Mississippi Raw Footage

36

2011-08-10T11:11:00.000-05:00

I had to at least drop by to change the age on my profile, since I had a birthday yesterday.

And here's how that went: During breakfast, my 2-year-old said, "Mama, you have a little quack." Me: "A crack? Where?" "Right there - by your eye." The kid straight up pointed out a crow's foot. For the first time ever. On my birthday. Thanks, kid. You're lucky you're cute.

Other than that, it was quite nice. My sweetie gave me a lovely gift in the morning, then we all went out for pizza that night. Dessert was banana pecan praline gelato, which sounds good, but is oh so much better than good.

And now, I have an hour and a half to get about three hours of stuff done. So, Bye!

Saturday at Stage Left Cafe

2011-07-26T08:41:00.009-05:00

Hi, guys! There are a couple of non-Facebookers who occasionally stop by (I hope they still do) who might want to see this. This is an open mic semi-near us, and I was signed up for 8 pm hoping for less light outside so I'd be an image rather than a silhouette, but they were running early and I went on at 7:30. Also, I made it especially for some friends in Vermont (which is why the opening slate has a mountain scene and cryptic inside-jokey graphic). My intro explains it a little more.

Beware: Randy Jackson would say, "It started out pitchy, Dawg." But, it gets better. I was preoccupied trying to sing with an Irish accent without sounding magically delicious. Not sure what key I thought I was in at first.

Enjoy!

Christmas at our House

2010-12-26T19:46:00.002-05:00

Hi, there. The following video probably only works for grandparents who just can't get enough Jackson. I'm not sure the rest of you will want to sit through all 8 minutes of video.

But there's a pretty funny fart at 4:10. You should at least fast forward and see that.

Fall Family Fun

2010-10-07T15:09:00.001-05:00

It's been quite a while since I posted, but it has come to my attention that the Georgia grandparents aren't really digging Facebook anymore. Since it's selfish to hog the Jackson pictures, here are a few from a recent trip to a local pumpkin farm/ petting zoo.

Mama's little threat to society. <3

It is my lot in life to be surrounded by handsome men.

Having lots of fun in the pretend fire truck

See what I mean?

Mama wanted to take a picture. Jackson wanted to have a fit. Mama decided to lie down in the grass and have a fit, too. It just got giggly after that.

Me and Mr. Frowny Face waiting for the Great Pumpkin

We saw LOTS of animals that day, but they were kind of hard to photograph given the conditions. The giraffe was very photogenic, though.

Hanging with the reindeer

Jackson's not a fan of being able to see through something that's holding him up.

See what I mean?

It's so hard to choose just one

Ooh, look at that one over there!

We have a winner.

Busted

2010-08-06T12:22:00.007-05:00

Umm, hi. Well, yeah, I guess I have been avoiding you. I know, I know - I totally didn't need to do that! It's just that, well, I made such a big deal out of pursuing the 30 Day Shred, and I only made it about 18 days. Then I was kind of embarrassed. But, honestly, it was just making me too tired. You know how moderate workouts actually *generate* energy and make you feel better? Well, really really hard butt-kicking workouts DO NOT. I think it's a fantastic workout, and it does what it's supposed to do. It gets you stronger and leaner really quickly. But, it came down to continuing the workout or being awake to talk to my husband at night. I chose time with my sweetie.

OK - that was four months ago. On to cute things Jackson has done recently:

Last weekend I was upstairs and the boys were downstairs. Jackson heard me drop my blow dryer. He looked up at the ceiling and said, "Uh-OH! Mama!" then dropped his toy car and ran for the stairs. Bryan followed him and took down the baby gate so he could come upstairs and check on me. Couldn't you just eat him up?

On the other side of the bipolar experience of parenting, he's cutting his molars. Which apparently hurt WAY worse than those cute little front teeth. Plus, he's a toddler and being in pain without the verbal skills to express it leads to frustration tantrums. So, it's been loud here from time to time.

On a super serious and sad note, we lost our dear doggy earlier this week. Her name was Tuttle, and she was 11 years old, and had been with us for nine. We were in no way prepared for it, because she'd recently been to the vet and had her annual physical and the bloodwork came back very healthy for a dog of her age. Three weeks later when her leg wasn't healing (what prompted the first vet visit) AND she slowly stopped eating, AND eventually wouldn't move more than absolutely necessary, we took her back to the vet. The x-ray showed small tumors covering her lungs. We were advised that nothing could be done, and after watching her suffer through another day it seemed selfish to let her deteriorate further just because we wanted more time with her.

Since I don't like to end posts on such a serious note, here's something extremely hilarious.

Shred Days 14-16: Halfway There!

2010-04-07T10:33:00.007-05:00

Warning: this post will likely get a little goopy, so if you're not in the mood for sweet sentiments, keep it moving.

If it weren't for Bryan, I would have gone two days straight without working out. I know that doesn't sound like the end of the world, but staying on track with this is very important to me and losing momentum feels dangerous.

Day 14 went okay (Level 2 is still waaay hard) but the next day I just couldn't find the motivation. There was no injury or scheduling problem. It was, as my Mom would have put it, "a case of the Sorries." A BIG case. My inner brat took over, and I got tired of having something else to do everyday.

Yesterday was Day 16, and it was dangerously close to becoming my first second day skip. I have a friend in the hospital who wasn't doing well (he's improved some since then) and when bad things happen, I often give in to the Sorries. While I was walking around rationalizing a second consecutive off-day, Bryan said, "You're my hero." Well, what are you going to do after that? So, I laced up my shoes and got to it.

The boys came downstairs in the middle of my workout, and Bryan made a pretty convincing show of admiring my muscles. That was very sweet and helped me remember why I'm doing this. Then, Jackson did some clapping and stretched out across my body during crunches and "helped" me keep my abs tight. That was just funny and distracting, and also helped a lot. When I was done, Bryan did the workout so I had someone to be tired with.

I want to sincerely thank my boys for their support, in this, and everything else I do. You guys rock!

Shred Days 12 & 13: All's Well that Ends Well

2010-04-04T14:49:00.016-05:00

Jackson, who's in a mimicking stage, did a perfect recreation of what I looked like telling Bryan about my recent weigh-in:

All this work just to lose a half pound!

I was devastated last night after seeing the scale, even knowing that heavy muscle is better than lighter fat. I only weighed because I was feeling so confident that I'd lost a few pounds. But I did the workout anyway.

Things all turned around though this morning when I did three things I haven't done in almost two years:

wore a pair of pre-pregnancy sized pants,
tucked my top into those pants, and
used the pre-pregnancy notch in my belt.

In light of those three details, who cares about that silly scale! I'm wearing clothes I couldn't wear before I started this, so there must be substantial muscle skewing the numbers.

I'm not weighing again until April 20th, when my 30 days of Shredding are complete. Hopefully by then I'll be so hot I won't care what number the scale throws at me. Since Bryan's already Shredded today, I've got some catching up to do.

So, I'll leave you with wishes for a happy and blessed Easter. We're having a great one here, just look at how smiley we are:

Shred Days 9,10 & 11

2010-04-02T11:55:00.005-05:00

Day nine went fine - hey, that rhymed.

Unfortunately, Day 10 didn't happen. It was a crazy grocery shopping/ furniture shopping/ Jackson teething day that just didn't leave much room for the workout. So, you know what I did? I was totally kind to myself and didn't beat myself up about it! I just decided I'd done my best and that was that.

Yesterday was Day 11, and I did Level 2. To be honest I did 2/3 of Level 2, since that's when Jackson woke up screaming with his painful little teeth. He even had a tiny bit of a fever, but he's doing fine.

Level 2 is CRAZY. I did feel that Level 1 prepared me for it, to some extent. There's no way I could have started at Level 2. The moves themselves aren't at all complicated, they're just very full-body and high-impact. They seem a little military to me - nothing "dancy" about it, just packing a lot of intensity into 20 minutes. As yesterday proved, I need to get a good calorie burn as quickly as possible before the baby wakes up.

Hopefully today I'll get the whole Level 2 workout in, or at least all I can physically manage. While it's more challenging, it's really good to have new moves. Less boredom and more results are good things! I just have to stay motivated to do the work. Feel free to help me out with that if you want to, umm, you know, comment or anything.

It's finally Spring here! Check out one of my daffodil beds:

I'm so excited about my flowers. They are such a blessing after the long, icy winter. If the people who planted them were here, I'd hug them.

You didn't think I'd forgotten the Jackson photo, did you?

30 Day Shred - Day 8

2010-03-30T11:32:00.004-05:00

"What a weird name for a blog," you say? It has to do with my affinity for weird band names- check out my first post (circa January 2007) to find out how MRF came to be.

Day 8 on the Shred went well. I'm surprised that I'm still not great at it yet. There are a couple of points during the cardio where I still have to take short breaks, and the first strength segment is a friggin bear. I have added in heavier weights in some places. (If you've done the workout, I'm still using three pounders for the anterior raises and don't expect that to change. Oy.)

Thumbs up for doing it at night instead of the morning. It is hectic to fit in (since Bryan and I are alternating workout and munchkin duty) but it is great to have more daytime energy.

I have developed a pet peeve about Jillian's motivational style. When she says, "don't even think about quitting on me now!" I always think, "Umm, I wasn't, but now that you MENTION IT..." I'm fairly susceptible to suggestion, see. If I see a hot cup of coffee on TV, suddenly I crave one. So here I am, minding my own business doing my little workout, then she starts describing exhaustion and knotted up muscles and I don't feel so well anymore. I plan to mute her today and crank the music to drown out my grunts and groans.

Let's see if I can find you a Jackson picture...

Look, Mommy! Daddy's home!

30-Day Shred - Days 6 & 7

2010-03-29T07:22:00.010-05:00

After Day Five's equipment failure, I substituted Bryan's ankle weights for my poor little dead handweights on Day Six.They were too big to wear on my wrists, so I tried holding them. Yikes. I wasted no time getting to Sports Authority to get these:

MUCH better.

Hallelujah, I'm not sore anymore! I'm starting to rethink my timing, though. Working out during Jackson's morning nap leaves me pretty shot the rest of the day. The one time I Shredded in the evening, I found it harder to get motivated, but I felt much much better during the day. Having a night's sleep between Shredding and daily activities REALLY helps. Especially when this is your daily activity:

I still haven't weighed in several days. I'm a little chicken, because I gain muscle fairly easily. That's a great ability - and I hope it continues for a few more years - but it's always played with my head when I'm trying to get in shape. I get so wrapped up in wanting that little number on the scale to go down. So, I'll give it a few more days.

Lately I find myself focused on the impending "Day 11." My original intention was to do each of the three levels for 10 days. If I do that, Thursday is the day to begin Level 2. I'm more than a little afraid to switch levels, but it's probably the best way to get continued results. It also might help keep the experience fresh.

Thanks again for the encouragement! Keep it coming! Some of you have expressed interest in doing this workout, so here's a great tip: If your cable or satellite service comes with an "On Demand" feature, you might have Fit TV. Fit TV has Level 1 available for FREE. Believe me, Level 1 isn't for wimps, and it will give you a chance to try it out before whipping out the old credit card!

30 Day Shred - Day 5

2010-03-26T18:47:00.018-05:00

Day 5 went well, except for a minor equipment failure.

It happened shortly after the first 6-minute circuit. The entire human part of our family was in the basement (the two furbabies were upstairs). Bryan stepped outside to make a phone call while little Jackson supervised from his warm spot inside the sliding door. I finished the first strength segment with a roar, and Bryan peeked in to make sure everything was okay. Here's what he witnessed after I dropped the handweights:

So, THAT's what's inside my handweights.

I didn't even notice all the little ball bearings on the floor since I was on to the next segment. Jillian has a strict "no rest" policy if you want results from a 20-minute workout. Alas, the weights had served valiantly for 15 years, so it was their time. Perhaps it was also a divine message for me to put on my big girl panties and use something heavier than three-pounders.

*Hee hee.* I briefly considered telling you it happened mid-bicep curl when I hulked out and snapped it with my bare hand. RAHH! You wouldn't like me when I'm angry...

One major change today was much less soreness. I also learned that I have much more energy in the morning. Since the radiator repair man was here during Jackson's morning nap, I worked out in the late afternoon and had to push harder to get through the evening blahs.

By the way, my sweet husband is Shredding as well for moral support. What a stud! I'd also like to thank everyone who has commented here on this project. You have no idea how uplifting your kind words have been. Extra special thanks to my sweet sweet stepmom, Dorothy, over at Counting My Blessings for sending your posse my way. Girl power!

I haven't weighed in a couple of days, but my jeans are getting loose. Which is FREAKING FANTASTIC.

Of course, here's your baby photo of the day. We call this hairstyle the curlyhawk:

If that's not worth some baby weight, I don't know what is!!

30 Day Shred - Day 4

2010-03-25T08:05:00.012-05:00

So, you know Jillian Michaels, the scary trainer lady on The Biggest Loser? Well, I'm doing this
in an effort to lose some leftover baby weight, and tone up the muscles that surely must still be under there somewhere.

My Aunt: What's a 30-Day Shred? I think I need it.

Me: It's just a workout, Aunt Pat, but it's beating me like it caught me stealing.

It's an intense twenty-minute workout to get maximum results by combining cardio, strength and ab workouts. The term "Shred" refers to the desired physical result of the workout...as in getting shredded/ripped/cut. Right now it feels more like getting shredded in the taco lettuce sense of the word.

I'm usually content with slow and steady progress. However, my precious baby boy is almost 14-months old, and that approach has left me antsy. Also, the twenty-minute duration should allow me to change clothes, workout, shower and dress during Jackson's morning nap.I'm documenting my journey here because I'm in desperate need of support and accountability. (How very "Julie and Julia" of me, I know.)

I realize a "before" picture of my squishy, white, childbirth-ravaged body would make this more interesting for you. Frankly, I don't have the guts to TAKE one of those photos, much less offer it up for you, Internet. But, since I owe you something in exchange for your supportive comments (hint hint) here's an adorable picture of my baby:

Sure, most folks chronicle these things from Day 1, to capture all the cock-eyed optimism with which they approached their challenge. Trust me, y'all didn't miss anything. Prior to this, I was just doing 30 minutes of Wii Fit every other day. I knew this was gonna hurt like hell. Quick recap:

Day 1 - Holy Crap.

Day 2 - My self hurts.

Day 3 - Still sore and very tired.

I haven't done today's workout, so you're all caught up. This morning I was pleasantly surprised to find myself less sore, and my endurance has improved a LOT in such a short time. So, let's do this thing!

Picture Post

2009-10-16T10:16:00.011-05:00

Non-Facebookers - this one's for you! These photos were taken in July, when Jackson was 6 months old.

The pictures were taken on the grounds of the Indianapolis Museum of Art, and we just happened upon this bench dedicated by a family with the last name Jackson.

