quote book

I was in a writing class once where this uppidity-too-good-for-the-company-he-keeps-self-described-writer/ not really said that writing to some people is what they do in their flower printed journals. There was a slight gasp in the women in the room when he said this out-loud in our 6 person-writing group. I dismissed everything he said shortly after he described his audience as “not yet born.” I think the meaning of being ahead of your time is that you don’t actually know it and you just do what you do because you have to not because you are banking on the future to “get it.”

I was actually upset about that one man’s statements that day and never went back to that writing group. This was before blogging, before I found the appropriate medium to try out my ranting. But, from time to time I think about flower printed journals. Over the years mine have changed from flowers to leather. The pages are of thicker paper and hold up to the ballpoint pens I use. The funny thing is is that I don’t write in those journals, never really have. I think, in my lifetime, I have ever completely filled up one journal. I’ve started several, but they are mostly blank.

I have a flower printed journal still in use. It is for my favorite or eye-catching quotes. There are words of wisdom from Eleanor Roosevelt and inspiration from Helen Keller and funny quotes from Winnie the Pooh. Like all my journals, it’s not filled up and there are many quotes on my computer waiting to be handwritten between the clothed flowers.

Today two quotes hit me, needed to be written down. The first is from Jerry Seinfeld on Oprah in which he talks about going from a single man to married man. He says, “I didn’t want to be married, but I was sick of being single and I thought; what do you do about that?” Yep, that’s about where I’m at. Thanks Jerry.

Then, in my new musical obsession, the soundtrack to Wicked, I find songs the sing my life to. The Wicked Witch of the West sings in her unrequited love song, “he could be that boy, but I’m not that girl… don’t wish, don’t start, wishing only wounds the heart.” I’m totally with her when she decides to become Wicked and sings, “If I’m flying solo at least I’m flying free.” I’m not sure what it means that I align myself with the Wicked Witch. Well, I know what it means, but does being OK, nay wanting, to be single mean you’re wicked? If this be the case then screw the flower printed journals and give me my broom damn it!



does it go like this?

You’re lost though you don’t think you are lost. You’re fine with where you are. You’re taking in the scenery; you’re learning the language and meeting new friends. But, every once in awhile something, like a sign post, or someone, like a stranger, spells it out or whispers in your ear “you’re lost, you’re not suppose to be here.” You don’t understand those signs, you think it is some marketing ploy for something you don’t subscribe to and those strangers who appear out of nowhere, you just think they are homeless crazies and you ignore them too. But somewhere in the crevices of your cerebral cortex you know those messages are for you. You consciously refuse to believe that you are lost. You want the place you are to be where you should be. You want the people around you to be the ones who will be with you forever. You like this place, the scenery, the people. You like who you are here even though you know something is missing, that you are not exactly what you are suppose to be. You are OK with the missing pieces in this place. You’re learning to accept them. But the signs and strangers are getting larger and louder and you begin feeling a little more out of place. You don’t quite feel lost, but uneasiness is coming on. You think it’s just a cold or the dark of winter. You just don’t want the messages to be true. You worry that you choices have put you in the wrong place, that this was the wrong exit off the highway, that this is a never-ending detour. You begin to believe that you are lost, but you have no idea where you should be or how to leave where you are. And occasionally you scream at the signs and the strangers “I know I’m lost, but I don’t know what to do about it!”




At my cousin's wedding in September, an old family friend stood up at the rehearsal dinner to toast B. and R. She told stories of babysitting B. when she was a little girl and about the funny things she would say. My favorite was "Chrissentine" which of course meant "Christmastime." It's my favorite time of year. I love the music and decorations and the thinking about gifts for friends and the food and the parties. I just love Christmas, always have. It's officially Christmastime. Now that Thanksgiving is over, I won't throw up hearing Christmas music or seeing decorations in October even before Halloween is over. I'm ready to even forgo my daily dose of NPR to listen to my non-stop Christmas music. I'm ready to get a tree and burn my Christmas scented candles. I'm ready to make toffee and the cheese and strawberry ring that is famous in our family. I'm ready for cold and sweaters and scarves and happiness. It's Chrissentine people, get merry!



today is

a few hours drive listening to my favorite music. I think I'll take some calming Shannon Worrell, Dolly Parton, Nick Drake, and U2. Then amazing subs from a resturant in my hometown with my favorite people in the world, my cousins. Tonight is talking and catching up and drinking and just being with these amazing people. Tomorrow is waking up with my cousins and watching the Macy's parade, seeing my nieces and nephew play and get excited about our family and our traditions, then a movie with my cousins, a young people's tradition, then dinner with all the good comfort food we look forward to all year, then out to dance and drink with my cousins and stay up all night talking and philosiphising and just being happy to be in their presence. Then Friday is driving back wishing I wasn't leaving, but glad that it is now officially Christmas time and listening to continuos Christmas CDs in my car. I can't wait. Happy Thankfulness everyone!




