tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62940177779497879572024-03-12T22:59:45.227-04:00Southern DialogueSouthern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-56529220165026103272011-05-14T22:19:00.000-04:002011-05-14T22:19:46.063-04:00Bike + Breean = Bad Ass (well kinda...)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No...this isn't me...</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVQ9ei5TpBqiszr35HugiarDX7RTN00HTWkDQXrdWjAe9tAXw5rJvnw8coA0ysUGAUxRFMIccYG_761wwF1yDuniLU_rUP57yNUpQOFcgF7euJdSGsB6DZf6YXeMrCfayCoFO5gtbkKIZ/s400/Knight%252BDay%252BShooting%252BSeville%252B_nHoNLt98Val.jpg" width="400" /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> and neither is this...</span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img alt="425.knight.day.diaz.cruise.lc.042010.jpg" height="296" src="webkit-fake-url://407A56C1-9006-487D-93E4-B6A2E5295C9A/425.knight.day.diaz.cruise.lc.042010.jpg" width="400" /></span></div><br />
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal Helvetica; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; margin-top: 0px;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">...but it should be! </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've always wondered what it would be like to ride a motorcycle and now I know...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After riding the first couple of times with Brian, I immediately felt like I should be robbing a bank, shooting at mobsters, being chased by cops or scheduling an appointment to get a tramp stamp tattoo. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Brian quickly told me there would be no tramp stamps on his bike)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I don't know if it's the speed or the bike attire, but there's something about it that makes me feel like I could have easily been casted as Cameron Diaz in "Knight and Day." Easily...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The only thing I can't figure out is how to take my helmet off and have that "movie star flowing hair." </span><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img alt="jkn0174l.jpg" height="400" src="webkit-fake-url://F7A21A4B-1D32-47A9-9A5A-926515715F16/jkn0174l.jpg" width="333" /></span></div><br />
<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">You know, the kind that is blowing in the wind and looks exactly like it did before you smooshed it into a helmet, sweated and then let the wind have it's way for a good half hour. Yeah, that kind. </span></span></div></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Something else I have learned is not to point at things that I would normally point out in the car. For example...we were on our way to my dad's and I noticed that this new sushi place was opening up. I got excited..and (naturally) pointed it out to Brian. Little did I know, that he thought I was pointing for him to turn. My bad! Now I just keep my hands down and remember to</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> tell him</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> about the sushi bar opening!!</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So now that you know that riding on a bike makes me feel like...well, kind of a bad ass...here I am!</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This IS me (on the back)...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i>just clarifying since Christin said you couldn't even tell I was a girl...</i></span></span></div><img src="webkit-fake-url://B9857C4E-5934-47C6-A935-B9EF8AFEE5AD/image.tiff" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>....and yes...I am smiling under the helmet (like a total dork)!</i> </div><br />
<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-46925607381109386082011-04-29T19:40:00.000-04:002011-04-29T19:40:10.147-04:00It's not THAT hard...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs9/i/2006/062/a/6/Hello_My_Name_Is_Sticker_by_trexweb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="201" src="http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs9/i/2006/062/a/6/Hello_My_Name_Is_Sticker_by_trexweb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>It goes without saying that my name is <i>brutally</i> mispronounced on a daily basis. I mean, I've been called everything from Fran, Brian, Bren and Bran (yes, like the Flake). Someone actually said (after I corrected them) "Oh, good...I was wondering what kind of parents would name their kid Bran..." Really?? It especially used to surprise me when my teachers/professors could pronounce names like Tahaiesa or Mikhail...but I get it. It's just different...and I'm totally ok with it! I just thought I would take this opportunity to share the meaning(s) behind my names and why they are what they are. Here ya go...no more excuses!!<br />
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Breean <i>(Celitc. Meaning: Strong One)</i>: The correct pronunciation (that my parents and family use) is Bree-un. Because I wasn't born in the South and my mom is not Southern, there is no accent on my name. It wasn't until we moved to South Carolina that my name turned to Bree-Anne. If you have met my family you will notice that they all call me Bree-un. I will answer to both but not to Breeana or Breen...just an FYI. My name is actually misspelled, too. The "correct" spelling is Brianne but my parents forgot how to spell it when I was born and just made something up. Don't hold it against them...a woman in labor for 24 hours can spell their child's name however they want!! According to some English professors of mine, it's grammatically incorrect, too. The "English language" says that you aren't allowed to have three vowels together. Stupid...who really cares...I was named after the actress Brianne Leary. Apparently she had some rolls in "Chips" and a few other TV shows, but I don't know anything else about her. I have met a few other people with the same name as me (spelled differently of course) but, nonetheless, we are all <i>super</i> <u>cool</u> people. I have also noticed that there are very few people who spell my name correctly. They can pronounce it right, but spelling is a whole other ball game. I've seen Breeann, BreAnne, Brean...not that it matters, the "you spelled that wrong" line comes up under all of them on the computer! Despite the fact that I can never find my name on souvenirs or trinkets such as key chains, coffee mugs or note pads...I really like having a different name. It's turned out to be a great conversation-starter!<br />
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Caroline <i>(Latin. Meaning: Beautiful Woman)</i>: My middle name. Probably one of the most common names in North AND South Carolina but I love the meaning behind <i>my</i> middle name. My dad is originally from SC while my mom is from "The Great" Pacific Northwest. They had all three of us in California where we were raised for a few years. When I was born, my dad never thought he would live in South Carolina again and gave me the name "Caroline" so that he always had a piece of home close to him. Atleast, that's the story I've been told. I don't care if it's not true...I love it! I wasn't named Caroline because I was born here or because it's the most common "southern belle" name in the South, but because my dad wanted me to have more than just his last name...he wanted me to continue his southern tradition.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://rlv.zcache.com/tate_classic_style_name_tshirt-p235544955649365548uh2l_152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://rlv.zcache.com/tate_classic_style_name_tshirt-p235544955649365548uh2l_152.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Tate <i>(English. Meaning: He Who Brings Happiness)</i>: First of all, let me clarify...I am not related to Sharon Tate. I get asked that on the regular. Like I was affected by the Marilyn Manson spree or something...not so much. Anyways, I have to spell out "Tate" probably as much as I have to spell out and correct "Breean." I have had numerous people spell it "Tait"or "Tayte." The worst...? Yes, I have had people pronounce it "Taint." A girl at the tanning bed wrote "Taint" down on the sign in sheet...I looked at her and said "...Really...?? Come on!!" Another interesting rendition to my last name is when I worked at the hotel. The Spanish-speaking housekeepers kept pronouncing it Ta-Te'... somehow I can understand that alot more than "Taint." Geeeezzzz.....!! Come on people!!<br />
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So now, I would like to thank all who have tried (and few who have succeeded) at pronouncing and spelling my name(s) correctly. I greatly appreciate it!<br />
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Keep it going!! What does your name mean? Funny stories? Come on...SHARE!<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-48692911427495870652011-01-29T10:10:00.000-05:002011-01-29T10:10:42.977-05:0010 Things I am Currently Sick Of...I don't get annoyed quite as easy as some do, but there are certainly plenty of things that I am sick of. I am not perfect (by any means) so I am not preaching here...simply my opinions.<br />
Here are my top 10 (in no particular order)...<br />
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#1. How society has created this idea that "if it makes you feel good do it..." There are no boundaries or standards set anymore...especially for kids. Whether it is respect for elders, "experimenting" with your sexuality, popping pills like it's a Pez dispenser or settling for second best. There's always an excuse for something or a prescription to hand out because someone is a little unhappy with the way things are. It's LIFE! It's not supposed to be fun all the time. No one promised you rainbows.<br />
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#2. Obama...no explanation necessary.<br />
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#3. Foursquare on Facebook. I don't care where you are ALL the time. But if were a stalker, I would absolutely love to follow your every move. From your parent's house...to McDonald's....to work...to home...Is it all really necessary?<br />
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#4. Listening to people continue to use the excuse of the economy as to the reason they have been "feeding" off unemployment for 3, 4, 5 years. Really?!? Get off your lazy butt and get a freaking job at Burger King. I was unemployed for six months and, if you apply yourself, you can find a job.<br />
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#5. Beiber hair. I understand it's "trendy" but just cut your hair and stop flipping it to one side. Just because all the girls are screaming hysterically over Justin Beiber...doesn't mean they are going to scream over you because you have the same hair style.<br />
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#6. Hearing how horrible bullying is. Now, I don't think bullying is right, but I think that's part of growing up. I was bullied...everyone probably has been. And you learn to "be the bigger person." Yes, there were days in middle and high school I would go home and cry, but you either learn how the be the best at revenge or you just move on. I know there wasn't social media or smart phones when I was growing up, but there was still plenty of mean things to do to people. It helps you grow up, become a stronger person, and get ready for LIFE.<br />
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#7. Everyone trying to figure out the "best" way to loose weight. Why don't you just work out and eat better?? Seriously...you don't need this huge crash diet, these pills, those shakes...I understand everyone is different and some things don't work for everyone, but now that shows like"The Biggest Loser" have shown us that being committed to diet and exercise work...why not try it!?!<br />
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#8. Whiners. I can't handle the people that whine about everything. I mean, people who complain about it being too cloudy one day and too bright the next....Things are as bad as YOU make them...I bet if you looked at life as "the glass is half full" you will be alot happier.<br />
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#9. Cold weather!! I am so ready for Spring and Summer! Bring on the Bar-B-Q's, pool side weekends and sun dresses!<br />
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#10. Bad movies. It's been hard to find a good movie recently. They all seem to (a) either have the same story line or (b) are so cheesy I can't stand it! Hopefully, those Hollywood people stop being so predictable and...weird!!<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="background: transparent; border: none;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-41336026623625365072010-11-24T11:11:00.001-05:002010-11-24T14:11:05.009-05:00Catfish, Cranes & Crosswords<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">This weekend Adam invited me to go night fishing with him at a lake that supposedly is full of catfish.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now, to the normal person a catfish might be a foot...foot-and-a-half long, right? Well, I did. Atleaset until I walked up to the building in front of the lake and saw pictures of a 6-foot catfish! Apparently these horrible looking things are like gold fish and grow as big as their surroundings allow. Learn something new every day...huh?!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Another thing I learned Saturday is that I adapt quite well to new surroundings. Like the outside, for example.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw_ZlU1eWmFmJDjVDVQ69foT2nt9hIhcU7qoB-PhdrD_1jxkUC2a83VythFKG819wa1tc9lXrGCbp9AO-IYSerkeEvJ7a9zgXba3b1Oc8l6u6ZlYb3y03rm7x3MlXKwxcyRiknAHleGdc8/s1600/song-chart-memes-done-fishing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw_ZlU1eWmFmJDjVDVQ69foT2nt9hIhcU7qoB-PhdrD_1jxkUC2a83VythFKG819wa1tc9lXrGCbp9AO-IYSerkeEvJ7a9zgXba3b1Oc8l6u6ZlYb3y03rm7x3MlXKwxcyRiknAHleGdc8/s320/song-chart-memes-done-fishing.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">If you don't know already I prefer make-up, heels and my heat set at 70 degrees. My sister claims all the outdoor, sporty and athletic genes that were allotted for the Tate children...but I'm okay with that. I can make it work when necessary. So, back to my impeccable outdoor adaptation skills. We got to the lake around 5:30 that evening and set-up "camp" as I would like to refer to it (only because I don't know all the technical terms for Adam's fishing tools). It was chilly, but it was so nice to get away from everything for a brief time and enjoy eachother's company. We cast out our three rods and waited. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"> And waited.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"> And waited.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">I had only been fishing once in my life (years ago) prior to Saturday, so the time that you have to set aside for just waiting was astounding. I was sure that the chicken livers and shrimp would scream "here fish-y, fish-y" the instant it settled. Wrong. Don't get me wrong, I had no where to be, no one waiting on me and I was excited to spend time with Adam while learning new things. I was just concerned that maybe catfish migrate or know the "fish hook drill." I was told neither hypothesis was correct. Although we went to the lake to catch catfish, we ended up being entertained by a few other things.