'm not sure what I need to be taking, so my medicine cabinet is bulging at the seams. I have stuff to stop snot, start snot, stiffle the sniffles, quell a cough, move the mucus, dry up the mucus, and the " sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching, stuffy-head, fever" medicine for both day and night. I even have the little pearls that look like vitimin E to stop my cough that you have to have a prescription for, but to no avail.

Luckily, I have this one, last weekend to get over it before Christmas Party season begins.

Would I be a sadist to say
En-JOY
??

Time Change

2011-11-08T12:43:00.002-06:00

I am ROCKIN' this time change thing!
Really! I wake up with so much energy!
Unfortunately, I am going to bed at 9:00 p.m. every night.
It's almost like....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Daylight Savings Time and Other Disasters

2011-11-06T09:25:00.002-06:00

I got up today and the sun was still orange and the sky was still blue.

Just like I knew it would be.

Just like it was after we played LSU.

Facebook is full of posts on how "LSU cheated" or how "AU fans had better shut their mouths," but the fact remains, LSU won.

Deal with it.

I find it amusing that all of my Alabama brotheren are all up in arms. They are lashing out at everyone. Poor sports. One can't even tell them they played an exciting game without loosing their heads.

Two weeks ago, when the cleat was on the other foot, so to speak, it was quite different.

"What Happened Auburn?" (nener, nener, ne-ner)

I'll tell you what happened... we have an immature defense. And we've never claimed to be the winner. Every game we come out ahead, we count as a good one.

"You could have at least pulled for us!: I don't know why if was asumed that we would pull for them. We wouldn't pull for them any other time. Why would this be any different? I personally just don't pull for anyone but Auburn. It's that simple.

But that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy a good game.

On an other note, so far, we've survived the transition to Daylight Savings time. No heart attacks here. "Falling Back" seems to be an easier transistion than "Springing Forward."

~En-JOY!

Wow...I Mean, Just Wow...

2011-11-05T15:42:00.004-05:00

I haven't posted since September. I skipped over October completely.
So much stuff to write about. Where to start...?

Out of Body Experience
I've been on the strangest, out-of-body experience of late. Everything feels strange and I can't put my finger on it. Like I'm watching. Probably has something to do with Daylight Savings Time.

Daylight Savings Time
My feelings on this subject are pretty well documented, but I have learned that heart attacks nearly double in the weeks surrounding the time change. Coincidence? I think not.

Another broken toe.
I have the worst luck with my toes! I came home Monday not feeling well. Then I stayed home Tuesday. When I finally did muster some sort of energy to get off the couch, I fell UP the stairs in the garage.

I've got some pretty interesting people "friend" me on Facebook.
Sometimes I wonder about that. Do they "really" want to be my friend, or do they just want to see what I'm doing? Oh heck, who am I kidding? I want to see what they are doing too. My life has become so boring, I find myself living vicariously through my friends anyway.

We finally got the roof fixed.
Not the WHOLE roof, mind you. Just the back half.
Don't get me started on that...I'm still mad.

Julz's new boyfriend.
Is he a boyfriend? I mean, yes, he's a boyfriend in the literal sense of the word, but shouldn't that relationship be a little more even?

Rene
My ex-sister-in-law Rena died. Bless her heart, she fought the good fight for many years.

Upheaval at work.
Never ending drama. Sometimes I want to go back to checking groceries.

Gluten Free is Killing Me!
Yeah, It's saving my life, but it's killing me at the same time. I R E A L L Y miss bread, cakes, pies, cookies, etc... Yeah, I know there are many things that are gluten free, but they are V E R Y expensive! I spent $5 on 20 cookies...wait, let me say that again...twenty cookies. I'm a sucker.

Alabama vs. LSU
Arogance vs. Asshole. Who cares? Lucky for us, someone's gonna lose.

That's about all for now.

~En-JOY

My little brother in "Talledega Nights"

2011-09-14T17:27:00.001-05:00

Well, I have finally found the footage on Youtube of my little brother in "Talledega Nights."
I am extremely proud of him!

Though he is in all the racetrack scenes, he is most visible here.

That's him, up on the platform seated next to Michael Clark Duncan.
Yeah, the guy in the sunglasses and ball cap.
Yes, we know he looks like the late, great Dale Ernhart Sr.
That spooked a few folks at the track too.

Have You Forgotten: 10 Year Anniversary of 9/11

2011-09-10T08:38:00.005-05:00

It is time for the annual repost of my 9/11 story.

The last few days have been somewhat emotional for me, as the tributes have begun playing on t.v. It's hard to believe it's been ten years now.

If you are a regular reader and have read this story before, I urge you not to skip over it. It's going to be a little different than in years past and here is why:

"All You" magazine had wanted to publish it in this month's edition, along with other 9/11 stories from readers across the country. I was very excited, but after working with the editor, it became clear that for me, the story was still too personal. I was not ready to share it in that medium yet. So my Bucket List item of being published will have to wait a little longer.

I also became aware of a problem that may be caused by the disclosure of a few facts about my customer.

I work for a coffee company called Royal Cup,Inc. It is a coffee importer and distributor based in Birmingham, Alabama. We primarily handle coffees for Food Service (hotels, resorts, restaurants, hospitals, etc...) Office Coffee (that stuff in your breakroom at work) and Convienence Stores (gas stations, truckstops and the like). We even offer the option to purchase it for your home through our EspresShip department. But a large part of our business is Private Labeling.

Have you ever looked at a bag of store-brand coffee and read "packaged for This Store in Birmingham, Alabama?" Well, sometimes, Birmingham, Alabama means Royal Cup. That is "private labeling." Some companies don't take kindly to the source of their private labeled products being revealed, so I've removed the customer store name. The real point of the story is not where the coffee was going, but the person delivering it and my reaction. And, I like my job.

Next February will mark my 21st year there as a customer service professional. Oh, the stories I could tell.

Like this one.

Tomorrow will be September 11th. Patriot Day.

I'll be wearing my yellow ribbon and my American Flag pin.

This year, marking the ten year anniversary, I know that it will be commemorated with the reverence that it should.

Even after ten years, the emotion is nearly as fresh and raw as it was watching the non-stop news footage.

And every year since, I have thought about 5 cases of coffee.

I cry when I tell it because the emotions bubble back up, so you are at an advantage reading it, though I am about to cry just typing it.

Every now and again, a private-label customer would request a few cases of coffee be sent directly to one of their stores. On September 10, 2001 they requested that I send five cases of coffee to the store on the basement level of WTC. I am told this is where the food court was. They had requested Next Day Air, Early A.M. delivery, which means it is delivered first thing in the morning. I processed the UPS shipment myself, to ensure it was done in time for pick up.

It stood out to me because the address was simply :

(Store Name)
Basement Suite#
WTC, NY and the zip code.

I remember thinking, "How cool is that?"

At the office the next morning, I arrived early enough to make my coffee, prioritize my "things to do" list for the day, and settle in. My department is a long room, lined in cubicles, with a walkway from our main breakroom to our lobby on the interior side and a wall of windows on the other. The cubicles in the center face outward, creating a large open area in the middle of the room. Between each workstation is a curved countertop and a chair, so in the center there are two that face one another like tables in a cafe. The space is very conducive to lingering and chatting by those passing through to and from the main breakroom. At times it can be very disruptive.

Our purchasing agent at the time, a fellow named Ron, was walking through on his way to the main breakroom, coffee cup in hand. You must know this about Ron. He was a very serious individual, but was also extremely funny. He had the driest sense of humor and could deliver the funniest jokes with an expression so deadpan, that sometimes it was hard to determine if he was being serious or pulling your leg. So when he stopped in the center, and asked "Did you hear a plane crashed into the World Trade Center?" we all paused for the punchline.

After convincing us that he was serious, I raced to the breakroom to see the breaking news on t.v. The address of my previous day's shipment suddenly came to mind and it dawned on me, the UPS driver could very well be there at that very moment. I was standing there watching, when the second plane hit.

As the events of the day unfolded, I thought more and more of those five boxes of coffee and the unsuspecting UPS driver I'd sent to his death. I prayed for a lot of people that day, but I prayed specifically for him.

Over the next several days, I began to think about him quite a bit. Was he married, did he have children, what kind of person would he have been....? Because I would never really know his fate, it started to be too much for me. Every time I saw footage of the dust & debris, I imagined a UPS truck buried beneath it.

Though it may sound strange, I felt really guilty, like somehow I was responsible. I cried uncontrollably, nearly daily, over this person I'd never met.

Two weeks went by. My best friend told me that I was going to give it to God and let it go. So I finally prayed that God would give me some peace over it and release me from this guilt I was feeling. I prayed once more for him and his family and "laid it down."

The very next day, our local UPS driver returned those five boxes of coffee stamped "UNDELIVERABLE." They looked as good as the day I sent them out. I took their pristine condition as my sign from God that the driver I prayed so diligently over, was okay too.

Looking back, I can't explain why I was so upset over this person that I didn't know, when there were those who I did know right in the heart of the events.

My cousin, Amanda, pregnant with her middle daughter, on a courier run in New York. Her company had called her back to the office, just shy of reaching WTC, where her deliveries were to be made. She was one of hundreds of thousands who fled Manhattan on foot across the George Washington Bridge.

One of our DC route reps had just left from making his Pentagon delivery, watched as that plane passed overhead. He called in, shaken but okay, and told one of the CSR's "I think I just saw a plane crash."

Moments later friend Penny Huggins Bailey, stationed there as a protocol officer, would be saved from the direct hit by an overwhelming surge of mother's intuition.

There was a resurgence of hospitality, patriotism, and faith. People were kinder, gentler, more caring, more forgiving. More were proud to be American and began to relish what was good about our country, rather than harping on what was wrong. And everyone began to rexamine their faith.

Ten years later, my emotions still overwhelm me, and the tears come as easily now as they did then.

Alan Jackson's "Where Were You" effortlessly captured everything I had felt about the events surrounding 9/11. Thursday, I had posted the video of it from the live performance to my Facebook page. I watched the full five minute video to make sure it was complete and not compromised in any way before I posted it. Half way through, I realized that I was crying.

I know, when I tell this story to my grandchildren some day, I will fight back a tear even then.

I realize that to some extent, as a nation we should "move on." But I was raised that the first part of getting where you are going, is knowing where you've been.

Never Forget

(As always, dedicated to those who unsuspectingly gave their lives Sept 11, 2001, the people who knew & loved them, and all our military hereos keeping us safe ever since.)

A Blog of Note

2011-07-04T15:48:00.002-05:00

I've been blogging here since 2007 and have never once been selected as a "blog of note."
Now that might not be a big deal to some, but I've been rather faithfully blogging for some time now and haven't even recieved as much as an honorable mention, while some "blogs of note" have shriveled up and blown away, or worse, moved to Wordpress.

Then I thought about it.

Have I written anything noteworthy?

Have I inspired someone or entertained someone enought to tell The Blogger Team "Hey! Check this one out!"

I guess not.

So I guess I will keep trying, and maybe one day I will earn the coveted "Blog of Note" distinction to put at the top of my page.

Meanwhile
~En-JOY!

Wonderful Birthday Weekend

2011-06-28T23:48:00.003-05:00

I am amazed at how quickly my birthday has started coming around! My birthday is exactly 6 months from Christmas and it just seems like yesterday that it was Christmas.

Getting old =(

I am now forty-four.....yep, 44.

Looking back over 4 decades of my life, there are a few things I'd like to tell my younger self in hopes of making my older self a better person.

To my 4 year old self: that squirmy, smelly, whiney thing in the next room will one day be your greatest ally. In the meantime, tolerate him. It gets better.

To my 14 year old self: They keep refering to this royal wedding as a "fairy tale" and it is. Charles and Diana will one day be divorced. Marry for true love. AND that smelly, whiney thing in the next room will be your greatest ally one day...I promise...in the meantime, don't kill him. It does get better.

To my 24 year old self: Run.... Don't worry what other's will think. It will only get worse. Just leave. Pack up your little girl and run! Someone else WILL love you one day, and make you his wife and give you more children and you will be happy.

To my 34 year old self: This too shall pass. You remember what it was like to be 13. One day your "little girl" will come back to you and she see that you tried to make the best choices but that you are human. And see what I mean about your little brother? He turned out to be pretty fun huh?

And finally to my 44 year old self: It's never to late to go for your dreams! Remember that if you put your mind to it, nothing will stand in your way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We spent the weekend in Montgomery at Alabama's National American Miss.
This was Kaitlyn's first pageant.

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother

2011-06-11T00:12:00.002-05:00

Forty years ago today, my little brother was born.

Actually, I guess now that he's forty, I shouldn't continue to call him my "little" brother.

I Guess I'm a Little Behind (in more ways than one)

2011-06-01T20:38:00.004-05:00

My oldest called me today and demanded to know why her baby sister had more posts than she or their brother had.

Well, I guess I'm a little behind, in more ways than one. Read that anyway you like.

I missed my annual "Happy Birthday Julz" post because 1) we had just survived a tornado and had no power and 2) I wasn't here to post it on her birthday anyway. I was enjoying a much deserved spa day, compliments of my boss. I did text her the morning of her birthday as we were leaving for the spa. I know that she got it because she replied with my catch-phrase for all mothers on their child's birthday: "Happy Giving Birth Day." I cried when I got it and I saved it in my messages, because I'm sentimental like that.

So I am a month late posting a big Happy Birthday to a very important person in my life, my daughter Julz!

I am also seven months behind posting Happy 17th birtday to Tigger, who turned 17 back in December.

He's a little more forgiving, especially when I let him drive my car to his girlfriend's house.

While I'm at it, I missed saying Happy Birthday to my darling hubby, who also celebrated in March. I took the day off to spend it with him, so I doubt he cared that I didn't post it.

There, that should catch me up.

~En-JOY!

Happy Anniversary Baby....

2011-05-22T14:01:00.002-05:00

Today is our 12th wedding anniversary!

Where has the time gone?

Looking back over the past 12 years, I can safely say that we have weathered many a storm, and much like the one last month, have come out the other side more the wiser, but virtually unscathed.

I think that I'll keep him.

Happy Anniversary Baby!

Getting Published! Well...Sort of...

2011-05-17T13:57:00.002-05:00

Move over Helen Gurley Brown...I am burning up the printed word this month, as I am featured in THREE magazines, almost simultaniously!!

I was really excited to find out that a comment I made about enjoying an inexpensive girl's night out, was published in the May issue of All You magazine (pictured above, page 194 inside the back cover).

Many of you know that I am no stranger to this magazine. I am a member of the "reader's panel" that is frequently consulted for content imput. My first response resulted in having had a family recipe published in the May 2009 edition. It was for our easy "pasta bake" recipe, that was so easy, a young Kit-Kat frequently made it by herself. When I was contacted that it would be published, I was asked if I had a headshot to go along with it. As a pageant girl, it's always handy to have those laying around. I had responded "Of course!" As you can see, it came in handy again.

A few days after it's release, a friend let me know that a comment made on the Facebook page for Pageantry magazine was published in the Summer edition, in a column called "Socially Speaking" (I'm on page 92). Yep, same headshot.

I am currently awaiting the release of an article in the June edition of MORE magazine, where the Beauties of America pageant I was in last summer will be featured. I am told from someone close to the source, that I am in the article quite a bit.

Update to follow!

~En-Joy!

Confession Time:Surviving a Tornado

2011-05-09T12:45:00.010-05:00

I can add a new term to the list of descriptions that define my life so far:

Tornado Survivor.

Yep, we are survivors of the deadly Alabama tornadoes of April 27, 2011. We are alive and well (for the most part) and I am not certain who sustained more damage, my house or my husband.

But I will get to that in a minute.

It was a normal, everyday work day. I had gotten up at 4:00 a.m., as per my usual routine. In order to bathe three full grown people and still have hot water for all, I must bathe at 4:00 a.m, Tigger (who is as large as his dad) bathes at 5:00 a.m. and Darling Hubby bathes at 6:00 a.m.

Storms of any kind make me extremely nervous, and have done so all my life. A close call with storm when I was little, has made me panic whenever the sky clouds over and the winds pick up.

In the 12 years that we have lived in our home, whenever a storm blew in, my first thoughts were of the three oak trees in our back yard. They were all relatively young, tall and spindly compared to the older ones on our street, but were still large enough to cause a problem if the right wind came along. Over the years I had watched in dread as they whipped back and forth, but always emerged on the other side of the storm standing as strong as ever.

Usually, I take my shower and lay back down until 6:00 a.m., but not this morning. The howling wind was enough to make me stop and watch the local morning news show, which was already on what they like to call "wall to wall" storm coverage. A line of fast moving storms were blowing in from Mississippi at a rate of 70 miles per hour. There were indications of rotation as well. I was glued to the t.v. set from about 4:30 until 5:45, when it was announced that the fast moving storm would reach the Leeds/Moody area in roughly 15 minutes.

I went out to the car and unlocked the doors. so that when I was ready to leave for work, I wouldn't get drowned trying to get into the car. It was not raining yet, but the wind was blowing so hard that it blew my house-dress up over the back of my head. Thankfully no one was out yet, so I didn't fully embarass myself or any of my neighbors.

Having made certain that Tigger had been out of the shower long enough for the hot water to recover, I made Darling Hubby get up and get into the shower. A few moments later, the power went out. "Grrreeeeeaaaatttt" I hear him groan from the bathroom.

Suddenly, there was a loud roaring sound. It was much like when rain starts falling hard and fast. I wanted to see how much it was raining.

I love the smell of new rain, right when it starts raining. There is something dirty and gritty about it, yet fresh at the same time. We once went to one of those "4D experience" movies where you got to smell and feel what you were watching. It was about "tall tales" and this particular story was about it raining frogs. The storm that was to bring the frogs started blowing and the creators had gotten that rain smell just right. I could have sat there all day, just smelling that smell. Whenever we have rain, I stand on the porch, breathing in that smell until I am either drenched or someone comes and gets me.

I went to open the door, to see how much it was raining. But I couldn't get the door open. It was like it was stuck. I tried pulling with both hands. The door only opened a crack. I looked through the crack, but I couldn't see the porch rail that was just a few feet from the door. Then my ears popped. My immediate thought was,"That's not good" and I let go of the door. When it slammed shut, I locked it.

Tigger came out of his room and said "Mom, you'd better come here." I tripped over Zipper, who was under my feet. JB had slinked off to the garage to hide around five. I picked Zipper up, which didn't make him happy, and met Tigger in the hall. Kit-Kat soon joined us. I was about to open the door to the bathroom when there was a loud bang on the roof.

"What the hell was that?!" Darling Hubby yells from the bathroom. Soon, he is standing in the hall with us, sopping wet, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

The headline "Wet Naked Man Found Dead In Hallway With Family" flashes through my mind.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, it was quiet again.

From the kitchen window, we could see the tree. Limbs were everywhere, covering the window, blotting out the light. It was hard to determine how big it was from inside. Heath, Kit-Kat, and I, who were not yet dressed, each went to get dressed and Tigger put on his shoes.

As we cautiously peered out our front door, it was obvious something big had happened. We stood on the porch, staring in disbelief at the debris that littered our lawn, driveway and the street in front of us. My next door neighbor, also in her robe, called out to us from her porch. She didn't even have a stray leaf in her yard. It was surreal.

We walked out into the yard and only then did we see the trees on the house and the fences. My biggest fear had finally come to pass.

Down the street, we could see the oak, on the downed power line and blocking the street. We checked on my other next door neighbor. She was alone. Her husband had been out of town. But we were all okay.

Within the hour, the sky was clear blue and the sun shone brightly. Like nothing had happened.

We couldn't get in the back yard. Trees had fallen across both ends of the fence and both side of the house. Large portions were in the front yard and street. Cars sped down our street, heading for highway 411, only to be stopped by the oak in the road. They would throw up their hands, as if the roadblock were our fault, then begrudingly back up into our driveway and go back the way they came. One woman in a silver SUV backed over our mailbox, all while I yelled for her to stop. She asked my neighbors, then standing in the street, what the noise had been. Both had answered that she had backed over our mailbox. She said "oh" put the SUV in drive, and drove away without so much as a "sorry." (I hope it boogered up her SUV...no really I do)

It took over an hour for the shock to subside and for us to determine what we needed to do. We weren't certain who to call. We had been told a few years earlier that our insurance agent had retired. The home owners had been added into the mortgage, so we never had a reason to see him. Our neighbor, who used the same company, had given us the catastrophy number. I called and left a message. We walked up and down the street, surveying damage and checking on other neighbors. The sirens of emergency vehicles wailed in the distance, along with the alarm at Tractor Supply at the end of our street.

By the time someone called us back, we had already heard of the next storm system that would be coming into Alabama later that afternoon. The catastrophy agent told us they would not get to us anytime soon, to clear what we could clear safely, and make temporary repairs to avoid further damage from the next storm systems. Heath went on the roof to start clearing the limbs and survey the damage. I went into town for tarps.

Leeds was also without power, so I drove into Birmingham to buy tarps and supplies. My mother met Kit-Kat and I at Golden Rule to buy us lunch. 411 was a parking lot when I made it back to Moody. I called ahead to tell Darling Hubby that I was stuck in traffice, but on my way, when a stranger answered his phone.

Here are photos of the house and yard, taken shortly after the storm was over. I wish I had taken one of my next door neighbor's yard. There wasn't even a stray leaf over there. It was almost like there was a bubble over her house.

This is the bedroom end of the house. Those windows are Tigger and Kit-Kat's rooms.

You can sorta see what I mean about my neighbor's yard in this one.

Here is the back yard.

And the side yard.

I've heard of this before, but never really seen it. This stick is imbedded in the wall of the house.

We aren't really certain where this tree came from. But the oak tree caught it and kept it from going through the house and that's all that matters.

This is the view from inside the kitchen

Even Zipper had to check things out.

The street where we live didn't fare much better. We were blocked by a fallen oak tree that brought down the power lines.

Here is where Darling Hubby landed on our concrete patio. His head and sholders were on the steps (that is the navy blue shirt they cut from his body there in the lower right hand side of the photo) and he lay sprawled across the patio with a foot on either side of the dryer.

Ironically, that eyesore dryer actually saved my kitchen. The weight of the limb was resting on it, and that stopped it from going all the way through the roof, ceiling and kitchen window.

I know that this is pretty small beans compared to those who lost everything, including their loved ones, but it was traumatic for us just the same.

Mother's Day

2011-05-08T11:03:00.003-05:00

God gave me the task of nurturing and protecting the three most special people in the world.

My children.

I am blessed beyond measure.

~En-JOY

Easter!

2011-04-23T19:05:00.004-05:00

Easter beings in 5 hours.