Three smiles

One smile and two smooches

Me and my handsome little guy

This is Jackson's expression almost every single moment when Bryan's home. I can't even describe how excited he always is to see his Daddy. I love seeing my two boys together!

Superman!

Supercutie!

You're Lucky I'm in a Transitional Phase

2009-10-14T12:24:00.004-05:00

Since I've been away from MRF for so long, here's a little update. Bryan got a job in the Chicago area in August and he and Tuttle (the dog) have been commuting back and forth every weekend to a one-bedroom apartment. Jackson, Ren (the cat) and I have been trying to sell the house - had a buyer - lost the buyer - and, now, looking for another buyer.

Just when I think Jackson is as cute as he can get, he gets a little cuter. I'll post some pictures to prove it sometime next week. As it sometimes happens in transition, the camera's in a different city than the baby. He's 8 1/2 months old, and is crawling (crookedly, but very effectively) and has started pulling himself up to a standing position. I think he's going to walk before he gets his first tooth. Have mercy on us all!

I was super nice and honest and told my employers as soon as I knew I'd be moving. They demanded 3 weeks notice, I gave them 3 weeks notice, and they canned me after one week. Thanks, guys.

SO, I'm tying up some loose ends here and the whole family's headed up north Sunday to be together, at least for a while. We're working on making arrangements to get a house. Lease to own would be a dream come true... it would give us time to sell ours and the chance to have Jackson's first Christmas in a house. Wish us luck!

Blogging Again

2009-10-13T09:39:00.004-05:00

Whatup, everybody? My old coworkers told me I need to blog again (now that I'm jobless) so they can keep up with me and the little dude. Since I always blog more when I'm unemployed, it seemed a completely natural idea. So, we'll start with a round of stream of consciousness randomness. You know, for old times' sake.

I'm annoyed by hearing the names of radio stations or local sports teams in songs on the radio. It makes me cringe. Were artists running out of ways to sell out? Because this is crazy. Changing your poetry? Yeesh.

The first time I heard this "regionalization" was in the Terri Clark song, "I Wanna Do it All." The lyric was "visit Paris in the Fall, watch the [Lakers/Colts/Cubs/Packers] play ball." That was cheesy, but fairly harmless. It seems the new trend is to work local radio stations' call letters into your song. THAT just kind of gives me the willies.

Just thought I'd share.

Happy Belated St. Pats

2009-04-05T20:08:00.001-05:00

I couldn't let all you non-Facebookers miss out on this:

Jackson's Birth Story

2009-03-06T17:13:00.012-05:00

Eventually, I may be able to post something outside the smoochable baby arena. Since that won't happen soon, here's a classic "Mommy-blog" post and tell you how Jackson came to join us in the outside world.

Sunday, 1/25, 3 a.m. - I had a contraction that woke me up.

Sunday, 1/25, 3:10 a.m. - I had another contraction that woke me up.

Sunday, 1/25, 3:20 a.m. - You get the picture.

At this point, Bryan and I were pretty excited. I'd only had contractions once or twice per day, so it seemed like we would be heading to the hospital soon.

HOWEVER, I continued to have contractions at about 10 minutes apart all day Sunday. Then all night Sunday. And all day Monday, and all night Monday. Mmmm-hmmm. This means I slept in 10-minute bursts for two days. Let's just say I began this Mommying thing a little behind the eight ball, sleep-wise.

Tuesday, 1/27, 8:00 a.m. - Bryan and I arrived at my last scheduled O.B. appointment with bags packed. Dr. Trainor's voice was like music when she said, "Go to the hospital - you're going to have this baby today." If I'd felt less like death, I would have kissed her. On the mouth.

Tuesday, 1/27, 9:00 a.m. - We checked into the hospital. Right away I began to execute my 1-step birth plan (1. Ask for epidural ASAP.) The people who administer these are called CRNAs - which stands for Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetist. I called her the NNw/NN, or the "Nice Nurse with the Nice Needle." She came in and set up to give me blessed relief.

Nice Nurse w/Nice Needle - "You're back is really tight."

Me - "That's what my chiropractor says."

Nice Nurse Nw/Nice Needle - "What?! You go to a chiropractor? I have to warn you - you may have so much scar tissue we won't be able to do this. How often do you see him?"

Me - "On the same schedule as my O.B. appointments. So this month, I've been seeing her once a week."

Mean Nw/NN - "That's terrible! No one should EVER go to a chiropractor that often. This may not even work."

Me - "Mmmkay. Well, as I SAID, I went on the same schedule as my O.B. appointments, so for seven months, it was only once a month. Only this month has it been weekly."

MNw/NN - "Oh."

At this point we were getting a good deal of attitude from Mean Nurse w/Nice Needle. Then, the epidural wasn't taking effect on the left 1/3 of my body. Which was A PROBLEM. MNw/NN kept insisting we look at it as 2/3 effective. It became a bigger problem when another nurse inserted the catheter and I REALLY felt it. The other nurse noticed that I was still feeling every contraction. (Umm, yeah. I heard them coming around the corner like they were wearing tap shoes.) After lots of back and forth, they placed the epidural again. This time, I finally wasn't feeling the contractions and felt better than I had in a month.

Since I never dilated past 5 centimeters the doctor decided to do a c-section.

Gradually, Mean Nw/NN turned back into Nice Nw/NN. She said cheerfully, "I'm glad we repositioned the needle. It can be really tricky cutting through those hot spots." Silly nurse. She was under the impression that I was going to allow someone to cut on a part of my body that still had feeling. I had almost kicked the catheter lady in the teeth - this wouldn't be a good idea on either side of the scalpel.

So, they cranked up the epidural and rolled me into the operating room. They gave Bryan a giant pair of napkin footy pajamas and let him join us a few minutes later. Surgery went well - the drape kept me from seeing anything gruesome, and before you know it...

Tuesday, 1/27 6:28 p.m. - I heard the most beautiful cry. A few minutes later, I was handed the most beautiful baby.

THE END. AND THE BEGINNING.

Picture Post!

2009-03-03T17:35:00.009-05:00

Here are a few more Jackson pictures to get you caught up... His grandma is quite handy with a camera:

Some snuggling in the hospital

what a profile

Daddy straps him into the carseat

All ready to head home

I'm ready for my closeup, Mr. DeMille.

Eventually I'll take some newer ones and post them, when I find the time. Right now, this cute little bundle has morphed into his evil alter-ego "Sir Fussypants," so I must go for now...

Little Dude

2009-02-28T20:50:00.012-05:00

Boy, I'm slacking on this post writing thing!

For anyone I've failed to update, Jackson was born on Tuesday, January 27. Thank you for all the prayers and well wishes. He was 8 lbs., 3 oz. and did indeed have to be delivered by c-section. He was one month old yesterday, and boy is he a cutie. Please prepare yourself for cuteness overload - here he is at 3 days old:

My mother made this blanket for a neighbor's baby 25 years ago;

she kindly saved it and gave it to us for Jackson when I was home at Thanksgiving.

For anyone I've neglected to update, please forgive me. I've been almost 24-7 occupied with being this huggable little guy's Mommy. If you're still checking my blog, thank you!! I'll post more pictures soon - pinky swear.

Happy Inauguration Day

2009-01-20T10:42:00.005-05:00

You know, I thought I'd write so faithfully throughout my pregnancy, but I didn't do that at all! So, here are some general baby updates:

Several ultrasounds have confirmed that our little one's a boy
His name will be Jackson Pepper (my maiden name) Ramsey
We'll call him Jackson - but, since it's the midwest, I'm sure he'll be called Jack a lot
He's due 1/31
We've been advised not to let it wait that long... we're scheduled to induce on 1/30 if nothing exciting happens before then
He may be a big one! They estimated him at 6 lbs. last month, and he could be 8 or 9 lbs. if he stays in until induction day
We'll try for a vaginal delivery, but a C-section may be necessary
I've secretly wished Jackson would decide to appear on Inauguration Day, so he could tell everyone he was born the day President Barack Obama took office
He's probably *not* going to be born today, since I'm only about 1.5 cm dilated
Doubtless when he is born, our son will enter a blessedly new and different time than any of us adults have ever seen.

This day means a great deal to many people, and I certainly don't have any unique words to add. But, I don't think I could feel much better about bringing a new person into this country. A new president doesn't magically solve all our problems, but I've never felt more proud to be an American or more hopeful about our future as a Democracy.

It's also convenient that I can still blame pregnancy for my emotions. I'm powerless over what will likely be an undignified display during the inaugural address - it's just a natural physiological reaction: when hope fills hearts to overflowing, sometimes it leaks from the eyes. God bless America.

A Boy Named Boot

2008-09-13T19:07:00.011-05:00

Now that we know we're having a boy, I've been paying more attention to guys' names. And JUST IN time for football season. For some ungodly reason, Bryan was watching Purdue play the Oregon Ducks today. Normally, he's more interested in SEC games, but I think he was texting a friend who was at the game or something.

I heard one of the announcers mention Justin Roper. I'm all, "Justin Ropers? I have a pair of those!"

Then hubby told me it's Oregon's quarterback's NAME. For real.

Justin Roper, meet Justin Roper.

Awkward.

At first I thought, "Maybe he's from a big metropolitan area and his parents don't know cowboy boots from driving moccasins. In that case, he probably wasn't teased about it." Fine. Harmless. Then, I found out he's from Buford, Georgia. I used to live near that area. I estimate the kid got pantsed before his third birthday.

He seems to be doing fine - getting an education, great athlete, etc. But does anyone else think this name was a little negligent?

Shamefully, at the first test of character I proved no better than the schoolyard hazers. While I pondered the possible effects an unusual name could have on a person's psyche, Justin went down on the field. I yelled, "Oh my God! Somebody call a cobbler!"

IT'S A BOY

2008-09-08T11:11:00.003-05:00

We are most definitely having a boy - no "maybe" according to the ultrasound tech! He's about 14 oz. right now, and about a week ahead in development, so he may be a big one. Also, she didn't fail to find anything she looked for; we got to count fingers and toes, look at the bones, see heart, kidneys, bladder, stomach, all kinds of things.

I'll have more details tonight (they don't really like you updating your blog at work) but I wanted to let you all know! I know the Ramseys are going to be excited about the potential for the family name to live on. :)

We have some ultrasound video, so I'll post that tonight as well. Hugs to everyone!!

10:28 p.m. update - Umm, I kinda realized there's a lot of personal information on the ultrasound video, and unfortunately I don't have the software to remedy that little video situation. So, if you're interested, send me an email and I'll send it to you. G'night!

Who is it?

2008-09-06T20:57:00.007-05:00

Apparently, there's someone in there.

A friend and a few relatives have requested pictures of the bump, so here you are. It's hard to believe, but these jeans used to be loose. That's what 4+ months gestation will do to your figure, ladies.

When I say this site has gone green, I don't mean eco-friendly. MRF is gender-neutral for the weekend; that's because the color will change again Monday when Bryan and I find out how many X chromosomes we're dealing with here. Check back on Monday and if the page is blue, we're having a boy! If it's pink, it's a girl!

All is well - I feel good most of the time. If I manage not to eat too much at one sitting, that is. At my last OB appointment the doctor said I'm right on track weight-gain wise... hopefully she still says that Monday. (I confess, I'm a little worried. The appetite really took on a life of its own this month.)

So, we'll try to be patient together... see you on the big day!

Out of the Closet

2008-07-21T06:32:00.003-05:00

Well, hello there. I've been shamed by my brother into breaking my long hiatus. Certainly laziness played a big part in my absence, but I also had something occupying my brain that I didn't want to write about, but couldn't not write about... unless I didn't write. So, I didn't.

But, I'm back and pregnant. I'm in my 13th week so we're to the point where the risk of miscarriage drops drastically. It looks like this one's going to take.

It wasn't nearly as fun telling people this time, though. Several folks' reactions were still very influenced by memories of the last pregnancy. Some avoided talking about it, or brought it up out of obligation. I felt like people expected me to let them down in some way. It was quite strange; nothing like the unbridled joy of the first one, and really nothing's been quite the same in that respect. But, it's been a very healthy, stable pregnancy so far and we're very fortunate for that. We saw an ultrasound three weeks ago with a very active tiny little baby, and the doctor said, "This one looks like a keeper." I didn't really know how tense I was until she said that and I relaxed.

So, there you have it. When you get a chance, pop over to chiliburgers and congratulate the dad-to-be.

Might I Have a Sip of Your Tasty Beverage?

2008-06-16T20:02:00.005-05:00

Recently, the husband and I went to a local pizza restaurant. Before the owner rang up our order he warned us, "Our soda machine is out of order; would you like a drink from the cooler?" Bryan said, "Yeah, sure."

You know that giggly feeling you get when you know something someone else doesn't, and you know when they realize what you know, it's gonna be, like, awesome? I'd seen the cooler on the way in. It wasn't full of Coke products (an impossible dream north of the Mason-Dixon), or even Pepsi products. It was full of Marsh brand soda.

My excitement made time freeze as he slow-motion turned to the cooler... I saw him see the soda... then, no wait, that can't be right... is that really??... right here in a restaurant? Then his face registered the full horror, and he said, "Aww, man! I feel like I'm eating at my cousin's house."

We had a healthy debate about why a restaurant would possibly stock a cooler with generic soda. First, this pizza joint does a lot of takeout business, but they also have seating for about 30 in their dining room. It seems like a costly risk, when you could just pay a few cents more for real drinks. Don't worry; our story did have a happy ending. (The pizza was fantastic, and the owner doesn't even look surprised when you bring in a big gulp from the gas station next door.)

I've never had good generic soda, but I've had a few good laughs at their names. Since supermarkets are regional, and all brands have their different spun-off brand names, I thought it might be fun to share our favorite generic soda names.

In Georgia, I lived near a FoodMax. FoodMax's generic brand was called "Southern Home" and they worked some variation of the name into each of their drinks:

Dr Pepper = Dr. S
7-Up = Southern Up

Some of the fruity ones get fun, too. Like when the off-brand starts trying to squeeze too damn many words onto the can. Like "lemon lime-o super sizzle berry blast." I mean, that just sounds too exciting to drink, then it goes flat before you get it to your lips.

Let us have it, commenters. Let's hear your funniest off-brand soda names. You can even give us a quality report if you managed to choke down any of it.

From Underemployed to Unemployed and Back to Working Stiff Again

2008-06-12T07:48:00.005-05:00

It took me being jobless to post, but, by God, here we are. The good news is, my new job starts Monday. I left being a technician at an Optometry office to go back to my old life in government consulting. Once again I will have one of those jobs where people say, "huh? So what do you actually do?" It's business consulting for government clients, so on a high level, it's helping government run more efficiently. What you actually do is determined by the project you're working on. I happen to think mine's pretty cool (at least with the blissful ignorance of not having begun.) I'll let you know if I still think it's cool after I've eaten from the tree of knowledge on Monday.