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">One of the first things we noticed when we set up "camp" was that this place </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowTnvDGTdWdxMzKTqwm90r0Afo2mNopDgDVEaUxvbLzGKIwjVD27OgoZTXk0s0VciJ0ldimRV8H0uOB4tHGTIHqx-UglyjiEWr_qThb6RnN-n8MTDrtwWvnkBbsutj3nLqBEB_b1sxwD4/s1600/funny-cat-picture-fishing-cats2222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowTnvDGTdWdxMzKTqwm90r0Afo2mNopDgDVEaUxvbLzGKIwjVD27OgoZTXk0s0VciJ0ldimRV8H0uOB4tHGTIHqx-UglyjiEWr_qThb6RnN-n8MTDrtwWvnkBbsutj3nLqBEB_b1sxwD4/s200/funny-cat-picture-fishing-cats2222.jpg" width="163" /></a>was apparently a Mecca for all stray cats. I love cats. I have two. But when there are about seven cats and two kittens watching you for hours, it becomes a bit uneasy. One black cat would perch next to me and just stare. I felt like it was reading my mind! The white cat would sit in front of Adam and do the same...weird. Although the cats starring at us and eating the majority of our bait when we walked to the other side of the lake is entertaining, that is not the main cat story. Like I said, there were two kittens. One was lively and easily entertained. But it was the second one that broke my heart. It was laying under the porch all night crying like a baby. I've heard cats make just about every noise, but this noise was painstakingly sad. Every time it would try to get up, it would shiver and fall back down. The palm-sized kitten was extremely sick. It cried for hours without any of the other cats coming to it's aid. We walked by it towards the end of the night and I put the rest of the chicken livers next to it's mouth and gave her a nudge. She just started crying and could not get up. Her body was nothing but fur and </span><span style="font-size: small;"> bones. I am sure that she died that night. The most interesting thing about that heartbreaking scene was that despite the </span><span style="font-size: small;"> kittens cries for help, not one of the cats would go near it. Their instincts kept them at a distance as if they didn't want to get "sick" either...so sad to watch but ironically very interesting. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6UqcabFIFHZ5KZ3MPJPNzI-Nx1Qv3AUho3m647zFbaKPgxJCU-LKE6b40vzVxbjPNWblEpa-IPav6bq70w97W3FJ_OhwnL9fZ1MI7lAMkE-hF4XMZ3N0qR4piSEPf_hvKfY1YkW0yl6A/s1600/bird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6UqcabFIFHZ5KZ3MPJPNzI-Nx1Qv3AUho3m647zFbaKPgxJCU-LKE6b40vzVxbjPNWblEpa-IPav6bq70w97W3FJ_OhwnL9fZ1MI7lAMkE-hF4XMZ3N0qR4piSEPf_hvKfY1YkW0yl6A/s200/bird.jpg" width="150" /></a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">We were still waiting for a fish. Just one!! One that I was almost dreading to see. I honestly did not want to pull a 6-foot anything out of the water. We knew they were interested only because every time we reeled in, our bait was gone... but nothing. It did become quite funny when the crane came out of the woods,though. Because I am not very good at estimating things(time, weight, length, distance...numbers) I am going to say that the crane was also 6-feet-ish. Mostly legs </span><span style="font-size: small;"> (think Heidi Klum) but still a huge bird. It would walk slowly out into the water and just stand there. For what seemed like hours. Then all of a sudden it would snap it's beak into the water and come up with a fish! What?!? Wait...we had been </span><span style="font-size: small;"> sitting outside for hours with bobbers, bells, chicken livers, shrimp and expensive fishing rods and this bird comes out of the woods...empty handed...and grabs two fish without breaking a sweat?! I was perplexed to say the least. I understand that it's nature and all, but I still think that bird was just showing off. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;">Thankfully, I could avert my attention from the non-existent catfish, the crying kitten and the cocky crane to my crossword puzzle. Come to find out, Adam and I are a good crossword puzzle team. He is better at them than I am so I focused on the easy puzzles. </span><span style="font-size: small;"> Six of them to be exact. Only interrupting the silence to ask what a butter imitation is or what the word for a Russian czar is. I munched on chex mix, beef jerky and my faithful Mt. Dew throughout the night until the chill started to settle in. We casted out a dozen times over the hours and walked around the lake a few times to get our blood pumping. Around 11:00 Adam's step dad stopped by to check on us and helped Adam get some fire wood. I was totally impressed when Adam walked out of the woods with a tree. Yes, you read that correctly. He knocked over this old rotted tree that was also around 6 feet-ish and carried it over to our "camp."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikdR_Zo6L2u3PkNQpAofqlGSRLR13z1yGubbaBlFnEDObPRaRS6EbFxzJ5vnzqUuatkrBrjFw2I-tj8vMEoiafYVbHzFe83aMuHy7Qn8RFCqutWAbKHTWZO5laG6KH3ihw3TQ1fXgUHKhf/s1600/panic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikdR_Zo6L2u3PkNQpAofqlGSRLR13z1yGubbaBlFnEDObPRaRS6EbFxzJ5vnzqUuatkrBrjFw2I-tj8vMEoiafYVbHzFe83aMuHy7Qn8RFCqutWAbKHTWZO5laG6KH3ihw3TQ1fXgUHKhf/s200/panic.jpg" width="200" /></a>The only time I panicked was when Adam was in the woods getting firewood and I heard the "alert" bell-thingy on my rod. </span><span style="font-size: small;"> Adam had attached it to my rod because my bobber didn't have a light on it and I would know when something was "hooked." </span><span style="font-size: small;"> Neat little contraption, I must say. It was loud enough to interrupt my deep thoughts about what a North American deer is </span><span style="font-size: small;"> called while I was working on my 5th crossword puzzle of the night. So,I stood up, focused on my bobber...than my bell...then my bobber again. It rang again! Oh my gosh! Adam and his step dad were well into the woods and I was nervous to yell because I was sure all the fish would scream "swim away" like they do in Finding Nemo. Before I could make a decision, </span><span style="font-size: small;"> one of Adam's bobbers started moving back and forth, too! Even if I knew what I was supposed to do with a fishing rod and a 6-foot creature on the end of it, there was no way I could have managed two rods and 12-feet of fish! I yelled...twice. Adam came running only to reel in our lines and find all the bait missing. He did show me earlier in the night what I was supposed to do when I caught something, but amidst the adrenaline and the fear of facing a whiskered fish, I felt that yelling for the guy would work just fine. I never said my adaptation skills included fishing, ok?! I was learning...just at a very slow pace. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: small;">Despite the crying cats, cocky cranes and missing catfish, I truly enjoyed my first night fishing trip. Even if you think you're not the outdoor-sy type, you should definitely give it a shot. I learned alot about the techniques behind fishing and that it's not just about throwing some string into water with a worm attached to the end. I learned alot about the way fish "hunt" for their food, that some eat on the bottom of the lake while others prefer eating from the surface. I learned that the two beavers in the lake like to eat catfish and therefore would make it difficult to catch anything. But after everything, I learned why it's called fishing and not catching. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRVYD_eSxkmEMXT5VUiWc1Ufoe2BnChYVzFFOE_AZl-IdWB0ZLgIeC-m-v4Sxx1vSBfMgCKZm17jnVm3adx-KoxRbEhDA4gbG8Ld7P34QIsvbRGg8sQyG8kzCuimrzG6G710xSkhprJfYm/s1600/bumpersticker-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRVYD_eSxkmEMXT5VUiWc1Ufoe2BnChYVzFFOE_AZl-IdWB0ZLgIeC-m-v4Sxx1vSBfMgCKZm17jnVm3adx-KoxRbEhDA4gbG8Ld7P34QIsvbRGg8sQyG8kzCuimrzG6G710xSkhprJfYm/s200/bumpersticker-3.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-11366504162674031242010-03-16T13:38:00.000-04:002010-03-16T13:38:54.847-04:00Ohhh...What to Wear!<i>Could a routine become interesting through words? Write about a person (perhaps you) caught up in a daily routine. Establish a rhythm with the story’s words that impersonates the rhythm of the routine.</i> --<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/%22%20target=%22_blank%22%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://i913.photobucket.com/albums/ac331/mamakatslosinit/poodle4.jpg%22%20alt=%22Mama%27s%20Losin%27%20It%22%20/%3E">Mama Kat</a><br />
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Showered...check.<br />
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Shaved...check.<br />
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Make-up on...check.<br />
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Hair dried...check.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAmtah-XcLcJFotmySGuuH4OBVEyuNUNje_TZKVRBLf5l3E5oGeVlBe0VAFqhVvsQTqeBibj9L_Gm3uaVXIg6O8NODWxX_5mNOEJriAYxaLZOrptvaa2yHJueLBLrZUHGAxMJSDI9Nb8F/s1600-h/dressed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAmtah-XcLcJFotmySGuuH4OBVEyuNUNje_TZKVRBLf5l3E5oGeVlBe0VAFqhVvsQTqeBibj9L_Gm3uaVXIg6O8NODWxX_5mNOEJriAYxaLZOrptvaa2yHJueLBLrZUHGAxMJSDI9Nb8F/s320/dressed.jpg" /></a></div>Now to get dressed. The longest process of my morning (sometimes afternoon...) routine.<br />
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First and foremost, what color is my eyeshadow today? Brown-ish, gray-ish, or pink-ish...?? Ok, more along the lines of brown-ish...well, sort of tan. What's the name of this eyeshadow?? I must dig through my make-up basket and find out!!!<br />
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<b>10 minutes later...</b><br />
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...so no red outfits today. <br />
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Nevermind...we'll start with the pants. Or should I wear a skirt? Leggings? What's the weather going to be like today?? I'll just go downstairs, turn on the TV and check the weather...<br />
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Wait!! <i>What Not to Wear</i> is on right now?!! Super!! I've never seen this one!<br />
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<b>30 minutes later...</b><br />
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So I missed the weather report. Well, it <i>looks </i>like it's going to be nice. I'll choose jeans just in case it gets chilly.<br />
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Pants...check.<br />
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Now, which jeans??<br />
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<b>Dark wash?</b><br />
<b>Light wash?</b><br />
<b> Straight leg?</b><br />
<b> Boot cut?</b><br />
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Ok...since the light wash isn't my favorite and I'm having a "fat day" I won't choose the straight leg. By process of elimination I have chosen my dark wash, boot cut jeans.<br />
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Now...hhmmmm...what color top?? No navy colors because I don't feel like matching my blues together. No black or gray because my eyeshadow is brownish. Lets do........<br />
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uuummmm............white! That's simple. Right??<br />
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Now to try on.<br />
<b>Nope, that ones too see-through. </b><br />
<b> Nuh-uh...that ones too short. </b><br />
<b> Ugh...this one shrunk! </b><br />
<b> No way..that one looks like a hoochie shirt!! </b><br />
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<b>15 minutes later...</b><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaE9ZUMN_F5M4dCLSJ351xBTxZ-OCeLWEoQXsojK6IiP5Mg4V6eJACxAcATGiYpbStsgK8cu3tMXvM3KLjTMTfA3jDYarKbuuJB1fj1-XEd1kRq0gj3N8LKzvDgNrmQGzq9eQr476OC21_/s1600-h/shoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaE9ZUMN_F5M4dCLSJ351xBTxZ-OCeLWEoQXsojK6IiP5Mg4V6eJACxAcATGiYpbStsgK8cu3tMXvM3KLjTMTfA3jDYarKbuuJB1fj1-XEd1kRq0gj3N8LKzvDgNrmQGzq9eQr476OC21_/s320/shoes.jpg" /></a></div>AAAhhhh....this one looks cute...simple white shirt! Now turn around and make sure you look just as cute going as you do coming!! Yep!! I do!! Now the shoes...<br />
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What are my plans today?? I'm not working. I'm not lounging around. I think I'll go and walk around downtown. Yes! My boots!! Perfect!! Tan boots with a slight heel!!<br />
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Jewelry...I like gold. Matte gold. Nothing flashy. Try on several so you don't think about which one you should've worn all day. Ok..I'll wear my gold hoops, long beaded necklace, thick leather watch, gold ring and...that about does it!! <br />
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Turning off the radio and checking myself a couple times in the mirror...change my shoes a couple of times until I end up with the same boots I started with.<br />
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Mirror, Mirror, on the wall... <br />
<b>Sweater? No. </b><br />
<b> Different earrings? No! </b><br />
<b> Bracelet with the watch? Too much!</b><br />
<b> Hair up? Leave it alone! </b><br />
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Just leave already!!!<br />
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In the car turning on the radio...dang it!! I forgot perfume!!!Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-30715782753929182552010-03-15T13:32:00.000-04:002010-03-15T13:32:15.130-04:00Just Keep Swimming...You know when life starts to wear you out? I mean to the point where you just grind your teeth and fight your way through the day. You feel like you walk around like this all the time: <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3pijSLlv4cfb3pPTQdSdXy7jyj1GQB_ARtk3YG6AqZR66-tPgtxu6_0KJJ1-jNvPwrftZLV0X8j51wGPRTyKol7zQzt-0IRR5WGMZjWljvMBo3NjaB05IHPsTPaipi3gw-5fufyDLxSQ/s1600-h/dory2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3pijSLlv4cfb3pPTQdSdXy7jyj1GQB_ARtk3YG6AqZR66-tPgtxu6_0KJJ1-jNvPwrftZLV0X8j51wGPRTyKol7zQzt-0IRR5WGMZjWljvMBo3NjaB05IHPsTPaipi3gw-5fufyDLxSQ/s320/dory2.gif" vt="true" /></a></div><br />
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Well, like you, I have days like that. The sound of the gas light reminding you that you don't have gas money. The "you've got mail" man that reminds you of the bills that are due. The ringing of the phone when the credit Nazis are calling you non-stop to let you know that your student loans are still prominent...and collecting interest. Or...the days from years ago that sit in your memory and slowly eat away at your confidence. The people whose voices constantly remind you that you're not worth their time. The anger that consumes your mind and makes you go through the "what if's" and "I should have's." All the things you can't change but somehow still take over your happiness. Everything just seems to stare at you a little like this: <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJK87Ra19qpAH6F9MqPaHt6LCIBRYa3fpILHVRGlUSLjAQzGYekSX2fAbcayBB2rzzLsB1kXzwnj1yEkvBdZcKYaiJPM-B7sFFvxlXWbOlxy1jLjU8bhpqFFWZwqq2CIAwXJt5NzrtCd5_/s1600-h/bruce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJK87Ra19qpAH6F9MqPaHt6LCIBRYa3fpILHVRGlUSLjAQzGYekSX2fAbcayBB2rzzLsB1kXzwnj1yEkvBdZcKYaiJPM-B7sFFvxlXWbOlxy1jLjU8bhpqFFWZwqq2CIAwXJt5NzrtCd5_/s320/bruce.jpg" vt="true" /></a></div><br />