It’s that time. We all know it. We’ve been inundated with the turkey paraphernalia, the fall leaves, and the grocery stores stocked full of ready made chicken broth, cranberry sauce, canned pumpkin, and stuffing. We’re gearing up mentally for the onslaught of family and food, oh the food. I knew a guy who “trained” for Thanksgiving by eating ever-increasing sized meals for 2 weeks before the big day. I think that’s fabulous. Way to put your heart, and stomach, in it.

Yeah, I’m excited about Turkey Day. It’s my favorite holiday because of all the people. My cousin’s will be there and this makes my heart sing. I really can’t wait. We’re sadly staying at a hotel, but it will be cozy cousin love for 2 straight nights. Drinking plus cousin’s plus hotel away from the rest of the family equals a vacation holiday I can handle.

What I’m not looking forward to is my mom dressing up like a pilgrim. Yeah, it’s not a lie, it happens. Every year she dons this homemade black and white number, hat and all, and reads some pilgrim thing. I know, it sounds like it’s straight out of a David Sedaris book or maybe National Lampoon’s movie, but no; it’s my mom all right. When the pilgrim enters the dining room, I leave. I go in the kitchen, put my hands over my ears and wish upon every star in the sky that I live through these moments and let them go, quickly. My cousin’s think this is endearing, the pilgrim I mean. This is one thing my cousin’s and I do not agree on. Politics, check; pilgrim, uncheck.

In two-kindergarten classrooms this week I’ve talked to the children about what they’re thankful for. I’ve read them stories and gone around and asked each child to share their thankful thoughts. Mostly there was thankfulness for family and pets and toys. In college, the pilgrim asked everyone at our table what we were thankful for. As we went around the table, my cousin’s and aunts talked about their families with stories of being so happy to all be together. When it came around to me I said “I’m thankful for the sun because without it we’d all be dead.” I think my family was a bit miffed. I could’ve cared less; I was miffed that my mother was dressed as a pilgrim. I told the kindergarteners this year that I was thankful for my cousin’s and that I’d get to seen them soon.

I’m thankful for so many things, for life in general, for all the questions and the lack of answers, and the struggles and the triumphants and the celebrations and the weddings and milestones. I’m thankful for my friends and my family and for all that I have. May everyone be as blessed to look around and be thankful. To be full up with joy just thinking about the people in your life. Thankfulness, it’s a journey I think and one day I may just be thankful for that damn pilgrim!



somethin’ for nothin’

Once upon a time there was a girl who started a blog. Her friends had no idea what she was talking about when she said the word “blog.” She informed her friends of this little venture. Some came and read, actually most did, but most did not keep coming back. There are occasional hits from some friends and obsessive hits from others, but mostly there are random people who read this site and then there are only a handful of those. Basically, I’m tired and after traveling through the blog world it seems to be the thing to do lately, complain about not having anything to write about. I think of things to write about, but when I actually get the time, I would rather do something else, um, like knit. I’m knitting like a villain lately and designing purses like it’s my job. Actually, um, maybe it should be. Someday, when I figure out how to put pictures up on this thing, I’ll let you see the fabulousness. For now, I got nothin’. Go about your lives people. I’ll be here, with nothin’.



another one bites the dust

In an email I received this afternoon a close friend and old college roommate spells out a weekend that was full of surprises. By the first line I know what’s happened and my smug single self just skipped to the end of the paragraph where it said, “we’re thinking of fall… stay tuned.” I then went back through the story of the proposal and had a few “ooo an ah” moments. I quickly shot back an email of surprise and excitement. And really, I am happy for her. J. is an amazing girl and she so deserves marriage and a good man and good love. I’ve met the chap and think he’s a catch so cheers to them and sad songs to me. Just last year we stayed up late talking in her apartment about her doubts about this boy she had only been seeing for a few months. Six months ago she still had questions, but things were still moving along. Now, engaged. It just takes a year for life to change so drastically. But, somehow all my years seem the same. Changes, sure, but really when I look back to a difference a year makes, what really have a gained? Where is the boy who will listen to the music I listen to and play me sad songs when I’m sad and dance with me in my living room and cook with me and tell me to clean up and laugh at me when do stupid things and talk to me about politics and teach me things and let me do all those things for him? Where is my year of ups and downs and then down on one knee and a walk down and aisle and then talk of children and then dirty diapers and then college tuition and then more marriages and retirement and sitting on a rocking chair holding hands in the sunset of our lives? Where the hell is my “what a difference a year makes?”