I should have some interesting news later; perhaps some info on a souvenir from Mexico. (In news, we called that a tease) but now for the urgent stuff.

Next Friday, Bryan and I are going to New York City for a few days. Woo-hoo! This will be my first trip to the city, and maybe Bryan's second. (I'm sure I'll be corrected at Chiliburgers if I'm wrong.)

We're going for religious reasons: A pilgrimage to the Cathedral of Baseball. Yankee Stadium and Shea Stadium are both closing this year, and Bryan's never been to either. So, that's nice. But here's the thing; I'm not really into baseball. I'm sure it will be fun and everything. You know, historic and whatnot. But I'd like to add in a few things more in line with my interests. So far, we have tickets to Avenue Q, which is kinda like Sesame Street for grownups. That sounds incredibly fun, but I need a few more ideas.

So, Internet, have you been to the Big Apple? If so, what do you think we shouldn't miss? If not, any burning thoughts on what you would see if you go someday?

Changes in Latitude, Changes in Attitude

2008-05-05T09:45:00.005-05:00

Bryan and I are in lovely Puerto Vallarta for a few days. He won it for being such a stud at his job, and I'm just along for the ride, shamelessly soaking up the happy. This is the view from our balcony:

Mountains and ocean at the same time. Sigh.

It's one of those all-inclusive resorts, which has it's perks...

Entertainment center with liqour taps. Sigh.

Don't get me wrong - I don't have a terrible life back home, by any means. But Internet: you just have to trust me. I needed this. This is my first trip to another country where they don't speak English. My one year of high school Spanish is coming back slowly... luckily Bryan took three years. We also happen to be here on Cinco de Mayo, which, so far seems to be one of those holidays that's all about selling more Corona in the states.

It's time for breakfast, so I'll post more later. (Typical, huh? I post barely once a month for six months, go on vacation and post constantly. Therapists call it an "all or nothing" personality. My picture's in the text book next to the definition.) Happy Cinco, you crazy gringos.

Brown County Doughnuts

2008-04-12T18:56:00.004-05:00

I like it here in Indiana - I really do. The people are nice, the weather is (mostly) mild, and they're even getting a few decent barbeque restaurants. But, every now and then I run into something that completely offends my southern sensibilities.

While dining at a new barbeque restaurant, I found something on my plate that did just that. They call them "Brown County Biscuits." I've met these poorly named pastries before. They are yummy little discs of deep-fried dough rolled in cinnamon sugar and served with apple butter.

Apparently, these little culinary wonders hail from Brown County, Indiana which is right where the ginormous glacier that flattened the midwest stopped, leaving a lovely little mountain community. You can imagine how the flatlanders flock down there when the leaves change. Our leaves are pretty, but you literally can't see the forest for the trees. It's flat up here, folks. When they plow the corn, you can stand on a dining chair and see the next county.

I have no beef with these tasty little deep-fried devils, but I have a semantics problem of major proportions:

People, I cannot stress this enough; they are NOT biscuits! I know what biscuits are. I can make them from scratch blindfolded. Biscuits are baked - end of story. They are also a flexible food item - they're equally fantastic with supper as they are with breakfast. They complement both sweet and savory, and I will not stop enjoying them even if modern science discovers white flour makes you grow extra toes.

These Brown County Biscuits are what we call homemade doughnuts in the deep south. Here's the rule people: if you can't eat them with gravy, they are not biscuits. Thank you for your time and attention to this important matter.

What I Think

2008-03-02T14:30:00.007-05:00

What is up, Internet? It's been a while. How's your health?

I left the last tagline up way too long. But, you're not thoroughly neglecting your website if you change the tagline, and I don't believe in doing anything halfway. The new one was my humble entry in another blogger's "Six Word Memoirs" contest.

I was honored to be co-winner of the "Invisible Internet People" category of this competition, and eagerly await my unspecified prize at an unspecified time. That's not exactly true; Lori's official winner e-mail stated that she would send it "you know, whenever I get around to it." You gotta admire the honesty. This chick is a much better writer than I am, and God knows she posts more often. So, if you like this, you'll love this.

OK - the following is NOT a political rant. I'm not suggesting you vote for a particular candidate. That's not what this is about. Think for yourself, and vote your conscience. Recently, I received an email forward that completely baffled me.

DISCLAIMER: Before I go any further, it's important that I note that I LOVE the person who forwarded me this e-mail. He did not write it, he simply forwarded it on. I've also reformed my old ways and no longer hold senders accountable for their forwards, so, no hard feelings, dude. The following rant is NOT targeting the forwarder, just the ORIGINAL WRITER. To avoid confusion, let's call this person, "O.W." (Feel free to pronounce it, "Oh Dubyuh" in your mind as you read.)
Also, the subject line was "What Do You Think?" Since this website is my little soapbox, I'm gonna hop on and express my opinion. There are many versions of this floating around, but I'm just addressing the one that hit my inbox.

The subject line "What do you think?" serves as this message's first defense against the delete button. Two lines in, my jaw dropped and it got a little hard to breathe. This email presented several arguments supporting why the "O.W." believes Barack Obama to be the Anti-Christ.

This post will, no doubt, get lengthy, so I won't copy and paste the message here. I'll just give you a list of the message's claims. After each one, I'll tell you what I think.

It called our nation "pathetic," followed by something about bleeding-heart, secular liberals

There's really no need to address this directly. Keep reading and you'll figure out where I stand.

It uses the Senator's middle name, "Hussein."

This one's always fun. It comes with the built-in argument: "hey, that's really his name." We all know the purpose of that comment is to label him a terrorist. Did you choose your middle name, Mr. O.W.? Didn't think so. (I apologize for assuming the writer is male. That's just how I see him in my imagination. For the record, I also picture him in a white, pointy hat. But that's just, you know, what I think.)

It states that Senator Obama is a Muslim and "takes great care to conceal it by mentioning he went to Catholic school."

As long as I've hopped aboard the speculation train, let's just ride it to the next stop: I'm guessing O.W. was equally worked up over whether or not John F. Kennedy would become the Pope's puppet in the White House. Remember? Catholics used to fall subject to hate campaigns back in the day. Kinda interesting that since we've moved past that societal hurdle, it's now feasible to use Catholicism as a cover for the newest religion it's trendy to hate.

It states that we are at war with the "Muslim nation"

Islam is a peaceful religion. It has a few radical wackos that are very dangerous. In case you haven't noticed, Christianity has some of those, too. I pray that their form of terror doesn't go any farther than writing fear-driven, hate-laden e-mails and forwarding them around.

the message states that Senator Obama's "mother married a RADICAL Muslim."

What? O.W. is calling someone a religious radical?

Hey, O.W. The kettle called. He referred to you as "the pot." Yeah, AND he says "you're black, too." I wouldn't take that shit if I were you.

O.W. states that Senator Obama is the Anti-Christ.

OK, I can tolerate a lot of name-calling, but labeling a fellow human being the Anti-Christ is a little too Anti-Love-Thy-Neighbor for my comfort level.

It says that Snopes.com confirms all this stuff as factual.

Snopes is a website that debunks urban legends. O.W. has undoubtedly received links to this site from his grandkids after he sent them some other outlandish shit. The link in the email takes you to the site's front page. O.W. obviously hopes you won't click on the "politics" link, then the "Barack Obama" link, because once you do, you'll see a whole bunch of "red light" icons signifying that these claims have been debunked. If you're interested, here's a link straight to a very informative article.

It states that Senator Obama was sworn into Congress on the Quran.

Senator, why don't you take this one?

In the spirit of the six-word memior, I'll sum this up with a six-word response to the Original Writer:

What would Jesus do?
Not this.

Reality Show Hybrid

2008-02-07T23:02:00.000-05:00

A month is kind of a long break between posts. For a while there, I was in a funk and didn't have anything positive to say. After that I'd just gotten out of the swing of things. In the interest of easing back into it, I'll keep it short.

The writer's strike is hitting me hard; because when I go through a hard time, mama needs her fiction. In the mean time, to keep things fresh, I'd like to suggest a new reality show that would be the love child of two existing reality shows:

Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader?

Don't Forget The Lyrics

Are You Whiter Than Wayne Brady?

Thank you, and good night.

First Blogiversary

2008-01-06T20:49:00.000-05:00

Mississippi Raw Footage is one year and 2 days old today. I've certainly enjoyed it so far, and I hope you have as well.

Racking your brain for that perfect gift to give me for my first blogiversary? A comment would be PERFECT, of course! (I know it's shameless, but it's a holiday. Sort of. Or something.)

Kitty

2007-12-31T19:00:00.001-05:00

I write about my dog a lot, but not much about my cat. Honestly... it's because she's mean. (You should be aware that while I can say she's mean, I'm not really cool with you saying she's mean. It's a family thing.)

Anyway, I'd like to introduce you to the seldom mentioned Ren Ramsey. My stepmom took this photo of her, and the picture kinda says it all.

New Strength

2007-12-20T22:17:00.000-05:00

Tonight the physical pain really caught up with me. Which, in a way, is good because perhaps it means this will be over soon without medical intervention. But, Holy Moses! I took the double dose of Advil that my doctor suggested, but I felt the need to supplement with some wine. (At least when you face this particular tragedy you get one of your coping mechanisms back.)

Speaking of the big T word, I'm actually kind of okay. I know I'll face some harsh judgement saying this, but I am.

Of course, it's a sad situation. You don't have hopes and dreams of a due date then not be sad when they're taken away.

But there's one part of this I wasn't expecting: see, this was my biggest fear. My BIGGEST. The possibility that this might happen was a huge hurdle for me to get past even deciding to try to conceive. I thought I would literally crumble... that my emotions and my mind would totally give way to a loss like this. But then it happened, and as awful as it is, I'm living through it. I'm walking, and breathing, and working in the midst of my biggest fear. And it in no way hinders me from having hope for the future and wanting to try again someday. I guess I'm just saying it's amazing to find out you're stronger than you thought you were.

I have this one friend who doesn't know, and he's been sending me inane text messages all night, just like normal. I SO love that. It makes me not want to tell him, because it's quite a ray of sunshine when everyone else outside my house gives me the sad face. I understand though; it's an awkward position. You don't really know what to say, and you don't want to make anything worse. But, just so you know, you can totally be silly around me again. I would appreciate, maybe even cherish, a little bit of silly.

Silent

2007-12-19T09:39:00.000-05:00

I can't believe I'm writing this. Bryan and I found out yesterday that we lost the baby.

We left a concert early Monday night because the spotting I was trying desperately not to worry about escalated into cramping and bleeding. Yesterday morning I called the doctor and she had me come in for an ultrasound.

I couldn't see the monitor, but the room was SO quiet. I mean, no one said a single word. Then, at the point where they turn up the sound there was no heartbeat, just silence. Deeply sad silence. When I got dressed, the technician said she called my doctor who wanted me to come right over, and I didn't need to bother checking out at the desk. When they want you to leave that quickly, you kind of know what's coming. What's more, they told Bryan but told him not to tell me.

I'm an Optical Technician. While it's completely different, I understand the laws that apply to both of us. I know a non-M.D. giving a patient a diagnosis is considered practicing medicine without a license and can lead to severe legal nastiness. So, of course I wasn't shaking anyone's shoulders demanding answers, since they seemed pretty obvious anyway.

My doctor was off that day, so her partner broke the news. The ultrasound showed the embryo was exactly the same size it had been at the six-weeks test and no heartbeat was detected. They have no way to know what went wrong, but there was a problem with the fetus if it wasn't growing. After a brief overview of our options we chose to go home and let nature take it's course, assisted by double-doses of Advil. Hopefully this goes OK on it's own. They took some blood before I left to test the pregnancy hormone level. I had a checkup appointment the day after Christmas so we're going back then to recheck the blood with hopes that the hormone level has dropped to zero.

I know this happens more than people talk about, but at least the doctor who broke the news avoided using the word "common." I deeply appreciate that. I hate the connotations of that word as it relates to these situations, because it sure as hell doesn't l feel common. When you thought a baby was going to join your family and then you find out it isn't... you get where I'm going with this. It is distinctly UNcommon.

Thank you for all your prayers and kind words through the joy and sadness. I know that God is still good and there will be brighter days.

Wow

2007-12-13T13:15:00.000-05:00

You should watch the short film All About My Dog when you have 10 minutes to spare. Make sure you have a few tissues handy. If you're pregnant, you're gonna need a whole box. (Also, try not to go embrace your pet while your still sobbing. It really freaks them out.)

It's about a little girl, Mika and her dog, Marimo.

First Picture

2007-12-06T16:55:00.000-05:00

I'll just say it. It's already glaringly obvious that the kid's going to be attractive.

According to this, the baby will enter the world sometime near July 28th. It appears I'm only about 6 weeks into this journey. The (seemingly) gallons of blood I gave them last week yielded all positive results - no crazy diseases and this hormone level and that hormone level are all healthy.

We've taken to calling the little one "bean" since it's that size. We got to listen to Bean's heartbeat for a while, which was just way beyond anything I've ever experienced. And besides the photos, they recorded some live Bean action on videotape for us.

Hee hee. There's really a baby in there.

Giving Thanks

2007-11-22T07:30:00.000-05:00

First things first: I got kinda bored with my blogger template and grabbed another one. I'm not that into pink, but this one seemed cool. Plus, I gots no HTML skillz so I just had to pick one.

I got started on this thankful list over here at Lori's place and decided to add some more here. Perhaps this will become a yearly MRF feature. (Since we're actually a couple months away from my first blogiversary, I feel comfortable speaking all long-term like that.) So, here are a few things for which I'm thankful:

My little bun in the oven
The sweet man I married who tries not to put his beer near me so I don't get so sad
My Dad's new wife who makes him so happy
My brothers and their families who I don't get to see often enough
Far away friends I don't get to see often enough, but who still talk to me anyway
Blogland friends
Friends who invite you over for a super fabulous Halloween party of which you keep forgetting to post pictures (thanks Jessica and Marc!)
A mysterious huge can of chili beans (more on that in the upcoming belated Halloween photo post)
Blog readers and commenters... especially commenters ;)
Nutella (If you've never bought a jar of this, it's the yummy stuff in the middle of these and yes, you can buy a whole jar of it! I know, right?)
Sparkling grape juice you can pour in a wine glass as a pregnancy "mocktail"
Cherry popovers
The Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade
The dogshow afterward with the best-of-breeds who never seem quite as great as my dog
Clean water, a roof over my head, food, and all the other stuff we're practically swimming in that many folks in the world don't have
My eyesight, which came a loooong way to get to perfect thanks to Dr. Lombardo's mad LASIK skillz
Friends who invite you over for Thanksgiving and cook so you don't have to (thanks Al and Monique!)

