I’m Showing My Age…
Ah, the first week of class, always such fun! I teach a course each fall for freshmen and Monday was the first day for the semester. 21 new minds to campus that I get to help guide and challenge to be better students… I love it. They are from all over the place, mainly the South, but I do have one from California and a few from New Jersey, but the rest are from the general South. The beginning of the fall semester also means that is time for the release of the annual Beloit Mindset List. This list is produced by a few faculty members at Beloit College and it highlights the “ mind set” that the entering students are coming into college with. What they have known (or not known), basically what their frame of reference is as they arrive on campus. You can find the list here: http://www.beloit.edu/mindset
Since I work with college students, I always love to read this, gives me a little insight before I walk into the classroom on the first day… hopefully it keeps me from making references that are silly. Granted, it didn’t help me about two weeks ago when at an orientation we were talking about rival groups on campus and I made a reference to the Sharks and the Jets. That movie came out DECADES before I was born and I know what it means…. How can they not? It is a classic part of American culture. But, I digress, that is not a part of the Mindset List. The downside of reading this list is that it makes me feel OLD. And I am only ten to twelve years older than these kids…. What is it going to be like in another ten to twenty years? Am I going to be able to relate to them? I guess I will need to worry about that then, not going to do me a lot of good now.
So, here are the items on this year’s list that REALLY got to me (out of nearly 80):
- Ferris Bueller and Sloane Peterson could be their parents. I am not sure I am willing to believe this. It slightly ruins my sweet view of that movie!
- As they’ve grown up on websites and cell phones, adult experts have constantly fretted about their alleged deficits of empathy and concentration. WOW.
- Their school’s “blackboards” have always been getting smarter. This is actually a good thing.
- Amazon has never been just a river in South America. I wonder which one has a bigger economical impact?
- Refer to LBJ, and they might assume you’re talking about LeBron James. Does LeBron have a Lady Bird and a big ranch in Texas? I doubt it.
- All their lives, Whitney Houston has always been declaring “I Will Always Love You.” Oh… no I wanna dance with somebody? Their loss.
- Life has always been like a box of chocolates. Wow… even more old. I remember seeing this in the theater… Kenwood Mall!
- The Communist Party has never been the official political party in Russia. This is mind boggling for me!
- “Yadda, yadda, yadda” has always come in handy to make long stories short. Ha! Love Seinfeld.
- Video games have always had ratings. Really? I remember that debate… OLD!
- Chicken soup has always been soul food. Odd.
- Their older siblings have told them about the days when Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake and Christina Aguilera were Mouseketeers. Super old!
- Most have grown up with a faux Christmas Tree in the house at the holidays. This is just sad. If I didn’t travel over the holidays, I’d go for a real one!
- They’ve always been able to dismiss boring old ideas with “been there, done that, gotten the T-shirt.” HA!
- Music has always been available via free downloads. No Way!
- Sears has never sold anything out of a Big Book that could also serve as a doorstop. Loved it and the JC Penny one for my Christmas list as a kid!
- While they’ve been playing outside, their parents have always worried about nasty new bugs borne by birds and mosquitoes. I am terrified to think about what will be around for me to worry about if I ever have kids.
- Public schools have always made space available for advertising. And I still disagree with this.
- Charter schools have always been an alternative. WOW.
- They’ve always wanted to be like Shaq or Kobe: Michael Who? Oh, poor MJ.
- They’ve often broken up with their significant others via texting, Facebook, or MySpace. This is just wrong, learn to talk to people face to face kids!
- Frasier, Sam, Woody and Rebecca have never Cheerfully frequented a bar in Boston during primetime. THIS IS TRAGIC!
- They won’t go near a retailer that lacks a website. Well, I do PREFER it.
- When they were 3, their parents may have battled other parents in toy stores to buy them a Tickle Me Elmo while they lasted. I remember The Rosie O’Donell show and her giving them away!