I am roughly 12 hours from an ice cream binge. Why? Ice Cream was my Lenten sacrifice.

Lent is a forty-day season of preparation for the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ on Easter Sunday. It begins on Ash Wednesday and ends on Easter.

I found this website that explains Lent this way:

"Today, Lent is marked by a time of prayer and preparation to celebrate Easter. Since Sundays celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, the six Sundays that occur during Lent are not counted as part of the 40 days of Lent, and are referred to as the Sundays in Lent. The number 40 is connected with many biblical events, but especially with the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness preparing for His ministry by facing the temptations that could lead him to abandon his mission and calling. Christians today use this period of time for introspection, self examination, and repentance. This season of the year is equal only to the Season of Advent in importance in the Christian year, and is part of the second major grouping of Christian festivals and sacred time that includes Holy Week, Easter, and Pentecost."

I've given up things for Lent before, gum, soda, chocolate, but none has really gotten to me like Ice Cream. Forty days is a really, long time.

I was in the habit of having a small bowl of ice cream every evening, kind of a reward for the crappy days I usually have at work. I had come to look forward to that little bowl of ice cream. That is why it was the perfect sacrifice.

I had run out of ice cream over the weekend before Ash Wednesday. On Fat Tuesday, I had every intention of pigging out on a pint of Hagen Daas, but completely forgot, and the next thing I know, Lent had begun.

That didn't stop me from going to the freezer every evening around 8:30ish to stare into the open space my ice cream had previously occupied. I complained to all my friends about how hard it was. Without thinking I turned to my best friend and actually said "I don't know how Jesus did it!"

I had several close calls, mostly involving milk shakes.I know that drive thru operators have thought I was crazy these past few weeks.

I was starting to be okay with my sacrifice when the unthinkable happened 2 weeks ago: darling hubby bought more ice cream! So I've spent the last 2 weeks looking into the freezer every night at this:

The spoon is from a weak moment. I left it there as a reminder that I am stronger than temptation and I can do all things, including NOT eating this ice cream, through Christ who strengthens me.

It also assures me that I will have a clean spoon at the ready tomorrow morning.
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I helped the Easter Bunny out today.

I spent most of the day today driving around town trying to find three chocolate crosses. Actually, two milk chocolate crosses and a white chocolate cross. (Tigger hates chocolate).

I have always believed that, while the Easter Bunny can drop by and leave a basket full of goodies, some of those goodies should be related to the actual holiday. I have never allowed a chocolate bunny in any of their baskets. And never had to, until last year.

Again, like last year, I was unsuccessful at locating the aforementioned chocolate crosses. I am disappointed and understandably irratated. Just like there is no "Christmas" without Christ, without the cross, there would be no Easter.

I think that between now and next Easter I will try to locate a candy mold and just make my own. How about that for a new Easter tradition?!

In the meantime, I'm going about the normal pre-Easter preperation: ironing, making sure everyone had shoes and socks (yes, I have teenagers and I still have to do that), getting things together before the mad dash to Mother's church in the morning.

Maybe the kids won't notice the bunnies.

Blessed Easter everyone!

~En-JOY

Confession Time: I'm a Packrat

2011-04-06T00:21:00.001-05:00

You know how in a movie, when someone gets fired, they hand them a little box to put their belongings in to leave?

That will never be me.

If I were ever to be fired from my job, it would take me three days to clean out my desk.

Why? I'm a pack rat.

This is what my desk currently looks like:

I find it hard to part with things, especially printed information. You never know what you may need down the road. Trust me, if someone in my office needed to know the price of tea in China ten years ago, I have the memo.

Though it might take me a few minutes to find it.

Yes, I know. But there is some method to my madness.

I love "sticky notes." I honestly don't know how I functioned before I had them. I jot down things on sticky notes all the time. I have several sizes and colors of sticky notes and use them for everything from jotting down a quick reminder to scripting whole memo's to document occurances. The downside to sticky notes is there is a limit to their stickiness and you often find them stuck to unrelated items. I cleaned out the bottom of my purse today and found six sticky notes in the bottom. They have random notes (such as "home", which means "take this home") to telephone numbers of unnamed people (here I must apologize, if you are expecting a call from me, as soon as I figure out which one of these numbers might be yours).

I also love highlighters. I use a different color for each day of the week, an idea I got from a former nurse, who explained that each shift used a different color to make chart notes. It was a given that notes in a particular color were made by a particular shift nurse at just a glance. That seemed logical to me so I devised my own system. Monday's are yellow, Tuesday's are pink, Wednesday's are green, Thursday is blue, and Friday is orange. I've used this color code for years. If you bring me the original document of an order I keyed ten years ago and it's highlighted in green, I can tell you at just a glance that I processed the order on a Wednesday.

I use a type of paperweight to mark various stacks of pending work. They are actually laminated strips of paper, each printed with the type of stack they are protecting. "Orders with Issues" is my favorite.

A great deal of real estate, that large bottom desk drawer to be exact, is filled to the brim with my "Things To Do" note books. I use them to jot down my objectives for the day, or things that I handle that day and tick them off as they are down. And I probably have everyone one I've ever used. You know that memo about the price of tea in China? There is a note made that I recieved it and sent it to be distributed to the CSR team and it's in a notebook in the bottom of that drawer.

After 20 years at a company, one accumulates quite a bit of personal property. I have a stress ball shaped like a coffee cup. I have a stress ball shaped like a lion. I have a stuffed fish, a paddle ball shaped like a fish, I have a paddle ball shaped like a lion. I have 2 dozen coffee mugs and about 30 magnets, half of which are somehow coffee related. I have at least 15 different name tags from various events. There is an apothocary jar full to the rim with buttons to celebrate a customer visit. I have 10 or 12 photos of my family, none of which are remotely current.

Under my desk is a box of tee shirts, 4 empty vases, and a box of empty Walmart bags (that I do share whenever we get the "cleaning out the fridge" memo). There is no telling what is hiding behind that black curtain behind my chair.

We have a "tour ready" philosophy, that I am currently failing to meet. I try to conduct my tours in the middle of the room where it's less crowded and I don't have to worry about explaining the cartoon I have pinned to my wall that makes me laugh hysterically whenever I take the time to read it.

My email is not much better. IT has me on their "top ten offenders" list and has since disabled my "manual empty" option on the trash folder. It automatically empties itself every sixty days. The thought that sixty-one days from now I might need something I fliptantly deleted has driven me to avoid deleting anything.

Letting go of things is especially hard, because time and time again, I've thrown something out/deleted it, only to have someone ask me if I have it the very next day.

Maybe it's just the thought that one day I will be able to save the day because of something I've saved in my email or on my desk.

People do come from all over the office in search of things, because they know, of all people, I'm most likely to have it. They are more surprised when I don't have it than they are when I do.

I have a personal goal to have my office weeded and organized by the end of this year.

But it looks like I may have to take a few days off to do it.

Confession Time: Lazy People and the Motorized Shopping Scooter

2011-04-03T13:37:00.003-05:00

Lazy people irk me.

Lazy people who feel the need to use the motorized shopping scooter at my local Walmart irk me more.

I completely understand the need for the motorized shopping scooter. I understand that I may, one day, be someone driving one. I completely understand why I completely understand that there are seemingly healthy-looking sick people that also need to use them. But I slso know a few seemingly healthy-looking sick people who wouldn't be caught dead on one too.

Our local Walmart has about 6 or 8 of these scooters. Yesterday, while I was grocery shopping, ALL of them were in use. They were all over the place, putt-putting along and making navigating the aisles a little time consuming. I am fine with that.

But when I see an extremely overweight husband and wife, who happened to park next to me in a regular parking space, not displaying a handicap placard, having showed no problem making it from our parking spot into the store, driving along shopping, it REALLY irked me!

I mean, what are the odds that they would BOTH to use the scooters?!
It was obvious that they were just too lazy to walk around the store.

My BFF has fibromyalgia. She doesn't "look" like she has a debilitating condition. If anyone deserves a ride in the scooter, she does. But she won't. Just like she doesn't need to be lifting the milk from the cart, she wouldn't dream of giving into her condition. She is fighting it tooth and nail. And she wouldn't dream of using a scooter.

I broke my toe about this time last year. I spent nearly 2 weeks on crutches, but at no time during that time did I feel the need to use the scooters.

Everytime I see someone scooting along, too lazy to walk the aisles, I think about the movie "Wall-E." You know, where everyone is overweight and atrophied and riding around in little scooters, watching the t.v. and not interacting one another, despite being side by side.

Yeah, it all starts with the scooters at Walmart.

You Gonna Make Me Lose My Mind Up In Here...

2011-04-02T16:04:00.006-05:00

Today was the Moody Miracle League Opening Day! Despite a chilly start, the weather could not have been more perfect. We are excited to welcome a host of new players.

I was in charge of registering volunteers and selling an awesome souveneir tee shirt and caps.

The recent thunderstorms have produced high winds that did damage to the gazebo where we usually set up the souvenier table. I had to set up on one of the picnic tables under the pavillion. Because we have a tee-ball field adjacent, and the other fields behind us, there is always mixing and mingling and passing through from one area to another. We have wide sidewalks on one side of the pavillion and a walking track on the other side, so traffic moves through easily.

Which is why, there was no reason whatsoever, for my former stalker, Dan Smith* to walk his family like little ducks right thru the pavillion, right next to me.

Luckily, earlier in the day I had moved an adirondack chair that we have under the pavillion up next to the table so that one of the parents could charge their cell phone at the adjacent outlet. It blocked the path directly behind me or he would have passed close enough to touch me.

I saw him coming, and he saw me too. Our eyes locked. I sat, frozen with fear. His eyes never left mine, nor did mine leave his. He practically walked right up to me. His wife did not notice, because she was busy texting.

I told the parent charging the phone and another parent because I was freaked out.

Next time it happens I will embarass him. Heck, I'll probably embarass myself.

I will jump up and shout "STOP WATCHING ME!!!!!!!!!"

He will not get away with it again.

*names have been changed to protect the innocent, namely me

ABC's Of Me

2011-03-31T23:03:00.006-05:00

I follow a few blogs and saw this exercise today on A New Kind of Normal and thought I'd do it too! Whatever it takes to help those who follow me know more about me. I challenge my fellow bloggers to do it too! The ABC's of Me!

Age – mentally I'm 18; physically I am celebrating the 25th anniversary of my 18th birthday (do your own math)

Bed size – Queen (just like me)

Chore you hate – chores I don't hate is a much shorter list. Really, are there sick people out there who LIKE chores?!

Dogs – None, tho I would really like a purse pup. Unfortunately, I think my cats would eat it.

Essential start of your day – COFFEE

Favorite color – Cerulean blue (thank you Irma Baumlein!)

Gold or silver – actually, I prefer platnium

Height – about 5 foot 7ish , but if I don't work on my posture, before long I'll be 5 foot 4

Instruments I play (or have played) – flute, piccolo, stand-up string bass (and I can hold my own on bass guitar because the frets are the same) and the tri-toms

Job title – Assistant Manager of Customer Service

Kids – Julz, Tigger and Kit-Kat

Live – Ala-freakin'-Bama

Mom’s name – um....Mother

Nickname – my godchildren call me JoJo, the others are unprintable =)

Overnight hospital stays – more than I care to remember, ball park, about 10 maybe?

Pet peeve – Oh my, that list is long and distinguished, but A-numero-uno would have to be hand washing, followed closely by bad driving

Quote from a movie – "Yes, married, jeesh"

Right or left handed – really depends on what I'm doing.

Siblings – unfortunately...LOL! Just kidding Brother!

Time you wake up – 2:00 a.m, 4:15 a.m , and 6:00 a.m and when ever else the bladder tells me

Underwear – Oh Goodness Yes...white cotton and totally unsexy (I'm old now, I've earned the right)

Vegetable you dislike – beets

What makes you run late – too much fabulousness, too little time to get to it all.

X-rays you have had done – the usual, teeth, wrist, arm, ankles, feet, ribs, appendix, skull

Yummy food you make – baked bacon wraps and grape jelly meatballs

Zoo animal - I am quite partial to penguins but our zoo doesn't have any.

Let me know if you post this yourself. I love reading these!

~En-Joy!

Sha Na Na Na Na Na Na...Happy Birthday Sweet 16!

2011-03-29T09:54:00.004-05:00

Happy 16th birthday "Kit-Kat" I love you!

Thank you for letting me be your Mom.

Confession Time: Shaving

2011-03-27T14:01:00.007-05:00

NOTE: This confession is not for the faint of heart.

For the record: I HATE SHAVING MY LEGS!

There, I've said it. It's not that I don't like having silky smooth legs, I just hate the process that gets them there. If I could shave them one last final time and never have to worry with it again, I'd be the happiest girl in the world.

(Also for the record, these are NOT my legs. Note the scarred knee. This is just for illustration purposes.)

I know. Hairy legs on a woman is not very sexy. Frankly, I've NEVER been any good at it. I have very coarse, unusally dense, curly hair on my arms and legs that grow in all directions. Despite spending a great deal of money on the best products, and a great deal of time, carefully shaving, I still manage to aquire quite a few nasty nicks or a large amount of razor burn. I leave behind enough blood in my beige bathroom to look like a 70's slasher moview was filmed in there. Silky smooth legs in between a dozen or so band-aids are not sexy either.

Then there are the spots that I miss. And not just little spots, long swatches of fuzzy skin, usually visible to everyone but me. My knees and ankles are always the worst, mostly because they are thin and bony. I will never forget my embarassment as a lunch date pointed out both a patch of razor burn and a missed patch on my knee. Yeah, he was a superficial jerk, but I digress.

This is quite possibly one of my biggest secrets. There was a time when I was extremely meticulous about my grooming rituals. I'd never dream of being caught with ragged nails or chipped polish. I wouldn't go to the mail box without my hair curled or my makeup perfect, I wouldn't dream of having a single stray stubbly hair visible. But as more important things in life started happening (code for being a busy mom), I came to care for myself less and less. Yes, I know there are women who can juggle EVERYTHING that life throws at them. I am not one of those women. Somethings have to fall by the wayside. Most days, if my top matches my pants, and my shoes match those, I consider it a good day, whether I have on makeup or my hair is fixed or not.

This is not to say that I am not clean. As I have posted here before, cleanliness is very important to me. Proper bathing is paramount!

I try to avoid shaving my legs whenever possible, usually the Winter months, and hold out as long as I can. I can get away with it easily because I usally wear pants all Winter. Every now and again, I will wear thick tights or tall boots with a skirt, just to vary my wardrobe, all while hiding my hairy legs. Then, usually about right now, it's time to start shaving again.

Now, as blase' as I am about shaving my legs, my underarms are a completely different story. I can't take a shower or bath that I don't shave my underarms. Even if I'd just shaved them that morning, I've got to shave them again.

I think women with unshaven underarms are just gross, no matter who they may be.

I even think that men should shave theirs too. My husband had unusually hairy underarms when we met. Whenever he felt the need to wear a tank top, which was often, everyone got an eye full. It always reminded me of Krumm, from the Ahh! Real Monsters! cartoon series.

Thankfully, when he started working out, someone convinced him that it would be beneficial to shave them, so he did.

I've always wondered why it was decided that women must shave certain body parts but men must not. Think about it. Where it is desireable for men to have hair, it is desirable for women to not have it.

Interesting double standard.

One of THOSE Bloggers

2011-03-26T14:42:00.004-05:00

I am working to avoid becoming "one of THOSE bloggers." The ones who start a blog, gets loyal followers, then doesn't post for months at a stretch. Despite having lots to say, having time to blog it is becoming harder and harder. So, as they say, life happens.

So here is a little bit about what is going on right now:

This was my last Saturday to sleep late. The Moody Miracle League season starts next Saturday, April 2nd. Since I am the volunteer coordinator, I have to be their early to ensure all the volunteers are registered, oriented, and matched with a player. I will have to get up that same time that I get up for work.

Kit-Kat turns 16 on Tuesday and she is most enthusiastic about driving practice. Tigger, who is now 17 but still doesn't have his license, not so much. I'd like for both of them to have their license soon, despite having a car for either of them to drive. I'm also not looking forward to the jump our insurance rates are going to take. Yeah, our agent LOVES us!

Work is....well, work. (That is about all I can say without instigating possible legal ramifications)

On the upside, I've been contacted by the fact checker of both "All You" magazine on a blurb that I submitted, and "More" magazine about the pageant I was in last August. Look for me in the May issue of "All You" and the June issue of "More"!

I just watched "The Blind Side" for the one millionth time. I am completely fascinated by Sandra Bullock in this role! I've spent most of the morning googling her wardrobe and makeup for it. So far, I've only found information on the plastic watch she's wearing (the kind that made my arm break out= yech!), and some kid doing a subpar youtube tutorial on what she thinks might be the eye makeup technique. So much for finding everything you need on the internet.

For the record, I sincerely doubt that LAT would have thought that Nick Satan was "extremely handsome." He looks like a cross between a used car salesman and a televangalist. He reminds me of the guys that used to golf with my dad and then spend the rest of the day in the Nineteenth Hole smoking cigars, drinking goodness knows what, and watching more golf on tv. Plus, he's old. Equally unlikely that he would actually comment on the window treatments, otherwise his line delivery would have been more natural.

I've wanted to check out the new Coach outlet at the Grand River Mall, but my car has developed the annoying habit of dying in shopping center parking lots. Once I've driven there, I am pretty much stuck for 2 or 3 hours. Twice now, Super Dave, the darling hubby of my BFF and partner in crime, Cyndi, has come with his wrecker to save me. The last time this happened, the part cost $300.

Did I mention the car pays off next month? At least I know where the money for the part will come from. Though it would also fund a really nice, classic Coach bag.

Every day I look in the mirror and see less and less of the Joy I know, and more and more of my grandmother (except without the grandchild, which all of my friends seem to be having all around me.) That is UNACCEPTABLE! I hope I get a good bonus this year. I am going to use every cent of it on some sort of self improvement ( smart lipo, down payment on a face lift, etc...) I wonder how much it would cost to have plastic surgery to look like Jennifer Anniston?

In two weeks we will be having our monthly classmate dinner. That is always a lot of fun and is the only date night I've been getting lately with the darling hubby. I have a large group of former classmates on Facebook and each month I invite the whole group. I really wish that more could attend, but have a great time with the core group that started the habit. We are becoming quite the bowlers, finding ourselves at the local lanes after every dinner. Darling hubby and I are going to have to invest in our own balls, as there are hardly any that are useful at the lane. I have fat fingers, so I need large finger holes, but my wrist won't let me support a ball over 8 pounds.

Kit-Kat has been selected to participate in the Alabama prelim for National American Miss and, not only does she actually want to participate, darling hubby is actually going to let her! I am thrilled at the prospect of her competing and she is excited because it will "look good on her college transcript."

I have recently been plagued by nearly unbearable pain and fatigue. My legs have ached constantly for the better part of two weeks, and over the counter meds do little but increase my fatigue. I have to limit them during work hours for fear I will fall asleep at my desk, despite the gallons of coffee I consume. I don't have time to go to the doctor to have it checked out, for reasons listed above. It has done quite a number on my attitude as well. I'm trying to put on a brave face and work through it, but it has made my fuse really short. I've spent more than one lunch hour in the bathroom crying because despite putting on the brave face, something has gotten to me. Rather than asking me if I am okay, or if I need help with anything, or anything remotely encouraging, I'm being reported for having a sour attitude. Gee, I wonder why.

Well I need to get off the computer now, because, like everything else in my life, someone else wants to be using it.

~ En-JOY

Rednecks....recycling BEFORE it was vogue

2011-03-19T16:25:00.019-05:00

A recent Facebook exchange with one of my friends from Oregon about my mother's newest yard art, a bottle tree, got me to thinking. Rednecks were recycling long before it was vogue!

With the push for everyone to "go green," recycling and repurposing (a.k.a. "upcycling") is all the rage. But it is hardly new. I've grown up with it. The act of taking an object, usually trash, and giving it new life as something else, is a Southern tradition. I've always known that Southerners were a resourceful lot. But the ingenuity of the Redneck brings recycling and repurposing to new heights.

I share the following examples of Redneck Arts and Crafts

The Crochet Beer Can Hat

For men...

and for ladies

The Tire Tulip

The Bottle Tree

My mother's is very similar to this one, but not quite as "full." I picked this photo, not only because it was very colorful, it also showed a variety of bottles. She only has wine bottles on hers right now, but after I shared this photo, she's going to explore more options.

Beer/Soda Can Pinwheel

A Candy Wrapper Belt

with matching Gum Wrapper Bag

to go with the Gum Wrapper Prom Dress

or maybe the Juice Box Purse

to go with the Duct Tape Prom Dress

Ladies Activewear

Storm Shelter

The Classic: A White Porcelain Planter

And lastly, our (yes, I do mean OUR, as in my family...see Darling Hubby in his favorite Auburn hat and little Kit-Kat?) house boat. We call it, The Campoon.

My grandparents taught me that anything with use left in it, was still worth something to someone. Sometimes, you just have to think outside of the box.

~En-Joy

What Time Is It?!

2011-03-13T22:05:00.001-05:00

This post may be somewhat of a rant. I'm a little disoriented and cranky.

I can not believe how quickly this time change crap rolled around again! Isn't this the craziest thing you've ever done? Twice a year, we mindlessly follow along, and roll our clocks back and forth and then don't sleep properly for months, until it's time to do it again.

Right now it is 10:19 p.m. Central, but my body is conditioned so that it believes it is 9:10 p.m. so I am not sleepy, not-- one-- little--bit. Since I get up at 4:30 a.m. to get ready for work, my poor body is conditioned to believe that it is only 3:30 a.m.! This will cause me to drink unimmaginable amounts of coffee at my office, thus keeping me up tomorrow night. It's a viscious circle. Given I already have a sleep disorder, it's extremely hard to recover from this disruption.

In 1966 our "friends" on Capitol Hill decided that we needed more daylight, so they decided to pass a law that twice a year would disrupt the natural sleep rythms of the entire nation. I have a hard time believing that my parents would have voted for this nonsense. Who do I have to vote into office to make it stop?

Studies show that lack of proper sleep contributes to a whole host of heath problems, including obesity. Ironically, obesity in America has been on a steady rise for the past 40 years. A coincidence? I don't think so. The government is so concerned with the obesity rate in America, one would think they'd take a long hard look at the correlation between the two.

It is no longer necessary for us to swap our clocks back and forth. The remainder of the year, we make adjustments to make up for the "missing" daylight. The states of Hawaii and Arizona decided that observing Daylight Saving Time was unnecessary and have successfully functioned without it for quite some time now. It's time for the rest of the country to follow suit.