Your turn. Share your list, postpone your diet, and have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

A New Development

2007-11-17T15:37:00.000-05:00

Turns out the barefoot part is entirely optional.

Yes, the line is fairly faint, but a second test confirmed that Bryan and I are expecting our first!

Now you know why I haven't written in a while. I've had almost nothing on my mind besides this, and key family members had to be told before they ran into it on a blog or something. Here's the lowdown: we weren't trying (in the clinical, taking-temperatures-and-charting-stuff sense) we had just stopped preventing. We decided to give nature a year before we started the taking-temperatures-and-charting-stuff routine. I got pregnant in a month. No joke. Bryan's feeling more than a little proud of that.

My first doctor's appointment is Nov. 30th, so I'm waiting. The most rudimentary way to find a due date yields July 4th, but we may know more after visiting the doctor. At this point I feel great, get VERY sleepy at about 9:30, and love love love me some fruit. Mangoes and cantaloupes are heavenly.

I promise to try to write about things other than pregnancy from time to time. I said promise. But I also said try.

Join the Party!

2007-10-27T17:47:00.000-05:00

Whatup, MRF readers. Wanna come to a party - virtual/geek style?

I'm visiting my friends Jessica and Marc who are having a Halloween party tonight and webcasting the event.

To join the fun, on Yahoo IM, ask to join the conference blazer_marc. See you there!

Out Of The Closet

2007-10-22T20:57:00.000-05:00

Well, internet, last night went great. I'm out of the songwriting closet.

I ended up going on around 9 o'clock. While I took Bubba's advice and didn't announce that it was original, Bryan was in the audience outing me every chance he got. Before I went on he told Gary Wasson (of the Spud Puppies) that it was my first time singing an original to non-relatives. In typical Gary fashion, he was awesome and supportive. He runs the open stage, and every musician appreciation night turns into a "musicians appreciating Gary" night. If you hit the Spud Puppies link, that's Gary singing on "5500 Days." Oh yeah, and Bryan told the guy at the table next to him, too.

Mike Retherford played after me. This was the first time I'd heard Mike's stuff and I am a fan. If there's a shred of justice in the world, Tim McGraw will buy this song. Hell, you might here Mike singing it on the radio one day. Bryan got to him too, and he came over to chastise me for not announcing that my song was original. Honestly, I was psyched he couldn't tell, since the others were written by established artists.

I have to admit several times yesterday I considered bagging the Barley Island night. Something about pouring my soul into a mic via my own words psyched me out and made me more nervous than usual. Since I didn't want to write a post titled "I Punked Out" I followed through. Thanks for all your supportive comments; they held me to task. Now I guess I need to get myself one of those snazzy myspace music pages like the cool kids. Audioweasal: I'm playing a private party this weekend. If you're gonna be near Memphis, come play bass for me. 8-)

Un Signo Di Dio

2007-10-18T12:10:00.000-05:00

I've never had a Virgin Mary in the Glass experience or seen Jesus in my toast. However, today I looked down at the cord hanging from my guitar pickup and saw this:

I know, right? A freaking treble clef!

(My lips to Gods ears: I didn't contrive this in any way. I just saw it, lay down the guitar and grabbed the camera.)

If you didn't have music lessons as a kid, here's something for comparison:

It's no Shroud of Turin, but I don't think you can get a closer re-creation with a single strand of anything.

I'd be shunning my duties as a snake oil peddler if I didn't assign some heartfelt personal significance to this, so here goes:

I have a crazy goal to sing an original song in front of people who aren't kin to me. I find this tremendously scary, but in a moment of stupidity I confessed to my husband that I'd like to do it at an upcoming open mic night at Barley Island Brewing Company. Have I mentioned my husband doesn't let things go?

A reason this is scary: it's musician appreciation night at Barley Island's open mic. There will be lots of songwriters there. Yikes.
Another reason this is scary: I've not yet written a song I deem good enough to sing in front of non-relatives. It's four days from now. This is the only day I have off work between now and Sunday.

How can you help? Glad you asked: If you're a local MRF reader, come to Barley Island Sunday night around 6:30 or so and clap a lot. A diverse group of local acts comes out to this, so chances are good you'll hear something you like. Plus, their tasty Flat Top Wheat Ale does a nice job of taking the edge off stuff you don't like.

You non-locals (shout out to Wisconsin, California, and Texas) do what you do best and keep commenting here. You totally put the locals to shame.

Sigh. If my supernatural musical phenomenon means anything, it's time to stop procrastinating and write a song. Holy crap, I hope I can do this.

Party Like it's 1989

2007-10-14T21:26:00.000-05:00

As promised, pictures from last night's party:

Al - the birthday boy!

Me, Bryan, Al & Monique in costumes that weren't costumes 20 years ago

Gretchen and Manny looking particulary fly

Showing off my ginormus hoop earrings, diagonal slash of blush, tri-colored eyeshadow, "I'm a Dukacrat" button, and a black hat that's almost invisible from the front.
(80s headware must always be secondary to hair height.)

Jeff swept the costume contest - it's all about commitment.

A very strong showing of the leotard/leg warmer combo by Renee

Monique, Peanut & one of the ZZ top guys

DJ Bryan on the miz-ike

Dress loud, sing louder.

What a fun night! I didn't start out jazzed about an 80s costume, the more we got into it the more fun we had. A few trends I'd completely forgotten about:

bandanas tied around legs
t-shirts defined at the waist w/ scrunchies
rat tails
two polo shirts worn together with upturned collars

Happy Birthday, Al. Your party won't soon be forgotten!

All About The 80s

2007-10-13T17:21:00.000-05:00

Tonight, we're headed to Al's 40th birthday party. It's an eighties-themed karaoke event.

When my office was looking for a Halloween costume theme, I cleverly steered the conversation toward the 80s. I mean, why go to Goodwill to find two costumes when you can wear one twice? My evil plan worked. Now I get to rehearse the costume tonight and scan the room for ideas for my coworkers. (Did I mention there's a prize for the location with the best costumes? No? You just thought I was a real joiner. Bah.)

I went to Goodwill and found an iridescent purple and teal wind suit, with neon yellow-green-pink graphics on it. Then, of course one of the most pivotal parts of any female's 80s outfit is the hair. Luckily, I have a dark gift: I can make hair as big as all outdoors if I've a mind to.

I'll have pictures for the next post, but for now tell me your top 10 80s trends. I may need to incorporate them into my second costume of the season. I'll call it, "80s Part Two: Electric Bougaloo."

How The Mighty Have Fallen

2007-09-23T12:28:00.000-05:00

Today is the first day of Fall, and the umpteenth day of football season. I am truly a football widow, but Bryan is sensitive enough keep an eye out for things to keep me semi-engaged through the season. But yesterday, a dream was shattered.

Maybe not a dream; more like a fantasy. Nonetheless, it was a good one and it's gone.

Until two seasons ago, I had a great reason to watch UGA football:

David Pollack.
(I know, right?)

Bryan started the whole thing. He was all, "Hey, Georgia's got this defensive end I really think you'll like..." The man doesn't care who he has to pimp out to get me watching football. The three of us had a great couple of years. Then David went to play for the Bengals and suddenly he was yesterday's news to Bryan. (Nothing personal, you just have to be a Cowboy to stay on Bryan's radar after you leave UGA.)

Team affiliation didn't matter one bit to me! I remained a David Pollack fan, no matter what colors he wore. I was devastated when he suffered a neck injury last year during the Bengals v. Browns game. I feared my little married woman crush was at an end.Two weeks ago he came back into my life via CSTV's show SEC Tailgate. In a dress shirt, no less.

I was so happy to see him again! The first week he didn't say very much. Sadly, this week I found out why.

While describing what it was like for an opposing team to play Alabama in Tuscaloosa he said something like, "When we walked out to get a feel for the field the student section was full. They let us know they were there; they were yelling explicits at us."

Explicits, David. Really? Seriously?

Suddenly that was it for me. I know, I know. He's a great athlete, and from all accounts a great person. Even the media hasn't dug up any dirt on this guy. He probably doesn't know the technical term for bad words because he doesn't use them, but I'm kind of a hardass when it comes to grammar. I'm not sure why it affected me so strongly, but apparently I can't sustain a harmless married woman crush if the object of that crush doesn't have a good vocabulary. It's enough to make me use EXPLETIVES.

Kitty Abuse

2007-09-21T19:52:00.000-05:00

I walked in from work and went straight to the bathroom. When I opened the door I heard a frantic little "mew!" and saw a blur that could only have been my cat escaping from being closed up all day in a 5'x4' half-bath. I realized that was probably about the nine thousandth "mew" she'd uttered that day.

If this were a complete accident it would be easier to forgive myself. Earlier that morning, I was running late for work and Ren ran (say that 3 times fast -ren ran ren ran ren ran) into the tiny downstairs bathroom and refused to come out. My pleading with her only solidified her resolve to stay until physically removed. I didn't have time to coax her out, so I thought I'd shut her in there for a few minutes while I finished packing my lunch. The plan was to humanely communicate the hard reality of being trapped in a small room that apparently looks so glamorous to fiesty kitties-about-town. I would go back two minutes later, open the door, and the aformentioned k-a-t (see what I did there? you like that dont you?) darts out quick as a flash. That was the plan.

Only in my rush I, umm, forgot about the letting her out part. Oops. I just hope she didn't spend her solitary confinement plotting some elaborate revenge. I'm sleeping with one eye open just in case.

Old At Being Young, Young At Being Old

2007-09-10T21:35:00.000-05:00

I work in an optometrist's office. As you might guess, we sell glasses.

Last week a dude walks in sporting an Enyce shirt, baggy jeans and some cool kicks. He comes in and says he's looking for some bold glasses that will make a fashion statement - not everyday glasses, just for when he goes out. And they must be gold, so he'll stand out. Not brushed gold or antiqued gold, but bright, bling-bling gold. Oh, and by the way, he likes to wear them reeeal low. OK, brah, we'll see what we can find.

Nary a bright gold pair of specs to be found. While my coworker started trying to convince him that black is the new gold, I glanced at his paperwork. He was 40...and trendier than I was at 22. Then later as he was getting fitted for the glasses I overheard that he needed progressive lenses - so no one would know he wears bifocals.

Isn't needing bifocals your first clue that you shouldn't be shopping for going-out glasses? Here's your sign.

Chili Burgers in Paradise

2007-09-07T17:10:00.001-05:00

Well, well, well. Look who joined the blogging world - my hubby!

Interstate Exits In Montana

2007-09-05T20:30:00.000-05:00

Ok, so that last post stayed up top a lot longer than it should have. I don't plan these things; when I feel like writing, I write.

I was talking to a very dear friend of mine and she mentioned reading the "All Fired Up" post. According to her, her first reaction was, "Now that's why I don't go to church." So, of course I started thinking about how long that post had been up and how it might affect others along different parts of their spiritual road. Yeah, I know, I think too much.

In that spirit, I'll add the following: People have very good reasons for distrusting organized religion. My friend has some of the best reasons I've heard. I've got a few doozies myself. With 3 people who preach on a regular basis in my family and two years of church school under my belt, I've had a front-row seat to some pretty discouraging stuff. However, I'd urge anyone in a faith crisis to not confuse people's actions with God's. Don't throw out the baby Jesus with the bathwater, so to speak.

The reason churches are so tragically flawed is that they are filled with humans. Frankly, humans suck sometimes. But God is good. Unfailingly, eternally good. I may continue going to this particular church and I may not. If I leave, though, I'll find another faith community. And we'll stumble around as humans do and try to follow Christ's example as best we can. Maybe next time I'll be the one who loses my marbles and hurts someone's feelings, but I'll try not to.

That's deep, Ogre.

On to more shallow stuff. You'll be pleased to know life here is getting better. The major negative influence at my job got fired, and things have been much better since. I wish that person the best of luck in the future; simultaneously, I'm glad she's out of my grill.

I'm getting a lot of flack at home about how infrequently I post. Bryan compared MRF posts to interstate exits in Montana. You never know when they'll pop up, but you're happy when you see one. The Samurai of the Simile is talking about starting his own blog soon. I'm sure we'll be able to take him more seriously when he puts on his big boy pants and actually writes something. (Ooooh snap, no she didn't....)

All Fired Up

2007-08-24T15:04:00.001-05:00

Thanks for all your comments on Profile Change; they were very helpful. My logic for posting the following is that it happened in front of a lot of people. I mean, you can't really "go public" with something that happened in public, can you?

I've posted before that I lead worship for one of my church's services. It's a small service. Only about 30 of our 100 members attend and although we call ourselves contemporary, we're not. We're more of a traditional service with electronic media and a couple of praise songs thrown in the middle, but we do our best.

In our sanctuary we have two candles on the altar on either side of the cross. That's not unusual - you'll find that setup in most Christian churches in the U.S. In our tradition, we light the candles to symbolize the presence of the Holy Spirit- a living, active God present with us here on Earth. Important note: we don't think God's presence depends on the candles or anything, it's just a symbol. It's one I really like though, because I like a visual reminder that God is with us. I gotta be honest, if God just shoved us out onto the path alone I probably couldn't do this Christian thing, not even in the hit-and-miss fashion I manage now.

At the later service, the acolytes "bring in the light" wearing white robes and carrying these long goldish, lighter thingies with wicks. (They have some fancy name, but I don't know it.) At the end of the service, they also carry the light out, symbolizing our duty to carry God's light out into the world.

We're less formal at the earlier service, so the ushers do it. They've been forgetting lately, and two Sundays ago I had some time before the service started. I noticed the candles weren't lit, so I lit them, and made a joke to the pianist. I smiled and said, "I've figured out exactly how Methodist I am... I'm just Methodist enough that it bugs me when the candles aren't lit." We had a little laugh and got on with worship.

Sermon time came around, and the pastor listed all the things we turn into idols and worship instead of God. Then he said, "For instance, we don't worship candles, we worship a living, moving God." Then he really layed into the whole candle thing. He told a story about how the Holy Spirit is producing signs and wonders in Africa, and the African people don't worry about things like candles. They don't have a beautiful building like we do, but they worship with more joy than most of us Americans can muster.

Since I lead the hymns and liturgies, I sit facing the congregation. Unfortunately, when I get really really mad, I cry. I couldn't stop tears from sliding down my face. The whole time. I tried to spin it as spiritual, but it was pure anger. He mentioned lighting the candles two more times. He seemed to be circling around and tying all the points of his sermon together with those blasted candles. When we missed a scripture and he went back to it, he turned to me and said, "That's how Methodist we are." Nice.

At the end, I got up and led the closing hymn that he chose. When the last two words of it were "eternal flame" he felt compelled to speak again before the benediction to remind us that we don't worship an eternal flame, we worship a living God. I guess he couldn't have the centuries-old hymn of the church giving me any comfort.