I know...you can't just shake something that size starring back at you. Sometimes I just have to take a deep breath and remind myself that I am doing the best I can with what I have. I'm not living outside of my means. I'm not miserable. I'm not overwhelmed. And although I am happy, I still wonder how I let all those things hypnotize my life for so long...making me feel like this: <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1C-CvK1ENsHTTBu6G0JcZ-fp73Q0kyrgtCTmAMELGEpIpNQ9-3IsLKimKaMZlaG367jU5VneMqycrRbDL0BT0KLXxOJGuWHotqQi0YpH_JaS5eoXIXnKlQDloHq0w5Eyi566KxYcKaqJU/s1600-h/finding_nemo_dory_marlin_angler_fis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1C-CvK1ENsHTTBu6G0JcZ-fp73Q0kyrgtCTmAMELGEpIpNQ9-3IsLKimKaMZlaG367jU5VneMqycrRbDL0BT0KLXxOJGuWHotqQi0YpH_JaS5eoXIXnKlQDloHq0w5Eyi566KxYcKaqJU/s320/finding_nemo_dory_marlin_angler_fis.jpg" vt="true" /></a></div><br />
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Taking on those issues by myself without looking in the right place now makes me so squirmish. I look back and all I can see myself doing is this: <br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="text-align: center;">So dumb.</div><br />
I am finally at the point in my life where I have surrendered the most important aspects of my life to God. Entrusting my job, my relationships, my finances and my future in Him is so freeing. I have forgiven people in my past that have used me, hurt me and tossed me to the side. I don't feel the bitterness that used to manipulate my nights into sleepless hours followed by restless days. I am at peace. God humbled me with the circumstances that were, at first, viewed as obstacles on my "road to success." I eventually realized that life is going to have numerous disappointments...but only I can choose to be discouraged by them. Instead, I want to be stronger. I want to be better. I want to be proud when I look back at those consequences and can say that I learned from them rather than dwelling on them for years. There's no need to live in the past and fearful of the future like this: </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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Being humbled. Prioritizing my life. Finding my purpose. Surrendering control....probably the most trying time in my life. But...also the sweetest. Things that used to consume my mind and gnaw at my confidence are now the things I push aside. My time isn't worth all the worry. What is it...like, 98% of the things we worry about NEVER happen...geeeeezzeee!!! Even if that statistic is made up I still love it!! I don't want to keep peeking around the corner because I'm worried like this:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">I <strong>love</strong> living without worry this much!!: </div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWYou620RkzAds8gNSGUSefrasv_tV1x16mbzqUO0Tr17KAVnjRAnDAvEwK3iVast9AR2p_ON134074c3HDttWYc_hd-mfm5_MmmVeHcoTHUfYQw_fU6ZTT0b8afs4ZbvLbJxgsPxg0elg/s1600-h/nemo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWYou620RkzAds8gNSGUSefrasv_tV1x16mbzqUO0Tr17KAVnjRAnDAvEwK3iVast9AR2p_ON134074c3HDttWYc_hd-mfm5_MmmVeHcoTHUfYQw_fU6ZTT0b8afs4ZbvLbJxgsPxg0elg/s320/nemo.jpg" vt="true" /></a></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I know that I will make it through the day. No matter how many "dings" or "rings" resound from my electronics I will be patient. As long as I am responsible and do my part in life...I will not be wasting my time with that little guy named "worry." My nights will be well rested followed by enjoyable days. No more "what if's" because it all played out the way it did for a reason. Even if it wasn't in my game plan...I am going to...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"> <em> "...just keep swimming..."</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em> "....just keep swimming..."</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em> "...just keep swimming...swimming...swimming..."</em></div><br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-59319380166551784882010-03-11T18:11:00.000-05:002010-03-11T18:11:02.789-05:00They're Just Ordinary Days...<em>Write a Haiku that describes what you love about an ordinary day</em>. -<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/%22%20target=%22_blank%22%3E%3Cimg%20src=%22http://i913.photobucket.com/albums/ac331/mamakatslosinit/poodle4.jpg%22%20alt=%22Mama's%20Losin'%20It%22%20/%3E">Mama Kat</a> <br />
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I am no poet. But I thought this was a great blog topic. So...here's to not making you read my butchered version of Haiku. Cheers!<br />
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Here's a few things I love about my ordinary days...<br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I love waking up and knowing that I have a full day ahead of myself. I can plan my schedule, shape my day and make it what I want it to be. I can lie in bed for a while and think about the daily goals I have set for myself and what I'm going to do to get there. </div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSYZsL5OOzD-DbPtyuMNcif6xERRc2Bmp5kVMWfSerDGS1urygudh6FPPffpeiCHSsD66I9q2VdaH4jpBdTmvXYl4VKefJYHjZuWdpgWJ80PWvecsPZzM3Xl0pMfUjWWi5Ja3JA59wVrm/s1600-h/coffee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSYZsL5OOzD-DbPtyuMNcif6xERRc2Bmp5kVMWfSerDGS1urygudh6FPPffpeiCHSsD66I9q2VdaH4jpBdTmvXYl4VKefJYHjZuWdpgWJ80PWvecsPZzM3Xl0pMfUjWWi5Ja3JA59wVrm/s200/coffee.jpg" vt="true" width="150" /></a>I love coffee!! Alot of coffee. At any time of the day. For no particular reason and no particular season...I love coffee! </div><br />
I love getting in the shower and deciding which shampoo, conditioner and body wash I will use that day. "Do I want volumous hair, smooth hair, exfoliating wash or a moisturizing boost?!" These are the types of decisions I can make on my own :) <br />
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One thing I have <em>learned to love</em> about the ordinary day is to appreciate a less stressful outlook on life. It seems like the ordinary day used to be so hectic and exhausting. Now, I can literally plan MY day out without having to plan it around someone else. My expectations are enough to please me and I don't have to worry about falling short all the time. Less stress in my ordianary day is wonderful!<br />
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Did I mention I love coffee?? <br />
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I love my ringtones that were specifically chosen for each member of my family and a few of my friends. It makes me giggle every time my dad calls and the Top Gun theme song resounds in my purse :) <br />
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I love the drive home from work. Knowing that I can go home, eat a good meal, take off my make-up and cuddle up in sweatpants is such a nice feeling to end the day with. <br />
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It's the ordinary things that we all take for granted...but they're also the things that make our days so <em>uniquely</em> sweet.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-67143241389820498522010-03-10T17:22:00.001-05:002010-03-10T17:24:04.781-05:00Holiday Puppies!This is going to be pretty repetitive for most of you, but for others...I thought you would enjoy this little story. <br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmSnX78gIe9wg-Qyj6lMO-yxxF4GGV92a46vbA-LALtdXXCtFGpHf6HskKlJoUpt9fH0qCxSdfLtiloAqzBjbT3F-AlFebVguzhL3xDzEusyjMJ0jegjJwaRU7ppkkDvVL__xl1-PeW40w/s1600-h/roxy.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmSnX78gIe9wg-Qyj6lMO-yxxF4GGV92a46vbA-LALtdXXCtFGpHf6HskKlJoUpt9fH0qCxSdfLtiloAqzBjbT3F-AlFebVguzhL3xDzEusyjMJ0jegjJwaRU7ppkkDvVL__xl1-PeW40w/s320/roxy.bmp" vt="true" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
Right before Christmas, my sister picked up a stray dog on the side of the road and decided that my parents could use one more dog. So, in addition to Shelby, Abby & Libby...they took in Roxy. We were suspicious of her being pregnant seeing that her "bathing suit" parts were looking a bit larger than normal, but we had no idea. It was our first choice to take her to the pound, but we weren't sure if they would put her down to prevent having to take care of puppies...so we kept her. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Needless to say, I got a phone call from my dad one night asking me to come over and help my mom deliver Roxy's puppies. Now, if you know me at all, you know I love my animals and jumped at the opportunity to help. Little did I know, this would be the most national geographic event I would ever experience. Keep in mind that I have no children, I've never experienced a live birth (unless TLC's <em>A Baby Story</em> counts...), and the only time I've dealt with blood was at the hotel in which I 'delegated' to the houseman...so...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7lJVxxnVv1O-nZFrhbbcOFexq57Z81Rl4Dlt6WuRXhWjVlHqTXaFxdCLbjNO7YG8LUuNvvToXpFzNLDWri2lEvyqGZWdcjQsSXvH7zkCQDkSlchPnfVf12HMseUfvVrcjP8scrOQS2SRX/s1600-h/Roxi+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7lJVxxnVv1O-nZFrhbbcOFexq57Z81Rl4Dlt6WuRXhWjVlHqTXaFxdCLbjNO7YG8LUuNvvToXpFzNLDWri2lEvyqGZWdcjQsSXvH7zkCQDkSlchPnfVf12HMseUfvVrcjP8scrOQS2SRX/s320/Roxi+015.JPG" vt="true" /></a>I get to the house and find out that Roxy has already had her first puppy! I know!! So exciting!! She was upstairs in our bathroom which is fairly small. After about an hour of her cleaning off the first puppy, she started pushing again and took it upon herself to walk around the bathroom in the midst of her water breaking. I tried to keep quiet because my mom was asleep but couldn't help repeating "OH MY GOSH...OH MY GOSH!!!!" I had no idea what to do except hold a towel under her you-know-what and catch the puppy before it fell on the ground! It took me a while to figure out what a contraction was in doggy-labor considering my imagination had convinced me that she would be howling for an epidural by the second puppy...thank goodness for Google, right?!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UwFEqFxOAAuiWTT2qPQtnS-ksyTKbnLWD1AP10Rndex6wXlkCEd9L_aGLtRxcgc6Ym96yEng2e7cf1jvTOelVHyCAyxfMxbCo87VrI9wnOkwPKpB-2gIXeFrNefftiDoC3VbXqLW2Lmg/s1600-h/2010+snow+%26+puppies+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8UwFEqFxOAAuiWTT2qPQtnS-ksyTKbnLWD1AP10Rndex6wXlkCEd9L_aGLtRxcgc6Ym96yEng2e7cf1jvTOelVHyCAyxfMxbCo87VrI9wnOkwPKpB-2gIXeFrNefftiDoC3VbXqLW2Lmg/s320/2010+snow+%26+puppies+030.JPG" vt="true" width="320" /></a>Now, I don't know what I expected these things to look like when they came out, but an alien was not on the list. They are born in this disgusting film-sack that the mother instinctivly 'takes care of' (bless her heart!). So, I guess after the water breaks, puppies naturally just keep popping out...for three more hours! Finally, around 2:00am the next morning Roxy delivered her last puppy. One of the puppies was having a hard time breathing but, thankfully, I watched <em>101 Dalmations</em> when I was younger and remembered that you're supposed to put them in a towel and rub them until they breathe!! Who would have thought that a Disney movie would save a puppies life :) </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7FePL33BnxLCCJbUCzjhAVCr8iOxyjq8gGtITCb2n2SJtzxLLQeVAcqOmtbyu8L13MRi2ifvXe3UhW3-bqaS2WVaLA-Q8RjhusI-Bs55VC9EEOtw8OvaiLd0UcC1uIu19Ph61yZjyPPJ0/s1600-h/martin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7FePL33BnxLCCJbUCzjhAVCr8iOxyjq8gGtITCb2n2SJtzxLLQeVAcqOmtbyu8L13MRi2ifvXe3UhW3-bqaS2WVaLA-Q8RjhusI-Bs55VC9EEOtw8OvaiLd0UcC1uIu19Ph61yZjyPPJ0/s320/martin.jpg" vt="true" /></a>Watching their insticts in action was amazing! Roxy constantly licked the puppies while they knew exactly where their food was! She had five puppies that night and I automatically thought that naming them after the holiday they were born on was perfect...Doctor, Martin, Luther, King & Junior had entered the world!!!! </div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="background: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;" /></a></div></div>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-35223791133956185402010-03-03T17:42:00.000-05:002010-03-03T17:42:22.262-05:00My Personal Bubble is MINE!<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I thought I had seen it all...</span><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">working in retail, I've seen my fair share of naked customers. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">While working in the hospitality industry I've seen more than enough...well...dirty <i>everything</i>. Let's just leave it at that. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I didn't think there was much more that would surprise me. You know, everyone does things differently and sometimes those 'differences' aren't exactly appealing to the rest of society. There's the typical 'interstate nose-pickers' who think their windows are tinted, the guests that stay at your house and leave hair in the drain or the people that chew with their mouths open (bless their hearts...). These things can be dealt with. Daily I suppose. But it's when those unappealing tendencies enter into my personal bubble that cross the line...or may I say...step on my beautifully defined line and smudge it across the ground creating a sense of disorganization in my world that I cannot handle!!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> My personal bubble is mine. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Not yours. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You may do nothing uncomfortable in my bubble. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">You certainly are not welcome in my bubble if I've never met you before. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And there is no invitation to stay in my bubble if you see my chest becoming blotchy!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">As many of you may know by now, I (finally) got a job as a sales rep for Studio Gear cosmetics!! Yeah...I know...it's super fun! All day, I get to play in make-up and do make-overs with the hopes that I can sell...sell...sell!!! So, the first week into my new job, I meet a lady that is shopping around Ulta with her cute little girl on her hip. I'd say her daughter is about a year and cute as can be! I do the typical "what can I help you find today..." introduction and figure out that she is looking to find some new foundation.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><b>Pause</b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>I</i><i>f you are looking to change your foundation (and possibly everything else in your makeup bag) why in the world would you bring your toddler with you?? </i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><b>Resume</b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Great!" I say. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Let me tell you about Studio Gear's...blah, blah, blah." </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I told her if she has a few minutes, I would be happy to match her and set her up with some new foundation. She agrees and takes a seat at in the chair. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Now, keep in mind, this is a very busy Saturday afternoon. The first Saturday afternoon I have worked. One of the first women I've done makeup on. And definitely the first toddler sitting in my chair. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxTUWtQpofdRqZSXLOM7M7FU-TybrHvPiMWgng_L3nHIKB84iXB0Hv1i_hounhPmwvwIp2BQQGrWXlgjna43AZ1dLeD0e2dfcnpeBIhkrEBoZpXsT6bWAGcTAxZ5BW8odRHmoQ3mhdYEPr/s1600-h/baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxTUWtQpofdRqZSXLOM7M7FU-TybrHvPiMWgng_L3nHIKB84iXB0Hv1i_hounhPmwvwIp2BQQGrWXlgjna43AZ1dLeD0e2dfcnpeBIhkrEBoZpXsT6bWAGcTAxZ5BW8odRHmoQ3mhdYEPr/s320/baby.jpg" /></a>I grab all the essentials and proceed to take off her existing makeup and put on the (wonderful) Studio Gear foundation!! Her daughter is giggling and staring at me while I'm leaning over her to reach her mom's face. The next words will sound in my memory for all time...