- McDonalds coffee has always been just a little too hot to handle. I remember this law suit… that is freaky.
Football: North v. South
It is the end of August in the South, which means everyone in the entire region is waiting for the start of the thing we spend two thirds of the year counting down for… football season. To be more specific for many around me: COLLEGE football season. I am pretty sure I will have a whole series about this over the course of the fall, it is THAT much of a big deal. So, while everyone in my town patiently waits to see who will be named the starting quarterback for the first game, I thought I’d start the first of the football themed blogs. I LOVE the list below, and must be very clear that I did NOT write it. It was sent to me as an funny e-mail a few years ago and I wanted to share. Actually, I don’t know who wrote the original one. I did add a few comments, but it makes me laugh every time I read it, I hope you enjoy!
A summary of the regional differences regarding college football games.
Women’s Accessories
NORTH: Chap Stick in back pocket and a $20 bill in the front pocket.
SOUTH: Louis Vuitton duffel with two lipsticks, water proof mascara, and a fifth of bourbon. Money not necessary – that’s what dates are for.
Stadium Size:
NORTH: College football stadiums hold 20,000 people.
SOUTH: High school football stadiums hold 20,000 people.
Fathers:
NORTH: Expect their daughters to understand Sylvia Plath.
SOUTH: Expect their daughters to understand pass interference.
Mothers:
NORTH: Don’t care if their daughters know what a football is.
SOUTH: Expect their daughters to buy a new outfit for Homecoming each year and marry a football player.
Attire:
NORTH: Male and female alike: wooly sweater or a sweatshirt and jeans
SOUTH: Male- pressed khakis, oxford shirt (bowtie preferred), sunglasses with croakies and cap with frat logo. Female-Little black, or school colors, sundress. Pearls or silver necklace with monogram, sunglasses with croakies.
Campus Decor:
NORTH: Statues of founding fathers.
SOUTH: Statues of Heisman trophy winners.
Homecoming Queen:
NORTH: Also a physics major.
SOUTH: Also Miss America.
Getting Tickets:
NORTH: 5 days before the game you walk into the ticket office on campus and purchase tickets.
SOUTH: 5 months before the game you walk into the ticket office on campus, put name on waiting list for tickets, then still have to camp out.
Friday Classes After a Thursday Night Game:
NORTH: Students and teachers not sure they’re going to the game, because they have classes on Friday.
SOUTH: Teachers cancel Friday classes because they don’t want to see the few hungover students that might actually make it to class.
Parking:
NORTH: An hour before game time, the University opens the campus for game parking.
SOUTH: RVs sporting their school flags begin arriving on Wednesday for the weekend festivities. The really faithful arrive on Tuesday.
Week of Big Game:
NORTH: Don’t even know who they are playing on Saturday.
SOUTH: Make sure clothes are color coordinated, make signs to support the home team, get shakers ready, pray for a victory, and bow down to football players when students see them.
Game Day:
NORTH: A few students party in the dorm and watch ESPN on TV.
SOUTH: Every student wakes up, has a beer for breakfast, and rushes over to where ESPN is broadcasting “Game Day Live” on their campus to get on camera, cheer tirelessly, and wave banners.
Tailgating:
NORTH: Raw meat on a grill, beer with lime in it, listening to local radio station with truck tailgate down.
SOUTH: 30-foot custom pig-shaped smoker fires up at dawn. Cooking accompanied by live performance by “Hootie and the Blowfish,” who come over during breaks and ask for a hit off bottle of bourbon. Televisions set up with satellite dishes so that we don’t miss any football games shown before and after ours.
Getting to the Stadium:
NORTH: You ask “Where’s the stadium?” When you find it, you walk right in.
SOUTH: When you’re near it, you’ll hear it. On game day it becomes the state’s third largest city.
Concessions:
NORTH: Drinks served in a paper cup filled to the top with soda.