The funny thing is, that whole "living God" thing - it's the whole reason the candles mean something to me. It's a reminder of exactly that! I don't think that God is absent when the candles aren't lit anymore than I think I'm not married when leave my ring at home because I took it off to knead the biscuit dough. It's just a symbol of something that's always true.

I admit, lighting or not lighting candles is a pretty insignificant thing to argue about. Ironically, I totally agree with the point of his message. However, there were kinder ways to convey that message than throwing me under the theological bus in a setting where I couldn't comment.

Bottom line: I like to worship differently than he does. That does NOT automatically make my worship style wrong.

Chillin'

2007-08-24T14:25:00.000-05:00

Today is my day off. Boy, it was time for a day off. I'll put it this way: I never have an urge to watch "The View" anymore. When I wanna listen to a bunch of chicks bitching at each other, I just go to work. I mean, seriously.

So, today has been pure chill time. It's almost 3:30, and I'm still in my pj's watching Flight of the Conchords clips on you tube. I caught a chick flick and ate a couple of cinnamon rolls. I didn't have to listen to any fighting. It was pure bliss.

Now if I could only figure out a way to keep my coworkers from disturbing my peace. I'm thinking paintball guns...

Profile Change

2007-08-15T07:17:00.000-05:00

Well, I came by to change the age on my profile, since as of last week I'm a "32-year-old southerner turned midwesterner." Yes, yes, I had a birthday. And I did all the required introspection and ate a lot of chocolate. (Kudos to Bryan for creating the "Melting Pot at Home" experience. See, I normally like to go to the real restaurant, but this was a creative and VERY well executed fondue experience where I got to wear my PJs. He's a good boy.)

Let's get down to business: Lately I've struggled with what's "okay" to write about here. I started MRF thinking of it as a good journaling incentive. Journaling is a great way for me to dump everything out of my brain. This is important, because if things are allowed to stay up there, I will overanalyze them. Plus, it's dark and moldy and nothing deserves to stay locked up there forever.

I have an impressive stack of beautiful real-world journals. Every unmarked, gilded-edged page is a testament to how bad I am at actually using them. When I'm at the bookstore the thought of the Zen I will experience writing in THIS journal is exhilirating. THIS one will be different. But the never-writing-in-them part makes it kind of a waste. So, I skipped the journal 12-step program and just quit cold turkey. I figure, Blogger is free, and there's some accountability involved since one of you nice folks might pop over to see if there's a post.

HOWEVER, I've started to worry about when/if someone from church will find MRF, or if a coworker will find it. Which has really stunted my writing because lately there are things going on at both church and work I've wanted to write about. And, if the wrong person happened upon my little web island, an honest post could hurt someone. If dooce has taught us anything, it's that writing about your job is dangerous. Sigh. Blog ethics suck.

I know some of you blog about personal things. What are your boundaries? At some point I decided to post my picture, but now I'm not sure that's the best idea. Maybe I should use a cookie instead.

Am I overreacting? I mean, what are the chances a person from real life that I haven't actually sent a link would find MRF? Probably slim to none. Any thoughts on this?

Good Reads

2007-08-09T08:43:00.000-05:00

(Blogger ate the first posting of this, so if it appears twice assume Blogger hurled.)

You should read this, if only because of this:

"One day we drove into Reno to fetch Sarah at the airport. Reno smelled like meth and grandmas. I worry about Reno. I want to give Reno a sandwich and some tissues and a note from its mom saying it’s okay, it can come home now, all is forgiven."

When I grow up, I wanna write like Sarah Brown. Even though I'm pretty sure she's younger than me. Ouch.

Good Reads

2007-08-08T08:04:00.000-05:00

You should read this, if only because of this:

"One day we drove into Reno to fetch Sarah at the airport. Reno smelled like meth and grandmas. I worry about Reno. I want to give Reno a sandwich and some tissues and a note from its mom saying it’s okay, it can come home now, all is forgiven."

When I grow up, I wanna write like Sarah Brown. Even though I'm pretty sure she's younger than me. Ouch.

A Lesser Known Sign of the Apocalypse

2007-08-06T19:51:00.000-05:00

I bought a box of wine. A box.

How the mighty have fallen.

Mild Abusement

2007-08-02T21:40:00.000-05:00

Tonight at McDonald's (which is kind of a splurge-treat these days) I grabbed my drink cup, and Bryan handed me his. I said, "What do you want?" to which he replied, "Diet Coke." As I left the line, he smacked me soundly on the ass.

As I got our drinks, I saw a biker guy from our fair hamlet laugh appreciatively. Next, I noticed my dearly beloved laughing as well.

My thought process: "Hmmm..what's this funny feeling I'm having? I don't mind him asking me to get his drink... we get things for each other a lot. I don't mind him smacking my ass... we do that a lot, too... it's kind of our thing. WAIT - it's the rapid succession of the two events (AND biker guy's response) that triggered the fire behind my eyes!"

Moral: if you ever want your wife to get your Coke again, don't smack her booty in front of an appreciative Harley driver. Then for GOD'S SAKE, don't follow it with a nod and wink.

THE END.

And You're the Only Bait In Town

2007-07-31T21:17:00.000-05:00

It's the 20th Anniversary of the Discovery Channel's Shark Week. I don't know if you've had the pleasure, but shark week is some sick twisted shit.

I know tons of folks are fascinated with sharks. I have a diver friend who looks forward to this programming all year. But for me, let's just say Colin Farrell would have to host it for me to watch. Nude. I mean, Colin Farrell would have to be nude, not me. But even then I'd only watch until the shark footage started.

Sharks (like Colin Farrell) are beautiful creatures. It's amazing to watch them glide through the water with equal amounts of grace and power; but all shark shows have a segment on shark attacks. If you endure the gory accounts you'll see some nut job with his leg torn off DEFENDING the shark's actions. In one interview, a surfer who (barely) survived an attack described it like a spiritual experience: "Sharks don't mean to hurt people," he pleaded with the audience. "You must realize they have no arms or hands like you and I. They must explore their world with their teeth."

Okay, I'm cool with that until my leg becomes the most interesting part of their world. I admit, I'm hesitant about sacrificing body parts to broaden another vertibrate's horizons. The shark swallowed your FOOT, dude. He wasn't taking a class at the Y.

However, Mr. Hang Five's reflections gave me a whole new perspective. Survival of the Fittest has never made so much sense. Now I, too, root for the shark. If the human herd had to be thinned, de-legging Stubby the Surfer was a solid start.

Hey, Look - It's the Bandwagon

2007-07-30T07:30:00.000-05:00

The new sitcom I got into last season starts its new season tonight, and I thought it only fair to let you know. It's called My Boys, and it's on TBS. (JJ - you would LOVE this show.)

It's about a female sports writer (Cubs beat writer at the Sun-Times) who has these five close guy-friends including an ex-boyfriend, best friend, brother, and a rival sports reporter. They play a lot of poker and drink a lot of beer. It's one of the funniest shows I've seen in a while, and if you love smart, funny writing and enjoy a strong ensemble cast, this is a find.

You don't have to love sports to love the show, but it's a plus. And for my dude readers, the lead character is that hot chick you've always dreamed of who knows everything about sports. Plus, the first show this season concerns a fantasy baseball draft. (OK, that was a shameless ploy to get my husband to watch with me. Sue me.) Watch it tonight and let me know what you think.

All Done

2007-07-25T21:42:00.001-05:00

I just finished the last Harry Potter book. Wow. All I'm saying is wow. If you haven't finished it, do so soon and call/email me so we can talk about it. I know it's a children's book, but what a good read. Whew. Maybe now I can get some things accomplished.

Double Dipper

2007-07-23T06:24:00.001-05:00

An open stage act named Otto:

"I know what you're thinking ladies: Who dipped Otto twice in the sexy butter?"

We weren't really thinking that, but I laughed so hard I almost shot beer out of my nose. Which is nearly as good.

Pie Crust and Hydrangea Bushes

2007-07-20T10:11:00.001-05:00

I've written a few things about my Mom who passed away. I took a notion to write her a letter. You might find this boring, since it's about stuff my Mom would be interested in. But, my last site meter report looked like binary code so, what the hell. :)

Mama,

It's July in Indiana, and boy is it beautiful. I don't think you ever went to Indiana, did you? Anyway, summer is the best here. We don't get much oppressive heat like Mississippi. (But folks back home can sure thumb their noses at us come February.) Everyone has their good season, and ours is now. The Queen Anne's lace is overtaking the creek behind the house, and the clover's in bloom.

Oh - I wanted to tell you - I made biscuits today and something weird happened. My mind must have been elsewhere because I dumped the milk in before I'd even cut the shortening into the flour. What a mess! It was the last of the milk, though, so I kept going. I cut the flour into the big gob of goo. It was the strangest feeling dough I've ever touched- more delicate than usual, I think. Believe it or not - they came out fine. Not the best ever, but certainly not bad. I'm glad I didn't give up.

I planted a hydrangea bush out front two years ago. It's the variety called "Endless Summer." It's supposed to bloom on the old growth but so far, mine hasn't. This is its second year, and it only has one tremendous bloom on the front. Oh, and it's pink. Isn't that cool? The one beside the old parsonage back home bloomed white in alkaline soil- mine goes toward pink. I could force it blue, but I find it more fun to just sit back and see what nature gives me. I think you would too.

Bryan and I lead worship at church now. I play my twelve string (the one Daddy's friend in Alabama fixed for me) and lead contemporary music. Bryan runs the projector-- we put scriptures and song lyrics on a screen now. I think you'd like it. We use lots of nature backgrounds, and I imagine you'd appreciate seeing creation-type images during church. It's always good to be reminded that God is everywhere, not just the stuffy little church-box we try to cram him into.

You know, several times a day I see some little ordinary something and wonder what you'd think about it. That's kind of silly though. The longer I think, I become certain I know what you'd think because we talked about everything. During the eye-rolling teenage years I gave you every impression that I couldn't care less about what you thought, but you know what? Now I'm really glad you told me. Because, when I have a problem, I know exactly how you'd solve it. That logic carries me through so many things because you took the time to raise me so thoroughly.

By the way - remember when you used to ball up the extra pieces of pie crust dough and throw them at us when we walked in the back door? The gig is up, lady. I made that recipe for a July 4th picnic, and barely had enough for both pies. You totally MADE extra dough to throw at us.

Thanks.

My Give-A-Damn's Busted

2007-07-12T20:02:00.000-05:00

Yeah, yeah. I know that's song title becomes void of wit when you see it written, but who seriously cares? Not me, buddy. Have you ever lost the motivation to do anything you don't HAVE to do? Yeah, me too. I even looked under the couch cushions. Nothing.

I wouldn't say I'm sad or anything. Not really. Just pretty unconcerned and unmotivated. I seriously have done nothing but watch Scrubs re-runs, eat and sleep. Haven't been wasting a lot of energy respecting myself either.

Needless to say, impassioned narratives aren't in MRF's immediate future. Unless, of course, you write one. Tag, Impassioned Commenter. You're it.

The Haps

2007-06-29T12:03:00.000-05:00

I haven't posted in a while. I'm not going to assume you've all been waiting with baited breath for the next post. Hell, I'm not even sure anyone's reading anymore. But, here's an update if you took the time to pop over to MRF for one last look or something.

I tried to find a part-time job that wouldn't make me crazy to leave time and energy for musical pursuits. Unfortunately, I'm such a quick trip from crazy that wasn't possible. Since Bryan and I need to support our nasty habit of eating three times a day, I took a full-time job. This is my second week working at an optometrist's office, and I have to admit it's not bad. Today's the first time I've picked up a guitar in almost two weeks, which sucks, but I'll just have to work harder on that. So, there we are.

Do me a favor, will ya? Give me the much-needed ego boost of a comment or two! Let me know what's shaking with you. Your not the only one who misses reading stuff, you know...

Brought To You By SPF 30

2007-06-07T14:00:00.000-05:00

Night before last I spoke again with Greg Anderson of the Anderson Beck Agency. Right now he's looking for a replacement for this singer. He said she was was mostly unavailable after leaving amicably for greener pastures.

From that link the job's prerequisites seem to include: vocal ability, high energy, low cut dresses, and shaking your groove thang. Two of those are no problem. I have the vocal ability, and with the right undergarments almost anyone can rock a low-cut dress. But, it would be a new experience for me singing with no instrument between me and the crowd. Heck, there's not even a handheld mic for a security blanket when you use that groovy little headset.

And shakin' my groove thang? Man, I don't know. I'm not too chicken to try, but I may require some social lubricant before the first attempt. HELLO, wine rack.

Also- and he said this very politely- they're looking for someone a little younger. He said that while the other artist is very beautiful and talented, and they will continue working with her whenever they can, she is forty. And, they would like to have someone they can take time to groom who will stick around for a while. He also mentioned that when he works with some of the younger artists he likes to meet their parents and make sure they know he's a legit guy with a permanent adress and all.

So, how old does this dude think I am? At some point I may have to break it to him that in eight short years I, too, will dare to turn forty. I don't really think there's a need to meet my Dad. But, if there was ever an endorsement for the daily use of sunscreen, that was it.

Precious Gems In Public Places

2007-06-06T14:45:00.000-05:00

Many years ago, my father gave my mother a very nice anniversary gift - a diamond solitaire ring. Mama left it to me when she died. As soon as I could afford it, I had the stone reset and wore it a lot. Last night, I looked down at my hand and saw a tiny little dent where the stone and setting were supposed to be.

This somehow managed to happen without my noticing. Thinking back, I don't remember having trouble opening a door or doing anything else that could generate enough force to knock off the setting. How could I not feel that?

I retraced my steps and found nothing. I called the restaurant where we ate, searched my car, purse, pockets, everywhere... still, nothing. Let's face it, not many people find precious gems in public places and turn them in. It's just gone. I don't consider myself a particularly materialistic person; I understand that things are just things.

But this wasn't just a shiny little piece of pretty. It represented some big memories- my parents' love for each other, and my mother's love for me. I know it was just a symbol, not the love itself. But when I looked at it, I thought about that love. Losing it just plain hurts.

God, I miss my Mama. I damned sure feel that.

Call Me Angsty McAngsterson

2007-06-05T13:23:00.000-05:00

I hate change. Small changes are fine, but the big changes? Yeesh. I'm not sure why, but even big positive changes are a little hard on me. However, I've managed this much of life knowing that change is unavoidable, and as much as I dislike it, life would be terrible in its absence.

My last few months have been riddled with change. For the first time in more than a decade I no longer have a full-time job, and haven't been doing very well at finding/keeping part-time work. I'm probably too picky. I don't doubt that quitting my last job was a good decision given the circumstances, but I should have another one by now. I'm looking for part-time work during weekdays that makes a decent wage. Plus, I don't particularly want to learn to drive a forklift.