</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><b><i>"...awwhhh, are you hungry sweetie?!?"</i></b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Ummm...wait...what!!??? I felt my blood pressure rise and my mind starting racing through the 'steps of how to tastefully deal with unusual situations' lesson I am sure my parents instilled in me years ago. I couldn't find it.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The next thing I know, this lady is pulling her shirt up, popping out her you-know-what and laying her baby down for a feast. Nope, no blanket. Not even an explanation was given as to why she was feeding this child when she wasn't screaming or causing some scene. I mean, on TV the babies are always screaming because they want something...right??? </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> So, I am still applying this ladies makeup (quickly I might add) and trying to explain all the great benefits of Studio Gear while she is feeding this child in my bubble, but all I could think about was "do NOT look down!! do NOT look down!!!" Next thing I hear is:</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><b><i>"oohhh...poor baby...nothing on that one?!?"</i></b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: left;">OH. MY. GOSH. </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2XumpV18CrMHgruKo-QuhWhxebPMcN7U4JiTUTjHuHKHoJiVeFLzjHa603Eepy9qxvcPXRKUtDZWr1jrCi14LZuuhqu96gMbdBpM_oqV4Tp9yBD73ECCd1ZVB0k01W9CfQbxu4ZeiGM_f/s1600-h/shock1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2XumpV18CrMHgruKo-QuhWhxebPMcN7U4JiTUTjHuHKHoJiVeFLzjHa603Eepy9qxvcPXRKUtDZWr1jrCi14LZuuhqu96gMbdBpM_oqV4Tp9yBD73ECCd1ZVB0k01W9CfQbxu4ZeiGM_f/s320/shock1.jpg" /></a>She continued to unlatch the baby from herself and pop out her other you-know-what as if that one hadn't been feasted on in days!! All I could think about at this point was the sound of the five puppies I was taking care of at my house as they nursed on their mother in such a frenzy! The sucking sound was overtaking every other sound in that store at this point and my focus was so distorted on just looking up, that I completely ignored the 7ish-year-old girl that had (unfortunately) walked down one of the isles to the sight of this bare-chested woman feeding her baby. The look on that girls face was daunting...not as daunting as the one on her mother's face when she realized that was going to be an <i>extremely </i>long car ride home. Bless her heart.</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Then, that baby unlatched herself from her mother, looked up at me and smiled. As if she was taunting me! Yes, a toddler can taunt a grown woman! I've seen it...well, heard it...whatever!!! She started it! </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I finished the woman's makeup in enough time to catch my breath and collect myself before passing out. She bought everything I put on her...wait...that sounds bad. I'll re-word that. She bought all the makeup I put on her face while she <b>violated </b>my bubble and drove a stake into my well-defined line of personal space. Much better!</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The other girls that I work with were all like "why didn't you walk away" or "you should've asked her to go to the bathroom or something..." Sure. I thought of those things afterwards, but for heaven's sake!!! I was frozen in fear!! I was trying to shut off my senses!! I was blotching all over my chest and neck!! I was certain that the words <i>breast</i> or <i>milk </i>or <i>suck</i> were going to take the place of my innocent lingo <i>brush</i> or <i>silk </i>or <i>pluck!!! </i></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was all I could do to compose myself!!! Like I said, you 'interstate nose-pickers' can pick away in your cars...but you breast-feeding divas need to <b>back away</b>!!! </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</div>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-88311182796200584892009-10-19T15:48:00.000-04:002009-10-19T15:48:33.178-04:00A Very Bittersweet HolidayYou don't have to remind me that I <i>could </i>possibly be too old to celebrate Halloween. Nor do you have to remind me that it is a day filled with slutty costumes, unnecessary amounts of yummy candy or another reason for most to get plastered. I know these things and yet I am still super excited about it! Not for any of those reasons though...nuh-uh!<br />
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</b><br />
<b>Reason #1: </b><br />
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From my Little Red Riding Hood costume in the 2nd grade to my <b>unfortunate </b>Three Musketeers costume our mom made us three wear in '95...I always loved dressing up like someone else for one day!<br />
<br />
College was fun, despite trying to find one <i>whole </i>piece of clothing so I wouldn't have to worry about doing crunches religiously just to look good in my Halloween costume!! I refused to be a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader, French Maid or an Angel...thank goodness! Instead I was...<br />
1. A Cowgirl: very amateur...I know! <br />
2. A Rocker Girl...mini plaid skirt, ripped fishnet stockings, chunky knee-high boots, graphic tee, leather jacket, wacky hair and tons of make-up. Super-fun, but it was put together at the last minute.<br />
3. A Gangster...boooo...my least favorite :( I just felt very unoriginal...<br />
4. A Flapper! My favorite so far...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_a3Z8m2HtSbgcODF5wh2qUxfqkmqd98qpuVJfmK9fm3tQcot5KEKB0BUWV4IhKDqkoMpm_3AAyGgmLw6heF08yqQlW0L12agG-X9YnkZPbpndcjVnNWc_lnVv_yXXc5ma8QDeD5nuJ5NQ/s1600-h/flapper3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_a3Z8m2HtSbgcODF5wh2qUxfqkmqd98qpuVJfmK9fm3tQcot5KEKB0BUWV4IhKDqkoMpm_3AAyGgmLw6heF08yqQlW0L12agG-X9YnkZPbpndcjVnNWc_lnVv_yXXc5ma8QDeD5nuJ5NQ/s320/flapper3.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I loved this costume!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQq9aJxEf5rBUoeMG3LHjvmm_I0E0wGDPD6gooQCBYDnYxFHx7w8mKX4_CIuSkcmHmekSKEF4ZW9BwesevDAcnOFZa6vQhcvx_TJtawn-eZcyfoT3rltRvZBt9woSfC4eZmnzNpZQzMDB/s1600-h/flapper1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQq9aJxEf5rBUoeMG3LHjvmm_I0E0wGDPD6gooQCBYDnYxFHx7w8mKX4_CIuSkcmHmekSKEF4ZW9BwesevDAcnOFZa6vQhcvx_TJtawn-eZcyfoT3rltRvZBt9woSfC4eZmnzNpZQzMDB/s320/flapper1.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This costume led to my belief that I would have definitely been happy living during these times! Dresses, heels, pearls, feathers, boas...oh, my!! So...this led to my 2009 Halloween costume idea! I absolutely love vintage stuff and have decided that being 24 years old, I'm going for the sexy-sophisticated look. Glamorous.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, you don't think I'm going to tell you what it is...do you!?! No way!!! Believe me...there will be tons of pictures...of both me and Payton!!!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>Reason #2:</b><br />
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Payton got tickets to see The Roots at the Handlebar on Halloween!!! Yes, that's right...The Roots! Jimmy Fallon's band...listed by Rolling Stone as one of the Top 10 performances to see in 2009...! I'm sooo excited!<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RfnHWFMOWjeEW_zV6GDAm5Ye5KKHtYw_O2ogFHl-DInGWP-fxdbSPGVtSPuVvdAvVcBgKbkhpZy5nbtHwz3JQ1PETUQdBrRhUBMX-46lFbgKkMMe8yMOa82aBd11Lek9xSlXa9m3TRjC/s1600-h/the_roots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5RfnHWFMOWjeEW_zV6GDAm5Ye5KKHtYw_O2ogFHl-DInGWP-fxdbSPGVtSPuVvdAvVcBgKbkhpZy5nbtHwz3JQ1PETUQdBrRhUBMX-46lFbgKkMMe8yMOa82aBd11Lek9xSlXa9m3TRjC/s320/the_roots.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Granted, they don't look like someone my dad is going to approve of...but I think that means it's going to be awesome! (just kidding daddy...I won't enjoy it at all...).<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">They're not your typical hip-hop group (thankfully...I don't like all the bling!) Instead, they're famed for beginning with a jazzy, eclectic approach to hip hop which still includes live instrumentals. Yup...a full stage of instruments, hip hop, Payton, and my diva costume! I'm stoked! I plan on being on stage by the end of the night..fully clothed of course...simply just to 'spit lyrics' with the Roots! :) I feel my 15 minutes of fame approaching! <br />
</div><br />
<b>Reason #3:</b><br />
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I thought I would list one thing about Halloween that I HATE!<br />
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Haunted houses!!<br />
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There is not enough money in the world to bribe me into going to a haunted house...or woods...or cemetery...absolutely nothing! I went to one haunted house (my 1st and last) about 4 years ago and ended up in a fetal position crying my eyes out. Yes, I was in my 20s and the guy with the mask turned the lights on, took off his mask and escorted me out. It took me 2 days to build up the nerve to do it and only 10 minutes to beg for my mother!!!<br />
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I'm not sure what it is that I despise about them...it could be the fact that I hate things grabbing me, I hate the dark (especially when you can hear things around you, but there's nothing you can do about it...), children/clowns/midgets/blood/dead people/ghosts/chainsaws terrify me...<br />
<br />
I also convince myself that some crazy redneck is going to join the chainsaw actors in the woods and really kill people. Seriously...everyone is told that the chainsaws have no blades...until the redneck joins in for some backyard fun!! I mean...would anyone really know the difference?? Ugh...I would rather watch Saw VXIII in the movie theaters than pay for a ticket and embarrass myself in public...ok...<br />
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I'm done!!<br />
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Happy Halloween!!Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-73179821317934905622009-09-17T22:10:00.000-04:002009-09-17T22:10:46.562-04:00A QuickieHaha! I bet my parents will read this blog just because of the title! So...because they are reading this I'm going to just tell you about the "quickie" trip to Charleston we went on! Gotcha!<br />
<br />
Well, my sister came home for the weekend and ended up getting a sinus infection. Fortunately, I have been able to watch Oprah for the past few weeks (one perk of unemployment) and quickly was able to rule out MRSA and H1N1. Thank goodness. Anyways, my mom called me Sunday night and asked Payton and I if we would like to drive Katie back to school in Charleston.<br />
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Now, if you're not familiar with Charleston, SC...it is beautiful! History. College life. Bars. The Ocean. And most importantly, no Myrtle Beach bimbos walking around...most of the time.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0bNpwHQV1z9NM2T6io8bz5QUZH5xtaGZzeXi-126PJTtnE35K7JPBvUjQcJEwRsqin8_7-uyHzaTCL7KIrilvoYnmDL69VKfJpqFLkgBGS8ODudSbflQqtAPuCg4Cvqt63ghL-vNSTX9/s1600-h/charleston.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0bNpwHQV1z9NM2T6io8bz5QUZH5xtaGZzeXi-126PJTtnE35K7JPBvUjQcJEwRsqin8_7-uyHzaTCL7KIrilvoYnmDL69VKfJpqFLkgBGS8ODudSbflQqtAPuCg4Cvqt63ghL-vNSTX9/s320/charleston.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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My mom was quick to throw in the long-awaited-privilege to drive my parents Sequoia, a full tank of gas and 40 bucks! COUNT US IN!!! So...we left early Monday morning...raided my mom's car and found her '80s reading glasses. What else are you going to do during a three hour car ride and a camera? <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha0k7fSeqjpJuHPkn8Ewlg1EYDfa-AJqvcquJ9wcQfHbzTg2wiQXJVv6ClyBp459xAsEih_M3QdcPmoNnWagNnuOv5KZPszZyW9lf_aU0gPCox0iAEzJWM-cMGwUpjzZlLeSz3ZWqzdG8b/s1600-h/glasses.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha0k7fSeqjpJuHPkn8Ewlg1EYDfa-AJqvcquJ9wcQfHbzTg2wiQXJVv6ClyBp459xAsEih_M3QdcPmoNnWagNnuOv5KZPszZyW9lf_aU0gPCox0iAEzJWM-cMGwUpjzZlLeSz3ZWqzdG8b/s320/glasses.jpg" width="357" /></a></div>We finally get to Charleston and I become extremely envious of my sister's freshman dorm. The dorm that is a block off King Street and 20 minutes from Folly Beach. The dorm room that has a lock on each individual room and has a full size bed...yes, no twin bed for Katie! Her dorm room is bigger than her room at my parents house! It takes me back to my freshman days...don't get me wrong...I had fun...but seriously! Spartanburg vs Charleston??<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5cYWFK3Dz71fv4ajZV27B6W7DuGfAZzG-OKT2YpH3PV1kvc6wcwitYqW1nCU5m-SWVjAWwQvi0hK2iM5ufYP48fzWBD3u9qDaHjqQkzB4EBOS9PWfg2wqcVVZi4dVdkrP0A5UZpRcwKMN/s1600-h/Folly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5cYWFK3Dz71fv4ajZV27B6W7DuGfAZzG-OKT2YpH3PV1kvc6wcwitYqW1nCU5m-SWVjAWwQvi0hK2iM5ufYP48fzWBD3u9qDaHjqQkzB4EBOS9PWfg2wqcVVZi4dVdkrP0A5UZpRcwKMN/s320/Folly.jpg" /></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We went to the beach. I absolutely love the beach this time of year. It's cool, quiet and lacks the July crowd that somehow always throw sand on me when they shake off their towels **shaking my fist angrily in the air***I much rather mingle with September beach crowds :)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The next morning I wake up to the horrible feeling that I have to drive another three hours home, have no money to fill up the gas tank, the meter is running low and Payton is taking pictures. This is the face of an early morning Breean that has to leave the beach and attempt the fateful drive with quarter of a tank...all captured on camera by my loving Payton. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkS6ZQYfwy1g6dm2-AWEwRg7NHuK1nytoPAOZoi695B_sTlXsXWSanZDgaG6qhk5H2aMQ_u2ULhfndM8JSNQQRYFwkYtKha4N9Pei1iGqaU-W4_FO74Nv8-21cFogQKP7iJYWqRL-3XD9/s1600-h/happy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUkS6ZQYfwy1g6dm2-AWEwRg7NHuK1nytoPAOZoi695B_sTlXsXWSanZDgaG6qhk5H2aMQ_u2ULhfndM8JSNQQRYFwkYtKha4N9Pei1iGqaU-W4_FO74Nv8-21cFogQKP7iJYWqRL-3XD9/s320/happy.jpg" /></a></div>Needless to say, two hours after this picture was taken, Payton and I were stranded at a good ol' gas station in Fountain Inn. Left to people watch and attempt a crossword puzzle from the NY Times, I felt my life was over...ten dollars later and a very hungry Payton, we were home!<br />
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I love Charleston xoxoSouthern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-1236087495093340552009-09-11T11:39:00.000-04:002009-09-11T11:39:50.669-04:00Eight Years Already<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgztNfoxqw7pctx8V6n6BrcXtPxr1KZkFWDLS_Qq-NOwdz1tgNX2_oS8KYGB7lizqoFqyBrbjNGSY5xBH1di0Z6hYIbzsuoB43vhEF55NRGoOYh1KBl8qeX3am9n0g2-gF6ToftZ0iTahba/s1600-h/9-11-01-logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgztNfoxqw7pctx8V6n6BrcXtPxr1KZkFWDLS_Qq-NOwdz1tgNX2_oS8KYGB7lizqoFqyBrbjNGSY5xBH1di0Z6hYIbzsuoB43vhEF55NRGoOYh1KBl8qeX3am9n0g2-gF6ToftZ0iTahba/s320/9-11-01-logo.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlRBZw57jZW-HKE7keYFXQBRFNvW4dwFrzpOmFPXWeMxy20VM7OYpOyzSpn7PmiJgdt3H7X-sRw_DyWKM8MdCJwuOJQnN3_812rZrErUWsCrsnMhg7_P76yrlqo-XzvueBzOrCMbDM1BCi/s1600-h/ff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br />