The most logical answer for those who want more daylight is for THEM to GET UP EARLIER!

There are more people in favor of abolishing DST than keeping it.
It's time we band together and bring this issue to a vote.

Surviving A Stalker Part IV: The Aftermath

2011-02-20T08:07:00.002-06:00

So Dan Smith* has been caught, convicted, sentenced to two years probation, and a restraining order has been imposed. Most importantly, and often overlooked, the calls stopped completely once he had been picked up (how's that for a little concrete proof?), never to happen again. One would think I'd feel safe.

They would be wrong.

My number was listed under both my name and my grandfather's, as it has once been used as the number for his business. I had the phone company take my name out of the book, but leave my grandfather's. The local phone company kept a tracer trap on my phone (for only an additional $5 a month) for the rest of the time that I lived there. When the services came available to my area, I was the first to be offered caller id, annoymous call rejection and last call return along with per line call blocking. It was several dollars tacked on to my phone bill, but it was all worth it.

I was suddenly super-aware of people looking at me in public places, almost to the point of paranoia, or coincidentally following behind me, either walking through a store or out driving. I started dressing down to go unnoticed out in public, usually a black yoga pants and black hoodie, when ever I went shopping. I found myself interupting my shopping to abruptly move to the opposite side of the store to avoid anyone that might be following me. If I observed anyone driving behind me for a long period of time, I'd intentionally slow down to make them pass me. If they didn't pass, I'd start making erroneous turns or stops to see if they would follow.

I had become introverted and quiet, hardly speaking to anyone in public. I used to be the one who would spontaniously strike up a conversation in the grocery line, but I became suspicious and uncomfortable with any stranger who attempted to speak to me.

I also avoided giving out my phone number for any reason. Someone could have offered me a guaranteed million dollars in exchange for it and I would have told them to keep their money. I stopped registering for prizes and give aways, I only put my work number on documents for school. I didn't even let them publish it in our church directory.

I also forbade anyone who did have my number from giving it out. My grandparents were the worst at doing that. Because my grandfather's name came before my parents in the Leeds phone book, people trying to find me or my little brother often called them first. They would just blurt out our number to whomever asked, without any further questions. I instructed everyone that if anyone called looking for my number, they were to take a message, call me with it, and I would call them back myself. Anyone who wouldn't leave a number was immediately suspicious. If the caller wouldn't accept a call from an annonymous number, I'd drive up the road to the quickmart and call from their payphone (payphones...remember those..LOL!).

When my boyfriend became my husband, and we set up household together, I insisted that we keep all the same services on our new home phone. Every so often he will ask if we can drop something and I will tell him no. Our name is not even on our mailbox.

Barbie* did wind up marrying Dan, despite hearing all the evidence and knowing the torment he was inflicting on other women. They still live in my town. Because it's not a big place, I find myself running into them from time to time.

Once, while on a major grocery shopping trip to WalMart, found myself buggy to buggy with them at the corner of an aisle. She was clearly, enormously pregnant, pushing the buggy, and he was following along like husbands do. Normally I laugh, say excuse me and make a comment about having traffic signals at the ends of the aisle, and move on. But all I could do was gasp. I turned in the opposite direction from where I had intended and hurried down the next aisle, then back over to the aisle they had just come from, and stopped to catch my breath. There I decided to head for the dairy section, the direction they had come from, and shop in reverse. I'd grab exactly what I needed and then go. I would blend in and slip out.

It was then I realized that I was wearing a pull-over in bright, safety yellow, that we had used for Julz's "duck" costume the previous Halloween. The tank top I had worn underneath was not appropriate to be seen in public, even in the best of circumstances, much less the cold, wet weather outside. So much for blending in.

As I went to make my dash for the dairy, they suddenly turned back down my aisle, an aisle they had already shopped! Dan was now pushing the buggy, while Barbie waddled along behind. She rubbed her swollen belly, stopping only long enough to put items in the buggy. I tried not to appear bothered (or worse, panicked) as I made my way to the main aisle (or as Walmart likes to call it "action alley") to make my way up to the dairy section.

I went straight for the eggs. I stopped to check my eggs for cracks, turned to put them in my buggy and who should be standing there next to me! I went to the adjacent milk case, they moved with me. I went down the cereal aisle, and they followed. I skipped the chip/snack aisle to go to the sodas and they followed yet again. I decided that my family didn't need sodas, turned down the cold case aisle and practically ran straight to the front.

I lucked up on a checkout with only one person ahead of me and quickly started unloading my cart. Having worked in a grocery store, I was really pretty good at stacking things on the belt so that the cashier had the easiest time. I began packing my buggy as the casheir filled bags and looked up to find the Smiths in the checkout next to mine. There was a customer in front of them, still being serviced. Barbie was chatting cheerfully with the customer, but Dan was staring right at me.

For a split second, panic welled up in me and I nearly bolted, leaving all my groceries behind. But that would be letting him know he'd gotten to me. I busied myself with my own check out process, but every time I looked up, Dan was staring a hole through me, with this smirk on his face. I came close to yelling, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LOOKING AT PERVERT?!" or "IS THIS 500 FEET?!" (though I think that the restraining order had run out by then )but thought better of it. I didn't want to become that woman that freaked out in WalMart, that every time I came in the employees would point and whisper, "Hey, there is that lady that freaked out in here that time." (Did I mention that I'd once worked in a grocery? I KNOW things like that happen.) Luckily, I had a jump start on checking out, so I was able to get out before them.

I practically ran to the parking lot, I threw all the groceries into the trunk, not caring if I squashed the bread or broke the eggs. I put the buggy between my car and the next (a personal pet peeve) instead of walking it to the buggy corral, lept into the car and sped out of the parking lot. Instead of going straight home, I hopped onto the interstate, drove up to the next exit and took as many narrow back roads as I could, several miles out of my way.

Thanks to Google Maps, I later learned that I had driven right by their house in doing that, so I did not make that mistake again.

Another time, I was working the souvenier table for the Miracle League. At the time, it was under a gazebo next to the adjacent tee-ball field, instead of next to the concession stand where it sits today. From there, it was harder to watch a Miracle League game, especially if there was a tee-ball game at the same time.

I love watching the tiny, tee-ball players as they learn to play the game. Some are so tiny their extra small uniforms still swallow them up. Most of the yelling comes from the parents but they yell out when they have to go to the bathroom, in no uncertain terms, for all the field to hear. Sometimes they forget and run toward third instead of first. There are times when it seems they would all rather be digging in the dirt and leave the game to the grown ups, who seem more concerned with it anyway.

I had gotten up to get a tee-shirt from a storage box when I saw them. Barbie, pregnant again, was standing on the fence line, cheering for a little munchkin at bat. Crowded in the tiny space between his shoulders was the word "Smith." Just to Barbie's right, sat Dan in a folding chair, close enough that I could reach out and slap him. And rather than watching his son at bat, he was looking at me.

You know how when you catch someone looking at you, they jump? Well I am not certain who jumped more, me or him. He quickly turned his attention back to the field. I turned back around to deal with my customer, but my heartbeat was hammering in my ears. I sat down and threw another glance over my shoulder. There he was, staring at me with a smirk on his face. It reminds me of the expression the Grinch makes. He and I both knew that the restraining order had long since expired. I thought about yelling at him again but didn't want to embarass myself. i was now a member of the Miracle League board and didn't need to cause any trouble at the park.

I flagged down another volunteer to handle the souveniers and trotted out onto the field to buddy a player in left field, putting the stone pressbox between me and him. A few minutes later, he was at the concession stand, watching me as he waited in line. He then sat down on the shaded bench next to it, where he could watch both me and his son's game unobstructed. I couldn't take it anymore. I told the coach that the heat was getting to me and asked for another buddy for my player. I told Mr. Johnny, our announcer that I was going to have to go home and I dashed to my car. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I called my husband, who now seemed unconcerned. "That's been a long time" he said, "shouldn't you be over that by now?"

Yes, I guess I should. But I'm not.

Over the years I continue to run into them in the grocery store, the gas station and the ball park. Most of the time, I see him first and can exit unnoticed. The times that I don't, I fight the urge to scream in his face, draw attention to him, embarass him, maybe clue his wife into the fact that she didn't change him. I figure that eventually, she will find that out on her own, when he starts again. At least this time, he will have a record and it will be a repeat offense and some poor girl won't have the same trouble I did.

Whenever I hear of someone having strange phone calls or noticing stalker behavior, I always share my story and these words of advice.

DOCUMENT : Keep a journal of dates, times, duration of incident, type of behavior (calling, following, driving by home, etc...) No detail is too small.

REPORT: Go to your local police or sherrif's department (or the law enforcement department that covers your area, if it is happening somewhere other than home like work or school)or call law enforcement to come to you. Ask to file an incident report for every incident. Carry your journal so that all details will be included. This will provide a paper trail for the pattern of behavior.

DEVELOP A SUPPORT NETWORK: Let your family, friends, coworkers, teachers know what is going on. Do not keep what is happening secret. Those who truly love you, will not judge you. They will do what they can to help you.

I once read "If I Am Missing or Dead.." the bone chilling true story of the murder of Amy Lynne Latus. Ten weeks before her abusive boyfriend strangled her to death, she had written a letter about the abuse, sealed it in an envelope marked "If I am missing or dead" and taped it to the inside drawer of her desk at work. She had kept the abuse a secret, rather than seeking help from her loved ones. Don't ever make that mistake.

SIGN THE WARRANT FOR ARREST: When someone crosses the line between nuIsance and criminal behavior, it's time for legal action. Do not be afraid to sign the warrant.

PRESS FOR PROSECUTION (where applicable) : Reoccuring criminal behavior should not only be documented, it should be punished.

SEEK COUNSELING: Victims go through many emotions. Anger, fear, self doubt, did I do something wrong, was I too nice, why didn't I see this coming, etc, etc, etc... Don't try to deal with those emotions alone. Seek counseling specifically for victims.

So in the aftermath, I'm a little less outgoing, a little more observant, a little less trusting, a little more paranoid.

Don't let yourself be a victim.

*names have been changed to protect the innocent, namely me.

Surviving A Stalker Part III: My Day In Court

2011-02-12T14:53:00.006-06:00

My stalker had a name: Dan Smith. *

And in my attempt to put a name with that face, a friend introduced me to a person who would prove most valuable in my day in court. I will call her Amy Doe.*

Amy was the young wife of one of my brother's friends,whom I will call Doug* so we both already knew of one another, and making contact was very easy. Amy, it turns out, was one of Dan Smith's earlier victims.

I sat in her living room and gave her a brief history of what I had just been through, right up to trying to find a photo of this guy, and being told that I needed to speak with her. Her toddler crawled around between us, frequently stopping to offer us a toy from the collection in the floor.

Amy's story was equally as harrowing, but more malicious: Dan was a good friend of Doug's, and a frequent visitor to their home. She had begun receiving strange phone calls during her pregnancy, that escalated in frequency when Doug was switched to night shift. She also noticed that the calls would only come when Doug was not at home, sometimes within minutes of his leaving for work.

She was more successful in getting cooperation from local authorities, possibly due to her delicate condition, and was soon shocked to find that her tormentor was none other than her husband's friend. "He was welcomed in our home! I had made him dinner!" she had said to me, "We felt so betrayed!"

Dan had been picked late one afternoon, and spent the night in jail. The next phone call Amy recieved was a guilt-ridden call from Dan's parents. Unbelievably, Dan is a pastor's son, raised in a local church where his father was the pastor for many years. The scandal would embarass the family in their church, and embarass the church in our community. Dan's mother begged Amy to drop the charges, promising to seek counseling for Dan. Amy agreed to drop the charges, and Doug dropped the friendship.

Around the same time Amy was recieving her calls, her best friend, a pretty, former cheerleader from a neighboring town, was getting them as well. When she found out that Dan was the culprit behind Amy's calls, she confronted him outright, he confessed and the calls stopped. Ironically, the tie that binds these stories together was the cheerleader's cousin, Barbie: Dan Smith's girlfriend.

I was shocked! Not only had Dan been caught twice before, he had gotten away scott free! No record, no punishment, nothing.
"Not this time!" I vowed. Because it was obvious that the Smiths had not sought help for Dan's "problem," Amy agreed to testify should she be needed.

The month between the arrest and the first of two trial dates were peaceful and quiet. I met with the D.A. and turned over my journal. He was impressed by the detail and told me that I had made his job much easier.

The day of the pretrial, my boyfriend and I sat on the back row of the large courtroom in the county courthouse, when I first saw Dan Smith in person. He came in with his parents, watching the floor as he walked. Because we were on the last row, no one could sit behind us and I studied Dan Smith as we waited. He sat with his elbows on his knees, hanging his head while he sat. His mother rubbed his back and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. His father sat stone still, no expression, arms crossed. The judge came in and called the docket, deciding which cases to hear that day, which to reassign.

After about an hour, the D.A. called me into a room just off the main courtroom. There a woman waited at a table. The D.A. introduced me to what turned out to be the court's violence counselor. I really could have used her a month earlier, but today I was fine. "So tell me, what is the nature of your relationship with Dan Smith?" I wasn't certain why I was having this conversation. I pointed to myself "Um, victim," then pointed back toward the courtroom, "pervert." The counselor blinked and shook her head. "What?" I repeated, pointing with both hands for emphasis "Victim! Pervert!" She looked down at a file on the table and looked back up at me, "So you mean you are not engaged in a relationship?" I laughed hysterically, "Good Lord no! Today is the first day I've even laid eyes on him! My boyfriend is sitting out in the hall." I immediately flushed and felt faint. What Dan Smith had told these people? The D.A. apologized for upsetting me and invited me and my boyfriend back into the courtroom. He told me that when the judge called our case, I could stay seated until it was decided whether we would proceed that day or set a new date.

As my boyfriend and I walked back to the back row, we passed the Smiths, seated on the third or fourth row. Dan never looked up, but his parents did. My boyfriend protectively put his arm around me and ushered me to our seat.

When our case was finally called, we stayed seated while Dan and his attorney went before the judge with the D.A. After a few minutes, the attorney took Dan into the side room and the D.A. motioned for us to come to the front. As I stood there, I could feel the Smith's eyes burning a hole in my back. I wondered what he had told them, what explanation he had come up with for being caught yet again. The judge could not fit us in that day and we were to come back the following week.

The following week, we returned to the courthouse. I spoke with the D.A. who asked questions about the various entries in the journal. He said that I was to spare no detail when asked to describe the content of the calls, including curse words. My confidence was soon shaken as I stepped out into the hall to go to the courtroom. I was mortified to find my grandparents waiting in the hallway to go into court. Despite telling them repeatedly that I didn't need them, they had come as a show of support. Great, not only was I about to curse and describe explicit sexual comments in open court, I was going to have to do it in front of my grandparents.

The D.A. asked questions such as how did I know the defendant (I didn't, though I was told he went to my high school at the same time I did) and if I'd ever met him before (No, I hadn't) and if I'd ever given him my telephone number for any reason (No, of course). He held up my journal and asked what it was, what prompted me to keep it. He read specific dates and times listed. He asked me to read the comments listed for those dates.

The cross was short. His attorney asked about the first dates listed in the journal, the calls made before Christmas. He asked me to read those dates, times and comments into the record and then asked me to read the dates again. Then I was excused, and the prosecution rested.

The defense's star witness was Barbie, surprisingly introduced to the court as Dan Smith's fiance. I could not believe that this young lady would still even be his girlfriend after catching him making graphicly explicit calls to not one, but three other women, much less agree to marry him.

The main reason that Barbie was called as a witness was not only because she bought him the cell phone as a Christmas gift, she did not give it to him until Christmas Eve. (Like he couldn't have made the calls from another phone before that?) She testified that because she worked for the cell phone company, she had gotten a special deal for the first contract year of unlimited minutes. Dan was letting all of his friends use his new toy and she was with him all the time to witness it. So that was his defense: even though it was his phone, he couldn't have made the calls before Christmas because he didn't have it yet or the ones afterward because all his friends were using it.

Her cross examination was not as easy. The D.A. went over her testimony and she repeated her answers. "You've witnessed him loaning his phone to his friends? "Yes" she responded, defiantly, glaring at me. "You are with him all the time, huh?" he quipped. "Most of the time, yes" she responded. "Do you live with Mr. Smith?" the D.A. asked. "No," she shot a glance at his parents, "we aren't married yet." Then he picked up my journal and read off a series of dates and times, asking in between if she was with Mr. Smith at 3:00 and 4:00 a.m. on these dates. I could tell she was about to cry and her voice cracked as she responded "no" to each date. I felt really sorry for her in that moment, as you could see her realize that there was more to my story than she had obviously been told.

Then the D.A. asked the million dollar question: Had she ever heard of Amy Doe? I do not recall her answer because I distracted by the sudden flurry of movement to my left. Dan Smith, who had been sitting with his arms crossed, staring at the floor, suddenly sat bolt upright and both of his parents practically lept forward. The muffled whispering between them and the attorney, hissed like helium from a balloon and the D.A. announced he had no more questions.

The defense rested without Dan Smith taking the stand. The D.A. said it was probably so I wouldn't be able to positively identify his voice.

The judge did not even have to excuse himself to go over the testimony and make a decision. "Mr. Smith, I find you guilty" he announced immediately. He told him that though cell phones were relatively new, it was still implied that the owner was the user. The judge said that he found Dan's actions "reprehensible" and the fact that there may be other victims made it worse. He sentenced Dan to two years probation, with the added promise that if Dan was ever even rumored to be involved in another harrassment suit, he'd see to it that Dan would spend every single day of a two year sentence in jail. The judge also added that Dan was stay a minimum of 500 feet from me and violation of that would result in jail time as well.

As my family left the courtroom, we passed his group in the hallway. I heard his attorney say he wouldn't advise seeking an appeal, I heard his mother ask about the stalking charge that wasn't addressed.

I turned back to the D.A. when we were further down the hall. "What did happen to the stalking charge?" He just smiled and replied, "We will worry with that if they decide to appeal."

Coming soon: Surviving A Stalker Part IV: The Aftermath

*names have been changed to protect the innocent, namely me.

Surviving a Stalker Part II: Seeking Justice

2011-01-30T15:01:00.006-06:00

The whispery voice was back in my life, and he was making it hell.

The calls went from just coming on weekends, to nearly every night around 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. Both my young daughter and I were beginning to lose sleep, only finding relief by occasionally staying over at the homes of friends and family. At the time, caller id, (or many other commonly used harrassment detourants, like "star 69" or call blocking) was not available in my area. A life long diary keeper, I bought a notebook specifically for journalling the incidents. I logged the date, time (or times), duration, and content of each and every call.

The whispery voice would share sexual fantasies, tell me what he wanted to do to me, telling me that he liked my "long, sexy legs," and my strawberry blonde hair. At times, he would start begging me not to hang up. I could hear a t.v. or radio in the back ground and before long, there were other sounds as well. The thought of what he was doing while he was talking to me, turned my stomach. In an attempt to turn off, whatever I had turned on, I began reading passages from the Bible, to no avail.

Simply hanging up and leaving the phone off the hook did not work. Most times, the call would not disconnect, and he'd still be there. I tried leaving it off the hook under a pillow, but he would just call my name, over and over again. If the call did disconnect, he would just call right back before I could get it off the hook. It was like being in a movie about a hostage situation, where the police have a one way line, and whenever anyone inside picks up the phone, they find themselves on the phone with the cops. Only my line was linked to the devil.

I had been promoted to supervisor and the CSR team or the answering service would need to be able to reach me, so leaving my phone disconnected was no longer an option. And I know what you are thinking..."Why didn't you just change your phone number?" I had considered the fact that I had four phone numbers since the harrasment began roughly ten years earlier and the behaviour had continued. This person was obviously resourceful and I realized it would only buy me a few months peace before it started again. I had tried to solicit the help of our two-cans-and a-string telephone company, but they dragged their feet about helping me bring an end to the situation. The fact of the matter was, that harrassing communications is a CRIME and I refused to allow this CRIMINAL to further inconvienence MY LIFE by changing my phone number again.

NO! It was time to face this demon head on, not take "no" for an answer from the authorities sworn to protect me, and get my life back.

My husband, then new boyfriend, was protective and supportive, every bit my knight in shining armor. He recorded a new message for my answering machine, so it would be a male voice. He would stay late, often resorting to sleeping on our couch, all to answer the phone when the calls would begin. This temporarily discouraged the whispery voice. When the calls began again, they coincided with nights my boyfriend was not at the house.

But the call that was the straw breaking the camel's back, came mere moments after my boyfriend left for home. In a rush for work that morning, I had swept my hair back into a ponytail. Rather than making myself late styling my hair in its usual coiffure, I had taken this shortcut for the first time in a month. The whispery voice informed me that he "did not like" when I wore my hair "that way." I knew instantly that I was being watched.

I threw clothes for my daughter and me into a bag, scooped up my sleeping daughter, and dashed off to my boyfriend's home. I hysterically explained what had happened. We decided that I must contact the authorities and implore the county sherrif to help me.

I took a vacation day and went to the sherrif's department the very next day. I showed my journal, and explained that I was certain that I was being watched. It was very hard to remain composed while I spoke with the deputy, but as I described the telephone company's reluctance to act, I broke down. The compassionate deputy brought me a soda and assured me that he could help me.

I gave him the name and number of the representative I had spoken with at the telephone company. In a twenty minute telephone conversation, he arranged for a phone trap to be put on my number that would be effective at 5pm that afternoon. Relieved that I was finally getting help, I went to work to finish out my day. It took two nights before I got the call I was waiting for.

I contacted the sherrif's department from work and was told that I would have to come in and sign the warrant, so I asked to leave early. In the meantime the sheriff's department contacted the telephone company with the date, time and duration of the call from the infomation I provided and had pinpointed the source. There was just one problem: it was a cell phone, and there, the trail went cold again. I suddenly felt faint and I immediatly collapsed in a sobbing heap on the conference room table.

In the beginning, cell phones were not as popular as they are now. Very few people had them, so one would think they'd be easy to trace. But early on, when a call was made from a cell phone to a land line, the trail ended at the cell phone company. They had access to the records beyond that, thus leading early owners to believe their calls were untraceable. This was somewhat, but not entirely true. Though we had the number, their first loyalty was to their clients, and they were reluctant to share who he was. It could be obtained, but it took a little leg work. There were only three cell phone carriers at that time. Lucky for me, I knew someone who worked for two of them. I gave their business cards to the deputy and he called. Both friends proved very knowledgable about the new technology and knew enough to know that the number was not the prefix assigned to either of their companies. It belonged to the third. Both suggested that the deputy contact the security department of that carrier and explain the situation and he would be given the information we needed. We were nearing 5:00 p.m. so the answer would have to wait until the next day. I would have to come back to sign the warrant after the deputy got the name, because I couldn't sign a blank warrant.