I did a temp job grading essay portions of standardized tests. That seemed like the ideal situation, but it was project-based, and I haven't been assigned a project in almost a week. Since it's June, that may be the end of projects until Fall. So, I need something else that leaves room for music and doesn't make me miserable.

Also, my Dad's getting married Saturday. This is a wonderful thing, since his fiancée and her family are very nice people. My Dad's happier than I've ever seen him. Most people say their re-marrying parent is happier than they've seen them since either: a. the other parent's death, b. the divorce, or c. that camping trip where s/he caught that big fish, etc. But, I mean, I've never seen the man so happy. I'm thrilled about that.

But I'd be lying if I said it didn't bring up emotional "stuff." Internet, I know my mother is gone and not coming back. She died; she didn't run off to Vegas. But something about this event brings up another layer of grief; a layer I didn't even know was there. It seems twisted to be secretly grieving at my father's wedding.

I suppose the best course of action is to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And maybe learn to drive a forklift.

Rockin' It Homestyle

2007-06-01T12:02:00.000-05:00

Thank you to my best friend, Jessica and her sister, Kristie for setting this up!

I'll be in Mississippi for my Dad's wedding next Saturday, and that night I'll play at Zachary's in Columbus. This town is the site of my alma mater , my first real job, and the church where we were married. My old apartment is two blocks from there, so it literally is my old 'hood. I'm still tracking down an amp, but being related to 50 people in the tri-county area (most of whom share the last name Pepper) ought to provide enough connections to work that out.

In my old apartment, when my next-door neighbor did yardwork she could literally hear me singing and playing in my living room. Not, like, through a window or anything- through the exterior wall. (Yeah - I know. It was a really nice place.) The day she brought this embarassing phenomenon to my attention, she said, "hey - don't worry about it. It sounded great. You should consider playing in bars; my friends and I would totally come hear you." That was the first time I really considered the possibility. The moral of the story: kind words are powerful. The next chance you get to say some, go for it.

If you're in the area, I start at 9 p.m. Kristie's the bartender, so give her a fat tip for making this happen!

Concert Pictures!

2007-05-29T15:53:00.001-05:00

Remember when I said I might have some concert photos?? Well, it turns out a great photographer named

Stef Perri

IS nice enough to send photos to complete strangers. Plus she got some great shots...

This is the soon-to-be legendary Brandi Carlile performing at the Music Mill in Indianapolis.I was SO starstruck.

I'm Singin' My Songs Off Of Any Old Stage

2007-05-22T16:45:00.000-05:00

That's from a Carolyn Arends song called "Seize The Day" that you would have heard last night if you were at Wolfie's Waterfront Grill. I probably shouldn't gush about my first gig like an excited teenager on my blog. It's probably not very professional. But, what the hell. You only live once, right?

This is me having MAJOR fun last night!

These are some of the nice folks who showed up for moral support...

Johnathan Baer and Diego Ross (vanilla bear and chocolate bear, respectively) then Amber and Kathy, wrapping up with Tom and Charlie doing it like they do.

I had so much fun it's ridiculous. I can't remember how long it's been since I lived in the moment. Not looking ahead to anything, or remembering anything; I just kept looking around thinking, "now this is what I call a job!" To make it even better, I had the pleasure of meeting and trading business cards with the very nice Greg Anderson who books local entertainment. Yay!

Tuttle INSISTED I take a picture with her and my first musician-type paycheck. I mean, she just wouldn't let it go. (She's gonna be pissed that she turned out so dark. I'll have to photoshop that before she sees it and gives me a licking. Ha, get it? Licking. I kill me.)

Thanks so much to my super roadie/manager/husband for all the fabulous behind the scenes stuff. I'd totally post a picture of him, but he had the camera. See what I mean about all he did? Thanks to everyone for your encouragement. You all rock my socks off.

T Minus 1 Day

2007-05-18T20:36:00.000-05:00

Thank you, commenters, for your support and well wishes. Your supportive notes mean a lot.

Being the over-thinker I was surely born to be, I'm trying to decide what I feel about Monday. Am I nervous? Sure. Excited? Effin' A, Cotton, Effin' A! (if you didn't get that, rent /download /TiVo Dodgeball.)

The cool thing is, in the midst of the madness, I know one thing for sure: I have to do this. Like, no joke, I have to. Thirteen years ago, sitting on a piano bench, I told my piano professor that I was dropping my music major. (If you've heard this story before, indulge me. It's kind of important.) She said, "Mark my words - you'll be back. Someday, you'll come back to music. There's just too much of it inside you."

Touché , Dr. Prewitt.

I said all that to say this: following my heart feels good. Picking up an instrument or two and singing every day feels good. I know all the arguments better than anyone... but refusing to give them voice is the best feeling of all.

First Gig - On The Books!

2007-05-16T09:04:00.000-05:00

Wow, guys. It only took forever, but I've got my first official gig.

It's at Wolfies Waterfront Grill in Noblesville, IN on Morse Reservoir. If you got off your keister and clicked the link, scroll down to the photo of the lake view. If you took that picture about 24 degrees to the left this Monday night between 6:30 and 8:30, I'd be right there!

Obviously I'm pretty amped about all this, and have lots of prep work to do. Any of you who are in the Indy area are invited, nay - URGED to come. Let's show these people I can handle a Friday night. If you're not in the area I'm counting on your prayers, good vibes, positive thoughts, or whatever good stuff you'd send my way.

So, I found out about this booking and immediately left to see Brandi Carlile in concert. Holy Crap. I was consistently ten feet away from my hero. A couple of times, three feet. What an amazing talent!! As usual, I didn't have a camera so Bryan appealed to another camera weilding audience member to email us some shots. If she's a nice enough gal to grant the request of two strangers at a concert, I'll post them here with the appropriate credits.

Before I start putting together set lists, I have some unfinished business. In the heat of last nights events I missed the series finale of Gilmore Girls, which I've often called my favorite show in the world. Hopefully TiVo didn't let me down.

Best Practical Joke EVER

2007-05-09T22:00:00.000-05:00

It was hard to decide where to start reminiscing about my recent adventures, but this will certainly do. This practical joke was five years in the making, so I'll include time stamps so you can keep up.

[RECENTLY]
I was headed to Mississippi for family stuff when my best friend Jessica and I realized we would be in the very same town at the VERY SAME TIME. This is no small feat since we live in different states. So, she asked Bryan and I to join her and the family for drinks one night.

[NAME REFERENCE in case you get lost]
Jessica's Dad: Jeff
Jessica's Dad's Best Friend: Craddock
Jessica's Dad's Best Friend's Other Friend Who Tagged Along: "Matt " (Name changed to protect the drunk and guilty).

[FLASHBACK TO 5 YEARS AGO - JESS'S WEDDING]
After the reception a few of us retired back to Craddock's room for a drink or two or seven. At that point, Matt and I realized we grew up in the same county in Mississippi and had lots of acquaintances in common. Since nothing's more fun than listening to two people with a past, Bryan's ADD kicked in and he announced that he was going to our room to sleep.

Since Matt was my home skillet, I stayed and we kept talking. Soon I got sleepy, and he kindly offered to walk me to my room. HOWEVER, about halfway there he suggested we take a side trip to make out on the beach. I of course responded, "Dude - I'm married!" To which he said, "I am too!"

Now, I try not to be too judgemental, but it took me by surprise. I'm an idealist, what can I say? After I choked down the little bit of vomit in my mouth, I hastened to my room. Of course I woke Bryan to thank him for leaving me to the wolves. He laughed.

I decided not to tell Jessica because a bride just doesn't need to hear that shit right after the wedding. However, in the sober light of day, Matt regretfully confesses the incident to Craddock, who laughs. Craddock tells Jeff, who also laughs.

[WE'RE BACK TO RECENTLY]
A month ago I realized five years had passed without Jessica knowing the funny story. I gave her a play by play over the phone. In shock she called her dad and asked if he knew about it. Jeff laughed and said, "Oh, yeah, everybody knows."

So when we all met for drinks, Jeff made a proposal. He said, "Craddock lives right down the road and Matt is there now {dramatic pause} ...let's get him."

Jeff walks in first followed by Jess and me. They say, "Hey, look who we found..." and I give a big syrupy hello and ask if he remembers me. He looks terrified and first asks if we have any children together.

(My lips to God's ears - I would have traded my eye teeth for a four-year-old with a baby mullet and a trucker hat.)

I reassured him that I wasn't there for child support, but he kept pretending not to know me. So, I thickened up the accent and said, "Well, I sure remember you!" and planted a loud kiss on his cheek that left some lipstick behind. Bryan barged in on cue and demanded, "what the hell are you doing with my wife?"

Now, Bryan actually can look quite mean. That night? Not so much. In his defense, Jeff and Jessica were giggling their asses off, so he couldn't really find his motivation. However, that may have saved Matt from a cardiac incident. He was staring wide-eyed as if halfway-upset Bryan had a chainsaw and a leather mask. Soon after that, Matt realized it's a set up since almost everyone was giggling.

Quote of the night:
Bryan: That's a very nice car you have out there.
Matt: You can have it.

So, of course we all sat down and laughed. And it was much more fun laughing about it together than seperately all these years. It may have just been a simple and poorly executed practical joke, but I truly haven't had such a good time in years. There's nothing like being home with the people you love. And, of course, people who got drunk once and tried to mac on you.

Back and Badder Than Ever

2007-05-07T14:32:00.000-05:00

It's been almost a month since my last post, and boy, a lot has happened. Here's the overview:

took a trip to Seattle/ Bend, OR
took another trip to Mississippi/Florida
resigned my position (Not related to the trips)

Unfortunately, I'm back on the job market. It was my decision to leave, but it happened more quickly than I would have liked. Basically, the hours were expanding and the limited hours were really my favorite part. What can I say, sometimes you just take one on the chin. Don't worry. That's about twice the number of words on that subject I intended to write, so we're all done here.

Let's just say I saw a lot of family on the two trips, and to quote my brother-in-law Alan, "family makes the best blog fodder." Indeed. Upcoming posts will include such family/friend antics as: a practical joke with a five-year setup, crooked cops, my new mommy, crazy late night radio ads in Mississippi, and more.

Has Anybody Seen my Mojo?

2007-04-17T14:44:00.000-05:00

The husband and I were coming back from dinner when I mentioned how the cops circled that street like buzzards on roadkill. He didn't heed my warning and a few moments later the old blue and red lights flashed in the rearview.

This is the second time I've been in the car with Bryan when he's been pulled over in our neighborhood. It's also the second time I've seen him get a warning - and I'm freaking out. The last time I got a warning, I was sixteen.

I know what you're thinking - you think I'm all bitchy when the cop comes up, but it's not so! As a matter of fact, the last time I got a ticket near my house the officer actually thanked me for being so cooperative. I was driving home from the doctor's office, and I'm pretty sure I looked pitiful, too. But did the nice officer take pity and give me a warning? NO! He was all, "here's your ticket, pitiful lady, thanks for being so cool."

I've come to a sad realization - I must not be a hot girl. I mean, I don't think I'm bad looking, but when your husband gets warnings all the time and you get both fined and thanked for your cooperation it plays with your head a little. I mean, where's my mojo?

April Showers is to May Flowers as April Snow is to Seasonal Affective Disorder

2007-04-15T17:21:00.000-05:00

OK, so it's unimaginative to write about the weather but seriously, people. This is me and Bryan at a Reds game. BASEBALL. And we're bundled up like we're watching the Packers at Lambeau field. Notice the poetry of the Cubs fan reaching for the sky in the background. (final score: Cubs 4, Reds 1.) Great photojournalistic work on behalf of Diego Ross. Did I mention that Diego's a Cubs fan?

Bryan: What are you doing, man?
Lemon icy guy: Not making any money.

Holy crap it needs to get warm soon. What's the weather like where you are?

Baby's First Meme

2007-04-05T14:56:00.000-05:00

Daily Tragedies tagged me for a meme, and just in time, because I have too many ideas about what to write (which is unusual and oddly enough, still debilitating). Questions about music are a great excuse not to wade through the mental garbage looking for something you might actually want to read. Plus I always come out smelling like rotten eggs and coffee grounds.

So - here's how it goes: name seven songs you're currently into. The only rule is keep it honest, no editing out the dorky stuff so the cool kids will sit with you at lunch. Mine are in no particular order, just the way they came to mind.

1. Closer To You - Brandi Carlile
I am very into Brandi Carlile's music right now. As a matter of fact, I had a dream that we were friends and she came to stay with us when her band played in town. I'm inferring this from a very short single-scene dream: I get out of bed and walk into the hall. I see Brandi coming out of the guest room and I say, "hey, great show last night. Want some pancakes?" She doesn't really answer in my dream, probably since I've never actually heard her speak. (Yes, I know. Someone needs to get some real friends, and soon.)

2. Everything Comes Down To Poo - cast of Scrubs
That whole episode (My Musical) was amazing. I was in Jennifer heaven. Scrubs is my favorite comedy of all time, and they made a musical episode, AND it was great. Like, broadway great, but also hilarious. Listen for Donald Faison's (who plays Turk) line, "If you want to know what's wrong don't sit and act so cool. Just be a man, and eat some bread, and drop the kids off at the pool." I'm sorry to be so rigid, but if you don't find this song funny, we can no longer be friends.

3. Shame on You - Indigo Girls
I get so into this song when the weather starts to get warm. When you listen, promise me you'll groove a little.

4. East Asheville Hardware - David Wilcox
I'm kind of a folky chick at heart. I also tend to like stuff that songwriters like; which is ironic not having written a decent song in ten years. But, I'm working on that. If you like this song, the whole CD is just song after song of more fabulous.

5. In My Head - Anna Nalick
Love these lyrics, and of course Anna's voice.

6. Movin' On - Elliot Yamin
Eilliot is my boy and he always has been. He got his teeth fixed, and grew out his hair over his ears, but you were always beautiful to me, E. This is a fabulous song - get thee to iTunes.

7. Lake Marie - John Prine
One of my most unreachable goals in life is to sing with John Prine once. Hey, I can dream. Anyway, this is one is all about the words, but my husband's kinda ADD and he likes the jam of this one. To really experience the jam, get thee to iTunes. This video looks like someone did it with their camera phone, but hell, I woulda done the same thing.

Your turn! This is a group tag... leave your list in the comments or post on your own blog and link back to me.

Hey Ya Acoustic - Worth Checking Out

2007-04-01T12:35:00.000-05:00

If you haven't see it yet, you must go here.

The video is grainy and crappy, but it's a fabulous version of the song.

Goodbye, Ashy Larry

2007-03-29T21:17:00.000-05:00

My fish died. I know he was just a fish, but I am saddened.

Audio Weasel, if you're reading, Ashy Larry had a brother...and his name was Uncle Ray. Uncle Ray passed very early in his stay with the Ramseys, so I didn't see much point in bringing it up.