</a></div>For eight years I have dreaded September 11th. Not on a personal basis or even on the basis that I want to seek revenge, but simply because it's human nature to avoid unpleasant events. <i>Unpleasant</i>...that word doesn't even amount to the magnitude of death, destruction, sadness and fear we all watched unravel on September 11, 2001 and the days following. Growing up, everyone spoke about where they were or what they were doing on December 7, 1941 when Pearl Harbor was attacked or when Vietnam became the topic among the media in the '60s, but now our generation remembers 9/11. I remember thinking that there is no way our country would forget about this day or the thousands of innocent American lives that were lost, but it seems we have indeed forgotten the feeling of helplessness that overwhelmed us all. I am no extreme Conservative or zealous Liberal but I seem to find myself somewhere among the moderate crowd. I think every case is different and one rule or law will not answer every question and bring resolution to every incident. But why is it that these uncivilized, ungrateful, fanatical Muslims are given the same rights as the innocent people they murdered? I understand that America is a country founded upon rights and promises to "ensure domestic tranquility" but are we so easily convinced that they won't do this again? Really...?? What about the promise of justice and protecting the general welfare of <b>us</b>? The fighting among the Palestinians and Israelis has been ongoing since biblical times which seems to leave much room for error among those in office who have promised world-peace...my opinion...<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlRBZw57jZW-HKE7keYFXQBRFNvW4dwFrzpOmFPXWeMxy20VM7OYpOyzSpn7PmiJgdt3H7X-sRw_DyWKM8MdCJwuOJQnN3_812rZrErUWsCrsnMhg7_P76yrlqo-XzvueBzOrCMbDM1BCi/s1600-h/ff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlRBZw57jZW-HKE7keYFXQBRFNvW4dwFrzpOmFPXWeMxy20VM7OYpOyzSpn7PmiJgdt3H7X-sRw_DyWKM8MdCJwuOJQnN3_812rZrErUWsCrsnMhg7_P76yrlqo-XzvueBzOrCMbDM1BCi/s320/ff.jpg" width="202" /></a>I remember being so innocent and unworldly when the first plane struck the World Trade Center. I was a sophomore in high school and heard the news after my mom called to tell me to turn on the TV. <i>"It's probably an accident...someone must have fallen asleep or the controls must have gone crazy..."</i> I said. Then the second plane hit, then the Pentagon, then flight 93...<br />
I was shocked. <br />
Overwhelmed.<br />
Confused.<br />
Disgusted.<br />
Scared.<br />
<br />
Being an American should entitle us with the feeling of peace and security...the things that were so <br />
quickly taken away from our generation and have yet to be returned. No one can blame one person for these events and there is certainly not one person that can fix all of the hatred that has consumed those in the Middle East. The only thing, in my opionion, we can do is remember those fallen fire fighters, the courageous passengers on United flight 93, the terrified people in the WTC towers and the Pentagon...and of course all of their families. We cannot forget how we felt when we watched the towers collapse. Nor can we forget all of the men and women who enlisted in the military after these events to protect us from future attacks. These are our responsibilities. To remember...<br />
<br />
Follow this article... <br />
<a href="http://www.nypost.com/p/news/opinion/opedcolumnists/betraying_our_dead_H6T95r1BTCnkC1UbEdUfsO">Betraying Our Dead</a> Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-50476071342281482762009-09-10T11:18:00.003-04:002009-09-10T12:08:27.541-04:00Cheap. Easy. Fast.My mom and I have some funny conversations sometimes, but recently we had a good laugh at one in particular. I think it was so funny because my dad was in the car and he didn't find our humor to be quite as amusing. For some reason that makes everything 'funnier.'<br /><br />I told my sister I would come watch her play at USC a few weeks ago and the only way I could get there was to hitch a ride with the 'parentals.' Don't get me wrong though...I get along great with them as long as I can listen to what I want to on the radio and we don't talk about anything serious. So...I burnt a CD and made a few jokes to lighten the mood. Jokes that lead the conversations away from my current employment status, me and Payton, and my social life...<br /><br />We started getting hungry and ended up at McDonald's. Yummmy....Anyways, if you know my mom, you know her humor and how she tells jokes. It sometimes reminds me of Merlin (the clown fish) from Finding Nemo..."So there's this mollusk and sea cucumber. The mollusk walks up to the sea cucumber...well he doesn't walk because mollusks don't walk, but in a joke everyone walks and talks...so...let me start over..." Ha! I love her!<br /><br />While I was enjoying my processed meat and stale french fries my mom turns around and announces...<span style="font-style: italic;">You are what you eat, Breean. Cheap, Fast and Easy! hahah! Have you heard that one before?!?</span><br /><br />I laughed at her and saw the expression on my dad's face that looked as if he was going to explode. He doesn't like to hear about anything along those lines when it comes to us girls! So...after becoming familiar with my surroundings...I replied back with...<span style="font-style: italic;">I a</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6LLTBeBFJmOM1e_dkaaK5hA0DQB5ykOJrgwY36SmlJRGIwcBsZdicehv068CPpqyz5w-AqmDVQRWyGMY7Hrlw8XBnDYr7y8WZZwi3d_7YwNzppQtPAa4moWtZb9GohX9-8H-jfW-Ruuv/s1600-h/cheap.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt6LLTBeBFJmOM1e_dkaaK5hA0DQB5ykOJrgwY36SmlJRGIwcBsZdicehv068CPpqyz5w-AqmDVQRWyGMY7Hrlw8XBnDYr7y8WZZwi3d_7YwNzppQtPAa4moWtZb9GohX9-8H-jfW-Ruuv/s320/cheap.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379869800194826098" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">m certainly not cheap!!</span><br /><br />My parents darted their eyes at me followed by a roll of laughter from my mom. My dad glared at me for keeping the joke going but that made my laughter even more uncontrollable! We all know that I'm not <span style="font-style: italic;">easy</span>...or <span style="font-style: italic;">fast</span>...but I wanted to make sure everyone knew that I'm not <span style="font-style: italic;">cheap! </span>I may be poor right now but there is a big difference between being poor versus being cheap.<br /><br />I will spend my last $20 on those cute BCBG shoes at Ross and then scrounge up another $30 (from the money I shouldn't be spending) to buy the cute outfit that would be lonesome without me and my shoes. I'm telling you...when I become rich and don't have to do anything during the day except shop, I<span style="font-style: italic;"> will be</span> Carrie Bradshaw. <br /><br /><a href="http://mamakatslosinit.blogspot.com/">Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop</a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-85651811022372671072009-09-03T14:33:00.013-04:002009-09-03T15:41:26.769-04:00Notes to My Younger Self1. Don't color your hair...I mean it can get expensive!! And very addictive. Only do it when you know you can afford it to prevent getting those redneck roots...very important.<br /><br />2. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1haFd0dIyYosBIz6l1hkMgQ3Izt5cCsFkZ7Q-zU_A4ipjlhw2905t3u9q1gACqCQm6LrUgXKokNoEEas64B7i_RYktiDp2pBnhc98trefvA3l-jYPso6W6DND3az5THrS3tzZpNEBaUFS/s1600-h/youngbreean.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 148px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1haFd0dIyYosBIz6l1hkMgQ3Izt5cCsFkZ7Q-zU_A4ipjlhw2905t3u9q1gACqCQm6LrUgXKokNoEEas64B7i_RYktiDp2pBnhc98trefvA3l-jYPso6W6DND3az5THrS3tzZpNEBaUFS/s320/youngbreean.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377327452372364498" border="0" /></a>Don't pick up a cigarette. You might have an addictive personality and that will be the most difficult thing to quit doing when you are older...and you will regret it forever!<br /><br />3. Enjoy high school! This is the time in your life when you can go to school with people you've grown up with, you don't have any bills, and you have the whole world ahead of you. There is no time to worry about 'fashion trends' or how much fatter you are than someone else. You will look back at all the pictures you've taken and think to yourself "I was crazy to think that I was fat!!" You will probably never see the <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFtvTQKm_vuO3ID-tnGg5Y38FSuqhkIp9nEeHvne2GCyGh3USNjUHfnNQJnVHELuwVoR4U3A4o91nrIpbcILRWxWQ0Fl3Xo678I2K26QAMkhdZ_4W3KFv1iJuCgdSVueH1Kwt3BAIXONNC/s1600-h/cheer.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 142px; height: 255px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFtvTQKm_vuO3ID-tnGg5Y38FSuqhkIp9nEeHvne2GCyGh3USNjUHfnNQJnVHELuwVoR4U3A4o91nrIpbcILRWxWQ0Fl3Xo678I2K26QAMkhdZ_4W3KFv1iJuCgdSVueH1Kwt3BAIXONNC/s320/cheer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377325968207974386" border="0" /></a>majority of these people again so don't waste your time worrying about what they think of you or how popular you are. I won't matter in 4 years!!!!<br /><br />4. Listen to your parents! There will be times when you think "I am 16 and I know what I'm doing..." but you don't! Don't date the guys your parents hate and don't keep arguing with them. They are your parents...not your BFF's right now. You will come to that stage in your life when your parents are your friends, you DO want to talk to them everyday, and you will seek their advice before you make any decision...seriously...it will happen!<br /><br />5. Don't give your heart away so easily. You won't find the right person for you un<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1MQKzaeCFvAtkNqb6yG_sQvMRfCYfgYhIzok-jYA8bGHACtwCj9KY7TYkCFWyUchTu80E-_Etcrk4Y5i50ABUzT3zE1CJUW8U_nhp9UyGwQCWX1Ft758FFgkC0sKssSjdTAK50umYDWus/s1600-h/ash.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 194px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1MQKzaeCFvAtkNqb6yG_sQvMRfCYfgYhIzok-jYA8bGHACtwCj9KY7TYkCFWyUchTu80E-_Etcrk4Y5i50ABUzT3zE1CJUW8U_nhp9UyGwQCWX1Ft758FFgkC0sKssSjdTAK50umYDWus/s320/ash.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377325439130355602" border="0" /></a>til you find out who you are first...and believe me, you won't find this out for a while. It's good to know how it feels when someone likes you and even to know what a broken heart feels like, but make them work for you...you are valuable and worth alot more than you think. God is preparing someone in the world for you and you should save yourself in every way so you can give yourself to him...it will be priceless.<br /><br />6. Nothing else will hurt like your first heart break. Loving someone comes with consequences sometimes. Just remember you will never hurt like you did the first time your heart was broken. There will be sad times but not like that...you will learn from that moment.<br /><br />7. Don't get a credit card. You will be paying on that thing until you're in your 20s and frankly you won't be able to afford it...sorry.<br /><br />8. Don't worry about <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbxBWr4GeHAb8lLfQDTG58pKl0HgBDeaS1qnyS-a4ZVYzPIx0Nk90BKz9DZvsR6_CXl8DE_fXLxCYN_0CKL3MEPFtz_wkGgsMtgI2TL84j2ZmfJz1eu0pIwh-buknPnMY9z7F9gtHgnRi/s1600-h/grad.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 155px; height: 215px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbxBWr4GeHAb8lLfQDTG58pKl0HgBDeaS1qnyS-a4ZVYzPIx0Nk90BKz9DZvsR6_CXl8DE_fXLxCYN_0CKL3MEPFtz_wkGgsMtgI2TL84j2ZmfJz1eu0pIwh-buknPnMY9z7F9gtHgnRi/s320/grad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377326193544699490" border="0" /></a>having tons of girlfriends...most of them will be back stabbers or worthless individuals. There will only be a handful of friends that you will keep in touch with and those are the valuable ones.<br /><br />9. Take college seriously. Party on the weekends and during the summer. Don't just get a 4-year degree...get an education!<br /><br />10. Find something you're good at and do it!! If you wait until you're older you will find that a lot of things you could've been talented at are missed opportunities. Don't be embarrassed or think you can do it later in life. Time will fly by and then it's too late...do it now!!<br /><br />11. Don't bust your butt for minimum wage! Ask for a raise!!! ;) You will be an extremely hard worker that will be very valuable to someone and their business. Just be patient. The right thing will come along.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHXBrbongvYMcBlkno34DNJafnhxD3_7AWQZonF4_0o1u4YgZkRq_Tbsoci3Jetb5tQowmNL9MOZNKt9uMzYjavPR-xO8_y7-xP6avvX7YXHOueg7j7iv5xNBfN-yZky2EucfNd7KNXhIa/s1600-h/time_travel_1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 170px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHXBrbongvYMcBlkno34DNJafnhxD3_7AWQZonF4_0o1u4YgZkRq_Tbsoci3Jetb5tQowmNL9MOZNKt9uMzYjavPR-xO8_y7-xP6avvX7YXHOueg7j7iv5xNBfN-yZky2EucfNd7KNXhIa/s320/time_travel_1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377320561632040898" border="0" /></a><br />12. Don't sell your clothes!!! Those things will be back in fashion and you will end up spending money you don't have!!! OMG!!! DON'T SELL THEM!!!!<br /><br />13. Save your tapes and CDs. You will find them when you are older and they will bring back so many memories. Even the saddest of memories they bring back will make you laugh...'how could I be so sad/upset/angry/worried....??'<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-60302566929102612602009-08-27T11:33:00.003-04:002009-08-27T12:07:51.940-04:00First Day of CollegeIn honor of all you "youngsters" going back to school, I am reminded of my first day of college. The time in my life that was supposed to be like <span style="font-style: italic;">Van Wilder</span> or <span style="font-style: italic;">Legally Blonde</span>...outrageous and extremely fun!! I lived on campus and was ready to meet new people! Although, I had a fabulous time in college and would go back any day...there were some days that ranked pretty low on my "fun meter."<br /><br />My first day of school started out early...around 9am. I sat in history class and scanned my schedule to make sure I would have enough time to make it to my second class. Unfortunately, I didn't know the names of the buildings and racked my brain to try and remember where the building was that my Psych class would be in. Class was over and I found the first person who looked like they knew where they were and asked him where I needed to go. The sarcastic look on his face was unmistakable. He pointed his finger to the new building on top of the hill. It was the building furthest away and had no sidewalk...you know what that meant...I had to walk to my next class in the grass in my cute "first day of school" shoes. I only had a few minutes to get to class so I started walking.<br /><br />I passed all civilization and began trucking up the grassy hill that was covered in dew from the night before. Keeping the building in sight and reminding myself that "I can do it" got me halfway up the hill. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVbLSHq03sORmPvMIl6DDC114xPItoDOVcI_XodpLFBzJ6z7ZzjSN0uISC_prZ5cMTaAkObFXB6tMIBldIlGV4LNNhrtIPab50M_ayxf0Zaqe0CdF4JhY4iS9H0fn0kSiOrExuLHmq8u5/s1600-h/sprinkler-iq.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 178px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVbLSHq03sORmPvMIl6DDC114xPItoDOVcI_XodpLFBzJ6z7ZzjSN0uISC_prZ5cMTaAkObFXB6tMIBldIlGV4LNNhrtIPab50M_ayxf0Zaqe0CdF4JhY4iS9H0fn0kSiOrExuLHmq8u5/s320/sprinkler-iq.