Under the Tampa Sun

The Code Breaker: Coming to a theater near you

2011-07-22T15:04:00.002-04:00

My mom likes to send me instant messages on Gmail that are completely disparate and randomly bizarre in their content.

It's either some thing about dog videos that she found online ("He's a Border Collie! And he does the cutest thing with a rope! Watch! ... Did u watch?") or a thought-provoking monologue about Middle Eastern culture.

There really is no in between.

Example, Today's IM :
"I'm reading the most interesting book. It's a true story of a man who walked across Afghanistan. I feel so sorry for the people there. Thousands of years ago there were all sorts of riches being carried down the Silk Road. Then later the Russians and the Taliban destroyed the country. I'm learning alot about their history. I never knew anything about them before. They were Persians to begin with, just like Iranians."

So. That's all true. I guess? I don't... know.

I feel like she should be telling this story to a group of intrigued children surrounding around a campfire, while she knits an afghan. The children are all kind of scared of her but they also think that she might be wise. And sometimes she gives them candy.

The elders in the village (bear with me) have written the old lady off as kind of kooky and most likely senile, but they figure she probably isn't harmful or anything. Until one night during one of her stories, the mute child in the group starts scratching out a series of letters in the sand around the campfire. The child writes down the first letter of the first word in each sentence as the old woman talks, until she has an entire paragraph that warns of an earthquake and devastating flood!

At first, no one pays attention, but the next morning, the village outcast walks by and reiterates the SAME message in his daily rants only he is BLIND so he couldn't have read the child's writing! The outcast served in a war as a code-breaker and has since been warning the village that The End Is Near, but no one ever listened! So now he and the mute child have to bond together with the Old and Possibly Crazy Story Lady because she KNOWS something about the future!

I mean. It would be a good movie. Spielberg would obviously have to direct it.
(By the way, if you take the first letter of each of the first words of each sentence in my mom's IM you have: IIITTIIT ... which may be a code of some sort, I'm not sure. Now I've frightened myself.
The government is going to investigate me, aren't they? I've stumbled onto something. It's too late for me.... save yourselves!)

Her next message to me was: "Did you get a chance to watch the dog video I sent a little while ago?... Honey?"

It's my Grandma's birthday, and my mom almost got run over....

2011-06-30T13:10:00.003-04:00

So, just a few note worthy things to mention today:

My grandma turns 87 years old.
June 30th is also one of my good friend's wedding anniversaries (I just recently got rid of the bridesmaid dress that had been taking up space in my closet for oh, 11 years? It was lavender with sparkles and it was shiny. Love her but I'm just saying. Sparkles.)
My mom almost got run over in the parking lot at the nursing home yesterday evening.

I mean, there was a moment when the bumper of the car was level with her head that I was like, hmmm. Is it technically an accident if I just stand here? Kidding. (Ha. Am I?)

You may be asking, but why was her head anywhere near a car's bumper? All I know is something told me to turn around as I was unlocking my car (damn conscience) and I saw the other car in reverse and in perfect trajectory to take out mom. Who had stopped in the middle of the road to play with her foot. (Hi. She's five! THIS many.)

I remember lots of yelling growing up about, well, everything under the sun, but of particular importance to my overprotective father was road safety. My brother and I were terrified of the road, any road, because cars can kill you, no you are not safe even over here in your own yard! Cars! With homicidal tendencies! Are out to get us all!
(I do wonder from time to time where my anxiety attacks come from.... I wonder....)

Certain people went a little over the top when it came to Killer Cars and the scaring of small children. But still.
It kind of goes without saying that adults should know not to crawl around a parking lot.

Who stops to mess with their shoe in the center of a street? It wasn't even a simple adjustment of fixing a strap or kicking out a pebble. She was crouched down on her knee for-EVER and I'm still not sure why.

The driver of the car started to back up. Luckily he was backing up sloooooowly because we were at the nursing home and even the people who are visitors at the nursing home are old.

"Mom. Car."
-- No response.

"MOM."
--Still playing with foot.

"MOM! Get UP! There's a CAR! MOM!"
--At this point, I'm moving towards both her and the car, because I have concerns that she has become deaf.
"MOOOOM!!!!"

I swear she looked up and sort of shrugged and picked her purse off the ground and ambled- AMBLED- in my direction.

The driver of the car was a little freaked out because there was yelling and then some strange woman popped up behind his wheel looking confused.

I had a momentary Attack of Dad: "Why are you adjusting your foot in the parking lot? Didn't you see the car? Do you have a death wish? I do not wish to be part of your death wish, ok?"

So, Happy Birthday, Gram. I did not let Mom get run over outside your nursing home the day before your birthday. Best. Grandkid. Ever.