OK, since I brought it up, I'll share with the rest of the class:

My friend Scott (seen commenting as audio_weasel) and I worked together traveling to do live Video/Audio production. (I was the video part, and, well, you can put it together.) It was a very stressful job, so along with one or two others, we would occasionally indulge in a cocktail after work. Since we worked for a church-related organization we sometimes had need to make plans to have said cocktails in code on the crew headset. It went like this:

Let's get Methodist = Crew call's early tomorrow, let's have one drink
Let's get Presbyterian = OK, it's an early call, but today was tough enough for two
" Episcopalian = Today was horrid, time for a whole different holy trinity
" Catholic = Bartender, keep 'em comin'
" Uncle Ray (in honor of Scott's raging alcoholic Uncle) = This might be a rager. Don't let me dance on the bar.

In honor of the trauma we all endured during those dark days, I named a fish Uncle Ray. Dude, he died really fast. I hope it wasn't the name that killed him. I mean, you can't be Uncle Ray every day.

Back to his recently deceased brother. Ashy Larry was a dwarf gourami who looked exactly like this: Because I'm obviously a little tweaked, he's named after a character on Chappelle's show who looked like this:
I guess I thought his blue markings (fish Ashy) made him look kinda ashy. But in a good way.

You were a good fish, Ashy. A strong swimmer, and you carried a lot of joy on your irridescent little fins. You will be missed.

Wanna Get Away?

2007-03-27T15:25:00.000-05:00

Lately, I frantically nod up and down in response to the Southwest commercials that end "wanna get away?"

Don't feel sorry for me, Internet. It's not like I have some kind of horrible life to get away from, I just need a place to decompress. A chill place, if you will.

When I was a kid, I used to chill on the roof. My folks had a hundred-foot HAM radio tower that served as my ladder to the roof of our house. We were pretty far out in the country, so it's not like the neighbors stared. (I guess that's obvious; I couldn't see many suburban neighborhood associations giving the "thumbs up" to a hundred-foot tower.)

I was always amazed by how much more peaceful the world could be just ten feet off the ground. I was mulling over ideas for a small getaway, when my TiVo recorded something perfect. (My TiVo, despite being an inanimate object, has remarkable insights into my soul. Except for the time it decided I was a gay black woman just because I watch the "L Word" and BET's "Grown Folks Music." OK, so maybe my TiVo runs a little hot and cold with the insights.) Anyway, this cool show was about tree houses. Here's one of them - built by Treehouse Workshop, Inc.

That particular tree house is way too rich for my blood, but the idea of a grown-up tree house sounds fantastic to me! I love the idea of being above things. Away from the world, but still close to it. Unfortunately, I couldn't even fund a treehouse construction with Monopoly money.

Alas, I'm still searching for my own private chill place. Where do you go (or what do you do) to get away? And have you ever felt your TiVo was getting the wrong idea about you?

St. Pepper's Day

2007-03-13T21:57:00.000-05:00

Loving this logo:

It's from a bar on the south side of Indy called Peppers. http://www.pepperslive.com/featured_poker.php

Let me explain: my maiden name is Pepper, and I come from Irish stock. I won't go a St. Pat's without having corned beef and cabbage. It's just not done.

I identify mostly with my Irish heritage because I'm so freakin' pale. The other big influence in my family is Native American (Choctaw, specifically) and I do exhibit some attributes of that influence. I'm kinda short, have dark eyes, dark hair, and more booty than your average white girl.

So, my darker relatives make fun of me for my complexion. Given the genetic combo, it is somewhat vampiresque. Not really what you're used to seeing.

From the Irish angle, I could pass as part Black Irish. Of course, like most Americans, after the genetic marbles were thrown who knows what's Irish or Choctaw or English or whatever in the end. We're all truly a bunch of mutts here in America, which is cool, but it's also nice to identify with something.

To see this logo that coincidentally links St. Pats to my family of origin's name, well, I kinda dig it. First of all, I miss my maiden name. It's very distinctive. It's pretty easy to forget Ramsey (no offense, Bryan, Bob, and Deloris - I LOVE being a Ramsey) but Pepper kinda sticks in your mind. Plus, being fair skinned when the rest of my family was dark-complected made me feel particularly Irish. Like I might fit better in the Irish culture.

I've always dreamed of going to Ireland. Maybe I'll get there someday.

But, 'till then, happy St. Pepper's Day to all.

Rocky Watch '07

2007-03-13T07:39:00.001-05:00

A family who lost their golden retriever has posters up all over my community. The picture shows a beautiful dog named Rocky whose owners are offering two thousand dollars for his return.

Immediately my heart went out to them. My dog is a golden retreiver mix, and I know what adorable personalities those dogs can have.

Then I thought, "Two grand? For real?"

After seeing the poster at a stop sign I caught myself sub-consciously scanning the cornfields for this dog. The longer I thought about it, the more plausible it seemed to take a drive around the area. Just to see. I mean, they're offering two large for this dog. Who couldn't use that kind of money? Maybe I'll put a bowl of dog food in the back seat of my car...or carry some treats in my purse. At what point does one become a lost dog stalker?

Here, Rocky! Come here, boy!

Then I wondered, is this family just loaded, or is their kid suicidal over the loss of this dog? Or both? Is this a show dog? Can he bring you a beer from the fridge? As I began to fantasize about finding Rocky and returning him for a fat wad of cash, I hit a disappointing ethical wall. Should you take that kind of money for doing something you're supposed to do anyway? I mean, a decent person would return a lost pet for free. But I have anal glaucoma about turning down two grand. (In other words, I don't see my ass doing it.)

Tell me what you think:

1. Would you go out of your way (even a little) to find this dog?
2. If you found it, would you accept the reward?
3. If you lost your dog, what's your reward offer ceiling?

My dog loves to chase geese, and there are a lot of geese around the lake. I'm just going to, umm, well, I had to go by the lake anyway because I have this thing...

Hell with it. I'm gonna look for that dog.

Post-LASIK

2007-03-10T11:41:00.000-05:00

I CAN FREAKING SEE!!! IT'S UNBELIEVABLE!!!!

I'll calm down a bit lest you think I'm using all caps because I have to. The surgery went perfectly, and I had a good bit of vision yesterday, but this morning I rolled over and saw the alarm clock. Like - REALLY saw the alarm clock. No squinting or anything.

I had intralase (where they make the flap with another laser rather than a blade.) During my first post-op exam this morning, the doctor had trouble finding the incision with a light and a microscope...you can't see it at all with the naked eye. Not that you're interested in all the details, but I'm 20/25 in my right eye and 20/50 in the left. That's expected to improve over the next few days, and I'm already cleared to drive.

The experience: painless and quite fascinating. A little creepy, sure, but fascinating. Bryan even got to watch it on a video screen from another room.

The results: WOW WOW WOW WOW WOW.

One of the Biblical descriptions of Jesus healing a "blind" man described the guy's vision by saying he saw "people as trees walking." I estimate that dude needed about a -10 prescription, because I always thought that was a great description of my vision. I certainly feel like a miracle right now. Thanks to everyone who prayed and/or sent good vibes my way. It worked.

Of course, now it's time to make my victorious Post-LASIK play list. So dust off your old mix tape skills and give me a hand. I only have three so far:

Jackson Browne - Doctor My Eyes
Van Morrison - Brown Eyed Girl (forget the theories of what
it's really about and keep it simple, ok? I'm a girl, my eyes are brown,
and they FREAKING WORK for once.)
Johnny Nash- I Can See Clearly Now (the rain is gone)

Any more ideas?

Pre-LASIK

2007-03-09T11:05:00.000-05:00

Today is the day. In approximately three hours I'm going under the laser. Hopefully, I'll be seeing clearly for my next post.

In other news, I am working now. I started as the secretary at my church Thursday. It's pretty cool. Basically low-key, and I get to visit with people. Hopefully "pastor-lite" isn't a blasphemous description. The pastor went on vacation on my third day of work, so apparently she trusts me.

The music thing is creeping along slowly, but surely. I should be on the scedule at a nice restaurant/bar venue in April, and I'll run a CD down to a local coffee house. Good response at an open mic recently and I'm making some good contacts. Every musician I know is urging me to get a myspace page. However, I promise to honor my friend James' request to make sure it doesn't look like it was designed by a "14-year-old lovesick, color-blind cheerleader."

See ya later. Hopefully, without the aid of corrective lenses.

Not Bad News

2007-02-21T12:52:00.000-05:00

I've done lots more blog reading that blog writing lately. I've been pooky because, well, you can only tell friends and family you're still jobless so many times before your sparkling personality starts to dim. Believe you me, it's even worse when you don't begin with a sparkling personality. When you start out as me, you turn into Eeyore.

However, last night I got some "not bad" news. In Eeyore's gloomy corner that counts as good news, right? (Not that he'd admit it.)

I made an audition CD and took it to my neighborhood bar on Valentine's Day. My cell number and email address are on the CD label, but I hadn't heard back from them. Last night we went in for dinner and it turns out the owner had just gotten the CD yesterday and plans to listen to it soon.

So, see? Not good news, but not bad - not bad at all. Especially considering my immediate intepretation: she heard it, hated it, and only hesitated to say so fearing the revenue loss from all the expensive beer I buy there. Because it's not a matter of if Eeyore's house will fall down, but simply when.

I have a strong lead on a day job as well. My church's secretary resigned and I gave them my resume last night. It's not rocket science, but it's something I care about and I'll get to design and edit publications here and there. Plus the hours are light, allowing me to work on this crazy music thing at night.

So, there we are. No good news yet, but no bad news either. Who knows, maybe the house won't fall down this time.

Darkest Before the Dawn

2007-02-14T12:32:00.000-05:00

I'm lucky; I couldn't ask for a better husband so Valentine's Day isn't so bad for me. But, reading some other posts about the holiday reminded me how V-Day felt during the relationship free periods. We've all been there, and if you're needing a little hope, I'd like to share a story from my past:

On April 27th, 2000 (more later on why I remember the date) my roommate dragged me to a bar called Rock-a-Billies. I REALLY wasn't feeling the whole club scene, but being five years younger than me my roommate was convinced shaking my groove thang would cure my dating ills.

Early on I was approached by a dude whose cowboy hat brim was wider than his shoulders. Seriously, had a sudden rainstorm blown in, he would have been SET. He opened with, "You sure are purty." He asked me to dance, and I decided it couldn't hurt and he might even be a nice guy. Trying to make conversation I asked, "What do you do for a living?" He said proudly, "I ride horses."

OK - there are subtle nuances here that will go unnoticed without regional background. If you aren't savvy to southern courtship, since he didn't specify, "I ride the rodeo circuit" or "I'm a farrier/trainer/large animal vet," he was running the HORSE SCAM.

I was supposed to respond, "Awwww! I just LOVE horses!" And swoon.

I know this because I've seen the horse scam run with great success. My brother had a very effective version in which he wore a belt buckle with an oval miniature painting of two random horses. One brown one and one white one.

When the girl he was dancing with asked, "are those your horses?" he replied lovingly, "Oh yeah, that's Brownie and Scott." From there he wove a tale of the distress he's endured since poor Brownie had to be put down, but he and Scott were trying to move on. (This tapped into the female's nurturing instinct AND put the image of him on a WHITE HORSE in her mind - nice touch, huh?) This almost always drew a "Bless your heart" from the victim, indicating that the groundwork was set. It was the ultimate player scam, redneck-style.

There was some over-the-shoulder eye rolling as I finished dancing with the cowboy. I left the club with an even bleaker outlook than when I entered.

The very next day, I met a really nice normal guy whom I married exactly one year from that date. I still tease Bryan that he owes some portion of his success to Mr. You Sure Are Purty.

Blizzard!

2007-02-13T18:25:00.000-05:00

Maybe it's not a blizzard per se, but a foot of snow is a blizzard in my book.

Our dog (Tuttle) was absolutely mesmerized. (Yeah, I know it's a weird name. Her previous family had a pair of three year old twins who named her. But, she's awfully cute.)

The snow was too deep to run in, so she just hung out and got snowy.

She played with Bryan some,

and then plopped down on the snow for a photo with me.

Bryan wrote a sweet note on my car when I wasn't looking.

If you're getting cavities from all this sweetness,

enjoy a different side of our family:

When Bryan got stuck because he had to find out

if he could get the car out,

I wrote him a little note:

I won't write the Tao of the Snow Shovel Pt. 2,

but I'll offer one last pearl of wisdom.

Sometimes you gotta admit you're licked, and go get warm.

FIRST MRF PHOTO POST!

HAPPY SNOW DAY!

Mystery, with Love

2007-02-09T02:43:00.000-05:00

Bryan: I got you a really creative Valentine's Day gift this year. Maybe the most creative ever.

Me: Really?

Bryan: Yeah. Only one problem though. I think it says, "Happy Anniversary."

Me: Hey, no big deal. The wrong greeting on a card, I can deal with that.

Bryan: Umm, no, really. It SAYS, "Happy Anniversary."

Me: (suspiciously) Do you mean it's engraved, "Happy Anniversary"?

Bryan: (brow furrowed, nodding quickly) "Mmm-hmmm."

He also hinted that I could "sort of" eat or drink this alleged gift. I can't wait to find out what I could "sort of" eat that could also be engraved. Should clear up that iron deficiency.

The Tao of the Snow Shovel

2007-02-06T15:40:00.000-05:00

I grew up in a much warmer place. I don’t usually romanticize it. If you've lived in a warm climate, you’re aware that there’s such a thing as being too hot. My Hoosier friends don't understand that and they get misty-eyed and wistful when they speak of their collective Shangri–la: Florida. Don’t misunderstand. I love the beach, but, let’s keep some perspective: the mosquito is Florida's unofficial state bird.

I admit to missing warmer climes today, though. I spent two hours shoveling snow, and it’s still coming down. I’ve been in a real funk lately, and much to my surprise, I had a few small epiphanies out in the cold.

As I shoveled my giant mess of a driveway, I realized the driveway was perfectly fine – I just couldn’t see it for all the snow. That made me think that maybe my life’s not the giant mess it seems right now. Perhaps there’s a perfectly good life down there hiding beneath some other crap. (Do they sell fear shovels at Home Depot?)

Some people will tell you it’s useless to shovel while it’s still snowing. People will tell you a lot of stupid shit. If you don’t shovel early and often, you get a deep snow blanket with an evil layer of ice beneath. Removing that takes much more effort than freshly fallen snow.

Not all snow is bad. Snow-covered trees and fields are lovely. Only the stuff that accumulates on roads, driveways, and sidewalks is dangerous. We have to watch out for a bunch of crap in the areas that incapacitate us.