SOUTH: Drinks served in a plastic cup, with the home team’s mascot on it, filled less than half way with Coke, to ensure enough room for bourbon.
When National Anthem is Played:
NORTH: Stands are less than half full, and less than half of them stand up.
SOUTH: 100,000 fans, all standing, sing along in perfect four-part harmony.
The Smell in the Air After the First Score:
NORTH: Nothing changes.
SOUTH: Fireworks, with a touch of bourbon.
Commentary {Male Fan}:
NORTH: “Nice play.”
SOUTH: “Dammit, you slow sumbitch -tackle him and break his legs.”
Commentary {Female Fan}:
NORTH: “My, this certainly is a violent sport.”
SOUTH: “Dammit, you slow sumbitch – tackle him and break his legs.”
Announcers:
NORTH: Neutral and paid.
SOUTH: Announcer harmonizes with the crowd in the fight song, with a tear in his eye because he is so proud of his team.
After the Game:
NORTH: The stadium is empty way before the game ends.
SOUTH: Another rack of ribs goes on the smoker. While somebody goes to the nearest package store for more bourbon, planning begins for next week’s game.
Wednesday Wedding Tips: Comfortable Shoes Needed!
Really, I have enough material on weddings to have this weekly tip thing go on for months. After all the weddings from last year it can keep going. Today’s topic is an important one for all the ladies out there attending or being in a wedding: SHOES.
Do not underestimate the utter importance of great looking, yet comfortable shoes. Really comfortable. Seriously you are in the damn things for hours! Not only do they need to look adorable, be high enough to work with the length of the dress, but if you are a bridesmaid you need to stand in them for twenty plus minutes in front of a room full of people and not fidget. No small task thankyouverymuch. There is this whole trick to standing at an angle and locking your knees in a semi-bent position, not straight-legged and locked. No one wants a fidgety bridesmaid on a wedding video.
It actually has become a tradition to take a picture of shoes at weddings I partake in anymore. There are some cute shots of all my girlfriends, but the pictures are from the knee down. Or, whatever pair of heels I am wearing on the table. It actually is a great snapshot of what the table set ups are, the current shoe styles and the fun of the surrounding reception. One of my favorite trends right now is brides wearing fun shoes with their typical wedding gowns. TT wore beautiful magenta heels in her January wedding. Gail wore these throwback silver heels that she wore to her father’s wedding several years before… it was cute because they were a little retro and they were also her something borrowed. The trend that I am ALL about avoiding…. Dyed to match shoes for the bridesmaids. Why waste that money for shoes that are clearly for a wedding and you can’t wear again? Now, I think it is perfectly acceptable for a bride to approve bridesmaid shoes, but a big no to the “dyed to match” variety. Thank you my dear friends for not making me get awful dyed to match shoes!
In the last wedding, I borrowed a pair of heels so I wouldn’t have to buy a pair of champagne colored shoes that I would never wear again. They were cute, but I was in such pain I was crying when I got out of the ceremony. Literally in tears because they apparently has no padding. I had tried them around the living room, apparently that is not the same as standing in one place in front of a room full of people. So, lesson learned: pick your shoes carefully. Even if you are going to flip flops later on… the shoes for the ceremony and the pictures matter… for your comfort and the bride’s happiness!
Did You Hear? We had an Earthquake!