Played Out

2011-06-03T11:11:00.000-04:00

This may be a new Friday segment... Maybe. Or it is for today anyway!

Things I'm Officially Over This Week:

The name Olivia (sorry, nothing personal).
The Black Eyed Peas. I don't know why. But they inspire rage every time I turn on the radio. I think there's only so many times a person can claim that "Tonight's Gonna Be a Good, Good Night." The Red Hot Chili Peppers are also on the radio all the time lately. And Pandora plays them repeatedly too. I do not have them selected, I've never asked Pandora to give me more RHCP. And yet, I'm giving them a pass. I don't hate them, so I just jam through Scar Tissue for the 765th time without changing the station. Maybe it's some sort of retro college flash back.
The dishwasher. It shouldn't be called a dishwasher since that's what I have to do when I take the "clean" dishes out of it and find gross food and debris and soap stuck on them. Maybe it should be called a Food and Particle Mover-Arounder.

'Neath its sun-kissed sky...

2011-02-17T21:43:00.003-05:00

It’s just a tree.

Well, two trees, actually. Solid oaks that have stood their ground over downtown Auburn for more than 130 years.

They were there when I first arrived at Auburn in 1995.
In the very hot Auburn summers, the trees at Toomer’s provided shade to two girls, sipping our first Toomer’s Drugs lemonade.
In the crisp and colorful autumns, they served as a meet-up location after class or after games: “I’ll see you up there.”
In the wet and grey winters, we hurried past their branches on our way to the Coffee Bank to warm up, brown leaves crunching under our Timberland boots.

They were there when Scott asked me to marry him on campus right before the Iron Bowl, nine years ago.

They were there last time we were in Auburn, as we celebrated a victory that led to an undefeated National Championship season.

Save for the Saturdays when the Tigers triumphed and the trees were blanketed in white, they sometimes blended into the background of our pretty town. But still they were appreciated, providing a legacy and backdrop unique to Auburn, Alabama. They have become a landmark and a beloved tradition shared by generation of the Auburn family.

As unassuming as we Auburn people were that anything could befall our trees, there was always the chance that they would die- a drunk driver, a fire, a blight. But how can you guard against the unknown? What could prevent someone from dumping poison into their roots? Fences? A barricade? Security cameras?
The spirit of Auburn is to be unafraid, and we are.
So I’m not going to focus on what might be lost. I could. It’s tempting to wallow around in “what my children won’t have.”

Instead, I’m going to celebrate the life left in those old oaks and hope that something survives this disaster, even if it’s just the memories of my little corner of the world.

Transition: 90% - - - - !

2011-02-10T17:57:00.000-05:00

If our Move Out of Texas and Get Back to Life as Usual in Tampa were viewed as a computer screen download, right now it would be a blue bar that stretched alllllllmost to the end of the screen at about 90% complete. Much more encouraging that 30% with 6 hours estimated time remaining.
(Damn it! Just finish loading already!)

Scott took an offer for a job he's going to love. We don't have to move to another city. The timing couldn't have been more perfect, and I am very grateful to the Sky Chief, as my dad used to call Him.

There are one or two other things that have to fall into place before we reach 100%, but unlike so much in life, those are actually within our control. The Life Computer has no viruses or SPYWARE so it should be finished downloading in record time. We're just waiting for that final download and we'll be ready to rock once again.

And- I just got a text from my friend Jenny that Tim McGraw is coming back to Tampa April 29th. So, pretty much all is right with the world. And no blog post is ever complete without an inane reference to Tim.

Images of the New Year

2011-01-02T17:17:00.000-05:00

New Year's Day dinner:

Black eyed peas for luck, collard greens for wealth and chicken, potatoes and cornbread because they're delicious.

2010 Wrap-Up: Limbo

2011-01-01T10:39:00.001-05:00

How low can you go? Remember the limbo from birthday parties when you were a kid? Yeah, that's not the limbo I'm talking about.

This transition out of Houston has been hard. Messy. Rough. There seems to be no resolution and no absolutes.

Scott left his job to come home to be with me and take a closer look at the job options here in Tampa. I'm very glad he has options and very glad he's home! But I when I pictured us leaving Houston, my vision included us, in our car with the dog, and a moving van following behind us.

It was neat, wrapped up and uncomplicated. He would transfer with his company and they would pay for our move. We would put a down payment on a house and be settled.
Instead, his company went from almost 30 positions in Florida to about four. Growth in this area wasn't an option, we finally realized. The dreams of a simple job transfer to this part of the country were just that: dreams.