I hardly slept, but when the whispering voice called that night, I just laughed at him, cackling uncontrollably until he hung up. He did not call back.

I had long suspected a former co-worker from my high school job, a boy named Joe Jones,* from the neighboring town. He had the same low, whispery voice. Not only would have have known my schedule then, he would have had the means and opportunity to leave the gifts, as well as access to the rolodex where the store manager kept everyone's telephone number. The icing on the cake was that he was a friend of my ex-husband, and would have had our home number, even after we both resigned from the store.

Around lunch the next day, the deputy called me to ask me if I knew Dan Smith* I did actually know several Smith's, our town was full of Smith's but that name was not familiar to me. I hung up the phone and called my boyfriend. When I told him the name, he instantly knew who I was talking about, as did my little brother. Both had made it their mission to see that I was protected, and both had offered to go and "have a word" with this person. I assured them both that the sherrif's department could handle it. I left early to sign the warrant and wait for Dan Smith to be picked up by the sherrif.

Dan Smith was arrested at his parent's home on a Friday. If the deputies had waited a mere 15 minutes later, would have spent that entire weekend as a guest of the county. But his parents immediately went to bond him out, and caught the magistrate 15 minutes before close of business. I don't know if he tried to call me that weekend. I chose not to be home.

Pardon this rabbit trail, but you must know a little bit history to understand this next information. My small hometown of Leeds sits on the South side of I-20, while our closest neighboring school of Moody is just a short bridge hop North. For many years I-20 served as the boundary, an unofficial school zone divider. Students on the South side of I=20 went to Leeds, students on the North side went to Moody. If you look at Leeds on a map, you will see that it's city limits actually cover three counties, Jefferson, Shelby, and St. Clair counties. The school is in Jefferson, but the St. Clair County line runs a mere two blocks behind the school property and well over a mile from the unwritten boundary. Sometime during my time in high school, St. Clair County had begun to rally the state board of education to force students living within the Leeds city limits but over the St. Clair County line to begin attending Moody. Many held out as long as they could, several paid tuition to stay, and some finally relented and crossed the bridge every day to go to Moody. Dan Smith was among those students.

I was determined to find out who this person was. I wanted to see what he looked like so I could watch out for him. Right now, I had no idea who he was. He could walk up to me and shoot me and I'd never see it coming. I had learned from my boyfriend and my brother that Dan had left to complete his Junior and Senior years at Moody. Having spent his Freshman and Sophomore years at Leeds meant he would be in my Junior and Senior yearbooks. Unfortunately, his photo was "not available" in either. My only other recourse was to see if any of my friends who had "jumped the bridge" might have a photo in theirs. One such friend, coincidentally in the same class with Dan, lived across the street from my grandparents. I knew she would have the yearbooks I needed.

Because I didn't know who might be related to him, I did not tell her who I was looking for when I asked to see her yearbooks. I was extremely disappointed when he was not pictured in either of those yearbooks either. Not even a graduation photo. Apparently part of being a lurker is avoiding being photographed.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked. I fought back tears as I handed her the two books. "No, he's not in here." She sat down next to me on the couch. "What's going on?" her face concerned. I said, "Oh, there's this guy who's been calling me. It's been going on for months. They told me his name, but I don't know him. I'm told he got transferred to Moody during all that county line crap. I just want to see who he is." She sat straight up and said "Is his name Dan Smith?!" Right in that moment, you could have knocked me over with a feather. "You don't even have to answer. I can tell by your face that it is. There is someone I want you to meet."

Next Surviving a Stalker Part III: My Day in Court

*names have been changed to protect the innocent, namely me

Surviving a Stalker Part I : A Little History

2011-01-23T15:26:00.008-06:00

A friend recently posted on Facebook that she is being following by a woman from her husband's past. She mentioned several incidents that had occured, which all sounded like scenes from "Single White Female."

I have a unique perspective on the subject: I am a stalking survivor.

Though I suspect it started while I was in high school, I can not say for certain. The voice and the circumstances surrounding the incidents that began way back then are too similar for it not to be the same person. Many stalkers pick their victims early and maintain a sick obsession for many years. While most victims know their harrasser, I only learned the identity of my stalker when he was finally caught.

I know now that his name is Dan.* He was two years behind me in school. I would later learn that we were often at the same events, parties, outings etc... He was no one of consequence: not the sports hero, or the cute guy, class clown, or award winning brainiac. What he was, however, was a lurker.

A lurker is one of those people who kind of lurks around in the background. Someone who wasn't identified with any particular group (the jocks, the band, the geeks, or the stoners), but yet found a way to be included in everyone's goings on. They weren't really friends with anyone, but are always at the parties. Usually they didn't come with anyone,and likewise left alone. They are in the background of all the pictures, being quiet,lurking in the half-light, and observing. They want to be part of the action, but lack the personality to pull it off. You might not know their name, but occasional when faced with them somewhere like the mall , you might recognize their face from school. I bet you remember one from your own high school as I describe this. Having once been a wall flower myself, I did not allow people at parties to languish on the sidelines. Ironically, Dan slipped through, completely unnoticed, while I, on the other hand, apparently captured his attention.

I had been plagued on and off throughout high school by a series of obscene phone calls,beginning aroud my Junior or Senior year. A late bloomer, I had begun to blossom and was being noticed. I was also a majorette, which had elevated me into a status hovering just between "band geek" and "jock/cheerleader." And I had just ended my first, steady relationship.

The calls would come at all hours, the same whispery voice, saying the most vile, unspeakable things. And he knew things, like what I had worn that day, or where I had been. There had also been a series of unexplained gifts, that no one ever admitted to sending. Flowers, candy, stuffed animals, all left for me on my car at work. I had attributed them to an exboyfriend, trying to win back my attention, but he never claimed credit.

Before long, the calls escalated, as I recieved my own phone line as a gift. Canned air horns, rape whistles, and the threat of prosecution did little to deter this pervert, who would call every night for a month, then suddenly stop calling for two. It was not long before the obscenities were joined by threats on my life. That I should be dead, that the world would be a better place without me. He had a knack for calling the moment I would get home, regardless of the time. Only then did it dawn on me that I could be being watched.

Terrified, my mother and I sought the help of the police. I signed an affidavit that I would proceed with prosecution. While the phone trap proved successful in theory, our mom-and-pop local telephone company could not obtain permission from the larger carrier to proceed toward prosecution, and the matter was dropped. Despite my desperate pleas, the local athorities dismissed my concerns. One misguided individual went as far to say "You are a pretty girl. You should be flattered." I do not know if the possibility of being caught was too close for comfort, but it was enough to stop the calls for about a year.

After marrying my first husband, and moving into a local apartment complex, the whispery voice started calling again. Apparently changing not only my phone number but also my last name was no match for this person. The calls increased in frequency and came at all hours of the day during my six weeks maternity leave,when I was at home all day by myself. My husband's position at a local country club, led to overtime opportunities when the club would host night time events. This left me alone at home with our newborn at night. Disturbingly, the calls would come on nights when I was alone, sometimes hours on end, stopping only as my husband came in. I was certain our home was being watched.

A few months after our daughter was born, my grandparents offered to let us move into a house they owned in a neighboring town. It was also closer to my inlaws, so we happily picked up and moved. Several years went by before the calls started again, the same whispery voice, taunting me.

By this time, our marriage was disenigrating. When I told my husband about these disturbing calls, he accused me of infidelity. The fact that the calls only came at times when he was not at home, and his daughter could also be in danger, did not seem to concern him at all. One night, in a fit of panic and rage, I told the whispery voice that I would soon be meeting them in court. The calls stopped, but so did my marriage. My daughter and I lived with my grandparents as I tried to piece some sort of normal life back together. It was the better part of a year before I felt safe enough to move back into the house, alone.

A new relationship kept me either out of the house, or on the phone for the next year. I used a pager so that those who needed me could still reach me and I carried several dollars in quarters for returning calls. The whispery voice drifted back into my past and I gave it very little thought. As all rebound relationships eventually do, my new relationship ended and I was devastated. Aside from caring for my little girl, I did little more than eat, sleep, and go to work. Because my job was to answer the phone, the last thing I wanted was to talk on the phone when I got home. I unplugged it most times, relying on my pager for making contact.

The week before Christmas, the late night calls started again. They were nothing at first. Almost like someone had knocked the phone off the hook and I had been the last number dialed. No one said anything, but I could hear a radio or tv somewhere in the back ground. On average there was one or two a week, just enough to be coincidence, not enough for concern.

I met the man who is now my husband the following January. We had much in common, including a shared childhood, and would talk until the wee hours of the morning. Then we'd race to see who would be the first to call and wake the other for the day, sometimes picking up the phone to dial and finding the other already on the line. We had laughed about how surprisingly well we functioned on so little sleep. We took great delight in being the last voice either heard as they drifted off to sleep and the first when we woke in the morning. Anyone who called either house would definately get a busy signal.

Then one night, after a spirited game of "no, you hang up first," the phone rang the moment I set it back on the base. I quickly picked it up and cooed "I have to go to sleep, so you can wake me up again." The voice that responded was not that of my sweet, new boyfriend.

The whispery voice was back again.

(Next: Surviving a Stalker Part II: Seeking Justice)

*names have been changed to protect the innocent, namely me.

"There she is..."

2011-01-16T11:38:00.005-06:00

Last night was the anual Miss America Pageant.

This is probably the first Miss America I've gotten to watch for quite a while. Up until a few years ago, Miss America was held in September and always seemed to be the same weekend as our anual sales meeting. Then, for whatever reason, (probably the move to Las Vegas) the pageant was moved to January. It has hopped from network to network, but was finally back on ABC.

I was bummed that Miss Alabama, Ashely Davis, did not make the finals, despite being a fitness and quality of life winner. But the thing that blew me away was Miss Arkansas's talent routine. Ventriloquist Alyse Eady and her two "friends" Rosa and Rocky sang "I Want To Be a Cowboy's Sweetheart." It didn't blow me away because it was good, or even unique. What blew me away was that I'd seen something similar before...only better.

I've always loved the Miss America pageant, but never more than September 198o. That was the year that Paige Phillips of my tiny hometown of Leeds, Alabama, rocked the stage. It did not matter to me that she was eventually named first runner up to Susan Powell. She was and always will be, Miss America in my eyes.

In tiny Leeds, Alabama, nearly everyone knows (or is related) to everyone else. Paige's parents owned a mom-and-pop shoe store called Phillips' Shoes. The carried the best shoes, all the latest styles and if they didn't have what you were looking for, they could get it. And the Phillips' knew my biggest secret; at the tender age of ten years old, I wore a ladies size ten shoe.

My feet have always been a big problem (pun intended), nearly from day one. Because I began walking, exclusively on my toes, my first shoes were weighted in the heels to keep my heels on the floor. I owe a kickin' set of calf muscles and ability to wear heels for hours on end to this misguided attempt to make me stay flat footed. This was followed by several years when my right foot was a full shoe size larger than my left. I spent a lot of time stuffing tissue in the toes of shoes and if I wanted something like a sandal, it just had to flop around. I was somewhat relieved when my left foot started catching up, until we realized that my right foot, not to be outdone, started growing uncontrollably too. It was then that I moved from Buster Browns to the ladies department.

These days, it is easier to find larger ladies sizes, but once upon a time, they were much harder to find. Unlike most women, I really, really hate shoes. For me, they represent the unattainable.

I have never been able to swap shoes with my friends or borrow shoes from my mother (or lend shoes to my girls) or buy the cutest, latest style. I am limited to wearing either very cheap shoes or very expensive shoes, and sometimes, men's shoes. I spent all of my youth in mens sneakers (I learned early that a ladies' size 10 is a men's size 8) and would have happily done so forever.

Now it is important to know that someone with feet as large as mine face a few obstacles that people with normal feet do not. My feet don't fit well on pedals or stair steps or many other things meant for feet. It can cause one to be rather clumsy. A particularly embarassing memory from sixth grade was tripping up the stairs (yes, I said up) and loosing one of my bargain store tennis shoes with the big "10" stamped in the heel. It rolled to the feet of one of the popular girls, a junior high cheerleader, who promptly picked it up and loudly announced to everyone that I was wearing a size 10 shoe. She called me "Sasquatch" the rest of the year.

Shopping for dress shoes was the most humiliating process ever. I'd pick out cute shoes, like the ones my friends were wearing, only to be told that either the store didn't have them in my size or [gulp], they weren't made in my size. Or worse, I'd get "the look."

Because of my aforementioned dual shoe size dilema,my mother would always insist that my feet be measured. The clerk would put my foot in the Brannock device ( which always tickled) make all the adjustments (sometimes pushing on my foot several times to insure it was all the way to the back of the plate) and then I'd get "the look." The look of shock and disbelief that someone so thin and gangly would have such a great,big, foot. Imagine, if you will, someone is measuring your foot, and your big toe raises up to them and says "Wazzzup?!" and then they look up at you. Yeah, that's "the look." Needless to say I'd rather eat dirt than shop for shoes.

This all changed when we met the Phillips.

The store smelled like new leather, a scent really high on my list of favorites. Eddie Phillips never blinked an eye when he measured my feet. He never gasped or said anything, except "well, let's see what we have." This greatly improved my shoe shopping experience. The best part of this new shoe shopping experience was, if the Phillips didn't have it in my size, they could almost always order it.

Paige was in high school when I first met her. She was a cheerleader, which to me was the ultimate height of beauty and popularity. Unlike many of the beautiful, popular girls I'd encountered, she was not snotty or condescending to me. Despite knowing my "big secret" she never belittled me. She was always bubbly and sweet and always spoke kindly to me. I was painfully shy then (if you can believe it), but the fact that this cheerleader chose to speak to me did more for my confidence than all the self-help books in the world.

Another very interesting fact about Paige was that she was a ventriloquist, a skill developed from a very young age. She is amazing and much like popular comedian/ventriloquist Jeff Dunham, gives each of her "friends" their own, distinctive voice. She also has a beautiful singing voice all her own.

I remember the Sunday after she won Miss Alabama like it was yesterday. My brother had gone out to get the paper and there she was. It was amazing. Nothing ever happened to anyone from Leeds. The article said she had recieved a standing ovation for her talent routine, a medley of Southern standards, sung with not one, but two "friends," Dinkle and Darlene.

I don't know if other little towns celebrate quite like Leeds does, but we pull out all the stops. I saved every article and picture I saw in both the Birmingham News and Leeds News. August 15th was declared "Paige Phillips Day, " complete with luncheons, meet and greets, a parade and a variety show. I had begged my parents to take me to the variety show, which included the talents of her fellow Alabama top five finalists, a sneak peek at her wardrobe, a proclamation from city hall and a drawing for a trip to Atlantic City. This was all followed by an autograph signing and photo op, that my parents would not let me stay for. I remember being very, very upset about that.

A few weeks later, with the beginning of school looming near, it was time again to shop for shoes. While waiting for her dad to find my shoe selections in the back, Paige swept in to drop something off to her parents. I was awestruck. I told her that my parents had made me leave the show before I could get a picture with her or an autograph. "Well, we can fix that" she had said, opening a folder she was carrying. Off the top of a stack of 8x10 black and white glossies, she plucked the photo (above) , quickly signing and handing it to me. I told her that I knew she would win, she thanked me and hugged me and then she was off. This prized possesion spent many years in a frame in my room, before being permently preserved in it's own scrapbook.

The night of Miss America, my dad had grilled steaks, my mother had made her bacon horsdevors and we had little shrimp cocktails while we watched. It was so exciting to see someone that I knew, on t.v. Back in those days, you saw the top ten in all phases of competition. There was none of this reality show schtick that has become so popular. Paige, once again, recieved an unprecedented standing ovation for her talent routine. How a girl singing opera on a telephone beat that, I'll never know.

This event became a turning point in my own life. I started fixing my hair, rather than just letting it do what it did. I started wearing make up, more girly clothes and I became interested in pageants. Five years later, my senior year, I competed in the Miss Leeds pageant. Not seriously, just for some practice. Paige was the emcee.

Flash forward another 15 years. I marry my darling hubby. Paige, after years away, moves back home to Leeds. I learn that Darling Hubby's grandpa is the older brother of none other than my shoe man, thus making me a cousin by marriage. (and in Alabama, that counts!)

Paige is just as beautiful and amazing today as she was when I first met her. She is a wife, mother, woman of God: every bit the role model as she was as Miss Alabama.

Now she is more than just MY Miss America. Now she is my friend.

`En-JOY

Wasted Days and Wasted Nights

2011-01-14T12:46:00.002-06:00

Welcome to Day Five of my first vacation of 2011.

So far I've done nothing. Read that? N O T H I N G

Oh I had grand ideas when I first asked for this week; clean out the garage, weed thru my wardrobe and donate the unflattering clothes, read a book, get a little rest and just relax.

But instead, I got a snowtastrophy.

My children, both teenagers, were snowed in with me, and with only one computer and only one DVD player, entertainment was limited.

I know what you are thinking. Everything on the list could have been accomplished while snowed in. Not really. Let's look at these items one by one.

Cleaning out the garage
The garage (still) contains boxes of things we moved from our old house (eleven years ago) as well as things we've thrown in there (for the past eleven years.) In order to effectively clean out the garage, I must be able to move them out into the driveway, which until today, was a sheet of ice. It would also be helpful if I could take the extra trash away and donate the unused items, neither of which I could do because of the road conditions.

Weed Thru My Wardrobe
Okay, I've been putting this off for a really long time. I really try not to worry about fashion or name brands or trends. I stick to classics so I won't have to buy new clothes all the time. I go through cycles where I don't buy anything new for myself followed by short spurts when I am suddenly compelled to buy something new. I try to look on them as an investment. There are a variety of sizes, kind of my like a security blanket, so that I have them should I need them. I KNOW there are things in my wardrobe that need to go for one reason or another, but I just can't part with them, for one reason or another. From the size 8 jeans I was wearing when I met Darling Hubby, to the size 18 pants suit that I got so many compliments in, they all represent a significant investment I had made in myself. I haven't moved one thread of clothing. Not even to do laundry.

Read a Book
This should have been fairly easy to do, but my early morning trip to Books-A-Million on Saturday was unfruitful. And that I am indecisive. I carried several books around the store and thumbed through them, but never quite hit on one that I'd want to be snowed in with. I eventually had to abandon that mission, because our monthly classmate dinner was that evening. I settled on a bag full of magazines instead, but today, day five, I've read them all.

Get a little Rest and Relax
Well, I guess if anything was accomplished I did rest. I've slept late everyday. Okay, I've slept late for me everyday. Considering I have to get up at 4:30 to shower every day for work, anything past that is oversleeping for me. And I've napped every day after lunch (except today when I watched "Marley and Me," big mistake). My sleep schedule is so messed up at this point that it will take me a week to get back to normal.

I understand that it's been a little rough at the office during our snowtastrophy. Thankfully, I didn't have to be there for that. The thought of just trying to drive over to the office made my heart race. I was at the end of my rope, coming off a holiday month where customer demand was increased and staffing was low due to vacation and illness. Coupled with fighting off some illnesses myself, I was pulled in several directions and wasn't really high on anyone's list of favorite people. I was so mentally exhausted every day, that I'd come home each evening and collapse in a heap. What's odd is, in the nearly twenty years I've worked there, every vacation I've taken, I've worried about work, but not this time. Part of this vacation was to get away from work. I did that.

But I traded in one set of stresses for another. The stress of plans and schedules and expectaions. Every day someone has asked me what I had planned to do for the day and every day I've answered that I haven't really thought about it. But I had thought about it, sorta like I'm thinking about it now. I had so many good plans, but never really executed any of them, and for that I feel kinda guilty.

I guess I need to look at the bright side, I haven't failed to do anything, I've succeeded at doing nothing!

Snowed In and Stir Crazy

2011-01-13T09:49:00.003-06:00

Welcome to the 13th day of the new year, 2011, and the 4th day of our latest snowtastrophy.

I apologize (I know, I'm not supposed to do that) for not having written since Christmas Eve, but things have been a little tense for me. Thankfully, I asked for this week, January 10-14 , as my first week of vacation for the new year. Little did I know that when I asked, a heinous snow and ice storm was brewing somewhere in the cosmos, waiting to dump several inches of snow all over my vacation.

I did know last Friday when I left work, that there was a possibility we would have severe winter weather on Monday. I was relieved that I would be off because the prospect of driving on ice terrifies me to the point of paralysis. I was also grateful that my teens would be home, because I never really get to spend time with them any more.

Sunday night we all watched with anticipation as the light sleet turned to fluffy snow and blanketed our yard and street. Monday morning we all woke to a scene worthy of a Currier and Ives print. About 10:00 a.m, the first of many four wheel drive vehicles started down our street, and before long there was a well worn path. I could also see cars inching down the highway. We tromped around in the yard and took some pictures. We threw a snow ball or two.

I have often complained of my husband's poor driving skills. In our eleven year marriage he has totalled two of my cars and is dangerously close to having the state maximum for speeding tickets. Our insurance agent loves him. When I die, I know that my husband will driving.

But one positive thing that I CAN say about darling hubby's driving skills is that he knows how to drive on snow and ice. And he does that very well. THANK YOU UNITED STATES ARMY! He says the very first thing he did when he arrived on his post at Fort Greely, Alaska, was to be escorted to the ice pad for driving instruction. That instruction has paid off in spades here in Alabama, where it rarely snows or ices, but when it does, no one seems to know how to drive.

So I was not worried at all when he announced that he was driving Monday afternoon to a friends to watch the National Championship game. Knowing I would not be able to watch my beloved Auburn Tigers due to my "jinx," I agreed to let him make the 30 minute drive, which only took him 45 minutes to make safely. The kids and I enjoyed chili I had labored over all day, in the crockpot.

After we proved that you don't bring a Duck to a Tiger fight ( Auburn 22, Oregon 19..War Eagle!) Tigger and I ran out onto the front porch and yelled into the night sky, where it was attempting to snow again. I was too excited to sleep and stayed up way, way past my bedtime.

Tuesday, after all that had melted Monday refroze overnight, I was relieved again when school was cancelled. I was also glad that darling hubby had vacation along with me, because we both slept until 11:00 a.m. We watched movies all day. We ate the left over chili. The roads were starting to get dry that afternoon, and I was certain I would spend my Wednesday in peace and quiet.

Unfortunately, the local board of education had other plans.