So, we had an earthquake today. Don’t know if you had heard that. Granted, I don’t know how anyone didn’t HEAR about it… Facebook rather exploded with the news. Now, you may not have felt it. But a lot of people did… from Maine down to Georgia. Now in my little location here in the Southeast, a lot of people all around me felt the tremors. I unfortunately, did not. Well, I should take that back. I probably did feel it, but I am so accustom to my desk shaking from the construction going on around my office, that I don’t even notice the vibrations anymore. So, my very first earth quake (in my memory) and I missed it. I admit, I am a little sad about that. I mean, I don’t want to feel a 7 or 8 pointer, but to feel these little trembles would have been cool L
Well, I do know that the city I live in IS on a fault line. Actually a recent building in the area that was just renovated had additions put on all sides that gave extra space, but are also earthquake stabilizers. So we know we have the potential, it just happens so very rarely. I mean the last major earthquake (in my history banks) that was remotely in the area was the Charleston quake in the 1880s. If I remember from my geology and marine science classes in college, the dirt and rocks we have on this coast are different than on the west coast. It is more loose and sandy and clay-like, less rock? Anyway, whatever it is, the waves of the quakes travel in a different manner and go further, which is why we can fell them all over the place when a big one happens. Someone can correct me on that… those classes were seven or eight years ago now!
From what I have seen very briefly on the news and from my co-workers is that we are not use to this on the east coast, have no idea what to really do when it happens and don’t have good plans in place. You duck and cover when one happens, but how many people actually do that? They mentioned on the news that many people thought it was a terrorist attack. That is what we have come to expect, we are waiting for the next terrorist attack. How very tragic is that? I heard a report that some ran down fifty flights of stairs to get outside, because they thought that. That is what we worry about anymore, the next attack. I think the fact that the 10 year anniversary of 9/11 is approaching probably has a lot of people on a heightened sense of awareness, but it is still a little sad. Other things are happening in the world… the rebels are winning in Libya, the crazy dictator is MIA, there is a hurricane gunning right for us, the stock market was a little better, the list goes on… but we are all talking about a little earth quake.
Ok, so I was in my office here in the South and didn’t even notice the shaking, but my admin assistant and other co-workers did. Where were you for the east coast quake of 2011?
The A/C is off, and it is lovely
A crazy thing is occurring in my house right now; actually it is rather mindboggling… I have the air conditioning OFF, and the windows OPEN. In August. In the South. What on earth is going on in the world? It was only 75 degrees when I was driving home earlier in the evening. I guess the temps are about average for this time of year. The major thing happening that is allowing for the windows to be open is the fact that the humidity is not bad tonight. It has been so muggy here lately, when you step outside it is like being wrapped in a heated damp blanket and sweating uncontrollably with no escape. So that fact that it is barely noticeable tells you something. Generally the heat and humidity make it a sweltering miserable mess this time of year. But not tonight, tonight I have the windows open and it feels positively lovely.
So not only does getting to have the A/C off allow me to save on the electrical bill (which is painful after weeks of unbearable heat), but it also means the joy that comes with open windows. It airs everything out, gets a lovely breeze going, but more importantly… you can actually HEAR outside. The crickets are chirping, I can hear the cicadas buzzing on and off intermittently. Plus, the occasional bullfrog. Apparently we are in the 13 year cicada cycle here. At home in the Fort it is the 17 year cicada… regardless, they are disgusting to look at, but they don’t sound awful. Plus, the swelling of the noise doesn’t last that long… kind like a helicopter taking off and then moving away. It is nice to hear nature outside your window. Unexpected little bonus for my Saturday!
Shorts and Uniforms
Oh, I love that I work with exchange students… they make the best observations about the South. I am going to be getting material out of this all year!
So, I have a student who is here from western Canada… needless to say she has been trying to adapt to the heat and life of the South and this has made for a slight adaption in her clothes. So, she and her sweet Southern roommates went shopping where my student attempted to buy shorts. She comes to orientation yesterday and exclaimed, “why are all the shorts so short here?!” And you know what, she is right! I am not sure if it is just the South or all of the USA, but women’s shorts have gotten ridiculously short over the last few years. I am not saying that shorts should be down to the knees or even hovering above the knees, but I really don’t want to see your butt cheeks hanging out of the bottom of your shorts, end of discussion. I directed her to Loft, I figure she’ll be able to find some reasonably length ones there!