It's been 9 months of limbo. Of packing and moving, of cleaning out and fixing up my grandma's house, of searching for jobs, of uncertainty and frustration. It's been, like a lot of things in life, a lot harder than it should have been.

It was supposed to a scene out of a movie, or at least like our friends in Houston who moved back to Omaha. I was at work with Becky when her husband Trevor got "The Call" from his boss- he was getting the promotion back to Omaha. After two years of hating Houston and being homesick, they were going home!

Getting out of Houston for us was more like some sort of epic battle. Each step was hard-fought and gaining ground sometimes meant making huge sacrifices. I know we're finally nearing the end of The Great Transition, but damn. What a long road this has been. Texas was a detour that I wouldn't ever do again and in a lot of ways, save for the few good friends we made there, I sometimes wonder if that was all a really bad dream. We're still dealing with the after shocks, and as overly-dramatic as that sounds, it's true. There have been some rough times in the past year. Being apart from each other was terrible. Stressing out about jobs, the house, cars and family put a huge strain on both of us with new challenges that popped up on an almost daily basis.

I know 2011 will be better. We were thinking last night about how this time last year we were in Tampa for New Year's and I threw a fit because I didn't want to leave to go back to Houston. Next year, we promised each other then, we'll be back in Tampa.

And we are! Now we need to wrap up the remaining loose ends. Scott needs to decide what career will be best for him. We need to find a way to make a home here and get settled. And then we can press the Pause button on life and say goodbye to limbo hell.

So, hello 2011. It's good to see you!

Auburn: It'll Get in Your Blood

2010-11-18T20:46:00.000-05:00

One of the blogs I read on a regular basis is written by a very funny girl who happens to be a University of Florida grad. You know: The Swamp.

But I didn't let that stop me from reading her stories over the past year or so. And now it seems that Auburn has the power to convert even die-hard Gator fans:

Puttin' on the Grits.

Check it out- her pictures are amazing!

Jordan Hare: The Game

2010-11-16T11:40:00.000-05:00

I didn't see the thumbs up, obviously. {Sigh}

Surreal sunset

Sorry little dog. Better luck next time.

Auburn: Loveliest Village on the Plains

2010-11-15T21:04:00.000-05:00

Let me welcome you to the cutest house in Auburn! We will be tailgating here ....
(I found this weekend rental on Craigslist, and Scott, Keith and Kieran were convinced that that I had sent money to Nigeria to secure the rental. I mean, have a little faith!)

And it's a three block walk to campus! (Three blocks is too far to wear cute shoes at night, sorry Scott. Here are the keys, please drop me off mmkaythanks!)

We walked around and took some photos the day before the game. Fall weather, I love you!!

A sneak peak

2010-11-14T21:59:00.000-05:00

I'm going to upload the pics of our Auburn trip tomorrow.
However, I can't resist this one for a laugh (especially since everyone is so worked up about the win, like settle DOWN people, it's a football game!):

Comedic relief in the form of mascot butts. Love.

A Light Dusting of Sarcasm

2010-11-04T12:54:00.000-04:00

I am sick again. Yes, again. This makes, I don't know, the fifth time I've had a stomach flu/sinus infection/cold/Ebola/Death Virus in the past 9 months. So I've been sick pretty much since I moved back to Tampa. Fun! That's exactly what I was hoping would happen.
Grandma's house = Black Mold Breeding Ground Zero.

And if ONE MORE person suggests that I "like, get some vitamins or something," I will start beating people with baseball bats. Yes, bats will be used. Because, HOLY SHIT, VITAMINS??? Is that all I need? Why, THANK YOU, concerned citizen! Your assvice is so appreciated. I never EVER thought about taking vitamins.

Nope, it never crossed my mind. Not when I was in Walgreens, searching in vain for an antihistamine
that would not give me night terrors/make my heart race/ try to kill me in my sleep.

Never thought about vitamins when I waited at yet ANOTHER doctor's office to pay my $30 co-pay for a specialist to assess the condition of my sinuses/ nerve pain / weak immune system/ horrible insomnia.
Nope. Never thought about vitamins then either!

Vitamins never crossed my mind while I laid awake at 4am, praying to please go BACK TO SLEEP for the LOVE OF GOD. Am not The Electric Grandma. I do not plug-in at night to recharge. (PS- seriously, watch the clip. My brother and I were enthralled and horrified by that show when we were little. Because it is horrifying and bizarre.)

Did not consider vitamins while being fitted for another nightguard to help with the teeth clenching that makes the nerve pain worse.