Wednesday was spent listening to Kit-Kat chatter away with friends, while listening to music, a movie and playing on the internet. Tigger stayed in his room, coming out only long enough to argue with his sister. I was able to make it, slowly, to the grocery store to buy rice. I made red beans and rice in the crock pot. I texted my best friend who had it worse than me, she was stuck atop a hill that was still covered in a nice sheet of ice. She texted that she was so bored she was cleaning her house. Thankfully, I am not that bored yet, but it does give me an option, should I go completely over the edge and decide to tackle and sew someone's mouth shut. ; )

Because the temperature never got above 25 degrees, about 5:00 to 5:30-ish, the local board decided to completely ruin my vacation by canceling school for today as well. Rumor has it they may close tomorrow also. Well why the hell not?

I spent the rest of the evening, practically enraged. The local city school systems had reopened yesterday. I wrote and rewrote a strongly worded email to the powers that be, berating them for this decision that will surely push the end of school back into June. I plotted ways to get Moody out of the county school system. I considered moving back to Leeds. I knew I had gone stir crazy when the thought of home schooling the kids crossed my mind. I had to let it go, take a deep breath, and relax. Luckily, I had still not reached the point I felt I needed to clean.

Today, I woke to find I had just as much snow in my yard as I did on Tuesday, now under a shiny crust of ice. I vowed to make the best of the day, despite nothing, but the National Championship game, going my way on my very first week of vacation. I saw "Julie and Julia" on the t.v. guide. I really love that movie! Can you believe that there was a time that Julia Childs could not cook? She took it up as a hobby and then became one of the most well reknowned cooks in the world! Julie Powell started with just a little blog about cooking her way through Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, and later became a very successful author. She has now written two books.

But the part that I love the most is that whenever I watch it, I get the itch to write again.

So here I am,writing the first blog of my fifth year of blogging, ignoring my son who pops his head out of his room from his video game, to ask if I am done with the computer. Kit-Kat was invited to stay with a friend, so today it is relatively quiet. I may even venture out to wander around Walmart.

I am reminded that my mantra this year is "good to great." It worked for Auburn, so why can't it work for me too?

I need to focus on the positives of this situation. I was spared the horrific chore of trying to drive to work every day this week. I was able to spend time with my children and my husband. I was able to lay back and relax, or more truthfully, lay around and do nothing.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad vacation after all.

I Think I Might Be On The Naughty List

2010-12-23T22:12:00.006-06:00

It's Christmas Eve Eve and I think I might have made The Naughty List.

Not because I keep forgetting to purchase my step-dad his annual boxes of chocolate covered cherries. Not because I have not bothered to put up a Christmas tree. Not even because I have had hateful thought's about one of my little brother's exes. I doubt I will be on it for breaking my promise to blog something everyday from October 3rd until the end of the year.

I will be on The Naughty List because I'm sick of Christmas! I am just Christmas-ed out.

I really haven't had much time to do anything but eat, sleep and work for the last several weeks. I barely got my Christmas shopping done. Granted Santa will be leaving gifts under the Direct TV Pay-Per-View Fireplace this year, but it's done. Hey, take what you can get!

I really haven't had any Christmas Spirit this year. So little, I am certain I will soon be visited by three spirits.

When I was a kid, the Christmas season began the Friday after Thanksgiving. And not a moment sooner.

Every store would actually close for the Thanksgiving holiday. If you found a quick mart open on Thanksgiving, you were lucky. There was not a Christmas tree, garland or light string in sight. Then magically, the mall would transform overnight with balls and trees and fake snow and animatronic reigndeer. Santa would parachute into the parking lot at Eastwood Mall on the morning of Black Friday, fling open the mall doors and Christmas shopping would commence.

Now you can buy your pool floaties and sunblock on one side of the shopping aisle and your Christmas decorations on the other. By the time Christmas actually arrives, I am sick of it.

Studies show that suicides increase between Thanksgiving and Christmas and I am pretty certain I know the cause. Non-stop Christmas music. Is it really necessary to play "Feliz Navidad" every hour, on the hour?

When I was in high school, until I was about 22, I worked for a drug/grocery store. The constant barrage of Christmas music during an average shift was enough to make the sanest person consider murder. There is a particular instrumental version of "Sleigh Ride" that triggers a montage of frenzied shopping memories, that my brain prefers to play at super-high speed to match the pizzicato tempo of the strings. Somthing about that song always makes me feel the need to hurry. (Perhaps because the lyrics keep saying "Giddy up, giddy up..." I don't know, maybe?) It also reminds me of the infamous shower scene from "Pyscho."

Another thing that always seem to amaze me is the way that people change during this time of the year. People who are normally, well, normal, become the rudest, most selfish, self-absorbed, greedy folks on the planet! Just a week ago, I witnessed a fight between two people over, of all things, a parking spot at the mall. Yes, an actual yelling, cussing, hair-pulling match between two people vying for the same parking spot. Peace on Earth, Good Will Toward Men, indeed!

I am also amazed over what people "want" for Christmas. And how much they "want." And how much people seem to think they should be getting for Christmas, and the crazy people who think they need to buy everything anyone asks for. So much for a gift being from the heart.

Listen people: CHRISTmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ. In honor of His birthday, we give each other gifts, but if you read the Biblical account, Jesus only received three gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. If three gifts was good enough for the King of Kings, that should be good enough for everyone else!

In order to help my children understand that true meaning of Christmas, curb materialism, selfishness, and greed (all while stemming the tide of excessive, unnecessary crap) we adopted what we affectionately call "The Jesus Rule."

As you know, we are a blended family, divorced and remarried with divorced and remarried parents. All of my children have four sets of grandparents, and until recently, several living great-grandparents (sadly, this Christmas, we are down to only one, my grandmother). They recieved gifts from everyone. We looked like a collection site for Toys for Tots. There were some years that some gifts that were opened, brought home and never saw the light of day again. It was obvious that some family members took the "buy their affection" route, because they seemed to buy the most gifts. Sorry, money doesn't make up for lousy parenting. And the children know that now.

I don't remember who might have actually planted the idea of limiting Christmas to three gifts, but I do remember the first time Julz heard the idea. She was only 7 or 8, but when I said "three gifts were good enough for the King of Kings," she didn't miss a beat reminding us that "one of them was gold!" (so much for curbing materialism).

Then there is "Dirty/Greedy Santa." What masochistic jerk came up with this little jewel?!
I had never heard of this game until I married my current husband. My family didn't (and still doesn't) "play" this heinous "game," but it is a family tradition for my husband's. The reactions can be funny, but this "game" is far from fun. I have been told that this is how we are expected to exchange gifts. If you want me to have a gift, buy me a gift. Don't buy something that you think I might like then hope, after wresting over it with everyone else in the room, that I end up with it. Also don't expect me to use my hard-earned money to buy something that might be a nice gift, only to watch the disappointed look on the face of the "recipent." To add injury to insult, I am later told that they will be giving said gift away in the "Dirty Santa" game they will be playing the following Saturday. I personally haven't "played" in years, but after buying a gift to be given away somewhere else for the third year in a row, none of us will be playing anymore. My money is best spent elsewhere.

I wonder what Jesus would have thought if the wise men had made Him play "Dirty Santa" for His gifts?

Keeping It Classy

2010-12-04T13:49:00.002-06:00

In the week since Auburn won the 2010 Iron Bowl over in-state rival Alabama, I've heard nothing but how "classy" the Bama fans were and how classless the Auburn fans had been.

Never mind that someone played some unathorized music over the public address system during pregame warm ups, obviousley directed at Auburn quarterback Cam Newton.

Then news broke Thursday, that Alabama quarterback Greg McElroy was one of the top five finalist for Wooden Citizenship Cup, a great honor for student athletes, named for Coach John Wooden.

I wonder if the committee has seen this exemplary behavior from one of their top finalists.

Classy Greg, real classy.

Happy Thanksgiving!

2010-11-25T12:39:00.002-06:00

Just a little note to wish you and yours a Happy Thanksgiving!

What am I thankful for? There are not enough words to describe. Thankfully, the Lord knows my heart and the depths of my gratitude.

Take nothing for granted!

~En-JOY!

So This Is What It's Come To

2010-11-21T18:50:00.002-06:00

The only three things I've accomplished this weekend is washing a load of clothes, grocery shopping and learning that my husband does not like bald women.

My life has pretty much been reduced to work, eat, sleep.
As I mentioned a few days ago (or maybe a week ago, who knows anymore) I've felt pretty crappy for a while now and really haven't felt much like doing anything.

Saturday, I did absolutely nothing. And I don't feel guilty, not one little bit. Oh, I did get one load of clothes done, so my co-workers will be relieved that I won't be coming to work naked.

I went grocery shopping so now my children, who are out of school all week, will not starve the two days they are home before leaving for "The Hunt Club" for Thanksgiving. I had no desire to spend my four day holiday packing , driving and not showering properly, so I opted to stay home. I actually have some stuff I'd like to get done at the house. Thankfully, Darling hubby has to work Friday, so I won't be alone. Then of course there's the Auburn/Alabama game Friday evening, that I am not allowed to watch, due to my jinx.

G I Jane was on earlier today. Darling Hubby was on the internet, researching new phones for Kit-Kat. I wonder aloud, "I wonder what I would look like bald." Darling Hubby chimes in "I know what you'd look like." Annoyed, I respond "Really? Enlighten me" "Sure," he chuckles, "you'd look single." This from a man who shaves his head.

So this is what it's come to.
Another lazy Sunday.

This Must Be Writer's Block

2010-11-17T12:56:00.006-06:00

Currently, I have so many things that I want to write on that I can't settle on just one topic or how to get started! As a result, I've gone three days without writting a single word.

Here are just a few random thoughts over the past few days

I really need a haircut. You know you are in need of a haircut when you pull your bangs back with a 2 inch binder clip from your desk. Sad part is, until I mentioned it on FB, very few people noticed.

I (heart) the TSA! True, I haven't flown since 9-11 but if I ever do, I want everyone on my plane to be screened. Everyone. There is a whole lot of flap in the news about passengers feeling "violated" by the process and filing suit against TSA screeners. I wonder how violated they would feel should some terrorist make it onto their plane with a tampon bomb? (Of course, then they would file suit against the TSA screeners for NOT catching that.) If it keeps my plane in the air, I will start traveling in a bikini and flip flops to speed the process along. Scan me baby!

Auburn is currently #2 on the BCS poll. Nevermind that they are more undefeated than anyone else in the poll (Currently 11-0 while everyone else is still lagging back at 10-0) Strength of schedule my foot! Well at least we are the SEC West Champions! War Eagle!

Ticket pricing for the SEC Championship are ridiculous. I have convinced darling hubby that he can watch at home, for free, and enjoy nice food, and pause the game to go to the loo. Ditto sentiment on the BCS Championship should we be so lucky.

The Home Ec Baby

2010-11-13T15:34:00.009-06:00

One weekend, not to long ago, we had a new edition to our family...The Home Ec Baby.
As the instruction sheet pointed out, she was also known as Baby Think It Over II.
We had anticipated The Home Ec Baby's arrival for a little over a week and when she came home, I, being the proud grandparent that I am, took this photo. Kit-Kat "named" her Skylar.

Skylar came with a wristband, resembling a Swatch, that the Home Ec teacher attached to Kit-Kat's wrist at school. The electronic wristband identified Kit-Kat to Skylar as her parent. Because it was tamperproof, much like the hospital identity bands, only Kit-Kat could wear it , so only Kit-Kat could care for her.

That concept began to wear on Kit-Kat not long after she got home. Yeah, that is Kit-Kat on the phone while "feeding" Skylar.

As Skylar became more needy during dinner, Kit-Kat came up with a creative way to make sure she could give Skylar her bottle and still eat herself. Yes, that is one of my toning sandals.

Apparently, Kit-Kat had a long night because in the morning, she begged for coffee. Okay, it's a frappuccino, but coffee just the same.

The second day started to go a little smoother, as Kit-Kat dutifully attended to Skylar's needs and recorded them on the sheet. She even dressed her in an old tee-shirt that was her own when she was a toddler.

By Sunday, she was such a pro,

that we decided to venture from the house, and carry the "baby" out in public. So we loaded up the car seat,

and headed over to Nunie's. We took this "four generation" photo for fun.

Surprisingly, during the trip to the store that followed, no one batted an eye as we passed through with Skylar in our buggy.

The next day, as Kit-Kat carried Skylar back to school, I couldn't help but be a little sad. Sklyar was that first taste of being a grandmother I had been talking about. But my desire to be a grandmother like my friends did not over-ride common sense. Kit-Kat is 15. She will be a mommy in due time, but not anytime soon and I hope the weekend cemented the idea that parenting is a big responsibility.

When Kit-Kat come home, she missed her too. But she acknowledged that she was not ready to be a real mommy anytime soon.

Veteran's Day!

2010-11-11T17:21:00.004-06:00

Happy Veteran's Day!

To all those in all branches of our military, present, past, and passed on.

I am going to repost a blog I originally wrote three years ago, because I don't think I could say it any better today than I did then.

~En-JOY!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Repost...originally written & posted on Myspace on date listed below)
Friday, January 12, 2007

Patriotism & Thankfulness

In my previous blogs I've tried to be somewhat comical, but today I'm going to be serious.Given Pres.Bush's recent decision to send more troops to the Middle East, and the apparent terror attack on the US Embassy in Greece, I thought you might need to see another side of me.
My patriotism.

I was born and raised in tiny Leeds, Alabama, a city east of Birmingham just off I-20. Yes, that is also the home of basketball legend, Charles Barkley, ( a really nice guy once you get to know him, as most of us from Leeds do. He truly lives up to his quote "It's not what you have, it's what you give back.") but that is a story for another day.Leeds has been recognized as a City of Valor, having more decorated war veterans than any other city of it's size, in the country. (http://www.leedsalabama.com/consumer.htm)

This distinction includes three Medal of Honor reciepients; Henry "Red" Erwin, Alford Mclaughlin, & William R. Lawley.

Bill Lawley was my grandfather's cousin and a boyhood companion.Read more about him here ( http://click.medalofhonor.com/www.airforcehistory.hq.af.mil/PopTopics/MOH-bios/Lawley.html )

One of my favorite stories of their friendship, was when he accidently shot my grandfather in the leg, while chasing a wounded rabbit. My grandfather carried that bullet the rest of his life. He'd tell the story, then rub our fingers along the side of the bullet, lodged just to the inside of his shin, above his ankle. I always thought it was a funny little story.

I do not recall ever seeing Alford McLaughlin, outside of pictures, but I remember vividly the first time I ever met Red Erwin. Severely burned from a phosphorous bomb, he barely resembled anything human. His face was disfigured, he was missing his nose and an ear and only had two fingers on one hand. When I was small, I was terrified of him. He personified what the boogeyman might actually look like. It was not until I was older, when I learned how he was injured, that I understood and appreciated his sacrifice. When he would come into the store I worked at in high school, I remember he was quiet and kind, and had very nice blue eyes.

In November of 1999, Alabama legislature named Highway 119 "Medal of Honor Highway" and dedicated it to these heroes.(http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y29/hrhjustjoythe1st/MOHhwy.jpg )

Everytime I hear the National Anthem played, I cry a little. Always have. Have you ever noticed that it was written during and about the heat of battle? I am reminded, each time, of Americans that have fought for this country and my freedom.Military families currently top my prayer list.They are what is keeping our military going. So many parents, both mothers and fathers, are currently serving our country. Families having to get by, day to day, with their loved one so far away.

I wonder if they are hurt by some of the things they see other American's saying about the war. The crass, insensitive comment made by John Kerry springs to mind. I know I'm ashamed to admit people like him are Americans too. I wonder if he thinks about that when he hears the National Anthem.

If freedom was something that everyone had to work for, like a salary, do you think that we'd appreciate it a little more?

The Lawley family boasts a long line of military service: not only my grandfather, but all his brothers, my father, and brother as well. The Wadsworth's have a rich military history also.My husband, his father, an uncle and both grandfather's also served our country. I am certain they followed the example of generations before them, who felt it was not only a duty, but an honor.This dedication to service is also found in the families of my friends. My best friend's father lost his leg in Vietnam, before she was born. Even though I see him often, I can't begin to imagine what that was like.Cyndi has never known him any other way.

Cyndi, Heath, Me...we all learned early on, what is probably the most valuable lesson any American could learn: our freedom isn't free.I take a lot of things for granted in my life, but that fact is not one of them. I wonder if the war protesters realize that they have the right to assemble freely and protest, because someone died for it? Or may die for it tomorrow.

I have friends in all branches of service, all across the globe. Some are in harms way as you read this. Some are unpacking from their assignments, some are packing for deployment.Cyndi's little brother Sean will soon be deployed to his second tour of duty in the Middle East. Here at home are his wife and three small boys, ages 6,4 and the youngest nearly 2.Over Christmas, we talked about his first tour. He told me about not being able to shower for nearly two months; having to burn their clothes because of a possible bio-threat; sand in everything; the unimaginable heat and the surprising cold; going for weeks with no mail, then getting a month's worth all at once. He was different from the person I used to know. Harder somehow. As he spoke, it was all I could do not to cry and grab him and hug him and tell him thank you, over and over again.

I know that there are people right now, boarding buses somewhere with their little signs, to go and demonstrate about Pres. Bush's latest decision. And that is all well and good for them.But I challenge them to use just a portion of that energy to say "thank you" to someone preserving that freedom of speech.

As for the Wadsworth's of Moody,AL, we would like to say THANK YOU to our military personnel. We are praying for you as you serve.

Uninspired

2010-11-10T12:39:00.002-06:00

Sorry this is such an uninspired post. The way I've been feeling lately is proof positive that my parents picked the wrong name for me.

And I feel that way sometimes. Well, a lot actually. Sometimes, I'd just rather be in bed. Sometimes, I'd rather be anywhere than where I am, or who I am, or what I'm doing.

But I am expected to be the backbone, the strong one, the one that gets things done but never needs any thanks or consideration. Things are just expected to happen, because I always do them. I don't get to have any say in plan making, I'm just expected to be there.

Last month, a friend from high school died unexpectedly. Rumor has it she mixed up her medications. Rather by accident or on purpose, no one will really ever know. But she posted on her Facebook the night before she was found that she "was done."

I know that feeling

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Office

2010-11-09T12:41:00.004-06:00

Okay, I know it wasn't funny for someone, but I laughed out loud when it happened.

Yep, the back wheels fell off the truck in front of me as I was turning left behind it. Well, I didnt' really see it as it happened. That white truck on the right side of the photo, was between us. He swerved around just in time for me to see the truck settle to a stop. It was almost like in a movie! The back bumper caught the wheels as they started coming off and that is what kept the truck from tipping over (and the wheels from rolling haphazardly through traffic.)

Luckily the driver was okay and no one was hurt as a result.

~En-JOY!

What Time Is It?!

2010-11-07T19:13:00.003-06:00

I really hate when the time changes. Regardless of whether we "spring foward" or "fall back," I will spend the better part of the next two weeks asking "What time is it?"

I have a sleep disorder that makes getting to sleep, and sustaining a restful sleep hard enough without the added stress of going to bed when I'm not sleepy.

I am seriously considering moving to Arizona.

The practice is controversial, and why exactly we, the US, continues to do it is unclear.

All I know, is that I'm way too tired too early and then just when I do get to sleep, it's time to get up. I will be hungry an hour earlier each day.

Then, just when I am back on some sort of normal schedule, it will be time to do it all over again.

Seriously, it's just 4 months.
Can't we do without it?

NOT En-JOY-ing this!

Falling Down

2010-11-06T11:49:00.003-05:00

Sorry...I'm falling down on my "blog everyday til the end of the year" promise. But blogging at least every other day is still ambitious, right? Especially when I'm feeling like pooh.

Apparently I'm not the only one facing a stumbling block.This week's latest news revolves around Cam Newton and his recruitment at Auburn. AP is reporting that apparently someone approached Mississippi State for money in exchange for Cam Newton playing there.

First of all, way to go AP...way to kick 'em when they are down. Mississippi State is currently in mourning over the unexpected death of player Nick Bell. Great timing!

Secondly, looks like they still love Cam down on The Plains. An allegation is not proof.

Some are even saying Cam's tainted past should play a part in his chances for the Heisman. One Fox Sports writer isn't shy about his opinion either. The person he might once have been is not the leader he has become. Many are pointing to the current renovation of the church building where Cam's father is pastor. Will it derail Cam's chances at the Heisman? Probably not. If sins of the father were considered in the Heisman run, someone else would be sending back his trophy too.

I question the timing overall. Is this a ploy to throw Cam off his game? All news reports indicate that the investigation began some time ago. Both Auburn and Mississipi State conducted their own investigations last summer. Even the request for church financials were over a month ago. Why now?

Some are saying it is being fueled by ESPN in an attempt to help their own obvious favorite, Oregon, who happens to have their own Heisman candidate, maintain their top standing. Or, the local conspiracy favorite, Alabama fans, the current BCS champions (where the "B," I'm told, stands for "Bama") trying to throw a little mojo on the Tigers before the Iron Bowl.

I have to say that Auburn Head Coach, Gene Chizik said it best:

"I will say this, very loud and very clear: Cameron Newton is eligible at Auburn University. Period. End of story,"

Enough said.

Happy Homecoming Tigers!

~En-Joy

Randomness

2010-11-03T20:15:00.022-05:00

It is time for my phone upgrade and I was going through my phone to see what all was on there that I might lose. I have a TON of really random pictures on it.

Thought I'd share them here with you, along with my thoughts on each.

Here is a pic of my pinkie toe a few weeks ago when I thought I'd broken it. I snagged it in a towel on the bathroom floor. The resulting *snap* and this nifty bruise all but confirmed it. I saved myself $200 and taped them together myself.

I was really excited to discover discount grocer Aldi! To illustrate to my family how much cheaper things were, I took this photo of the peanut butter I got at Wallyworld on the left and the Aldi peanut buter on the right. Both jars cost $2.39!

This is an antique mirror that my mother liked in some antique shop over in Birmingham. They reeeeeaaaaaallllllllllly liked it. I'm thinking I could make one that looks just as good for a quarter of the price. Yeah, it won't be a REAL antique, but when it comes down to it, who cares?

My grandfather's grave marker and the flag I made for it on Memorial Day.

And the flag I also made to go at W.R.'s memorial plaque at the Medal of Honor wall on Memorial Day. W.R. Lawley was my grandfather's cousin. He was awarded the Medal of Honor in WWII.

This is the crawfish that I saved one of the girls in the office from. Not sure how it got all the way up by her car. The creek is a good 2 city blocks from where we found it. She thought I was nuts when I went out and picked up it and dropped it in this box. What can I say...raised in the country =) Yeah, that's my foot, for perspective.

