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Meridian, MS, United States
A sister, a mother, a rival, a best friend, an information junkie, oblivious. A dreamer, a realist, a believer just seeking His will for me. A procrasinator, a competitor, a country girl with city ways, a student, a mentor, a professional who thinks casual Fridays are a must, a fan. An anachronism, relevant, a cliche, an enigma, a wife with goofy songs and bedtime stories for my favs and one who is always striving toward giving you the best that I've got!

Thursday, February 25, 2010

I Hate Hills!

I hate hills. For this I am unapologetic.

I hate pan-roasted oatmeal. I hate corns on an otherwise perfect pedicure. I hate myself for missing that person who left as though they never missed me. I hate when my dog chews on our bed linen. I hate that math is not easy for everyone.

I hate the sound of high heel shoes so worn they click when you walk on tile floors. I hate weeds. I hate the dumb cist that went undetected for years and then ruptured on her liver and spewed poison throughout my mom's body, making her so ill that she never recovered.

I hate panty hose. I hate spinach or salad in my teeth and no toothpick or floss within 800 miles. I hate mopping. I hate vacuuming. I hate dusting. Ok, I hate housework. I hate that baking from scratch takes effort. I hate there are bad side effects to otherwise good medications.

I hate stretch marks and facial hair. I hate black shoes with black socks with khaki shorts and Hawaiian-print shirts. I hate being in a hurry for no apparent reason. I hate not being more disciplined. I hate having the hiccups.

I hate couscous. I hate snakes. I hate indigestion. I hate potholes. I hate being awake when I want to be asleep. I hate the perception that chivalry is dead.

I hate hills - they are tough to run, but I've got to give it the best I've got....

Monday, February 22, 2010


These days, I am not finding many folks talking like Dr. Phil. He routinely uses horse sense as he dispenses advice to the poor folks seated in the shrink seats on his well-lit stage during his well-watched talk show each day. Thank goodness most of us don't gallop about using our best Texas drawl spouting Dr. Phil-isms; but, I must admit I do miss hearing proverbs.

I remember hearing my mom (one of the wisest people I'll probably ever know) and the "old folks" use them around me when I was growing up. So here's the deal, though. I am trying to decide when I started saying them aloud myself and what does it say about me?

Does using these proverbs aloud to the folks I work with, using them with my children, my husband, or in casual conversations with friends or family mean I've cross some invisible wisdom-dispensing threshold and entered into realms of wisdom with the likes of my mom and the "old folks"? Probably not, but more often I find myself saying things like:

A stitch in time saves nine.

Don't judge a book by its cover.

Haste makes waste.

Can't change a leopard's spots.

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

That's a horse of a different color.

A penny saved is a penny earned.

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me.

Waste not want not.

A man can work from sun to sun but a woman's work is never done.

Don't toss the baby out with the bath water.

Precious things come in small parcels.

Penny wise, pound foolish.

Too many cooks spoil the broth.

My fav:

To err is human but to forgive devine!

Do you have any? 'Cause that's the best I've got...

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Barneys, emBellishment, Brood, Bumpkins, Baby boys, emBarrassment and Felicity Huffman

In the second or third season of Desparate Housewives (when it was "the" show to watch), maybe just after the first season of Curb Your Enthusiasm but definitely post-Christmas on a visit to our children in southern California, my husband thought it would be a good idea to take a quick shopping trip to Barneys Beverly Hills. He had heard Larry David from Curb Your Enthusiasm casually mention Barneys in the Curb dialogue. Plus, we had gotten some random, but embellished, Barney's gift from a friend a few years earlier. Also, the rental car place had really goofed up our reservations so we ended up with an uber nice Escalade for our use for the whole visit. Maybe my honey felt we could handle it.

He was curious.

I got it, so we went.

Now, my husband and I have six adult children between us, five baby grands (only two baby boys had been born at the time of this story), and a dog (doesn't travel, thank God or else she may have added to the drama that ensues). Although we took two vehicles, all of our daughters (four), both sons and a one son-in-law, the two baby boys, two strollers, and without dog (again thank God) pulled up to the valet parking of Barneys and poured out of the our son-in-law's Audi and our rented Escalade one by one. Our brood managed to reduce a roomy luxury utility vehicle to the size of an MG midget full of circus clowns. The parking attendants had to be amazed as we just simply kept coming.


We proudly tossed the attendants our "rental" keys and flowed into the immaculate, open-air sales floor of Barneys. Two fabulous floors of high-fashion labels where socks start at $45.00 a pair and yet there was no crowd.

Go figure?

Lighting in this place was so precise that each piece of merchandise (strategically placed and perfect and limitedly featured) seemed to be its own showcase. Unfortunately, the lighting also proved to wash my dark skin right out, my clothes soon seemed labelly challenged and I had an instant flashback to episodes of Uncle Jed, Granny, Jethro and Ellie Mae.