One of my favorite blogs now has a published writer. I have to say I’m jealous. The more I think about it, the more I’d like to freelance write. But really, I have no idea how to get that done. So for now, I’ll admire from afar and wish upon a freelance star.

Tough week. Nothing really big, just a wake up call for me. You know when life keeps going and going and then all of a sudden something spins you around and you take a look back and realize that you have not been your best. Yeah, that happened. And when that happens, my pity for others grows deeper. When I heard the Scott Peterson verdict I felt sorry for him, sorry for the guilt he must feel. Sorry that he ever hurt someone. And so sorry for Lacy and her precious baby. In conversations I find myself stopping short of the full-on gripe session because no one deserves anger, it’s a waist of my own energy. So, now, from here on out I vow to be a good person, good to myself and everyone else. Sometimes, it think when you are single and live by yourself, it’s easy to be self-absorbed because there is no one there to call “watch it” on you. Well, I’m calling it on myself and people, I’ll start with you. HUGS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



f*#@ing f*#@ers

Shit is falling from the sky. I f-ing hate when that happens.



a perfect day

An hour drive to C-ville on the highway that has turned from the “green tunnel” to an autumn colored tunnel with leaves falling down to the road and the cars as the wind sweeps them from their branches. Meeting friends in a parking lot and giving them their orange and blue handmade scarves. Seeing their happiness. Parking and then a quick walk with friends to the stadium for tailgating. Eating good homemade food and being handed a delicious Yuengling just because you root for the Wahoos. Seeing old friends. The stadium filled with a record number of fans cheering my favorite football team. A sea of orange and blue. Singing “The Good Ole Song” after each touchdown. Starting the game in the warm sunshine of the day and ending it in the cool dark evening. Winning against a good team and singing “The Good Ole Song” of victory, swaying with arms wrapped around close friends. More tailgating, seeing old friends and their children dressed in Wahoo garb. Dinner at a local favorite haunt. Long conversations about the country and politics. Realizing your old friends are fabulous and that you don’t want to drive home along. But, you do. A perfect day, save for one missing thing.



tsk, tsk

If I could figure out how to put a video up, you'd see me shaking my head. I just dont understand. :(



your right to shoes

If you vote, I think you're sexy.
If you vote the way I do, I want to bear your children.*
If you don't vote, I'm not sure we can be friends.

Go, Now, Vote!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

*Being that you are a heterosexual male who is not married nor related to me.



a toast

K.L., she is my best friend and I am so honored to be here for this day. We have known each other for so long that I don’t remember the first time we met, which only means it was early in our childhood. But it wasn’t until high school that we bonded, in Calculus class to be exact. Because I am certainly not a nerd and knowing that K is, I partnered up with her on a project. Turns out, she had no idea what we where suppose to accomplish either so on our write up we just began making up a fairytale story full of calculus equations and two main characters, Pretty Anna and Pretty K. From then on this would be our name for one another. And contrary to what you might think, it has nothing to do with our fabulous looks. But, Kristi is not pretty, especially today. She is beautiful. She is beautiful in her spirit, in her life, and in her love. She has been with me and many friends in this room through good times and bad and her faithfulness and ease never waivers. She is the quintessential true and steadfast friend. She is indeed beautiful. I have always known that I was lucky to have K as a friend, especially through college. Even though she was at William and Mary and I at UVA and we were 2 hours away, we became closer. Emails, calling cards, and new cell phones became our link. We traveled to visit each other and even became friends with each other’s friends. We’ve added Pretty and D and Pretty M to our Pretty club. But, it wasn’t until grad. School after K had come to visit me for a weekend that a friend pointed out to me how close we really where. She said, “I wish I had a friend like K, you guys are so close, you finish each other’s sentences.” I had never realized this before, but that friend of mine was right. I am so blessed to have such a good and loyal friend in K and when she found J I knew she had met someone much the same. To K and J, I wish you the best and may I continue to be a part of your life together. To J, now that you’ve married her, it’s your turn to finish her sentences.

(There are bad grammatical errors, but I tried to punctuate it for the way that I read it. EATS, SHOOTS, AND LEAVES, more like Eats, Shoots and Kisses My Ass. And sorry.)

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