Another fun fashion observation this week comes from my two Aunts. One has spent years living in Oregon and recently moved back, the other was visiting from New York. So I get over to my Uncle’s house for a family dinner on Monday night and they immediately ask me about the guys on campus and what they were wearing. Apparently, they drive through campus on the way to dinner and passed college guy after college guy and they are all wearing the same thing: khaki shorts ( just above the knee- cargo and non-cargo), a polo shirt or a button down dress shirt (not starched), rainbow flip flops or boat shoes, sunglasses with croakies attached. Optional items… baseball hats, vineyard vines belts. My aunts were cracking up, asking it was a uniform. I thought about it and said yes, the vast majority all do seem to wear a variation of the same thing! With or without the popped collar. Now, some people may think it is just the guys in fraternities… I was asked that. But no, I think it is just the standard uniform down here anymore. Boys in their Southern uniform.
Translation Tuesday: Buggy
Crazy month, so another quick entry, after all, it is Translation Tuesday! This is another one that came up last week with my grad staff as we were training. I love that they are from all over the US, it is such fun watching them discover the South! Actually, I just submitted a program proposal for conference in March discussion culture shock, this blog will come in very handy if it is accepted (granted, the proposal is grounded in theory and research, this blog… not so much!)
So today we are going to talk about the Southern word: Buggy. This is another word that popped up during my sophomore year of college. Actually, now that I think about it, I learned a lot of Southern things that year and I think that is because I had two suitemates from the deep South, these words came up a lot! You see, I think buggy and I think of something that goes behind a horse and is pulled. You sit in it and take a ride behind an elegant animal… I guess it is the whole idea of a “horse and buggy,” isn’t there a song with that in it? But no, that is not what a buggy is here in the South… a buggy is a cart, as in a grocery cart. It is odd, I am only eight or nine hours from the place I grew up, but something so simple has a completely different meaning.
I still refuse to call it a buggy, it is a cart or grocery cart to me. But there has been at least one convert to the name from the Fort. Gail, that college roomie who grew up in the same hometown as me, converted. She refers to it as a buggy all the time… she won’t use the word y’all, but buggy works perfectly.
Only In the South…
So, I work at a college and this past weekend was move-in weekend. To those of us that work that weekend, it is organized chaos. You keep a smile plastered on your face, answer the same question repeatedly and literally try to make people as happy as you can. Not only am I an educator and an administrator, but I am in the customer service business and it never ends. Currently, we are in the “Welcome Week” process and it really won’t be done until Labor Day, or we won’t be in a settled routine until then. It is for this reason that my friends have pretty much accepted that they won’t see or hear a lot from in August… ever. So, I apologize if there aren’t a lot of blogs on here in the next week or so… pulling 10-15 hour day after day and week after week for a month can make it difficult to find time to write.
However, I have to share some observations from the first few days of move-in and welcome that point out how far I am into the South.
– It is hot as hell and I am running around on move in day, hauling giant containers of water and not batting an eye at the amount of sweat pouring off my body… I have gotten used to the heat of move in day.
– Two parents got in a fight on move-in day while standing in line to move into a residence hall. Some conversation occurred that had tempers flaring, one father threw a punch. The other father started to lift his fist to punch back, but he said, “ No, we are not going to do this, we are the parents. We are not going to wreck our daughters’ first day of college.” The father who was hit and said this, also opted to not press charges. The father who threw the punch was from Jersey. The well-mannered father? Charleston. Manners. They do manners really well there. Welcome to the South.
– At an event on Sunday, a freshman went on stage to accept an award on behalf of the freshman class… he wore a pink tie and a full seersucker suit.
– At that same event, I saw a father in a head to toe seersucker suit, with boat shoes. His wife and daughter (the college student) were in matching Lily Pulitzer dresses and pearls.