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5374675496725401058" border="0" /></a>There was no one else walking through the grass as I noticed most people driving...stupid freshman...why didn't I drive!?! I took a few more steps and then I heard "tick, tick, tick..." Not the sound of a clock, but the sound of a dozen sprinklers automatically turning on for their morning routine! Now picture this...a confused 18-year-old, carrying every book I owned, dressed to a 'T' and standing alone in the middle of a field...drenched...now crying...<br /><br />I decided it was best to skip class that morning and head back to my dorm. My roommates could not stop laughing and dabbled in my misery until lunch. Needless to say I dropped that class and signed up for something more reasonable...an online class!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-39795250741366423032009-08-23T17:24:00.003-04:002009-08-23T17:56:39.538-04:00The Ice Cream TruckDuring one's childhood and years of innocence, I think there are many incidents that are forever embedded into our lives. Those stories that are humorous and yet very telling as we grow older...this is mine.<br /><br />A few years ago, we were at the beach with my family enjoying the typical "beach stuff." You know...turkey sandwiches, cousins, occasional showers, new bathing suits...and ice cream. Not just ice cream at the local store, but the exciting ice cream truck. The distant, and oh so recognizable tune played in the distance when I turned to <a href="http://rochelle-hello.blogspot.com/">my mom</a> and expressed how much I remember ice cream trucks when I was little. I loved them! I loved them more (for some reason) during our annual beach trips...and although I was in my teens that year...I was going to get an ice cream!<br /><br />She laughed at my statement and asked me if I remembered what she used to tell us about the ice cream trucks when we were little. By "we" I mean my me, my brother and sister...all three years apart and all equally excited about 'beach' ice cream. I told her that I didn't remember anything specific, but she continued to tell me the story.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzNBZIiFfEyNAPFbvGKVo9ZJSS2NPSyt9P-l0eoyF9P3uBFc2zhGUv2Icq1bcpMidUEyFbGNY6tj8TpBB5Fw3QgKEuCzsUDOw7zUwvCuHksGS208sYPD5x94Q4-Ts2wTsMMnil9cVwlKlg/s1600-h/ice_cream_truck.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzNBZIiFfEyNAPFbvGKVo9ZJSS2NPSyt9P-l0eoyF9P3uBFc2zhGUv2Icq1bcpMidUEyFbGNY6tj8TpBB5Fw3QgKEuCzsUDOw7zUwvCuHksGS208sYPD5x94Q4-Ts2wTsMMnil9cVwlKlg/s320/ice_cream_truck.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373280924021070978" border="0" /></a><br />The ice cream truck would drive by our beach house on numerous occasions during our vacation and, having three kids that wanted ice cream each time the truck passed, she had to figure out some way to stop the 'spending sprees.' Instead of just saying "no" or telling us "maybe next time..." she told us that the ice cream man was out of ice cream when he played his music.<br /><br />Yes...you read that correctly..."The ice cream man has no ice cream when he plays his music."<br /><br />Can you believe that? Not only were we tricked (for years) into believing that someone would play such loud music without having a product to sell...but we were the kids chasing a silent ice cream truck! I remember at times thinking how foolish my cousins were when they begged my aunt for money every time that truck drove by playing music...<br /><br />...if only they knew...he had no ice cream for sale!! Brilliant...ha!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: border; -moz-background-origin: padding; -moz-background-inline-policy: continuous;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-70085586133590782742009-08-17T19:23:00.003-04:002009-08-17T20:10:28.205-04:00Simply Paying it Forward<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuBtfjSXw8o0iJE4lZ2q7j6cqUcX4BmuikXhQqapJ9z1Pk88d6hqBQnWzEbwqUhBMjJV9aDG5GenBo1jvFFU_IEYJ3kBpXCkfaukFESnD6SLEG8ELM3HQgoNsSPUe-wQqtle40srbD1-Kp/s1600-h/pay_it_forward-713562.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuBtfjSXw8o0iJE4lZ2q7j6cqUcX4BmuikXhQqapJ9z1Pk88d6hqBQnWzEbwqUhBMjJV9aDG5GenBo1jvFFU_IEYJ3kBpXCkfaukFESnD6SLEG8ELM3HQgoNsSPUe-wQqtle40srbD1-Kp/s200/pay_it_forward-713562.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371089413429928994" border="0" /></a><br />During my morning routine of drinking coffee and feeding the pets, I overheard a news story that caught my attention. It simply caught my attention because it was <span style="font-weight: bold;">not </span>about Michael Jackson, the war, health care, politics and so on...<br /><br />The story was about a woman who found two very expensive and beautiful rings while she was out one night in Palm Beach. Instead of letting them go unclaimed at a police auction, she contacted the local news with the hope of finding their owner. She knew someone would be looking for them and knew that they were extremely important in someone's life. Fortunately, the owner saw the news story and claimed the rings...with great appreciation. The woman who found the rings said she just wanted to reassure someone that there were still good people in this world...<br /><br />Now, this is the kind of story that makes me think...and question myself. What would I have done if I found two diamond rings one night? Would I have returned them? Would I have thought to contact the local media? If you've seen the movie <span style="font-style: italic;">Pay It Forward</span> then you will have a better understanding of where I'm going with my thoughts...if not, you must watch it! After the news story was over, I thought about whether or not I've done something in my life lately to reassure another person that there are still good people. Now, I'm not complimenting myself, saying I'm a saint or anywhere near perfect...but just one helpful interaction with someone in need can go a long way. So here is my good deed.<br /><br />A few weeks ago, I had just left the gas station and was on my way home when I came to the intersection a few blocks from my house. The car in front of me had it's flashers on. I saw a worried older woman looking out the window and I sat there for a minute to see if she was going to move...but she didn't. I hung my head out the window and asked her if she needed any help. She had her cell phone on her ear and replied with a frantic "yes, please...no one is answering their phones..." She said she ran out of gas and that her car had been giving her trouble lately. I could relate...<br /><br />After a short discussion, I reassured her that I would be back in less than five minutes with a gas can. I pulled up to my house only to remember that my brother had my gas can and he couldn't bring it to me at the moment. Thankfully, my neighbor was outside and he offered his gas can along with the gas that was left. I quickly thanked him and ran back to the car. On the way back to the intersection, I couldn't understand why she SO frantic. I've ran out of gas before and I was embarrassed, frustrated and (probably) late somewhere...but not frantic.<br /><br />When I pulled up next to her I saw what caused her to be upset. Her back seat was loaded with young children...not to mention that day was <span style="font-style: italic;">extremely </span>hot and humid. She said that she had her grandchildren and thought she could make it to the gas station...I smiled at her and told her I would give her the rest of the gas in the can. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to start her car so she handed some cash to her oldest grandson in the car and told him to ride with me. I looked at her like she just asked me to adopt him..ha! "No, really....I can go by myself and come back with more gas...you don't have to send him with me." My main concern was that she would worry or have the most horrible thoughts go through her head. I mean, she had no idea who I was or what my intentions were...not that I would do anything crazy...it's just the way the world is now.<br /><br />So, he climbed in the passenger side, buckled up, and gripped the door handle for dear life. I could sense that he was nervous so I started somewhat of a conversation. I asked him if he went to school around here, what grade he was in, what sports he played, how many siblings he had and if he was having a fun summer. You know...the conversations you have with kids you don't know. Every time he answered me was "Yes ma'am or No ma'am." I looked at him and said..."You are so polite, but you're making me feel old!!" He cracked a smile and started talking a little more...making the short ride less uncomfortable.<br /><br />We got back to the car, emptied the gas into her tank and exchanged a few passing words. As I was putting the cap back on I told her what a polite grandson she had and that I hoped she had a better Saturday afternoon. Before I could turn around to get in my car, she grabbed my hand and thanked me...genuinely. Not some empty appreciation. I told her that I did it because I would hope someone would do that for me, my sister, or mom if they needed help and that I was more than happy to know that they could be on their way. She tried to offer me money and asked if she owed me anything. I denied the money and just told her to help someone else in need at some time. She smiled and her grandchildren all chimed in with sweet little "thank you's" from the back seat.<br /><br />As I drove home, I smiled and said a prayer...thanking God that he had given me an opportunity to help someone else. I also thanked him for allowing me the ability to do something outside of my routine that made me feel good, kind and appreciated.<br /><br />I challenge everyone to step outside of your comfort zone and help someone else...pay it forward.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-45454819402759772132009-08-13T10:24:00.003-04:002009-08-13T11:03:36.295-04:00Dedicated to the Ten of You...This is for <a href="http://mamakatslosinit.blogspot.com/">Mama Kat's Workshop</a> and is sincerely dedicated to ten people who I would like to say a few things to. I hope you enjoy!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My Love :) </span>I can't thank you enough for how much you love me. We have already been through a lot. Starting at how badly you wanted to be with me during such a difficult time to where we are now. You have been happy when I'm sad, been patient when I'm irritable, and been confident when I see no reason. We have begun a new chapter in our life and I'm so happy to see where we go from here...together. I love you.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My B.F.F. </span>We have had some awkward times since the 3rd grade, but the longer we know each other...the more I'm thankful for you. We are on different paths in our lives but I think our friendship is such a great balance...for the both of us! I have had so much fun with you and I admire you for all the hardships you've faced recently. I am always here for you!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My Parents. </span>I am so thankful for the things you have given me and the things you have not. I am thankful that I've learned how to support myself and not rely on anyone completely. I can honestly say that I am self-sufficient person. I admire how many long hours you've both worked to make sure we were all provided for. The only thing I can think of that I wish was different is that the desire and drive you have for #3 to succeed was equally dispersed among #1 and #2.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">NO NAME. </span>You have been written off as a person to me a long time ago; so therefore I have no connection to you...except for the fact that by knowing you, you made me a much more unhappy person. I regret ever being introduced to you and find it humorous that you have (once again) surrounded yourself with the puppets you enjoy controlling. You have done me a favor. I have a clean conscious and sleep so much better at night not having to deal with you anymore. Enjoy your unhappy, lonely, and misguided life.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My A.D.D. Neighbor: </span>Clean your yard!! Geez...finish one project before you start on another. Paint the rest of your house and please stop making your own tools out of junk yard creations. Ugh, such an eye sore!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Creepy Old Men: </span>Please see below...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">VW Salesman: </span>Thank you...thank you....thank you for not approving me to get my Jetta. I was heartbroken, but God works in mysterious ways!! Thank you!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My Grandpa Lindley: </span>I regret that I missed the opportunity to know you better. From the stories about you and the few times I did get to meet you, I can only hope to find a man as hardworking and loving as you were. You were such a Christian man and I am thankful that you were my grandfather. I love you.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My Grandma Bishop: </span>I admire what a strong and independent woman you were...throughout your life. Living to be 99 is so amazing to me...all of the things you saw and all of the changes you experienced are incredible. You had a quiet personality but your actions spoke so loudly to me and my family. You were truely an inspiration to our entire family and I am so proud that you were our Grandma.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My Brother & Sister: </span>I love you both tremendously and wish the best for you in the future. I know that God placed me as your older sister to be an example and I hope that I have helped you make the right decisions sometimes...you both have such independence and I admire you for that. I love you both!Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-20309567901137362062009-08-12T16:14:00.002-04:002009-08-12T16:53:09.895-04:00What's up with the creepy old guy...?My girlfriend that I've known since we rode the bus together in the 3rd grade invited me out to get some drinks the other night. I thought it was harmless and quickly jumped in the shower expecting a short (but fun) girl's night...seeing that it was Monday and she had to work in the morning. Anyways, when we walked in the bar around 6:00 there he was...the most cliche, textbook, definition of a creepy old guy I had seen in a long time. And yes, unfortunately, he was there to visit with us. He was a client at my friend (lets call her) Marie's bank and thought it would be nice to spend some time 'catching up' I guess. Well, little did he know that we came with no money and were just visiting the bartender who went to high school with us.<br /><br />Creepy--"What ya want to drink ladies?"<br />Marie and I shot a quick 'gold-digging' glance at each other then placed our orders. She asked our bartending friend to make her something and I stuck with an Ultra...I wasn't in the mood to 'party like a rockstar' on a Monday evening with someone I thought should be at home enjoying the 6 o'clock news with his family.<br /><br />Creepy--"So, who's your friend Marie?"<br />She went through the whole story about how long we've known each other and that we came to enjoy some time together. A friend of Marie's also joined us at the bar about an hour later which seemed to set the whole night off...for me anyways.<br />The number one annoying thing to ask over...<span style="font-size:130%;">and ove</span>r...<span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" >and over </span>again is "So what was your name again??" Really...is that your game?? He continuously added different letters to my name and would smirk at me like he was <span style="font-style: italic;">Rico Suave</span>...ugh! Then he felt the need to remind me of how great Marie is or how beautiful she is followed by a hug and a peck on her forehead.