Was this just my insecurity? Was I just imagining that the sales staff was staring at us as though we had just deboarded a tour bus at the Hollywood Walk of Fame? Was I going to cave to the pressure of paying $45.00 for a pair of socks?


Then there they were...the opium of the female masses...Shoes...precious, PRECIOUS, SHOES! Gucci, PRADA, Fendi, Manolo Blahnik, Yves St. Laurent, Marc Jacobs all there. Ten eyes were affixed to the back of store and the high fashion was beckoning us across the airish lint-free wooden floor. To this, my hubby was good. He was the man; he and the boys opted to take the flawless and spiral staircase to the second floor which wound neatly up to the men's merchandise.

Well, all five of us girls had just about settled on sharing a pair of $1500.00 Manolo Blaknik (on sale) three-inch high slinky sandals when I noticed a very underdressed, unassuming, but familiar face discretely hidden under a baseball cap. I gingerly handed back to our eldest daughter the Manolos as though I was handing her her birthright. I slinked closer to the baseball cap, pretending that the regular-priced shoes had some how become affordable to me; and when I had gotten close enough to speak in a whisper, I said to the baseball cap, "I know you are busy, but I love you!"

She looked up from under her cap and smiled. I had loved her in the sitcom, "Sports Night" and seen her made-for-tv movies. I indeed am a longtime fan of both her and her husband William H. Macy. She extended her hand to shake mine and invited her assistant, Kim, over to meet me. SHE WAS GRACIOUS!!! I invited my daughters (all Deparate Housewife fans) over to meet both Ms. Huffman and Kim.

I remember how she referred to each of my daughters by name and briefly spoke to each of them about their interests. She even acknowledged my baby boys sitting in their strollers. We straigtened our hair and coats and Kim (assistant) took a photo and then the both of them were gone. Ms. Huffman never let on, but I think her shopping experience was probably just ruined by novice shopping with celebs in Barneys. We, on the other hand, were stoked!

We had to share our experience with our guys on the second floor. So, we boarded the elevators right off the shoe department. We loaded babies, strollers, coats, grins and excitement and then hit the button for the 2nd floor. The doors quickly closed and we lifted toward the second floor, but then....

Bomp! Bomp! Bomp!

A long loud alarm, sounding in intervals of three. Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! What's going on? Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! Is it a fire alarm, we guessed? Bomp! Bomp! Bomp! Oh, my God; it's the elevator alarm, we discover. Bomp! Bomp! Bomp!

Shame poured into the elevator and deflated any photo-with-Felicity excitement we had just experienced. We are reduced to silence cloaked by utter embarrassment. My youngest daughter, in her excitement, had leaned on the elevator alarm and now we had officially become novice TIMES A BILLION, plus a pair of $45.00 socks.

The elevator doors opened in pregnant-snail time with us facing everyone and everyone facing us. We were at full circle, unloading the elevator pretty much like we had unloaded the Escalade and Audi earlier, fanfare. It was time to go just as Felicity Huffman had earlier, no fanfare. Ever happen to you? 'Cause that's the best I've got...

Saturday, February 20, 2010

TGIF 'cause tomorrow's Saturday

Without much forethought I managed to find an outfit that required no ironing. My hair, though nappy, still laid pretty neatly and in decent order to my head. The scar from Wednesday's curling iron mishap was fading from my upper right cheekbone. As I left the house in hopes to grab my morning fruit for breakfast, there were no more bananas. That worked out because I only eat them for their nutritional value and because they don't have to be rinsed. The daily forecast was a high of 55 and I am pretty sure we hit 60. The Friday before it was snowing....

I was in the two-seater today and a ding in the door of "his baby" would not have been good. But as I pulled up to the usually highly-competitive parking lot outside of Ivy Hall, it was Friday. Very few classes on Fridays meant very few cars, so I got a corner spot on the third row. Perfect.

I had a To Do list on my desk for today, leftovers from the previous day; maybe even a previous life, but a To Do list just the same. I managed to get through most of it. I had two appointments that moved on cruise. Fridays end at 3:30 and I was in my car by 3:55 on my way to pick up two of my favorite little girls (my great nieces) and then home. At home, a text to my phone..."Anderson Cup?"
"Yup", I respond.
"Well, run when?"
"Let's start tomorrow morning at 8:00 am?", I ask.
"My hood, good trails, good hills, c u around 8ish."

What was a great ending to a great Friday! Smooth sunny Friday with the promise of an early Saturday morning run. So today, I got up and jogged/walked three miles with a friend that I haven't spent enough time with lately. That gave me enough energy to drive up to Starkville and spend quality time with my children and baby grands.

A good Saturday would not have been quite as pleasant without an awesome Friday! TGIF. Share yours 'cause that's the best I've got...