Oh the South, how I love you. But you make me chuckle at times 🙂
Wednesday Wedding Tip: Ex Marks the Spot (Guest Blog)
Gail, my dear sweet college roommate, is an amazing person. Actually, she is one of my most favorite people in the world, one of my dearest friends, and I am pretty sure I’d go nuts if I didn’t have her and her sense of humor in my life. I mean really, who else would help me fish my cell phone out of a toilet after I dropped it in one at in a public bathroom? She is a true friend and a good blogging buddy, I have no problem admitting that she does it much better that I do! I have often been a guest blogger on her site (site name removed for privacy) but this is the first time she has been on mine! So enjoy the blog from a bride of one of my MANY weddings last year!
When Puff and I got engaged in December 2009, I couldn’t wait to rush to tell every single person I could find. I also couldn’t wait to rush into some heat, since it was a mere 18 degrees in Central Park that evening. But that’s beside the point. Phone calls and texts abounded those next few days and the planning wheels were already in motion. It was the happiest of times. Except, there was one person I had to tell and I knew telling them wouldn’t be easy. In fact, it could potentially be a fatal blow.
Mr. Smith, and I dated 10 years ago. We were friends first; great friends. It evolved and twisted and turned into a relationship, accompanied by post-it notes of “I heart Mr. Smith” all over my dorm room. As times changed and lives changed, our relationship stalled, cut off, and we went years without speaking. A rekindled friendship 6 years ago got us back on track; on track to become the best of friends. We were each other’s rock during hard times, our biggest supporters during the good times. He was the angel on my right and we wove our friendship in and out of other romantic relationships with other people, always there for advice or a good kick in the ass. We never crossed any lines over the years. Not even once. But that didn’t mean there weren’t some lingering feelings in the dark pits of our stomachs. We have an unquenchable love for each other. He is my soulmate. But he is not the man I wanted to marry.
In retrospect, he was fabulous about the news. We celebrated with rum and a congratulatory hug once I saw him weeks later. Most importantly, he helped me keep my heels on, so I didn’t go running away from the giant commitment I was about to make. And he graciously agreed to attend the wedding with his girlfriend. Those who were not my closest friends started to question the decision: Was it proper etiquette to invite an ex to your wedding?
The truth is, probably not. Our scenario is a strange one and a friendship that not many understand. (He was even at my bachelorette party!) But I wasn’t about to go through the single most important day of my life without his presence. It was a calming piece of the puzzle to know that he supported my marriage, unconditionally. I did, however, make sure it was OK with Puff. He was the one I was marrying, and had he not been OK with it, then Mr. Smith would have been left off the guest list. The open communication with Puff about all of it was key. There were boundaries set and expectations to meet. Puff is the most awesome of men to understand, but most men are not that way. Alas, most ex’s-being-friends arrangements don’t work out anyway. We are a strange anomaly. Therefore, I would say if you are pondering the decision to invite an ex to your own wedding, that you sit down with your fiance and have a deep, serious, heart-to-heart. There are always lingering feelings that can cloud decisions and muddy the waters.
Even a year later.
Which is when I received a text from Mr. Smith, in response to advice I was soliciting for a friend in her dilemma of having a “determine the relationship” talk with her most recent beau. His advice? “You need to have the talk and find out. Otherwise, you’ll end up being a guest at their wedding wondering what might have been.”
Translation Tuesday: Fixin’ To
My new graduate staff members started to work this week, and right away I got to act as a translator. One GA was born in Japan and moved to California at age 4 and then to New Jersey as a teenager. Another one is from Illinois and another from Seattle, but then moved to the DC area as a teen. Today another GA, who is from the South and has a DEEP southern accent, said some things that they just couldn’t understand.
So, today’s phrase of the day: fixn’ to. As in: I’m fixn’ to make a run to the store, or I’m fixn’ to take a shower. It is the shower one that is my first recollection of hearing the phrase. One of my roommates in college said it and I must have asked her to repeat herself three times so that I could hear her correctly. I am not sure if the correct spelling is fixn’ or fixin,’ if anyone knows, please enlighten me. But in short, it means… getting ready to go do, or planning on taking some sort of action.