Same crawfish, with a six inch ruler. He was a big sucker. I made one of the warehouse guys drop him back in the creek on his way back over the bridge to the other warehouse. I bet Mr. Crawfish thought "#$%^&...took me two days to reach that parking lot and now I'm right back where I started!"

Okay, it appears I have a thing for documenting the critters I encounter and using my hands and feet for perspective in the photos. This is a teeny-weeny little SNAKE that Cyn found on her KITCHEN FLOOR one night when we were coloring our roots. I went to rinse my hair and when I came back they were all looking at it in this plastic container. It was so small, we really couldn't identify it. Poisionous or not, had I seen it first, it still would have been deadly.

I also have a fascination with sleeping animals. I can't help it, sometimes they are just so darn cute.

Here is Darling Hubby and our cat J.B. They nap in this configuration (and similar positions) on a regular basis.

And to think, when we found JB, he didn't want to keep him.

This is one of Cyn's two cats, aptly named Trick (short for "Trick-or-Treat" because they got him the week of Halloween).

Not only is he napping on Cyn's bed, he has his head on the pillow.

Me and my posse, hanging at the theatre, scoping out the peeps.

I took this pic to share with some classmates of the same name: Kavli. I've heard for years of their Norwegian ancestry. I saw these Norwegian snack crackers and had to snap a pic to share. I wonder what they are thinking as they find this pic tagged in their photos!

I pass this house on the way to work every day. One day when I passed by, I saw this.

Do you think she might have been mad?

A girl in my office has a thing for pigs. This was her birthday cake this year.

Yes....this is a plaid car. I couldn't catch up to it to get a better picture. If it were my car, I'd drive fast too.

So I see a lot of weird things, random things, interesting things. Then there are days that I see things that are so beautiful, I just have to thank the Lord for sharing His beauty with me.

And sometimes, He shows me in the most obvious way, that He love me.

~En-JOY!

Mental Health Day

2010-11-02T16:09:00.003-05:00

Okay, first apologies for not writing yesterday. I was really beat when I got home last night. I ate leftovers and went straight to bed. As a matter of fact, I fought sleep the whole day.

So I took a vacation day today because I needed a "mental health" day. I've been feeling so rotten lately and just really needed a rest.

Despite knowing that I had little to do and all day to do it and no where to be at anytime soon, I still woke up at the time my alarm usually goes off every morning...without my alarm.

The family was relatively quiet, until I got up and went in the living room after 6:00 a.m.

I turned on the t.v. and the children rushed out to meet the bus. I logged onto Facebook and posted some words of wisdom. I talked to my mother.

I watched The Today Show. There were some pretty interesting stories. "Jill's Steals and Deals" was really interesting and there were a few things on it that would make great Christmas gifts. I went straight to the computer to look them up (within 15 minutes of the broadcast) only to find all the links to the products disabled. Curses!

I pulled on some pants and went down to city hall to vote. I pulled into a parking spot right by the door, walked in and voted. The whole process took about ten minutes. I decided that I am going to ask off for every election day. No line, no waiting, no annoying campaigners trying to shake your hand as you go in to vote for someone else. It was fabulous!

I came home with a coffee and McGriddle (yeah, I know...I'm gonna pay for that) and found my cats cuddled up on the couch. I took this photo

and got back on Facebook. My cousin set up a family group so that we can plan a family-wide Christmas get together like we had when I was a kid. I am really excited about that. I've always wanted my kids to be part of one of my family traditions.

Cyn came over and we talked about her grandfather's funeral and discussed our booth at the antique/flea mall. I owed her $75 for my half this month's rent. Yeah, I've sold a few things, but not enough to cover my half the rent. So far, I'm loosing money on this deal. I asked if she wanted to go with me to grab lunch but she was on the way to the nursing home. Her grandmother is not taking her grandfather's passing too well. Understandable. They were together 63 years.

I called in an order to the local Mexican restaurant. One Chile Releno and cheese dip with chips.
I have one real weakness on this earth...white cheese dip with chips.

I sat down and started watching "court" t.v. Divorce Court, The People's Court, Judge Joe Brown, Judge Judy. I can't believe that people actually go on those shows. Someone always comes off looking like an idiot and the judge always gets the last word. And just in real life, I am always amazed at what people choose to wear to court. Honestly, not only are you in court, you are also on national television. A tank top and mini skirt are not appropriate! Yes, we shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, but we always do. Why do you think high powered defense attorneys hire image consultants to make over their clients? To make their client more likeable in the jury's eyes and keep them from looking guilty.

Before I knew it, my kids were home from school.

Where did my day go?! Why is it days at work go by so slowly and days at home go by so quick?

Well, I guess I en-Joy-ed mine.

Hope you en-Joy-ed yours!

Two Funerals and a Crockpot

2010-10-31T18:33:00.022-05:00

That pretty much sums up my Sunday.

I had my choice of funeral; my cousins' grandmother or my best friend's grandfather.

This was a tough call:

This was Cyn's last remaining grandfather. He had been a preacher, a solid man of God. By the time I had met him, he already had the beginning stages of Alzheimer's and was a man of few words. But he always had a smile on his face and obviously, a hymn in his heart. Cyn was going to sing a song written by her uncle, who had "gone on in" a few years ago. I had really wanted to be there in support.

Mrs. D, the maternal grandmother of my cousins, was also special to me. I had nearly as many memories of her as I did my own grandparents. She was warm and witty. She was the kind of grandma that was always trying to feed you and she made some kickin' chicken and biscuits. She was as much family to me as my family.

I was really torn.

My grandmother pretty much made the call on which funeral to go to. I've kinda become her "date" to family functions. Not bad, but not great either. I spend most of my time fetching things for her, while she tells people about how skinny I used to be. She also has this knack for complimenting me in one breath and cutting me down with the next. One Easter she gushed over how beautiful I looked, and before I could say "thank you," there in front of all her friends, she asked what kind of girdle I was wearing.

She usually makes me drive her Cadillac. Since I drive a mid-size car, it's kinda like driving a tank, pulling a trailer. I'm not sure what makes me more nervous about it; the intimidating size of the vehicle, or my grandmother's back seat driving. I've been driving nearly 30 years now, and I've only had ONE accident (and it wasn't my fault) so I think I know how to do it. It was kinda like being fifteen with a permit all over again. Nervously concentrating on the road while adults shrieked a me. The last time I agreed to start from her house and drive us somewhere, I was a nervous wreck. Apparently I sped all the way ( even though we never made it up to the posted speed limit) and though our nerves might not have, our bodies made it all in one piece. This time, we each drove ourselves, which was fine with me.

Since I wasn't sure how long I would be gone, I decided to put a roast in the crockpot. I might not feel like eating when I got back, but at least my family would be fed.

The service was beautiful, preached by Brother Blair and Mrs. D's son-in-law, my cousin Mark.
I sat with Grandmother and my Aunt Margaret, Mark's mother. I kept waiting for her to ask me what kind of girdle I was wearing, but she only commented on my shoes. She liked them, but added that they really made my feet look small, which believe it or not, is a compliment. ( I wear an 11...it's okay...I own it. Wonder who I inherited them from ;P )

While we waited for the service to open, we discussed what my grandmother was to be buried in, right down to the panty hose. Apparently, there is a law that the deceased had to be buried in a complete set of undergarments and either hose or socks. But no provision for shoes. How weird is that? "No shoes, Never shoes!" my grandmother had exclaimed. Who knew?

The service opened with "In The Garden," which is not only my grandmother's favorite hymn, it was also my Grandma Clara's favorite. Even after dementia had set in, she would hum it. I can not hear it that I don't think of her. And regardless of the setting, it always makes me cry. By the chorus, I was staring at the ceiling and blinking furiously, but the tears still came.

Brother Blair did a nice job, having been Mrs. D's pastor for sixteen years. As my cousin Mark took the pulpit, carrying Mrs. D's Bible, complete with green, quilted Bible cover, trimed in eyelet and bows. He talked about the things he had found when he first opened it on Friday: the old bulletins, the copies of inspirational poetry, the notes in the margins, the passages that were highlighted and underlined. The parts of the Word that spoke to Mrs. D. over a lifetime of believing. Words of faith and hope. From these words came her eulogy, and though Mark spoke the words, it had been written by Mrs. D. herself, all in the margins of her well-worn Bible.

Our faith teaches us that when we take our last breath here on earth, we take our next in Heaven. He had said though we were down here saying "she's gone," the saints in Heaven were saying "She's Here!" That made me think of my grandfather, his siblings and all our other departed loved ones, greeting Mrs. D as she entered Heaven.

After the service, we followed the casket out of the church. It was loaded into the hearse, and as it drove up the drive that wound behind the church into the cemetary, the congregants began climbing the hill to the grave site. I could not imagine having to make that climb myself, in heels, much less supporting my elderly grandmother, also in heels. I was relieved when Margaret suggested that I drive us up to the grave site. The driveway was very narrow to begin with, but the enormous Cadillac made it seem much more narrow. My grandmother kept asking if I knew where I was going.

We stood on the paved driveway, above the grave site, close enough to hear, but still on firm, flat ground. My grandmother clung to my arm for support. She was hunched over, and her weight on my arm made me hunch over too. She had linked arms with Margaret in the other side. I wondered what we must look like, hunched over, linked arm in arm.

I could feel my grandmother's pulse, thruming through the ports in her arm, where the dialysis needles go. My grandfather had been on dialysis the last few years of his life. Though it had extended his life, it limited it all the same. Now my grandmother faced the same limitations.

She is 86. Two years older than Mrs. D. She had told me on my birthday in June that I was now the same age she was when I was born, 43. I wondered how much more time she might have. Or how much more time I would have with her. I felt guilty for being so pesimistic and dwelling on the negatives. There is still time for good memories.

As I drove myself home, I thought about what I'd want for my own funeral. What songs and who would sing them, what I'd be buried in (I think I'm going to ask for socks...can you imagine and eternity in pantyhose?) what would be found in the margins of my Bible.

The smell of roast greeted me as I walked in and it smelled wonderful. I could only imagine how torturous it had been for everyone else during the time I'd been out. I heard my son exclaim "Yeah! She's Here!"

A Perfect Saturday

2010-10-30T23:34:00.003-05:00

I just had a near perfect Saturday.

The sun was bright and despite a chilly start, the temperature was a perfect 70 degrees.

We played our last two Miracle League games for the year.

I did have to play "parking patrol" right when I got there, something I really don't like doing. Because we are a facility for special needs individuals, we have several handicap parking spots. Sometimes, people "ignore" the sign, the blue lines, the large wheelchair logo on the ground and park in front of it. Not "IN" it, mind you, but park in such a way that they block access to the spot. I had a woman, who thought she found a primo spot to park, get very upset with me because she had to move from the paved area she had chosen. I pointed out that the spot she had chosen was not actually a parking place. She had parked at the end of the regular spots, and because there was no line on the driver's side of her car, she saw my point and begrudingly moved. The other, a truck sporting a "thin blue line" tag (yes, that means what you think it means) had parked to her left, obstructing the other two handicap spots at the end of the fence. When I complained to one of our own "men in blue" he vowed to locate the driver and have the vehicle moved. I was impressed...it only took 30 minutes.

My sweet little Stephanie, a girl who I had promised to buddy as soon as my foot was better but then went off to spend the summer in Florida with her grandparents, came back to play and immediately claimed me as her buddy. She held my hand tightly, the entire time she was there, like I would get away. She only let go of my hand to bat and then, despite assurances from her mother that she didn't like to, we RAN the bases. I got quite a work out.

While we were playing, a boy and his grandmother walked up. It was evident by the white cane that he carried, that he was blind. I asked if they had ever heard of the Miracle League and the grandmother had responded yes, but they "didn't know how it would work for him." I enthuiastically fetched our beeping ball. We offered to let him take a whack at it, which he did, and ran the bases with one of our buddies, laughing all the way. We may have a new player come Spring!

It was Kamiko's birthday. She's 19. We all sang and she had 2 birthday cakes. We couldn't get any of the candles lit, thanks to a nice little breeze. I hugged her mom, and wished her a happy, "giving birth" day, because that's what I do.

After the games, I wandered around the annual Oktoberfest, where there were arts and crafts, food galore, and demonstrations of everything from cheerleading to cage fighting.
I picked up a few Christmas gifts and came home.

Because I am forbidden to watch an Auburn game ( a jinx I will discuss at a later time) I decided that I needed a mani/pedi, and headed off for Jenny & Steve's. I stopped for a coffee, gathered a book I've been ready and settled in to relax. I even sprung for the super-duper callous remover.

I then treated my son to a Chickfila and picked up a double-hash-browns-all-the-way from the local Waffle House. I topped off my meal with some Blue Bell "Southern Hospitality" ice cream.

Then Auburn won their game against Ole Miss.

I do have loved ones, who have both lost a grandparent in the past 24 hours. Both bedridden from their increasing ailments and suffering from dementia. Strong, God-fearing people, who at long last, get to dance through the Pearly Gates, on streets of gold and meet their Savior, who's name they've never forgotten.

Yeah, I've had some great Saturdays, but this one was, well, perfect.

Hope you En-JOY-ed yours too.

Party at the office!

2010-10-29T12:50:00.004-05:00

Woo Hoo! Party at the office!

My office never misses the opportunity to party (i.e. eat!) or dress up!

In honor of Halloween today we've done both. We have a sexy (yet office appropriate) Army officer, a Dolly Parton impersonator, a Lady Gaga impersonator (also, office appropriate, believe it or not, those two concepts could exsit together) , the "Pajama Gang" and me, in my spider hat.

We are noshing on lots of goodies,mainly taco soup and chili.

Happy Halloween Y'all!

~En-JOY!

The Green Eyed Monster

2010-10-28T12:42:00.002-05:00

My best friend, partner in crime, voice of reason, yadda-yadda-yadda...is currently at the hospital. Awaiting the birth of her first grandchild.

I know what you are thinking...
Yes, she's younger than me.
Yes, all her natural born children are younger than mine.
Yes my son is dating her oldest daughter.
Don't panic...This would be the baby of her newly acquired step-son and his lovely wife.

Okay...I'm admitting it openly, here. I'm jealous.

All of my friends are becoming grandparents! My classmates are, even those I went to school with who are younger than me. They proudly display their photos and share their cutesy grandparent monikers ( "Ya-Ya, Gi-Gi, Ni-Ni, Mi-Mi, La-La" and so on... ) and brag how they spoil these young-uns rotten, then send them home to their parents to deal with.

I WANT THAT TOO!!

My daughter, Julz, is older than some of these kids, which makes me feel like I might be behind.
I'm kinda on the fence here. While Julz is the obvious candidate, she's not married, or in a stable relationship (come to think of it, I don't even think she's in a relationship). She's working part-time and going to school, so there no where a baby would fit in at this time.

Okay, I realize that people make it work, but I do want her to be in the best position to have and nurture a child.

But for now, I will just have to admire the grandchildren of others

Green Eyed Monster signing off

Bleck!

2010-10-26T18:01:00.001-05:00

This is how I feel right now.

And it's NOT from drinking!

At least if it was, I'd have a tangible reason for feeling so puny.

I'd say ~En-JOY, but that would just be cruel.

The View From The Top

2010-10-25T21:47:00.002-05:00

Auburn has made it to number one on the BCS poll.

The same spot once occupied by our in-state rivals, that I posted about a few weeks ago (currently at number 7).

Though it may be short-lived, we are enjoying the view from the top.

Everything else is at the tip of a tiger's tail.

En-JOY!

Another Lazy Sunday

2010-10-24T12:30:00.002-05:00

I awoke with a head ache and a sore shoulder. I'm not sure if I'm sleeping wrong on it or if a spring is sticking up out of the mattress or what. I go to bed fine and wake up sore and tired.

The sweet sixteen murder mystery party was great! Some key player didnt attend, which challenged our ability to think on our feet, but the venue, the historic Rowan Oaks, was perfect! I have to admit, I was really nervous with everyone tomping around all those antiques, but it really added to the mystery. But I was exhausted when I got home.

The sounds of never-ending football are wafting through the house, so I know without looking, where darling hubby is right now.

Someone is in the shower.

I was going to go to my office today and declutter my cube. You know in the movies when they fire someone, they hand them a little brown box to put their stuff in? If I were ever fired, it'd take me two days and a whole flat of boxes to leave. It really needs to be done when I have a good chunk of time to do it,and that won't be happening in my eight hour work day. That's why I must do it on a weekend, but I feel so bad, I think I'll postpone it.

I'm also putting off buying groceries, but we've got to eat.
Guess I'll go do that.

~En-JOY your Sunday

Happy Birthday Sweet 16 Murder Mystery Party

2010-10-23T13:59:00.004-05:00

Today, Cyn and I are hosting a murder mystery party for Miss Mary Mac's Sweet Sixteen.

Seriously, that's the theme she wanted.

Using the movie and game "Clue" as inspiration, Cyn has spent the last several weeks developing characters, scripting plots, creating clues and collecting weapons.

As the ever dutiful best friend, always supportive, I've given feedback, shared ideas and agreed to help run things behind the scenes.

I was assigned the character of the cook. (Yeah, that's what I thought too). She said that the adults were the staff because they weren't central to the story and would move about behind the scenes and make sure things were set up properly. She was going to be the estate manager, and her hubby, Super Dave, will be the butler. So that leaves me, as the cook.

Making the best of it, I offered a few insights on my character. Since everyone else had a clever name, I thought I should be named Mrs. Potts. I started trying to think what I might have in my wardrobe that a cook would wear. Nothing was coming to mind for a cheap, easy, identifiable cook's"uniform", except scrubs, like the lunch ladies at the kid's school wear. No offense to those who work in that thankless profession, but I wasn't going to dress like a lunch lady.

Tigger was assigned a Professor Plum role, but had nothing that looked remotely acedemic (unless you count the tee-shirt that says "1 me+ 2 sisters+1 bathroom = 4 ever late") so I knew I needed to make a trip to the thrift store.

Just up the road from my office is a sweet thrift store that benefits a local mission. On Fridays, they have "Discount Day" and everything is marked down even more than the bargain prices on the tag. I knew I wanted Tigger to wear at least a sweater vest and maybe a tweed jacket. Nothing screams "professor" to me like a sweater vest and tweed jacket. Stereotyping, I know, but seriously, that's the first thing I think when I see a fella in a sweater vest and tweed jacket.

Plum is not a popular color in men's clothing, so the best I could do was a burgandy sweater vest. That worked out really well, as two aisles over, I found the beige, tweed jacket with a burgandy and black pattern, that I had envisioned. Up by the check out, I found a smart, felt snap-front cap and thus "Professor Plum" was officially outfitted for the party.

But that was not the BEST find of the day.

In my wandering, trying to find the hats/caps, I decided to see if I could find a scrub outfit for my "uniform," so I went down the aisle marked "uniforms," which turned out was a long rack of scrubs. I could see a few white pieces, so I went to them first.

That is when I saw it...a chef's smock!! $3.99! I was beside myself! I sqealed so loud all the women, digging through the racks around me, turned to look. It was obviously never worn because it still had the manufacturer's zip tag on it. It looked as if it had been purchased and thrown into someone's trunk, who eventually scooped it up into a donation bag. My gain!! Not only is it an offical chef's smock, it bears the Culinard crest. Culinard is a professional culinary arts school based in Birmingham. Graduates head kitchens all over the country.

I was really excited about my find, and black scrub pants complete the look.

Until...Madame Estate Manager showed me what she was wearing. Needless to say, my place on the staff is clear =/

Her dad agreed to play "Mr. Body" and also lent us the teaching skeleton from his office.

The two Mr. Bodys.

Needless to say, everyone had a good time with the deceased"Mr. Body."

Pictures to follow.

Open Letter to My Children.

2010-10-22T17:22:00.007-05:00

This is not what I had intended on posting today, but given some discussions I've been involved in the last few days, I just could not ignore this topic.

There has been a great deal in the news about bullies and the senseless suicides that have followed. Most recent is the story of a New Jersey college student who lept to his death after a video of an intimate moment with another student was brought to light.

Miss Sally, my third grade teacher, who I have had the good fortune to be in contact with again, thanks to Facebook, posted this blog link today and after reading it, I felt compelled to share it.

The writer is a Vicky Bell and the post is entitled " Letter To My Daughter (in the wake of senseless tradgedy)"

Powerful stuff

That has prompted me to share my own thoughts to my children:

They need to be secure in themselves to be better equipped to handle the cold, cruel world.

I do think that children need to learn that real life is not "upward." It's not fair or even and you have to work for the things you have and people will walk all over you if you let them. Mommy and Daddy are there when you are a child, not to remove all the stumbling blocks, but to make sure you learn how to get up and dust yourself off after you fall.

You know I spent time in therapy after my abusive first marriage (talk about bully!) My therapist told me that bullies have an unquenchable desire to feel better about themselves and will pick on those that either they view as weaker (to show superiority) or possess something they are jealous of (in an attempt to bring the victim down to their level.) It is usually as a result of being bullied as well (apparently it all trickles down for the same reasons).

Focusing on knowing I'm the best "me" I can be;

Knowing you can't have winning without losing, but being last still means you tried;

Knowing that when people "talk smack" about me, it's because they are secretly jealous of something I posses that they want for themselves, or they want to feel better about themselves by trying to tear me down;

Being happy for the things that I have rather than pining for things I don't have is a lot less stressful;

Someone will always be smarter, richer, prettier, thinner, blonder, tanner, fitter, etc...than me, and they could still have the most crappy life imaginable.

People will talk about you, regardless of what you do. So why waste your energy? The harder you fight, the more they will talk. When YOU know the truth, that is all that matters. Live to the contrary of what is said, and other will see the truth too. When they see they can't shake you, it will stop.

I hope that I've equipped you to stand on your own two feet out in the real world.

To be stronger.

Stronger that the peers that expect you to prey on the weak. Stronger than those who feel suicide is the answer

How Smooth Is That?

2010-10-21T17:30:00.005-05:00

Because Kit-Kat has been working feverishly on a research paper due tomorrow ( doncha miss 9th grade?) I was unable to get on the computer yesterday, so I've missed my"blogging every day" =(

Today, I wanted to share with everyone the coolest thing I've seen in a while.

This is a painting of a photo of the owners of my company.

The detail is fantastic and as soon as I can remember where the original photograph is, I will post it too so you can compare.

The other thing that is really smooth about this painting is that it is painted entirely with...

COFFEE!!!

So you are looking at a painting of the owners of a coffee company, sitting on bags of coffee, painted with coffee!

It was presented to the company at our annual sales meeting that I could not attend for personal reasons. As soon as I get more details I will add them here.

I thought that it was too smooth not to share.

~EnJOY!