Shoveling snow is pretty simple: one shovel at a time. The key is not to ignore it until it becomes overwhelming. Part of my personal “driveway snow” has been other people’s opinions. No – wait – their opinions aren’t the problem. The problem is the weight I've given their opinions, and my decision to lug them with me everywhere.

You can’t fill your shovel until first you’ve emptied it.

Sometimes, nice people with snow blowers will help you. (Tony, you’re the freaking MAN.) That personal “driveway snow” removal is a solo project, but nice supportive folks can help you find the strength and inspiration to do it.

If you’ve neglected the snow, it’s a lot of work, but it’s not impossible. When you’ve neglected your dreams for a while, of course there’s a lot of initial work to do. But, one shovel at a time, you can get back to them.

If you'll excuse me, I have more work to do.

A Potted Plant for Mama

2007-01-31T23:21:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about my Mom. She passed away more than two years ago and small things jog my memory. Lately, there have been LOTS of things. I'm not sure why; no birthdays or holidays are approaching. Nevertheless, she's on my mind.

Often, she comes to mind when my husband asks a cooking question. In a condescending tone I'll say, "Come on, everyone knows *that*. " Then I realize that I didn't spring from the womb knowing it either ... somewhere along the way, my Mama taught me. I learned so much from her without even realizing it.

This post will be long, but I'm including a story I wrote about my Mom another time I couldn't stop thinking about her. I read this in church my first Mother's Day without her. The style may seem awkward since it was written for the ear, not the eye.

I was watering the plant today, and I got it! I finally understood.

I've watered this plant at least 50 times. It doesn’t look so pretty, but it keeps living. It was mangled by my emotionally disturbed cat soon after I brought it home. Luckily, my husband found a plant stand and lifted it above paws’ reach.

While watering, I started to think about my Mom, or “Mama” as I called her. Everyone in the Deep South calls their mother “Mama,” or at least everyone I know does. Mama was, above all, unique… and one unique quality was her preference for a potted plant over cut flowers. I never understood that! I thought my boring old Mama was the most unromantic woman in the world – she only allowed Daddy to bring her yellow roses once a year on their anniversary.

She not-so-subtly urged us, “if you’re after buying flowers for me, I’d really prefer a potted plant.” I was nine years old when I asked her why, and she said, “Baby, big bouquets of flowers are awfully pretty, I’ll give you that. But they’re only pretty for a few days. Then they die, and you have to throw them out. I think potted plants are just as pretty and they’ll last as long as you love and care for them.”

There were plenty of things about Mama I didn’t understand, so I just filed that one to the back of the growing list. Then today, I finally got it.

At 29 years old, while watering a plant that had been a gift from my parents' next door neighbors, the Graces, it all came clear.

That situation's not unusual in small town Mississippi – neighbors do nice things for each other every day, especially during hard times. However, Mama had been bed-ridden for years and Daddy and Rev. Grace were locked in a feud that would have made a great Beverly Hillbillies episode. It was a land dispute in which both neighbors had been using the same driveway with only one maintaining it.

This was a small dispute. Certainly two grown men (both pastors, no less) should have solved it. However, since they were both from an earlier generation, and the Graces are a different color than we are, hurt feelings escalated and the situation became more complicated than it should have. I have to shake my head when I say, it ended with Daddy building a fence down the middle of the old driveway and building a new one on his side.

Mostly, I shake my head because I KNOW -beyond a shadow of a doubt- that Mama wouldn’t have let him do it!! Had this happened twenty years earlier, I know exactly how she would have solved the problem.

She would have made one of her fabulous chocolate pies (they looked awful if the butter separated and rose to the top - but Mama said pies are for eating, not admiring) and she would have taken it to the Graces' house. In my imagination I see her concocting a plan. I almost hear her say, “Deborah, these men of ours are awfully prideful, but I know how we can fix it. If you and I are friends, they’ll have to get along. It will make them crazy!” In my imagination, I hear two women laughing over slices of pie with the soft clinking of coffee cups on saucers in the background.

I know what you’re thinking. That scene is all in my imagination, but I watched LaNita Pepper in action enough to know what she'd do.

One scene I could never have imagined began a hot Saturday last August when the phone rang. It was my brother, Jeff, and he said, “Baby, do you have a cup of coffee in your hand?” I said, “not yet,” and he replied, “you’re gonna need one soon. Sit down, Baby. It’s over.”

He didn’t have to explain. Years of Mama’s trips to the hospital left the whole family on edge. Each of us pondered the end and wondered what it would be like once it was over. It was a bitter-sweet loss. Although our hearts wrenched from losing her, there was no comparison between how she felt in wheelchairs and hospital beds and how she feels in the arms of her Jesus.

Bryan and I made the trip to Mississippi and attended the visitation, funeral, and graveside service performed by my oldest brother, Doug. Then we went back into the fellowship hall to grieve like all good southern Methodists do, with enough food to burn a wet squirrel.

Giving the grieving family massive amounts of food is a tradition that I’m sure happens in all small towns, but it’s an art form in Webster County, Mississippi. If your cousin’s step-daddy’s aunt’s great grandmother on her mama’s side’s best friend dies, it’s time to cook!

We get through death with the life-sustaining act of sharing meals— we elevate the everyday, necessary act of eating to a ritual that binds us together, and reminds us that in the midst of death there is life. Much like Christ instructed the disciples to do just before He died. (You know, only with fried chicken and sweet tea. )

Back at the funeral home we divided up the flowers and plants. At the base of one corner of the casket there was a peace lilly. I spotted it at the visitation and read the card – “from Deborah and the Grace family.” 'Wow," I thought. A Peace Lilly from Deborah and the Grace family. I decided to make sure that plant came to Indiana with me, where I would love and care for it like Mama would have wanted.

We went back to home to divide up the chores. Bryan mowed Daddy’s two acres of lawn, and I tracked down addresses and wrote thank-you cards for the flowers and food. I made a stack of envelopes to be mailed but put one aside. Daddy picked it up and asked, “Did we run out of stamps?” I said, “no, it's going to be hand-delivered.”

While he drove to the post office, Bryan, Jeff and I went next door. We were indiscribably moved by this loving gift from a woman who forgave in the most difficult of circumstances: in the absence of an apology. I wasn’t sure how we’d be received, but when we introduced ourselves, she smiled and said, “I’m so happy to see you all! I don’t know Brother Pepper that well. I know he grew up in another generation, and things were different back then; but I just try to see him as God sees him - and older man caring for his dying wife.”

Well, all four of us stood on her front porch and cried in broad daylight. I hugged her at least five times because I didn’t know what to say. We were awed by her generous spirit, and vowed to someday build a gate between the two houses.

As I finished watering this ragged plant, I took a closer look. It hasn’t bloomed in months - I think it was too traumatized by close encounters of the kitty kind. But I realized why my mother favored potted plants over cut flower. I was enjoying this plant (and reliving memories of my mother) months after receiving it. I'd started to worry about getting through Mother’s day without Mama, then I saw all the gifts of love and wisdom that live on.

I was privileged to see the reflection of Christ in a woman called Grace, the unconditional forgiveness in a lilly called Peace, and a strong mother never enticed by fleeting beauty, but who valued lasting things and chose the life that conquers death. In heaven and in my heart, she lives on.

Git-R-Dungy

2007-01-22T14:17:00.000-05:00

It's a good time to be a Midwesterner. My home team (the Colts) will battle the team from the way cooler city three hours north (da Bears) in the Superbowl.

I won't write about football much. I'm not very knowledgable and it's only a matter of time before I make an ass out of myself. But what a freaking comeback! Plus, you have to feel good for Peyton. Being touted as the über-talented quarterback who chokes during big games has to wear on your psyche nearly as much as the actual choking. So, hey, rock on. At the end of the game I had to quote the comentator from Dodgeball, "Do you believe in unlikelihood..."

In other news, I sent a résumé to another TV station in an effort to leave no stone unturned. I gotta be honest, I don't have high hopes for it. I'm getting the sense that my long absence from broadcasting coupled with the large market size jump looks risky to employers. However, having this road blocked may be the encouragement I need to take another path. (Apparently, my absence from the biz hasn't been long enough to stop me from beginning paragraphs with "in other news.")

Can I Get a Strong Sedative If I Ask Nicely?

2007-01-16T16:37:00.000-05:00

You're thinking, "Enough grousing about your job search already!" Well, I agree. I'll grouse about something entirely different.

My vision is so bad that my first criteria for a good doctor is one that doesn't scream, "Wow! You really can't see!" upon finding out my prescription. It can still be corrected with contacts, I'm glad to say.

Don't worry - this isn't what I'm complaining about. I'm blessed- I'm well aware that if God had dropped me and my faulty eyeballs on Earth, say, during Medieval times I would have been a drain on society. [The urge to write about my "transitional period" arose, but after a healthy swig of wine it passed.] Sure, these days vision impaired folks can live a full life, but back then I would have been S.O.L.

The point is, I'm considering LASIK surgery, and I'm as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I'm not into elective surgery in most cases, but this is interesting. However, they do CUT OPEN YOUR EYEBALL AND SHOOT A LASER INTO IT.

I watched an online video that explains the procedure, which was cool. A few sections of the monologue stuck out in my mind, though:

"It's natural to have a certain amount of apprehension." -- Yeah, especially for sci-fi fans.

"Don't worry, [?!] things will get fuzzy and may go black for a moment."

"You may be offered a mild sedative like Valium to calm you down." -- I'll take two, thanks. One for now and one in case my vision gets fuzzy and goes black!

Number of "loss of vision" mentions - 5
Number of "blindness" mentions - 1

On the positive side, Tiger Woods did it, which says a lot. Plus, many regular people have had positive results. But, I can't help wondering if I'm being too greedy. Medical science has given me twenty-two years of corrected vision with no more hassle than changing contacts. Sure, the surgery has a very high success rate, but is it worth risking that one percent?

What do you think? Does LASIK's high success rate balance out the small number of failures? Do you think Tiger Woods' surgeon snuck a couple Valium for personal use the night before that surgery?

Damn the Man

2007-01-15T13:02:00.000-05:00

As is my custom, I went to church yesterday. We had a good service and I got a break from my usual worship leader duties. However, I was asked several times (by very well meaning people) if I had gotten the job I'd interviewed for. Oy.

Well, internet, I didn't get the job. I was overqualified for it, AND since the Deputy Mayor is a friend of a friend, he called and vouched for me. So, I couldn't land an entry level job offer with 7 years experience and the Deputy Mayor lobbying for me. Nice.

Yes, yes, it's for the best and all that. I'm keeping my eyes on the horizon for something appropriate to appear in the video/TV realm, but it's not looking promising.

Here's the plot twist - I started college on a music scholarship. I double majored in voice and piano with grades at the top of my class before switching majors my sophomore year. I switched for several reasons, one being I had become someone I didn't like - a music snob.

In response to the pressure, I morphed into someone who listened solely to the classics, and stayed in a 10x10 rehearsal room about six hours a day (on top of classes and other studying) and started losing touch with people I cared about. I also didn't feel drawn to teaching, and that left performing. I'd been warned all my life about hitching my wagon to that star.

So, okay, I turned off the music path and got back to "normal." But, now I'm re-analyzing things. Here are the last words my piano professor said to me: "You'll be back. You have to. Music is inside of you; it may be ten years, it may be twenty, but you'll be back."

I'm considering trying a little performing here and there for pay. Actually, I've taken preliminary steps. I've started learning music, and bought a pick-up for my guitar. I've also been talking to the owner of a local restaurant that hires performers, and she seems excited to work with me since I'd be her only female act. There are several other opportunities within thirty miles of home, so if I play my cards right, this might actually work. As an additional way to earn I'm considering technical trading/trading stock. Yeah, seriously.

A little tip - If you want to hear crickets chirp, mention to your friends and family that you're considering not getting a full-time job. That you might do something less conventional.

Boy oh boy do I have my fears. But, as my husband put it- "it's not irrational - you're not trying to be the next American Idol, you just want to love what you do, make a few bucks, and avoid working for the man."

Nicely put.

Self-Aware Communication Artist For Hire

2007-01-09T14:00:00.000-05:00

Here's my situation: I'm curently unemployed, but I've been in either video or broadcasting for most of the last decade. My most recent job required traveling a third of the year, and I couldn't do it anymore.

By that, I mean a bunch of my hair fell out.

I'm pretty stubborn, so my inability to pack a bag without crying didn't switch on the cartoon lightbulb. Losing hair piqued my interest, though. After a full blood workup, my doc found nothing physically wrong. Then I started to notice the timing of the hair loss: right after business trips.

So, you know, I liked the job and everything, but I wouldn't go bald for it.
To save my life, like chemo? No doubt. Not so much for a job, though.

Finding myself at this crossroads, I took a career assessment. It was called "Free Career Test." (read: "$25 Results")

I was pretty amped to see the results. I wondered if some combination of my personality, work style, values and interests would unearth some great job that would complete me and make dump trucks full of money.

My top job category? Communication Arts. FOR REAL! I could've copped a free glance at "broadcast journalism" on my freaking diploma. It gets better:

Under Communication Arts, this test lists 14 sample careers. Guess how many of those I've done in some form or combination? Ten! Nine professionally, the other for fun.

Apparently, I'm self-aware. So, I got that going for me. [Sigh] If you need me, I'll be over at TVjobs.com.

Hey, howya doin.

2007-01-04T16:34:00.000-05:00

I'm an over-thinker. For instance, here's my current inner monologue:
What topic should I choose for my first post? I mean, it's my very first post ever. Should it be monumental in some way?

I say, NAY! Why should the first post be significant? I don't intend to write anything monumental here. Like, ever. In fact, if I ever post anything remotely significant, I will shut this blog down immediately. Don't make me pull this car over.

So, what's up with the name? Glad you asked.

Until recently, I was a video producer. Once my coworkers and I lost some video shot in Mississippi (which, by coincidence, is my home state, but I didn't live there then. Nor do I now. But I digress.) An innocent bystander inquired about the object of our frantic search. I responded, "the Mississippi raw footage," to which he quipped, "Hey, I think I saw them open for Skynyrd."

Since I'm drawn to strange band names, it stuck with me. If you wanna get all deep about it, it also touches on my southernness, and my loves of video and music. (OK - the music thing's a stretch, but given a ton of context it does highlight my affinity for weird band names.)

Crowd participation time! Pull up a seat, introduce yourself, and list your five favorite weird band names. Preferably imaginary ones, but odd real ones are cool, too.

I'll start:

Mississippi Raw Footage (imaginary, of course)
Illegal Bulldogs (imaginary - called IBD by hardcore fans)
Cornfield Pepper and the Mississippi GQ Band (real - I swear - it was my brother's band)
Screaming Chickens (imaginary)
Three Piece Dinner (real - my friend Mark's band)

Your turn. If you need a formula to get started, one of my favorites is first word adjective or adverb + last word animal. But, hey, this is all about you.