So yes, a common phrase that is used daily in the South and today I got to educate three very intelligent graduate students on what it meant, so they wouldn’t be totally lost when they heard a native say it! How can you use it in your own vernacular today- if you are not from down here?
A Hole In My Heart
This is my grandmother, she is holding back my hair at my 8th birthday party in this picture. Today is the 7th anniversary of her death and I always like to pause on this day and remember her. She helped raise me and was an amazing woman, I wouldn’t be who I am without her help in raising me. We loved Anne of Green Gables, and since she and Anne both had red hair, I would always call her Carrots, like Gilbert does in the book.
She always taught me that “pretty is as pretty does.” I got my love of reading from snuggling in bed with her and reading stories before bed. Always reading with her and the stuffed bunny she (I mean the Easter Bunny) gave me when I was six. That bunny still sits on a shelf in my bedroom all these years later. I have her long legs, and my blue eyes came from her father. I sing along with Willie Nelson every time I hear ‘On the Road Again’ and I think of and driving down to our farm in the mountains. Catching tadpoles in the stream there, listening to the rain on the tin roof of the farm house or running through the tobacco fields we owned. She taught me how to eat crab legs and how to walk with a book balanced on my head. I swore, and always will, that I will never smoke because I hated how she always had a cigarette in her hand. I remember traveling out of the country for the first time when I was eight and she took me to Germany, I remember her letting me show my very own passport to the customs agent in Hamburg, because she let me pretend that I was a grown up. I still can’t make her vegetable soup or bean soup. I’ve got the chicken noodle down, but I always screw up when I try and made her country gravy for biscuits and I’ve yet to get the skillet fried potatoes just right. She hated it when I would curse, and made me promise I would stop, I still struggle with that.
She always made sure that I wasn’t without anything (well, the things that mattered). She was my anchor through every storm. I can remember her sitting on the front step of the house when my Mom and I loaded up to make the eight hour drive to get me to the South for college… eleven years ago this month. I remember that last day that I saw her those seven years ago, July 4, 2004. I had been home in The Fort for May-July before heading back South to start grad school. I left to drive back early on the 4th, she wasn’t awake yet, so I stood in the doorway of her bedroom and blew her a kiss and said a prayer. And a month later I didn’t have her anymore. That summer had been very rough for her and she went when it was her time, and I know that. It doesn’t make me miss her any less. Even seven years later, she still is with me in small ways every day. I moved through my grief a long time ago, but I don’t think you ever truly stop missing someone you loved. I am not sure you are supposed to.
About a year ago, I heard this song by Jewel, called “The Shape of You.” I think it pretty well describes the sadness and acceptance of losing someone you love.
September settles softly
Leaves are starting to fall
I recall for the last time you were here
You left a melody that lingers still
There’s a hole in my heart
and I carry it wherever i go
Like a treasure that travels with me down every road.
there’s this longing lonesome deep
kind of bitter kind of sweet
there’s a hole in my heart
in the shape of you
Time stealing swiftly
As children having children of their own
And around life’s merry go round goes
and there you are watching what you cannot hold
There’s a hole in my heart
and I carry it wherever i go
Like a treasure that travels with me down every road.
there’s this longing lonesome deep
kind of bitter kind of sweet
there’s a hole in my heart
in the shape of you
even though my heart aches
there’s a smile on my face
cause just like a window to heaven
there’s a light shining through
there’s a hole in my heart…
There’s a hole in my heart
There’s a hole in my heart
There’s a hole in my heart
But it’s in the shape of you…….
Why is there milk just for PETs?
This won’t be the most long or detailed entry, but I have had a rough week and I needed something to cheer me up. So I was trying to think earlier of funny things about the South, and I tumbled across this silly memory from college. At some point in college I had a crush on a guy named Ryan. I actually can’t even remember Ryan’s last name, but I know we knew each other because we were both student leaders and we were both from the North. I keepwanting to say he was from Pennsylvania, but I think I am confusing him with someone else. Anyway, I digress from my tale. He told me this story a year or so after it happened, but even looking back at it however many years later makes me chuckle.