Great TV Parents Go On In

2010-10-19T17:16:00.002-05:00

I feel as if member of my family have passed on!

Two great TV parents , Barbara Billingsly (June Cleaver) and Tom Bosely (Howard Cunningham) have gone on to their Great Reward this week.

The Power To Change The Country Is In Our Hands

2010-10-18T12:36:00.002-05:00

With mid-term elections a mere two weeks away, I thought I'd dedicate this post to the importance of registering and voting.

The local morning news team mentioned a valuable resource to help me and fellow Alabamians with this years voting selections. Alabama Votes is a useful website that assists voters with everything from how to register, how to locate a polling place to seeing the sample ballot. You can even see the campaign contributions of the candidates.

While I know this does very little to help those of you in other states, a quick trip to Google will help you locate the (dot) gov voting website for your state, where you can access similar information.

Take the time NOW to research the candidates and their platforms to make the best possible choice. Those who DON'T vote have no room to complain when things start to roll down Capitol Hill.

Remember the power to change our country is in our own hands.

Lazy Sunday

2010-10-17T14:39:00.005-05:00

Apparently Fall is having trouble overtaking Summer here in Alabama.

We had to sleep with the heat on last night because it was in the high 30's .It's well into the 70's outside right now and we had to turn on the air conditioner.

Tigger is listening to his new Hawk Nelson cd, Kit-Kat is in her room on the phone, Darling Hubby is watching pro-football (big surprise) and as soon as I finish this post, I'm going to go back to reading the novel I bought at the dollar store yesterday.

I love lazy Sundays

You En-JOY yours too =)

WHAT Was I Thinking?!

2010-10-16T08:10:00.002-05:00

I have agreed to chaperone several teenagers to an all day open air alternative Christian music festival known as Youthquake.

What was I thinking?

Details to follow

HOMECOMING AT LEEDS HIGH!

2010-10-15T12:29:00.004-05:00

I'm so excited (and a little bit nervous) that I will once again get to take the field, twirling with a majorette squad at Homecoming.

Ten alumni majorettes get to perform in the pregame show, to "A Train," and our fight song medley "Roll Greenwave/ Horse." Okay, not the real "Horse" and abreviated version we call "Pony." Several alumni band members will be on hand to play along.

But we will not just be there to relive our glory days. We will also have a donation table, as well as circulate in the stands to raise donations to benefit the band program.

This is the second year I have participated on the alumni squad. I enjoy the comraderie as much as the actual performing. We always have a great time when we get together. I am blessed to call these ladies my friends.

Here is a picture of the 2009 Alumni Majorettes. That's me on the first row, far right. My baton teacher is on the first row far left. No really, that's her. This photo also includes three of my former squad mates (and one of their daughters!)

Pictures of the 2010 squad soon to come.

UPDATE: Here I am waiting on the sideline for the show to start.

~En-JOY!

Shaping Young Minds

2010-10-14T11:27:00.004-05:00

Today at work we hosted the business club of a local high school. They were there to tour the plant and learn about what various people and departments do, and how they all work together. Several department managers spoke and discussed how long they had been with the company, where they went to collegd, what their first jobs were and what they do every day.

One student was very inquisitive and asked lots of questions. That caught all of us off guard because the teacher/sponsor told us they probably would not. She kinda reminded me of Tracy Flick. During the break, this young lady identified herself as the president of the club. I was not surprised.

I spoke about customer service. I think mine might have been the easiest, because when you think of it, most high school student is first jobs are serving the public. I was a little intimidated, despite my public speaking experience, and completely forgot to mention that I would be at my job for 20 years February 2011. Because we are the company's call center, the only question I got was how we handle prank calls.

I think I had bored them but was glad to have plenty of coffee and donuts, which everyone tanked up on at the break. Then

I did try to leave them with some sage advice that I had learned from my grandfather, a grocer. I remember coming across the sign in the basement in my grandparent's home, and though I didn't realize it's importance at the time, it's wisdom has been with me ever since.

The Customer Pays Our Bills

Triumph Over Tradgedy!

2010-10-13T12:28:00.002-05:00

After 69 days in a dark, grimey, hole in the ground, 33 Chilean copper miners are finally being rescued. As I write this, number 17 has just been pulled up to safety.

The whole world has watched with rapt attention, the plight of the 33 men, trapped by a cave in on August 5th.

Their survival and rescue is absolutely amazing, a feat these men openly attribute to God.

When the American drilling team known as Plan B reached the shelter a week ago, efforts began to extract the men in a safe manner. Doctors helped to determine the order that the men would be rescued, starting with the fittest, due to the stress of the ascent.

Last night, as the first miner surfaced, I cried.

I was reminded of another rescue that captured world-wide attention, that of toddler Jessica McClure. I remember crying then too.

Nothing like the triumph of the human spirt and the merciful Lord who oversees it.

Reality Check

2010-10-12T20:22:00.002-05:00

I'm beginning to think that people are running out of things to put on t.v. No one has any original ideas anymore, hence all the remakes of old sitcoms, cop shows, shows based on movies, and all the blasted reality shows (come on CBS, admit it, you are running out of jungles) where you can see people at their worst and creative editting at it's best.

But as much as I hate to admit it, there is just some reality t.v. that I love. Biggest Loser is, hands down, my favorite t.v show, reality or otherwise. Though I missed the very first season, I haven't missed another since.

I empathize with those who have no control over their food addition. Those who stand, powerless, over a maxed out scale,with no apparent hope in sight. I feel for the parent who has to weigh a strict family budget against eating right, because it's cheaper to eat junk. I've stood in the shoes of the hypertensive, diabetic, with sleep apnea, taking a handful of pills every day to control the rebelious body they are living inside, struggling to get out of.

I cry when I watch their stories of how they felt they went from once normal to overweight and lost their confidence. I cry when I watch their stories of how they had alway been overweight and never had confidence. I cry with their triumphs and their tradgedies.

Who Said You Can't Go Home Again?

2010-10-11T22:15:00.002-05:00

It is Homecoming week at dear old Leeds High School.

Only there is a new Leeds High School that they built in the last two years, so it's not really "dear old LHS" anymore. They are still using the original football stadium, where my dad ran down the field wearing #55, my aunt cheered, my little brother drummed his heart out. And I twirled, marching down the 5o yard line. It's home.

This is the week when all the alumni are supposed to come enjoy the game, have a parade and crown a pretty girl to reign over it all. Part of the festivities will be a performance of the alumni band, and for the second year now, the alumni majorettes. I am very excited and proud to be a part of this group.

I began twirling at young age. I really loved the sport and skill. I was a majorette for LHS from 1983 until 1985, the year I was captain. In my opinion, it's the only thing I've really been good at. No sense letting that talent go to waste. Apparently, I'm not the only one who feels that way.

Last year, the group ranged from classes of 1967 to 2007. Fourteen ladies led the band into the stadium and strutted their stuff. This year, ten ladies will be twirling. Just like last year, will also be raising money for the LHS band program.

For about an hour, I will get to feel like I'm 17 again.

Who says you can't go home again?

It's Only A Game, Right...Not in Alabama!

2010-10-10T10:31:00.004-05:00

I am a life long Alabamian.

In Alabama, nearly everyone falls into one of two categories: Auburn Tiger or Alabama crimson tide. Oh, there are plenty of other universities and colleges in Alabama, but you will rarely hear of them.

It is the first thing you learn about someone you meet here and we are particulary blunt about it. One's response sets the tone for the entire relationship from that point forward. It becomes the excuse for hard luck, rudeness, mischief, crime, the list goes on and on.

"You will have to excuse poor ole Bubba, he pulls for Alabama, ya know."

Heaven forbid you should be a natural born Alabamian and pull for someone else. We can deal with the transplants, they can't help themselves, but for someone to be raised in the great state of Alabama the Beautiful and not chose a side is just short of heresy.

The answer no one seems to be able to handle is the "I don't follow football."

As with any true in-state rivalry, you pull for one and whomever is playing the other.

As you may know, life has been unbearable for half the state since the crimson tide won the BCS National Championship back in January. The posturning and pontification of the fans is nauseating. One would think they arranged a Middle East peace treaty or something. This attitude earned them the top spot on another poll.

It was time for a little humble pie and it looks like South Carolina has served it up with their 35-21 victory over the #1 team in the nation.

Now I've been chastised for not rooting for the "home state team" in other games. That makes about as much sense as rooting for the criminals because we have prison in our state. My question is why should I? Oh yeah, I hear the whole "we'd root for you" arguement, but for the most part, that's a lie. I mean this rivalry is so fierce, they are almost willing to kill over it. (As a matter of fact, I'm not certain Auburn fans are part of that problem.)

Personally, I could really care less who is playing whom, as long as they are not playing Auburn. I am for Auburn and no one else.

Yeah, I've posed as both a Miami fan and a Texas fan, but only to rile the Tide fans in my life. It was all in good fun. It is, after all, just a game.

I was raised an Auburn fan, much like I was raised Baptist. I've known nothing else, though I will say, I see nothing on the other side that would make me want to switch either.

The double talk is amazing. They are eating humble pie, but talking with their mouths full, spitting all over everyone. "It's only one loss!" Auburn will get theirs next week with Arkansas" "Nobody unranked Kentucky almost beat you" "You're just jealous because you are not national champs." "Why do the Auburn fans have to make such a big deal out of this?" I'll tell you why. Because champions should be not be arrogant. They should act with humility and tact. Yeah, it was "only one loss", but it was enough to knock them down from #1 to #8. Behind the undefeated Auburn team, who is #7.

It might only be for a week, but I say, EnJOY the view!

25TH High School Reunion...Sorta

2010-10-09T16:56:00.003-05:00

Tonight is my 25th high school reunion...well, sort of.

There is a reunion tonight, in my 25th year out of high school. It's actually a party of people who graduated from my high school, from all different years.

My actual classmates seem to have a problem reuning. We've only had one "successful" reunion, our 15th. I don't know what made that year different from all the others but we haven't had an actual reunion since. There is a small group of my classmates, about 8 of us, that started getting together once a month for dinner. We really have a blast, and these mini-reunions sparked not only a romance, but a marriage! But when it comes to actual reunions, we kinda glom onto the other classes, (who seem to be having the same problem lately) pool our money and have a multi-class reunion instead.

It's actually more fun to me this way. I had a diverse group of friends, from a wide range of ages. Having been in the band, I spent a great deal of time with people ranging from the class of 1982 all the way up to class of 1988, before I graduated in 1985.

Tonight promises to be great fun! We are having a block party and have blocked off a block near our historic railway depot (which is now an event center). I've got a great new outfit. My darling hubby may be late. The reunion was obviously arranged by the Bama fans because it happens to be right smack in the middle of the Auburn/Kentucky game =( but he promises to be along as soon as he can.

I'll post pics later....

UPDATE 10/13/10

Okay, so this is the only pic so far...That's me in the multicolored tunic and gray leggings shuffling my best "Cupid Shuffle" with my classmates. I really thought I had looked cute with my trendy outfit and kickin' shoes...until I saw this picture. No, I swear, I'm not pregnant.

Sorry, I Left My Mind Reading Hat At Home

2010-10-08T23:09:00.005-05:00

Since I missed blogging yesterday, I thought I'd make up for it today by posting two =)

I work in customer service. I'm staring down nearly 30 years in customer service, the last 20 with my current employer.

Customer service is kinda in my blood. I knew from a very, very young age that "the customer pays our bills," thanks to a sign from my grandfather's store, that my grandmother had kept in her basement. He had instlled this idea in my mother, who once went to apply for a job as a clerk in a department store and wound up working at the bank next door. She eventually worked her way up to VP before retiring. And of course, this value was trickled down to me. Aside from baton twirling, it's the only thing I've ever felt that I was good at.

I really think having served customers in one capacity or another, has made me a better customer. I answer questions asked of me, I provide basic information willingly, heck, I'll demonstrate my twirling talent if I thought it would help me get assistance. I always willingly passed over my i.d. for checks, refunds, alcohol, even before being asked. I try to be cheerful and share kind words and speak respectfully to whomever is helping me. Because I knew, that for every easy customer like me, there were two jerks before me and two jerks after me.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm no push-over. I KNOW how a customer is to be treated as well, so when I recieve bad customer service (or worse...no customer service) I know exactly how to go about reporting just that.

As for my own job, part of relaying information from our customers to their representatives is gathering certain information. I am always amazed that a customer, calling for assistance, does not feel the need to give said information to help that process along. As a matter of fact, every now and then I have people reluctant to provide a phone number for me to access their account or have the rep to return the call.

Seriously people, if I were Kreskin, I wouldn't be working here.

I do not think that many people understand that sometimes they need to help me, to help them.

Here are some common responses I receive as a result of my information gathering:

"I've been a customer for xyz number of years"
That very well may be true, but that does not mean that I know who you are or what your account might be. Even customers that I have been talking to for all 20 years, sometimes have to remind me of who they are, or who they work for. It's nothing personal. When you take 200 calls each day, it's kinda hard to remember everyone.

"I already gave my phone number when I called earlier"
I don't ever remember my own phone number, do you think I'm going to remember yours?

"He/she knows me and/or who I'm with and/or why I'm calling"
Wanna bet?

"I don't have the confirmation number the CSR gave me last week"
Really? Do you realize how many calls were processed the same day you called? Now multiply that by a week (or maybe actually two). That's how many calls I have to look thru to find out the status of your call. Please don't become impatient and yell as I go thru them.

"My rep's name is John, I don't know, it's just John"
What are the odds we have only one? Heck, we've got 6 guys named Oscar. You do the math.

The list goes on and on.

Yes, I wear many hats in my job: detective, fireman, interpretor, referee, coach.

But try as I might, I always seem to leave my mind reading hat at home.

T. M. I. For the Cause!

2010-10-08T08:12:00.002-05:00

"I like it on the bench at the end of the bed, but it usually winds up on the floor"

Okay, before you think OMG...TMI! it's not what you think.

Since last year's "TMI for a cause" ( my term, thank you) Facebook campaign where ladies merely posted the color of their bra became wildly popular breast cancer awareness tool, it looks like they are at it again.

And it's working!

According to an article yesterday (when I had intended on blogging this) on MSNBC, this year's TMI stunt, "Where do you like it?" is causing a buzz. And if you haven't heard about it yet, you soon will.

Now you might ask how "where I like it" leads to breast cancer awareness. It is a simple conversation starter. When your friends ask what you are talking about and why you are sharing such an odd little detail about yourself, you have an opening to discuss breast cancer.

And don't think this is just about women. Men are at risk as well. 1970 cases of breast cancer occur in men and of those cases 390 will die. A man I went to high school died from it just a few years ago. While less likely, Men's breast cancer is more deadly, because many do not seek help when they first notice the symptoms.

Knowlege is power, regardless of how you obtain it.

So, tell us, where do YOU like it?

Had to Share...

2010-10-06T12:46:00.002-05:00

Okay, I follow a blog called Ask A Manager and 2 recent posts have me thinking.

One was a link that led to a site featuring a list of company memo's from a now defunct company called Tiger Oil. You will have to read them for yourself. Some don't seem so unusual and some of them are way too funny to be real . I feel sorry for ole "Tiger Mike." I bet if he hadn't spent so much time drafting memos, he might have actually had time to run his company.

The other was today's post (Oct 5,10) about an employee who was not only known to not wash her hands, but actually laughed about it when confronted.

(Pausing a moment to get over the willies)

My feelings on that subject are well documented.

All in all, Ask A Manager's writer Allison Greene, gives good, common sense advice for the business world. I don't always agree with some of it, but I do appreciate and respect her perspective. Check it out and see what you think.

~EnJOY

Random Thoughts on Tuesday

2010-10-05T17:38:00.002-05:00

Okay, so I'm at a favorite fast food restaurant that my family frequents.

I order food from the speaker box by the car. I'm given a total. I notice under the speaker, that there is a key pad and "swiper" (for lack of a better term) for the customers to pay for their meal with a debit or credit card.

So I swipe my card to pay for my meal.

When my meal arrives, the carhop asks if I "want the copy of the credit card receipt."

Seriously, I can't think of an instance where one's answer would be "No."

(And, in this day and age, if you are saying "no," then you are a brave soul)

Really...Do I Know You?

2010-10-04T12:13:00.003-05:00

Like nearly everyone else on the planet, I'm a Facebook junkie. But recently, I've been getting all sorts of friend requests. Mostly, old classmates, former teachers, coworkers past and present, and the like.

Going in, I had decided that I would not "friend" people I did not know. I've had to expand on that a little because how I "know" people seems somewhat expansive.

I have friends that I grew up with, friends I went to school with, friends of the friends I went to school with, friends I've worked with, friends of the friends I work with, my pageant friends and so on.

I've made more than a few folks I know upset by not adding them to my "friends." Sorry about that. Now that Facebook is randomly posting wall-to-wall discussions where everyone can see them, there are a few friends I'd rather not have to explain (or apologize for).

But the most confusing are the people, who I don't even remotely know. Not even friends of friends. Just some random request from random people.

I don't know if these people are out to conquer Facebook or even ensure their Six Degrees of Seperation, but it kinda creeps me out that people who don't know me, might want to know me.

First of all, how do they find me?! I have my privacy settings so strict, one could get into a White House state dinner easier...oh, wait...

Well anyway, one would have to be a "friend of a friend" to even find me. My first thought is usually "Really? Do I know you?"

I got a friend request last week from a gentleman who's limited view profile said he was in Egypt and his name began with "Prince." He started his attached personal message with "I think you are very pretty." Nice opening, but I wasn't biting. I responded "Thank you, Happily Married, Three Children, Not Friending anyone I don't ALREADY KNOW" None of this information detered His Highness, who sent me several more sweet messages before I figured out how to block him.

Trust me, That would be a "friendship" that would have eventually turned into, "...my father the sheik is in need of help and I need to forward 1 gazillion dollars to someone I trust in the United States. Would you be this person?"

No thanks buddy!

So, for the record, I don't feel the need to friend anyone I don't know. Heck, I barely feel the need to friend those that I do know!

~EnJOY

Confessions

2010-10-03T12:58:00.002-05:00

Okay, I confess. I haven't written in a while. There are many reasons..family, work, illness, laziness, Starz free movie weekend...the list goes on and on.

But a blog post by April has stoked my creative fire. You will be hearing a lot more from me as I vow, along with April, to post something every day.

I am a little behind on posting. I have quite a bit of new material, but have been a little under the weather and prefer to lounge on the couch and be pitiful.

I know that I have plenty of time today to pound out a page but "Confessions of a Shopaholic" was on. I could watch that movie over and over again. Now "Kate and Leopold"is on, another over and over again favorite. I know, excuses.

What has happened since my last post? Let's see. We survived the weekend with the Home Ec Baby (a.k.a. Baby Think It Over II). I think I fractured another toe. I've slacked on my "gluten free" diet. I got a terrible head cold. Julz got a job at a sea food restaurant, but abhors sea food. Tigger and Miss Mary Mac's relationship is rocking right along as is Kit-Kat and her Matt-man.
Auburn is 5-0, despite two heart-stopping, last minute wins. Bama is also undefeated, and somewhere a foul-mouthed college student from Florida who had a great deal to say two days ago is either in hiding or returning to his parents in a pine box, thanks to those seated in Section 42. (Coincidentally, the state with the most mobile homes is actually California, with 12 million. South Carolina has the most per capita at 20%). We have a high school reunion coming up next week and Homecoming at our alma mater the next, where I will once again, twirl on the field with the rest of the alumni majorettes. (Never, ever pass up the opportunity to feel 17 again!)

So, you can see, I have several things I can write about over the next few weeks.
Now, to find the time.
Right now, I need a shot of Nyquil and a warm Snuggie =)

You enjoy your day, I will enjoy mine

~Joy

Have You Forgotten? (Annual Patriot Day Repost)

2010-09-09T17:12:00.002-05:00

As we approach Patriot Day, I decided to repost this story from 9/11.
It is said that if you don't pass on history, it will be forgotten
This is something that we should never forget.
I am posting it early this year, to give everyone time to prepare for this important day of remembrance.

~Joy

Repost, orginally written September 11, 2007

It's September 11th. Patriot Day.

I'm wearing my yellow ribbon and my American Flag pin. I haven't really seen anyone else commemorating the day.

I wonder if everyone's else has forgotten.

I know I won't. Every year the emotion is nearly as fresh and raw as it was watching the non-stop news footage.

And every year, I think of 5 cases of coffee.

I cry when I tell it because the emotions bubble back up, so you are at an advantage reading it, though I am about to cry just typing it.

Krispy Kreme was once a customer of my company and every now and again the buyer would request a few cases of coffee be sent directly to a store.

On September 10, 2001 they requested that I send five cases of coffee to the Krispy Kreme store on the basement level of WTC. I am told this is where the food court was. They had requested Next Day Air, Early A.M. delivery, which is to be delivered by 8:00 a.m.

It stood out to me because the address was simply :
Krispy Kreme
Basement
WTC, NY and the zip code.
I thought "Well how cool is that?"

The next morning, as news began to spread of the attack, I immediately thought of those five boxes of coffee and the unsuspecting UPS driver I'd sent to his death.
I prayed for a lot of people that day, but I prayed especially for him.

Over the next several days, I began to think about him quite a bit. Was he married, did he have children, what kind of person would he have been....? Because I would never really know his fate, it started to be too much for me. Every time I saw footage of the dust & debris, I imagined a UPS truck buried beneath it. Though it may sound strange, I felt really guilty, like somehow I was responsible. I cried uncontrollably, nearly daily, over this person I'd never met.

Two weeks went by. My best friend told me that I was going to give it to God and let it go. So I finally prayed that God would give me some peace over it and release me from this guilt I was feeling. I prayed once more for him and his family and "laid it down."

The very next day, our local UPS driver returned the five boxes of Krispy Kreme coffee stamped "UNDELIVERABLE." They looked as good as the day I sent them out and I took their pristine condition as my sign from God that the driver I prayed so diligently over, was okay too.

I know, when I tell this story to my grandchildren some day, I will fight back a tear even then.
I know that, as a nation, to some extent, we should "move on." But I was raised that the first part of getting where you are going, is knowing where you've been.

Never Forget

(dedicated to those who unsuspectingly gave their lives Sept 11, 2001, the people who knew & loved them, and all our military hereos keeping us safe ever since.)

My Best Friend's Wedding

2010-08-31T17:18:00.006-05:00

After month's of planning, we finally pulled it off. My best friend's wedding.

Finding the perfect dress...

picking the flowers, the favors, and the cake!