<br /><br />I almost lost it...but held my mouth until I thought the time was right. She's an adult.<br /><br />When the other girl (lets call her) Lori walked in, <span style="font-style: italic;">Creepy </span>became <span style="font-weight: bold;">Creepier</span>. He sat beside her and I chatted with my high school friend behind the bar trying to avoid the obvious gestures Creepy was making to my friends. I felt my blood pressure rising when he would ask Lori or Marie what my problem was or why I wasn't smiling and having a good time. I thought it was pretty obvious and self-explanatory; therefore I continued to keep my mouth shut.<br /><br />I began to lose my cool when he took his sandal off and propped it on Lori's chair, ran his fingers through her hair, stuck his face in the back of her neck and repeated to us how good she smelled. I gave him the look a woman gives a man when he has tried to dance at the coolest club in town and has failed...miserably. You know that look?<br /><br />Well, I walked outside with the girls and found out that I wasn't over exaggerating anything but I was the only one who didn't work with him...<span style="font-style: italic;">my restraints were gone!!</span> I walked back in to find him standing beside my chair. When I found some room to squeeze through, I regained my seat which was quickly followed by him leaning over me towards the bar...<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Me---"Excuse me....? Why are you over here?"</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">Creepy---"Whoa! What's your problem?"</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Me--"I hate trying to enjoy a couple drinks with girlfriends and constantly interrupted by creepy old men...ugh!" (I didn't realize how loud I was, but the majority of the bar smirked...ooopps!)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">Creepy---"Creepy?!? Me?!?"</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Me--"I didn't stutter...you heard me. Now please get away." (I really said that...I didn't stutter! ha!!)</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);">Creepy--"Hunny, I have children! A son & 5yr old daughter. I am not creepy!"</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Me--"Well, then I'm sure you would agree that our fathers don't like old men like you hanging all over us...just like you wouldn't appreciate someone doing that to your daughter."</span><br /><br />He called me a couple names in the book, denied that he said them and tried to hug me on the way out. We closed our bill, took the cash on the counter and tipped our friend well.<br /><br />And that's how it's done...<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-51456748639322039402009-08-11T12:18:00.002-04:002009-08-11T12:36:51.394-04:00Lincoln Park After DarkAs I stare aimlessly at the computer screen and listen to the constant sound of Payton's razor in the bathroom I am picking my brain as what to do with all my free time. It's so funny to think that the level of free time Payton and I have at this point is nerve racking! It makes me feel very unproductive and that I'm forgetting to do something <span style="font-weight: bold;">really </span>important.<br /><br />But I'm not...<br /><br />I definitely know that I'm going to shave my legs today and paint my toe nails...probably something along the lines of 'Lincoln Park After Dark...' the deep purple color is a great example of my emotions at this point. I'm going to shape up my eyebrows, do some laundry and step over the fighting dogs periodically. Hmmmm.....<br /><br />Oh! And my plants need some watering and my closet needs to be reorganized. I've definitely got to start working on invitations for one of my jewelry shows coming up and I probably should push to have a couple more in between, but...<br /><br />Let me tell you, sleeping in and having no responsibilities or worries is wonderful. Now don't get me wrong, I am not going to live my life off unemployment and suck it dry like the people I used to talk so poorly about...but I am going to take some time away from the overwhelming, exhausting, dishonest, unhelpful, zealous, 9 to 5ers I once thought so highly of.<br /><br />It's so overrated.<br /><br />My plan is (this is usually where my dad laughs) to wait on the right thing to come along. My options are open to relocate and I'm not forcing anything!! I pushed and pushed to get the job I did 3 months after graduation and I regret that I didn't have better patience.<br /><br />But for now...<br /><br />I'm going to shave my legs, condition my hair a little bit longer, paint my toe nails, water my plants, do some laundry, play with my dogs outside, spend time with Payton and enjoy his company. I will think of what I'm going to do tomorrow...tomorrow! :)<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-24266764824750568462009-08-10T12:07:00.004-04:002009-08-10T12:58:13.700-04:00Looking Through the CircumstancesJust as I am approaching my mid-twenties and thought the worst was behind me...I entered the real world. You know...the one less understanding, less helpful and far more disappointing at times. Don't get me wrong, though, I would never want to go back to high school (unless I was starring in the sequel to 13 going on 30...) but I would love to only need a part-time job at the cafe again, not have to worry about paying the bills or making sure I had enough gas money to get me from 'point A to point b.' Man...wouldn't that be nice. Everyone seems to be so stressed out all the time and extremely concerned about "Number 1."<br /><br />May I be so bold as to say that I honestly didn't think I would be stressed out or overwhelmed by the level of expectations I set for myself? Sadly, I was mistaken when I had my first anxiety attack last week. I took that as my first sign that I needed to slow down with everything and that's exactly what I did. I put my laptop away at night, I slept longer, cut my work days from 9-10hrs shifts to 6-8hrs shifts. If I was finished at work, I mingled with the front desk or the guest rather than researching extra work to do for that day. I walked away from the overwhelming gossip and judgmental people a while back which was definitely the best thing I could have done although it did lead me to this point. If I spend time with someone and the only thing there is to talk about is other people to avoid the silence, I don't need to be involved. Some may take it as an insult to walk away from that kind of lifestyle, but I did it for myself. I did it because I don't want that kind of unhappiness in my life.<br /><br />The doctor diagnosed me with anxiety and mild depression...great. It seems everyone is depressed and taking some sort of medication to make them happy, but I wanted to try and change my lifestyle first...and leave the meds as my 'last resort' kinda thing. I am in the process of quitting smoking...holy cow it's a process!! I'm getting outside more and I refuse to stay cooped up in my house all day...the television is so draining! Despite all of these changes I was going to start working on, my fear of going to work each day and facing the judgment and harassment was overwhelming. I could feel the bricks on my chest in the morning and felt relieved when I put the keys in my car to go home. I think it was more fear of fear...or that I was going to have another anxiety attack. I loved what I did, but it didn't make a difference when I was so unhappy because of who I was working with.<br /><br />The day after I dropped my sister off at the airport to go to college at the University of Southern California (very sad day!), I walked into work 30 minutes early and was fired before my shift even started. Not until I got to my mom's work, did I know that they fired Payton, too. It's an extremely long story, but my blog today is not about the "he-said-she-said" drama rather than the way I am adjusting.<br /><br />Yes, I was sad to walk away from something I had become comfortable doing over the past 2 years and was blown away that I can be fired whenever someone feels "it's my time." But after those emotions left, I felt so happy. Happy does not even describe the overwhelming excitement I feel about starting a new chapter in my life...a new chapter with someone I adore and who is going through the same thing with me. I walked away from my desk on Friday with a clean conscience and a new outlook on life.<br /><br />Payton and I went to church on Sunday and the Lord knew exactly what area of my life needed some good ol' preachin' to! The sermon was on 'A Life Worth Watching: Experiencing Joy Despite Circumstances.' I teared up during church and said a quick prayer while I stood up and filed out of the auditorium. All my life I have been looking around the circumstances and disappointments while the whole time I needed to look through them...find my joy...and leave them behind me. My joy was not found at my job nor was it found by the people I was trying to please.<br /><br />This entire experience has been a blessing in disguise and everything that has happened up to this point is going to lead me somewhere great...I have no doubt as I am maintaining my joy and being the positive person despite my circumstances.<br /><br />"...I have learned in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."<br />Phillipians 4:11<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-74549165568071342412009-04-21T01:10:00.002-04:002009-04-21T01:35:14.358-04:00Not Me Monday!My contribution to <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ccenter%3E%20%3Ca%20href=%22http://www.mycharmingkids.net/%22%3E%20%3Cimg%20src=%22http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r208/jennisajoy/BLOG%20DESIGN/ONCEUPONABLOG/NotMeMonday.jpg%22%20/%3E%20%3C/a%3E%3C/center%3E">Mondays</a>!<br /><br />I <em>did not</em> get distracted from cleaning my house and end up doing yardwork all day! That definately did not leave me more chores to finish tommorrow...ugh! FOCUS! FOCUS!<br /><br />I <em>did not</em> stop in the middle of the street to investigate the "flat tire sound" coming from my car and find an orange cone wedged under my tire!! Thankfully, I didn't drive the entire way through downtown on a Saturday night drowning out the "rubber vs concrete" sound with my blasting radio. I didn't make a homeless guy crack up by pulling the cone from under my car either...it's not like I had to pull with both hands and my entire body weight! Gosh!!!<br /><br />I <em>did not</em> get called a "stripper" by a soccer mom under the influence of alcohol this week because of my (super cute) boots and (knee length) dress I was wearing. Atleast I didn't embarass her in front of her fellow drinking buddies!!! Nope, not me!!<br /><br />I <em>did not</em> sign up to "Twitter" last week and figure out that I don't like it. Maybe I'm not familiar with it yet, but I like my Facebook! Atleast I didn't 'Tweet' Lance Armstrong & Ashton Kutcher while I was on there...so cliche!!<br /><br />Now, on to Tuesday!!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-10194981894216798282009-04-19T21:45:00.003-04:002009-04-20T01:40:24.801-04:00Premier vs Kirby...???As I mentioned (briefly) before...I have started selling Premier Designs Jewelry. I was a little uneasy about it at the beginning considering it was a serious leap of faith in regards to not only money and time management (neither of which I have much of...!!! Ha!) but also learning how to sell a product that isn't necessarily 'needed' in this economy. Obviously, I signed up for it and I've loved every second of it! But...after you read the following, you'll realize (as did I...) that this is a cut-throat industry...!!!<br /><br />I had my sixth home show this past week in Union, SC. For those of you who aren't familiar with SC, that is about an hour & a half drive...through the country. You can't even take the interstate there! Aaahhh!!! Needless to say, I was hoping for at least a good turnout!!<br /><br />Because the show was at night and it was such a long drive, I had one of my guy friends go with me. He was so excited to see me "in action" considering he's never actually been to a show. We arrived to her house about 30 minutes before the show was scheduled to start and set up my stuff. I was so excited because 1.) I haven't seen her (my hostess) in years, and 2.) I was going to show off my jewelry-selling "skills" to my friend! haha...<br /><br />Two weeks prior, I sent out a handful of invitations while she posted flyers at her church, her daughter's dance studio and school. Knowing this, I was anticipating a decent turn-out.<br /><br />After everything was set-up and I started nibbling on her finger foods, there was a knock at the door...which I later found to be the <span style="font-style: italic;">dreadful </span>knock.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"> "Would you like your carpets cleaned for FREE today??"</span><br /></div>I knew what that meant...would you like to spend an outrageous amount of money on something you don't necessarily need....???Great!!! I looked at the door and watched this guy invite himself and his "worker" into <span style="font-weight: bold;">MY </span>HOSTESSES house....as Stephanie Tanner would say "How RUDE!!!"<br /><br />I didn't say anything because her entire house had hardwood floors. All he had to clean was one area rug. So, I thought to myself..."I would let them clean my area rug for free...it shouldn't take that long...and now-a-days I'll take (just about) anything for <span style="font-weight: bold;">free</span>!"<br /><br />Ten minutes after the (un-welcomed) carpet cleaners made their appearance, her one and only guest arrived. As she made her way cautiously around the vacuum cords and the numerous"see how dirty your rug was" presentations, she took her seat at the "Jewelry Table." Thankfully, while feeding on mixed nuts and pimento cheese sandwich wedges (Mmmm...!), both the hostess and her guest showed promising interest in my product as they aimlessly rummaged through the catalogs. I waited for about 30-45 minutes just so I could start my (brief) sales presentation for the ladies that had initially stopped by A.) to purchase my product, B.) to socialize with my friend(s) and C.) thanks to my invitations! Unfortunately, I was shot down each time I started by the roar of the (over priced) vacuum which forced me to take a seat. Frustrated, I began putting the jewelry on my guests...<br /><br /> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">ME!!!---</span>**very loud voice to over-come a vacuum** "Oh, doesn't that necklace look GREAT with what she has on right now?!?! I wear that with everything! My most popular item...what do you think...???" I even went to the extreme "selling tactic" of ornamenting their daughters with necklaces! I was desperate to beat the "dream-team-cleaning-machine" in the living room!<br /><br />We arrived at her house around 5:30pm and left around 9:00pm. The cleaners left about 15 minutes before we did...only after harassing <span style="font-weight: bold;">MY HOSTESS</span> (who, not to mention, had booked with me 3 weeks prior to that day...) into buying a vacuum cleaner! Let me tell you, if you are ever curious about learning how to <span style="font-style: italic;">make $$</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">vs</span>. <span style="font-style: italic;">simply offering/selling your product</span> to consumers...you have to witness a vacuum cleaner salesman's "approach!"<br /><br /> <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">SHADY </span>SALESMAN!!!