During freshman year, Ryan needed some milk. Like most college students, he didn’t keep much food in his residence hall room: Easy Mac, Ramen, cookies, popcorn, drinks, cereal and milk for the cereal. Really, it is amazing the food that college kids can survive on and it is just normal. Anyway, Ryan walks across the street from his residence hall to the convenience store. Granted, it they don’t really do convenience stores in the South like they do in the North, so it was really just a quick stop… chips, beer, soft drinks, cereal, milk and such… all way over priced. Ryan is standing in front of the refrigerator section looking for some plain white 2% milk. All he sees in front of him are jugs and jugs of PET Milk. Ryan found it a bit perplexing that they sold milk just for animals in the store and couldn’t understand why he couldn’t find the milk for himself. So Ryan goes up and asks the cashier where the normal milk is at in the store, the human milk. The cashier points him back to the case… it was at this point that Ryan realized the milk brand name was PET Milk… normal milk for you and me, not the pet kitty cat at home. Actually, I believe it is a Southern brand because I had never heard of it before coming here!
So, picture this 18 year old college freshman, in his ragged khaki cargo shorts, and ripped t-shirts, with longish hair held in place with an old baseball hat. Just picture him there in the quick mart, looking around for the human milk and not the pet milk. And then imagine the look of realization on his face as he realizes how silly he has been. Yep, made me smile to remember.
Wednesday Wedding Tips: Have a Defender on Your Team
Yep, if you are planning a wedding, you need to have a fighter or someone who will defend you or stand up for you on your wedding planning team. That has been me for a number of my friends.
I think I would describe myself as tenacious or determined. Others may say that I am intimidating, forceful or even a downright bitch. Whatever, you say potato, I say patattah. While this isn’t always the best reputation to have, it did work for me in midst of this madness (10 weddings in 2010, in case you missed that from an earlier post). If there was a problem with a seamstress- I was the one sent in to politely, yet firmly, remind her of all the headaches and blood pressure issues she was causing in failing to do her job. If the head server at the reception hall was being a jerk- I was nominated for the job of going and talking to her and getting what the bride wanted. If the DJ was stuck in the freeway in the ice storm, I was the one on the phone nicely demanding that he call everyone else in his company and seeing what they could do to safely get to the wedding. Not only did I get something done, which was nice to be able to do for my friends, but it provided an EXCELLENT source of venting for me during stressful times. Oh, and my continued public service announcement: DO NOT go to Fran’s Alterations if you are from mine and Gail’s hometown… worst service ever!
Another thing I learned from all these wedding… if you involved in the wedding, you will be seen by everyone, but you won’t actually get to talk to anyone.
Cute guy you want to flirt with, friend you haven’t seen in a year that you want to catch up with, an actual conversation with your mother about what she thought of the ceremony… not going to happen. By the time the last wedding came around, I had actually given up on trying to sit down and talk with people at the reception. It is nice in theory… you should have time to chat while eating dinner, or when not dancing… but it doesn’t happen. You start a conversation and have to dash off to take a picture of the bride and groom cutting the cake, or you have to go in for round fifteen with the witch on the catering team about why you need more plates to serve the cake- which they should have been doing for you, you are collecting all of the gifts and loading them into the car, re-bustling the bride’s train for the 12th time, holding her dress up while she uses the restroom or trying to make sure the right family members go home with the right centerpieces and have all gotten their into the family photo with the bride and groom. It is exhausting and before you know it, the night is over and all the people you had been excited about seeing are hugging you good-bye and all you had talked about was how nice you each looked and what the travel was like to get there.
So prepare yourself… you are not going to have a real conversation. But you will smile and wave a lot.
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