Blogs about trips are so hard for me to write because so much happens that I don’t know where to begin. I don’t want to overwhelm you with every little detail of our five day trip, but I don’t want to forget the good stuff, so I am trying something different. I’m going to make this a series of short stories so I don’t forget anything while simultaneously not boring the heck out of my readers. Let me set the scene: Continue reading
I visited my Grandbetty’s old house last week and it brought back a flood of memories (no pun intended). I wrote a blog about my Grandbetty after Alzheimer’s, but most of my memories are of her before. When she knew my name. When she wanted to take a thousand pictures of me by her azalea bushes. When she wanted to feed me, even when I wasn’t hungry. I was with her when she died. I sat with her several times a week for the two years she didn’t know me anymore. She was still the same person, just confused. Sometimes, she would get angry. Not often, but sometimes. If she got angry with me, I would leave the room and collect myself. I wasn’t mad at her, but I was hurt. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know what she was saying. Words hurt. I had to cry a little and then I had to come back-because this was the only time in her entire life when she REALLY needed me. Continue reading
You know the type. They’re pretty, they’re popular, and you just KNOW they’re shallow. They have no depth. They think they’re the greatest little tanned bodies south of the Mason Dixon line. They could wear the exact same outfit as you and be the winner of “Who Wore It Best?” every time. You know what else they are? Totally unapproachable. When they walk up to the group you’re talking with you think, “What do I have to say to her?” and “How can she take this perfectly great conversation and turn it in to something I have no input on whatsoever?” We all have those girls that we don’t want to talk to. The girls you don’t even want to see. Those snotty, two-faced, fancy pants-wearing, jerks. Ugh. Continue reading
And by bitches, I mean incredibly aggressive Pitbulls and their drunkenly idiotic owners who allow their dog to drag them all over the beach and attempt to eat small, innocent terrier puppies-but we’ll get to that later. Last weekend, I went to the beach with four of my closest friends. This is our second annual chill trip. There are certain requirements to attend this special event. You must be incredibly passionate about three things: Eating, laughing, and doing absolutely nothing. Oh my gosh, ya’ll. I am SO good at doing nothing. Continue reading
Okay, okay. I know this is a typical cheesy Valentine’s title, but y’all. I am FEELING the love this weekend. Let me start with romantic love (since everyone assumes that’s what this is all about), and then move on to the real message behind this babble. Continue reading
Every once in a while, I’ll have a random flashback to my childhood and go, “What the hell were we THINKING?!” Especially now, when watching Jack play I like to reminisce of what pretend-time was for me. I even remember my best friend Sarah and I discussing as children when we didn’t have fun pretending anymore. It was almost as depressing as finding out “you know who” is really your parents. We just couldn’t do it. It wasn’t the same. I wonder if other kids reached an age where they recognized that their imaginations couldn’t entertain them as well as they used to. Looking back, some of the things we did for fun was either physically dangerous or psychologically messed up. It makes me wonder if our parents ever had any idea what the hell we were up to. Here’s what I mean: Continue reading
We are visiting my home town this week. Jack and I have accidentally turned a one night trip into three. Rick is working on his sweeps package and is recovering from his recent dance off for a great fundraiser for the Alzheimer’s Association. I got to spend one evening with two of my very best friends. We went to the only Mexican restaurant in our tiny town to celebrate Cinco de Mayo. Maggie, Kristen, and I at one point all lived in the same place and spent hours at a time doing nothing together on a regular basis. We were always good at nothing. That’s how you know you’ve reached the ultimate comfort level. When friends turn to family. When girl dates turn to watching The OC reruns until some minor responsibility needs to be carried out. Last night, we had planned on having some drinks and painting our nails. Things were supposed to get loud. Dancing and song bursts were supposed to occur.