---</span> "We can trade out your old vacuum cleaner in exchange for our Grade A, top-of-the-line, versatile Kirby vacuum...at a steal-of-a-price! If you walk into any Kirby store right now, you will pay at least $23,500! It can do everything but wash dishes!!"<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">***My friends eyes rolled almost out of his head!!!***</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">SHADY </span>SALESMAN!!!---</span> "What price range are you thinking of spending tonight??"<br /></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">***If it was me..."$50 for you to leave my house!!!! Thanks for the Spring cleaning, but my Bissle works great!" Unfortunately, it wasn't me...***</span><br /></div>After the guy finished cleaning her rug, he apparently went outside to make "<span style="font-style: italic;">THE </span>Call" to their actual salesman in order to finalize the sale. The apparent salesman who was arrogant, pushy, annoying, etc, etc...comes into her house without even knocking!!! <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">***G-E-T O-U-T</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"> would have been the first words out of my mouth!! But, it wasn't me...***</span><br /></div> <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">ANNOYING </span>SALESMAN!!!</span>---"How'd you like it?!? (Eyes gleaming at the vacuum cleaner) Didn't it clean your <span style="font-weight: bold;">area rug</span> wonderfully?!?! I just love <span style="font-style: italic;">my </span>Kirby! Never seen anything like it! Cleans your ceilings, mattresses, upholstery...amazing, huh?!?! (followed by a goofy grin that said "I'm going to screw you" all over it!!!)<br /> <span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">MY HOSTESS!!!!---</span>"Well, I've got a Rainbow that I've had for years...and it's OK for what I need, considering I only have this rug."<br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 102);"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">ANNOYING </span>SALESMAN!!!</span>---"A Rainbow?!?!? <span style="font-style: italic;"></span>We trade those out all the time!!! No one wants to have to carry around numerous parts these days...how much did you pay for it??"<br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 204, 255);"> <span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">MY HOSTESS!!!</span></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">---</span>"My mom bought it for about $1,600 <span style="font-style: italic;">years </span>ago. It's in storage right now."<br /> <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">ANNOYING </span>SALESMAN!!!</span>---"Of course it's in storage...you need a Kirby!! It's blah, blah, blah! (that's all I remember...). I can trade out your Rainbow and give you this Kirby TONIGHT for just $16,000!!! That's a $22,000 difference!! What do you think?!?"<br /> <span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">MY HOSTESS!!!---</span> "Ummm, I'm not sure. Can you call me back? I really want it, but just not tonight."<br /><br />This selling/<span style="font-weight: bold;">badgering </span>technique went on for about 20-25 minutes. Each offer was followed by an uncertain answer which was then proceeded by an irritated reply. I continuously thought to myself how happy and thankful I was that I had no sales quotas to meet and that I didn't HAVE to sell this jewelry to pay my bills. After that thought passed...I moved on to another one...apparently, the guy doesn't know math or the definition of value because he initially tried selling her this stupid vacuum cleaner for the same price she paid for her Rainbow <span style="font-style: italic;">years </span>ago. Can we stop really quickly and define....<span style="font-weight: bold;">depreciation</span>?<br />Finally, she talked him down to $1,000 flat. This offer was quickly followed by...<br /> <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"> <span style="font-weight: bold;">ANNOYING </span>SALESMAN!!!</span>---"Hhhmmmm...Ok, well, my guy here won't make a penny off this and now we're digging into my money....but...if you promise not to tell ANYONE about this <span style="font-style: italic;">great </span>deal I'm about to offer you...I won't mind! If you do tell, I won't ever be able to sell a Kirby for anything else...(whisper, whisper..)<br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"> MY HOSTESS!!!---</span> (who initially told me she was just going to let them clean her rug and ask to call them back later...)"I'll take it!!!! I'll just need your help getting my Rainbow out of storage since y'all can't leave tonight without it."<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">After 10 minutes of digging through her storage, he carried the Rainbow out to the living room, rolled his eyes at his co-salesman (a.k.a: slime-ball), then turned to my friend and said...</span><br /></div> <span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 51);"><span style="font-weight: bold;">JERK-O</span> SALESMAN!!!---</span>"Must be hard times if you're willing to sell something that won't make anyone any money, huh?!?" What's she in (nodding towards my direction)...the jewelry selling business?? That's...cool...?"<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">I looked at him and simply said...</span><br /></div> <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">ME!!!---</span>"Yes, I sell Premier Jewelry. I joined a few months ago mainly because they are a Christian organization that has morals and doesn't <span style="font-style: italic;">need </span>to pressure anyone to buy their product. It sells itself!!! It's so easy...I just do this (nodding toward my product) for fun!"<br /><br />They left with the Rainbow, sold my hostess <span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span> </span>a Kirby that was used for almost 3 hours to clean <span style="font-style: italic;">her </span>area rug, and dipped out. I was in shock! I felt like I had been abused...no, no...manipulated!!! After they left<span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>, my hosteess said that she bought it because she didn't think they would leave until she did. Duh!!!! Those are the people you do <span style="font-style: italic;">not </span>want to buy from simply because there's obviously some underlying scheme they've got going on. Why else would they 1.) Invite themselves into your house at dinnertime, 2.) Offer to clean your carpets for <span style="font-style: italic;">free</span>, and 3.) Be extremely eager to discount their 'remarkable' product so easily?!?!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">I was astonished...I was confused...I was offended...I was MAD!!</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">They didn't even acknowledge that I was there trying to run my (honest, previously scheduled & no to mention...<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">super cute!</span>) business at the same time! Instead, they asked me for a glass of water!!! "How RUDE!!"-Stephanie Tanner (again!)<br /></div></div><br />Thankfully, over the past few years, I've learned how to spin negative situations into positive 'opportunities.' After they left <span style="font-weight: bold;">MY HOSTESS</span> with a messy living room, a <span style="font-weight: bold;">used </span>vacuum cleaner and a <span style="font-weight: bold;">ridiculous </span>bill...I sold my stuff! I had explained the hostess plan to her numerous times but she insisted on buying what she wanted that night because she felt bad about the poor guest turnout and the obvious carpet cleaner situation. I denied her payments about 5 times until 8:30pm rolled around and my migraine sank in from the constant on-and-off vacuum cleaner.<span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"><br /> MY HOSTESS---</span>"I want this, this, and this!!! Can I write a check??"<br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);"> ME---</span>"Sure! What about getting this necklace too?? This one matches everything!! I love it!!! It's definitely on <span style="font-style: italic;">my</span> wish list!"<br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"> <span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">MY HOSTESS---</span></span>"Oh...I'm not sure. I think I just want these pieces right now."<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">***keep in mind this is after driving an </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">hour and a half </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">through the country, enduring almost </span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">3hrs </span><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);">of annoying torture followed by ONE earring sale...***</span><br /></div> <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">ME---</span>"Aaawwwhhh, come on!! What's one more $25.00 necklace! You just <span style="font-style: italic;"></span> bought a $1,000 vacuum cleaner...this is nothing!!!"<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"> ***ALSO keep in mind: Premier hostesses don't HAVE to buy their jewelry! They get it for FREE!***</span><br /></div> <span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 255);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);">MY HOSTESS---</span> </span>"You're right!!! What's another few extra dollars?!?! I do want that necklace and I <span style="font-weight: bold;">definitely </span>deserve it! Who do I make the check out to??"<br /><br />Ironically enough, I made the most money from the hostess who bought the pieces she wanted <span style="font-weight: bold;">and </span>the pieces her daughter liked too!!!<br /><br />Use the tools you're given...right?!?<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" style="border: medium none ; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-71745665259084496752009-01-11T20:32:00.004-05:002009-01-11T21:02:37.240-05:00GraceSo...one of my "New Year's Resolutions" is to find a church and become more involved. Not just because that's how I was raised, but I really feel that there is something missing in my life. Fortunately, I have been given the foundation to know that when you feel something is missing...there is only one place to look. I am so thankful!<br />Today, I went to <a href="http://www.gracechurchsc.org/resources/teaching/">Grace Church </a>with some co-workers that have had nothing but great things to say about the teachings. While I was in school I found a church and also started going to Brookwood with my parents once I moved back to Greenville. However, this is the first place I have found that felt like..."this is exactly where I'm supposed to be..." Please follow the link above and download any...or all...of their sermons. Grace is a non-demoniational place of worship that chooses verses from the Bible and relates them to your life...personally. <br />Today's sermon focused on the core values of the family...particualarly marriage. Although I am NOT married, I found it so inspiring. There were many things that he spoke about that gave me closure to the many questions I have had regarding "...what am I looking for in a man/relationship/future marriage..." One thing in particular he spoke about was the positioning of the man vs. the woman in a marriage/relationship.<br />God specifically told Adam not to eat the fruit from the tree...before Eve was even created...and he failed. Instead of just saying "Yes, Lord, I failed..." he blamed it on Eve. God <em>ordained</em> (very important...Adam did not <em>earn</em> his position as "man") as the leader among God's creations and therefore believed that he would follow thorugh with his command. This faliure to trust God led to snakes crawling on their bellies, women experiencing pain during child birth and loving their husbands but never being the head of the household. It also lead the the hard-work and sweat for the man to provide for his family. The main point of this (great) sermon was that the core problems faced in marriage/relationships is that (in most cases) there is a passive and independent person in the relationship...keep in mind all of this goes back to Adam & Eve...<br />The passive person is obviously behind the other...thinking everything is under control and there is nothing for them to do; therefore, he/she takes a step back "<em>he/she doesn't need me...they're doing fine by themselves..."</em> The independent person is taking control of the situation and (at the time does not think he/she needs any help doing so)...he/she takes a step forward "<em>I really don't need his/her help...I'm doing fine alone."</em> Before either person knows how alone they actually are...it's too late. <em>"He/she doesn't need me at all..."</em> OR <em>"He/she never helps, he/she is always making me do everything...alone"</em> <br />Adam stood there...knowing what was right and wrong...and did not step-up (as a man should or as God asked him to) and allowed Eve to become independent. Her independence from Adam is not what God intended this relationship to be...and therefore led to sin.<br />I have heard the "Adam & Eve" story so many times growing up...but I absolutely love it when new perspectives are presented and I am able to apply it to my life! I hope it does the same for you! I am no preacher...so PLEASE listen to these sermons. They are so very inspiring!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6294017777949787957.post-83330378268786240792009-01-08T21:39:00.002-05:002009-01-09T00:56:07.929-05:00Bloggy-FriendSometimes it takes a little incentive to write on my blog during the week now. So...thanks to <a href="http://mamakatslosinit.blogspot.com/">Mama Kat's prompt </a>(even though it's a little late) I have a reason to blog! YES!<br /><br />My first "bloggy friend" would definately have to be <a href="http://nowimagrownup.blogspot.com/">Heather</a>. We are at the same point in our lives and seem to have the same attitude towards it all..."are we really supposed to be responsible now...??" Although my cool and super hip cousin <a href="http://lemusingsofmoi.blogspot.com/">Summer </a>definately inspired me to start blogging...Heather I think is my first friend that I met on here...outside of family!<br /><br />The title of her blog ...<em>and now I'm a grown up: The random thoughts and musings of an amateur adult...</em>captures it ALL! I don't think I could say it any better! After graduation and now (as I like to call it) the beginning of the end...everything seems to be sooo incredibly different. Change is good...don't get me wrong...but everything happens so quickly. Heather and I seem to be experiencing the same "where in world am I right now...???" stage of life! The one thing I have found out about her by reading her blog, is that (like me) she finds the humor in everything! That is what keeps me going some days!! I love reading her stories about her pets and those escapdes (as I can soooo relate), drama (that is quickly overcome by the "be the bigger person" quality), family experiences (holiday traditions, mothers....boyfriends...). Even though we have never formally met, its very nice to know that someone is following my blog as closely as I am following hers!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: medium none; BORDER-TOP: medium none; BACKGROUND: none transparent scroll repeat 0% 0%; BORDER-LEFT: medium none; BORDER-BOTTOM: medium none" src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54486/330/33F3477B615DABF4FCD86BCA409F2005.png" /></a>Southern Dialoguehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04712150237373154795noreply@blogger.com2