It was absolutely beautiful, despite the torential rain storm 20 minutes before the ceremony, and the bride-to-be/partner in crime/voice of reason/best friend was nothing short of breath-taking. As Honor Attendant Numero Uno (I despise "matron" of honor...makes me sound really old, this title sounds much more fun, doncha think?) I didn't look so bad myself.

The resourceful bride planned and executed the whole event herself, with a little help from me and her mom, and saved some money buy making use of her creative, artistic talents.

I would have to say the most ingenius of our planning was turning this $5 thift store find (formerly a ladies size 16 tea length frock)

into a perfect ankle length flower girl dress,complete with straps made from the surplus fabric.

Mom was in charge of the flower arranging, with the exception of the bouquets, and the rented arch behind us, that the bride had purchased the lights, flowers and greenery to cover herself. There were some heated discussions as to who's vision of wedding decour should be followed ( I thought I was going to need a striped shirt before it was over!) but I am happy to say that the resulting arrangements were quite lovely.

We spent most of Friday and Saturday decorating and fetching and complaining (and shedding a tear or two). The arch had consumed most of our decorating time, causing the bride to have a minor meltdown, when it was discovered that dear old mom had used the greenery we had purchased to cover it in the other arrangements.

I am a list maker. I like to make lists of things to be done, and then check them off as I do them so that there is no question what is done and what is left. Usually, the bride is too. Why we deviated from our usual list-making practice, I do not know. All I know, had it not been for a wedding cake illustration on the balloons I tied to the sign post marking the turn to the church, we'd had all almost forgotten to pick up the bride's cake!

Tigger got to get in date number two with the lovely Miss Mary Mac (aka Honor Attendant #2). Both were more than pleased to pose for this picture.

Everyone looked lovely!

It had been a very popular Saturday to get married. At the same time, my cousin was getting married in a posh affair (12 bridesmaids...no kidding!) that ended in a swanky country club reception. My grandmother provided me with snapshots and details of what I had missed. She breathlessly estimated what the bride's family must surely have spent. I have to say, while it sounded impressive, I was much more impressed with the simple, elegant affair I had helped to arrange.

When it boils down to it, both couples are just as "married" as the other.

Whew!

2010-08-01T15:23:00.004-05:00

Tigger made it through his first date. Whew! Glad that's over.

His date, I will call "Miss Mary Mac," a young lady I've known since she was just a twinkle in her father's eye. She and Tigger met when they were very young and they've been friends for many years now. As I mentioned in my previous post, they share many common interests and have a very close bond. This date is a recent plot twist in their friendship.

Having know me all of her life, Miss Mary Mac was not at all surprised when I asked for a photo to document this momentous occasion. It looks pretty much like all other photos I've taken of them over the years.

Despite having me tagging along to chaperone (or course, someone did have to drive), we had a great time last night watching "Despicable Me."

3D entertainment has come a long way. Aside from "Avatar," the last 3D movie I saw was "Friday the Thirteenth 3D." It also costs much more. If I'd known they were going to charge $4 more, I'd have kept the little glasses.

The bad thing about movie theatres is they reeeeeaaaaalllllllllllly like their popcorn and sodas. On the other hand, the good thing about movie theatres is that their idea of "medium" is a 44 oz soda.

Tigger is definately going to need to find himself a job if he wants to continue dating. I think we are going to try for a matinee next time.

The movie was really cute. A real family friendly story, emphasizing everyone's need for family acceptance and togetherness. Steve Carrell has a great Russian accent and the unmistakable voice of Russel Brand provides some really funny moments. After seeing Russell's comedy act, and more of him than I ever cared to see in "Forgettng Sarah Marshall," I'm really surprised to see he's involved in more wholesome pursuits.

The movie, surprisingly enough, starts out with "Sweet Home Alabama," something that is ALWAYS sure to get a whoop out of any crowd in Alabama (it is, after all, our "oh-ficial anthem.") I don't want to spoil the plot, so I will let you see the rest for yourself.

It is a definate "buy" when it comes out on dvd.

After the movie, we found ourselves in a familar place, on Miss Mary Mac's couch, watching "Mythbusters."

Nice to see things are back to normal.

Tigger 's First Date

2010-07-31T09:55:00.002-05:00

Tonight is a milestone. My son has his very first date!

Both of us are very nervous (Mom nerves, who knew?!), despite the date being with one of his long time friends.

I had the chance to speak to him at length about how he sould behave on the date. Since he and the girl have been friends since they were little, the whole awkward, getting-to-know-you phase is long over. They share many common interests, and are comfortable talking, or just hanging out, sketching and saying nothing, But his desire to make a good impression on this date, has him overthinking it. I told him to be himself, but add a little chivalry, like opening doors and pulling back her chair.

We are currently coordinating parent schedules and movie times. I, of course, get to be the driver, as both are just a few months shy of getting their own driver's licenses.

This experience has been very different for me from when my girls started dating. I was a little more prepared for the day Julz asked to go to a school dance with the boy up the street. I'll never forget how he introduced himself, extending his hand for a shake. I was a little less prepared for the announcement a few months back that Kit-Kat, now 15, had met a boy at a skating party. But after meeting his parents, who share the chaufering duties with us, I breathe a little easier.

But my son seems to have hold of a different heart string. Boys are supposed to be tough and not let things get to them, But I know my son is tender-hearted and I'm a little worried.

More to follow...

Reality Check

2010-06-14T12:46:00.001-05:00

I just had to share about a new show on VH1 that I stumbled across this weekend called You're Cut Off.

I really wasn't looking for another reality series to watch, but this one was so fascinating, I couldn't stop myself!

Southern Reality

2010-06-10T12:48:00.003-05:00

Oh no! I wonder what kind of "Reality" this show will present of the South!

Move over Jersey! There is an Open Casting Call for new reality series featurning my fellow Southerners called Party Down South!

The website boasts "If you like your chicken fried, drive a pick up truck and are full of American Pride, we are looking for you!"

I shudder to think who is going to apply.

jw

EUREKA!!!

2010-06-08T12:44:00.003-05:00

I didn't believe it was possible, but I have found someone that loves make-up as much as I do!!

Marlena the Make Up Geek!

I sort of stumbled on to her site while googling make-up techniques and I've been hooked ever since! Marlena's site contains tutorial videos, product reviews, a make-up "store," idea galleries, and a forum for make-up discussions.

The step-by-step video tutorials are awesom. Marlena not only shares her technique, she also shares the make-up brands and shades (usually a great mix both high-end AND drug store varieties!) and the brush types for each application. I am in heaven,

Though you wouldn't know it by looking at me today (stupid upper respiratory infection) I LOVE make-up! I was very lucky that my introduction to make-up coincided with my mother's job at Clinique when I was about 10, so I learned to use make-up with some pretty quality stuff. I've been a "3 stepper" for most of the past 30 years, and I owe a mostly acne free adolesence to that fact.

Every so often, Mother would bring home old testers or a new free gift. I had ammased quite a collection by the time Mother let me wear make up, around 12. I pored over magazines and books to learn what colors and techniques would look best. I practiced on all my friends. No one ever refused.

Eye shadow was a particular passion. I was always jealous of my brown-eyed friends. All of my favorite colors look the best on brown eyes. I loved to make up my friend Melanie, with her chocolate brown eyes and large lids, a perfecr canvas. My own eyes are blue, with small lids, that are somewhat hooded, (and getting more hooded by the day).

My knowledge of make-up has served me well over the years. I spent many weekend nights playing official make-up artist for my friends. Several friends asked me to make them up for pageants and proms and later their weddings. It was also handy in covering cuts and bruises. But that is a story for another day.

Product and techniques have changed quite a bit since I started using make up. I'm really excited to find a place where I can learn more about them. There are enough video tutorials to keep me busy for weeks.

Won't you other Make Up Geeks join me?
~EnJOY!

An Open Letter to DIRECT TV

2010-05-29T15:14:00.002-05:00

Dear DIRECT TV,

Thank you for FINALLY sending a tech to repair the satellite dish that has been down for a week. The surprise situation and subsequent telephone calls to your customer service department made my wedding anniversary quite memorable. Thank you for setting an appointment for us to have your product repaired "between 8:00 a.m. until 12:00 p.m." a full week in advance. Despite paying for your product's premium package, we were more than happy to add the "new" service plan as well. How silly of us to think it would be covered by the "premium" package.

My family enjoys your product tremendously and was quite disappointed that we had to wait for an entire week for a visit from your technician. Just one more day without network television, I am quite certain few in this household would have survived. On the plus side, it has been determined that the VCR does indeed still work, and that the stand that I took several months ago, rescuing the VHS tapes from the charity box, was well worth the effort. It has also brought the family closer, as everyone came together about Thursday, to create a "movies we must buy on DVD" list.

Despite having an appointment today for "8:00 a.m. until 12:00p.m." your technicians arrived at ten minutes to 1:00 p.m. During their ten minute visit, the smoke from one's cigarette infiltrated my home, and further irritated my slowly healing upper respiratory infection. Not to worry, he did put it out ...on my porch, where it remains as I write.

I was impressed by how prepared they were to service the dish unit, on record as being on our roof, when they came to inquire if we had a ladder. We did not, but thankfully, one miraculously appeared from the back of their truck.

They worked quickly, and soon, all our recievers were working. We were able to see what the problem was, unfortunately not until long after they were gone. They were kind enough to leave the damaged parts and coaxial peices ...in the middle of our front yard.

We thank you for recognizing that we were extremely upest by this series of events. It was very kind of you to deduct the week that we were without your product, as well as the $50 service charge for the tardiness of the technicians.

We thank you for your time and patience.
Signed
Your Silly Customers

Keep On the Sunny Side

2010-05-27T10:49:00.002-05:00

These are our cats, Zipper and J.B., as they enjoy the sun in our living room floor. Every morning, as this little triangular shaped sunny spot makes its way across the floor, the cats lounge and enjoy it's warmth.

It first appears, next to the hearth, about 7:45 a.m. and the cats begin their lounging ritual.
Over the next three hours, it makes it's way across the room, toward the front door, shrinking in the process. As it moves, the cats make the subtle adjustments necessary, to stay within the spot. Despite it's size, they always manage to share it. And as the spot finally disappears, the cats have managed to stay within it's warmth and light.

It wasn't until today, as I am here recouperating from an upper respiratory infection, that I realized what a poignant metaphor this is for life.

We should seek out the "sunny spots" in life. We should bask in the warm glow of positive energy and share that positive glow with those around us. We should cling to the warmth and light, from beginning to end.

It's not always easy, it's not always convenient, but we should do what it takes to keep on the sunny side.

~EnJOY

95 Year Old Alabama Woman Finally Receives Diploma

2010-05-25T13:26:00.001-05:00

This was too awesome not to share!

http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/37333282/ns/today-today_people?Gt1=43001

EnJoy!

Happy Anniversary! 11 Years and Counting!

2010-05-23T10:43:00.008-05:00

Yesterday was my 11th wedding anniversary. At times I think, "Wow...it's been 11 years already!" and at others it's more like "Wow...it's only been 11 years."

My anniversary went far better than Mother's Day, where the intended gift was the same, dinner and a movie.

On Mother's Day, the giver had a problem with my choice of movie. I had wanted to see Jennifer Lopez's "The Back Up Plan." What better way to spend Mother's Day than by seeing a movie about a woman, wanting to be a mother? The gift giver (i.e. the man with the money) wanted to see the new "Nightmare on Elm Street." and was doing his best to steer me in that direction. Every theater he checked, the movie list suspiciously began with "Nightmare." When I would pick my movie of choice, he'd suggest another theater! I finally had to tell him that I was in no way interested in seeing "Nightmare" and since it was MY DAY, I should get to choose a movie that I WANTED TO SEE! Fortunately for him, I awoke with a blinding headache that took most of the day to shake, so my Mother's Day gift wound up being a day to myself, while he and the children went off to the movies to see whatever the hell they wanted to see.

But I digress...

The movie plans for our anniversary were much more agreeable: "Robin Hood" staring Russell Crowe, and Cate Blanchette, preceded by dinner at Buffalo Wild Wings next to the theater. I like Buffalo Wild Wings because the food is simple: chicken wings smothered in one of a hundred spicy sauces. I know what I want when I go ( naked tenders in Carribean Jerk sauce or popcorn shrimp with Asian Zing) and it's usally quick and painless (i.e. affordable).

The day was beautiful and sunny, though I only went out for coffee. It was blazing hot (finally)as Spring in Alabama tends to be. Though I'm not certain why, there were no games at the Miracle League park, so I had the day to read, surf the internet, and do laundry. Yes, I did laundry on my anniversary. I have 2 teenagers who like to change clothes four times a day; laundry is a constant. I do laundry 364 days of the year. The only day I do not do laundry is New Year's Day, thanks to some quirky superstition my mother has, as handed down by her mother. (Like greens and black-eyed peas, I don't question it, I just follow it.)

A thunderstorm and short power-outage on Thursday, left our DIRECT TV dvr box in the living room doing some squirelly things. Certain channels would pixelate (where you see a bunch of little boxes instead of the clear picture) or cut out all together. The other recievers in the house, though older models, seemed just fine. The cutting in and out became too much for my darling hubby,who called DIRECT TV to report the problem. After several minutes of annoying, automated triage, we were pleasantly surprised to find that the person who answered spoke intelligible English, which is not normally the case anymore. He tried a few things on his end. He asked us to try a few things on our end.

Then the phone died.

I've tried to convince the children the phones don't charge themselves, nor can they crawl back to base when they are feeling low. The next time one of them complains they are hungry, I'm going to respond, "Now you know how the phone feels."

After redailing DIRECT TV from one of our cell phones and going thru automated triage, yet again, we were connected with another English speaking gentleman, who proceeded to go through the same trouble shooting as the fella before him. After several minutes without success, he concluded that we needed a service technician to come out, for either $49.95 one time service fee or an additional $5.95 a month. (I'm sorry, is that not covered by the $70 a month we pay now?!). The next available service appointment is Thursday from 8:00 until 12:00 or Saturday from 8:00 until 12:00. What?! Because we really don't want to blow a vacation day waiting on the DIRECT TV guy, we opted for Saturday.

At this point he is angry. He throws things and slams things and lets more than a few choice words color his diatribe about how much he despises DIRECT TV, but it is the best available in our area so we are essentially stuck. I am trying to remain calm and attempt to calm him down as well. As a CSR, I have been on the receiving end of many an angry phone call regarding things I have very little control over. When you do all you can do, well, that's all you can do. Yelling and throwing things may make you feel better, but they get nothing accomplished.

Just then, our son comes to tell us that his reciever, that had been working just fine up to this point, was now out. I rushed back to our bedroom , where our reciever was out as well. Okay, so now, we have no tv, anywhere.

Livid, my husband called DIRECT TV again. His blood was boiling as he went through automatic triage hell a third, agonizing time. Really, there should be a straight, "speak to a live someone" option to avoid going through all those inane questions!

When the customer service rep told him that there was nothing more he could do, but sensing that my darling hubby was "upset" (ya think?) he offered to deduct this week from our bill. (Ah, how sweet is that?) As the reality set in that I will be missing the season finales of not one but two, favorite reality shows, The Celebrity Apprentice and The Biggest Loser, now I am "upset" as well.

Trying hard not to let this little set-back spoil our anniversary, we make preparations to leave for our night out. Kit-Kat was off to spend time with her little boyfriend (he has the coolest mom!)and Tigger was going to spend time with Mac.

Though we left a little late, we still made it to Buffalo Wild Wings with plenty of time to eat before the movie. The food was great!

Getting the movie theater with plenty of time to spare, we were able to take our time, find a nice comfortable viewing area, and settle in for the movie. Everything is going great...when the smelly people arrived.

A couple came in and sat directly in front of us. It was very hard to tell what it actually was, but it was probably the worst cologne I've ever smelled! It smelled like a combination of lavender and gym socks. I can't take heavy perfumes and after fighting an allergy/sinus situation for close to a month, I had to move.

We moved back a row, only to have another malordorous couple come in and sit in the seats we'd just vacated! This one was the unmistakable fragrance of jasmine, orchids and sewer pipe. Why is it that the most potent colognes smell so bad? And what's more, what kind of brain damage do people have that they don't smell too?!

I am nearly choking at this point, with no where else to retreat. We are able to move a few seats over, but that did little to gain me any fresh air. Needless to say, I spent the next three hours coughing and wheezing.

The movie was okay. I could have waited for it to come out on dvd. It was kinda like "Gladiator" meets "Elizabeth"

We were home by 10:00pm. Because we couldn't watch tv, we started watching dvd's.

First up, my husband's favorite..."Gladiator."

Well, it was his anniversary too.

~EnJoy!

Friday, April 30. 2010

I almost forgot to mention a big milestone in the life of someone very special to me.

Happy 21st Birthday Julz!

"Hoppy" Easter!

2010-04-04T11:45:00.003-05:00

I had to rethink my Easter outfit this year, due to my broke toe.

I always wear an Easter hat, a tradition my grandmother Clara instilled in me, many years ago. Because I can't wear heels, I couldn't wear the outfilt I had first planned, my white Calvin Klein suit with a great white hat my mother had given me. The heels that I usually wear with it were much too high to wear just one and the blue, surgical bootie was very conspicuous.

Luckily, I had something that looked great, could be worn with flats and had a hat to match.

This broken toe thing also brings a whole new meaning to the term "Hoppy" Easter!

Does Anyone Remember What Easter's About

2010-04-03T16:22:00.003-05:00

It is Easter-eve and I'm sitting, wondering if people remember what Easter is about.

It started last week, when I searched my local multi-department super store for the chocolate crosses I traditionally buy my children.

I have always supported the Easter Bunny, but with a spiritual twist. I have always tried to make sure that my children got some of the same basket fare their friends did, but wanted to make sure they remembered the true meaning of the holiday. Their Easter baskets were always filled with candy and little goodies but a large chocolate cross was always the centerpiece.

This year, my local multi-department super store had a large aisle filled with many tasty morsels, chocolate of every description...except the chocolate crosses. They had a rather bizarre assortment of chocolate non-Easter animals, including an owl, a squirrel and, of all things, a hedgehog. I turned to my best-friend and frequent shopping companion, Cyn, and said "What's up with this? The Easter Squirrel?"

After checking five more stores, there was not a chocolate cross to be found. As a matter of fact, in some places there was little or nothing that reflected the true meaning of the season. Bunnies, lambs, ducks and even a frog or two. As I reluctantly purchased chocolate bunnies at the last store, the clerk also commented on the fact that she hadn't seen anything either.

"It's really sad how commercial everything is becoming."

I guess this is part of The Change.

I am lucky. My children are old enough to remember why we celebrate Easter, without their usual chocolate reminder. They have their own personal relationships with our Savior. They have the benefit of two Christian parents, who will take them to church on Resurection Sunday to celebrate the true Easter gift...the gift of Eternal Life.

Happy 15th Birthday Kit-Kat!

2010-03-29T12:51:00.007-05:00

Where does the time go? My "baby" is 15 today!

(Kit-Kat being inducted into the National Beta Club March 12th)

Hope you have a great day sweetheart!
Thank you for letting me be your mom.

An Example To Follow

2010-01-27T13:01:00.002-06:00

When I get "called home," this is the way I want to go out!

Harriet Richardson Ames, completed the last item on her "bucket list" the day before she died. She recieved her college diploma.

Makes me take a new look at my own bucket list.

Guess I better get started..

~EnJoy

Be Prepared isn't just for the Boy Scouts any more.

2009-12-30T18:07:00.008-06:00

An item on my home page caught my eye today.

"Rise of the Preppers" was a Newsweek article on the rise of modern-day survivalists in our country. Which lead me to the website

http://thesurvivalmom.com/

I really don't see anything wrong with being prepared for things. Preparation reduces panic in an emergency situation. But the article made these prepared folks seem like an oddity.

Now I'm an Alabama girl, born and raised. Something you need to know about Alabama girls: We hunt, fish, garden, and then "can" what we grow.

I am not really patient enough for hunting and fishing, but could if I reallt needed to. I don't do well with the thought of taking a life of any kind (unless it's a snake)but I know that the Lord put animals on this earth for man's use, and that includes food. Fish are easier to think about because they seem a little disconnected. But either way, the cleaning and preparing of animals for consumption is gross.I'm sort of squeemish, so I leave those activities to my men-folk, who seem to enjoy it quite a bit. Gardening is easy enough. You put seeds in the ground and the Lord does the rest.

"Canning" is when you take the things you've grown in your garden and preserve them for later. I've watched my grandmother can pickles,tomatoes and fruit my whole life. It was an all day event when I was a kid and she made what should have been tedious work look like fun. I only know how to pickle, but I can read instructions, and since the basics are the same, I'm certain I could figure out how to do the rest.

The words to Hank Williams Jr.'s "Country Boys Can Survive" are now running through my head.

After looking over Survival Mom's website, I came across a nifty little device that seems both practical and economical: the Sun Oven.

https://www.sunoven.com/index.php

Granted, one would have to be home all day long and be able to fend away the neighborhood critters, but this seems like a pretty neat little contraption. Sort of a primative slow cooker. My father-in-law likes things like this. I thought I'd introduce it to him and see what he thinks. Of course, he's also the type that would try to figure out how to build one himself and save the $300.

I consider myself a "prepper" of sorts. I hang on to everything. Having grandparents raised during the Great Depression who had a great influence on my life, I learned that anything "with use left in it" was not to be discarded. When disaster strikes, I will be the crazy old lady with the garage full of useful old stuff to make radios and spaceships out of.

Technology is great, but we also need to remember how to do things the old fashioned way. Nearly daily someone makes the "what did we do before we had..." comment. Computers, cell phones, DVR, X-Box, microwaves,calculators and such are all nice, useful tools, but are they really necessary? I am certain I would probably perish should air conditioning disapear, but I do think that there are times when a little old fashioned know-how would be beneficial. People don't know how to count change back to you any more for goodness sakes. They just hand you what the computer says, in a wad with a smirk. That's a real pet peeve of mine...my kids may end up in fast food, but by jingo they will know how to count change!

Having it too easy also leads to a lack of common sense. Remember all the panic over Y2K? News reports of people stock-piling canned goods for months in case the power should forget how to work. I remember vividly standing on New Year's Eve of 1999, in line at Walmart, with all the other local folks buying bottled water, canned beans, milk, and bread, with just my manual, turn-key can opener. The light-bulbs going off over everyone's heads could have lit the store.

One of my friends once said when the end of the world comes, they wanted to be in Alabama, because everything happens there 20 years late.

We may be behind, but we won't be caught off guard.
"Country Folks Can Survive"

Happy Birthday Sweet 16....

2009-12-28T17:09:00.002-06:00

Happy Sixteenth Birthday Ty!

I love you, "Tigger" Thanks for letting me be your mom.