And I certainly would never have thought to possibly try vitamins rather than the following items purchased at the drug store, which I have used to try and get rid of my sinus problems, insomnia, and nerve pain:

Melatonin (didn't do much for the insomnia, but gave me fun dreams)
Wheat grass (tastes like gasoline and vomit combined)
Vinegar (don't ask. Really, don't)
Zyrtec, Claritin, Benadryl, Nyquil & Dayquil (Epic Fail.)
Nasal spray with antihistamine or cortisone (Nosebleeds and insomia!)
Netti Pot (Feels like drowning, other than that no real advantages)
Eye drops (hhhhmmmm, no side effects. No real help either.)
Breathe Right nasal strips (These actually help. I am waiting to develop a latex allergy.)
HEPA filter machine for the bedroom (Has not attacked me at night... that I know of.)

I mean, all I had to do was head for the Fred Flintstone vitamins? I feel so dumb! Is there a vitamin that helps with stupidity? Cause Imma stock up on that one.

Fun with Light and Fur

2010-10-29T18:34:00.001-04:00

My model is ummm, kind of furry. But I love her. When she's not throwing up on the carpet.

What Kasey thinks of an impromptu photo shoot

Happy Fall, Y'all!

2010-10-18T21:21:00.001-04:00

It is officially Fall here in beautiful Tampa Bay.
I'm wearing socks tonight because my feet are *chilly*! Yes, I'm serious. It's in the 50's-60's. (At night anyway).

And it's beginning to look a lot like fall indoors too. I loooove decorating with leaves and pinecones! Got this idea from a magazine and did a little improvising with the Pottery Barn hurricanes I already had.
My table decorations:

The light outside at dusk is my favorite kind of light. Golden and soft, with the promise of chilly nights that are just cold enough to make hot cocoa or apple cider and snuggle up with your honey. Sweatshirts, jeans and flip flops are my favorite autumn outfits.

One month til we're back on the Plains. I can't wait to crunch some leaves under my feet and smell the crisp air up there! I need to take my camera and get more pictures this time. It's so hard to remember to document it when you want to just soak it in.

Where Were You?

2010-09-11T15:27:00.004-04:00

9/11/01

8:40am
I was shaking in my boots. Literally. The first crisp hint of fall was in the air, and I was wearing new brown boots for my first day of shadowing one of the senior producers at the tv station. I was so preoccupied and nervous about having to produce a show that I wasn't watching Good Morning America as I usually did while getting ready for work.

Before I left, Scott called me back to watch the replay of the first plane that hit the Twin Towers. Initial reports were that a small plane, like a Cesna, hit the building about a quarter to 9am.
"Terrorists." Scott said.

It didn't really register at first. I remember leaving our house in Midtown Atlanta and noticing how blue the sky was as I drove the five minute commute to the station. I remember thinking that the plane-into-building story would definitely be in the A-block of my newscast, probably even the lead story.

Everyone at work was glued to the tv sets that hang above the assignment desk. The newsroom was eerily quiet as people tried to make sense of the pilot that flew directly into the building in NYC.
And then the second plane hit.

I saw that one happen live, right after I walked in. There was a moment when it clicked in my head as we watched the footage again. The silver jet making that last turn, right into the building- "That was a BIG plane. Like, a commercial jet.... and.... oh, God."

My co-workers were snapped out of their initial daze and the newsroom burst into life.
Executive producers were yelling and trying to gather the daytime crew into the conference room for the morning meeting. It was like trying to herd cats. People were running in all directions, papers were flying, phones were ringing off the hook.

At my desk, I picked up my yellow notepad and noticed the AP news alerts that flashed like mad across my computer screen. I felt like I was moving underwater as I made my way to the conference room where we normally held the editorial meeting.

As we tried to make frantic, sketchy plans about coverage (do we do live cut-ins? Is Network taking over?) one of our executive producers came running into the conference room from the newsroom. Utter terror was written all over his face.
"There's another plane. It just hit the Pentagon. There may be more. AP is reporting there are two other planes not responding to the FAA."

I stared at the picture on the television of the burning buildings. Red news alerts continued to stream across the computer screen with mixed messages: There was another hijacked plane. There wasn't another hijacked plane. The plane was heading to Washington, D.C. The plane was headed to NYC. NORAD would have to shoot it down.

Were there more planes? Were all the major cities of the US in danger? How wide did this reign of terror reach? Other large buildings in other cities were being evacuated. The FAA grounded all flights to try and account for hijacked airliners and keep more planes from being used as explosive missles.

My job forgotten for the moment, I picked up the phone. I called Scott who was at the car dealership, watching in horror as the drama of the day unfolded. He said he was heading back home.

I called my father, who asked me to read him the AP headlines as they came across. I remember thinking that no one really knew what was happening, but the network anchors had taken over and were reporting the same news alerts that I was reading.

Later that day, I remember sitting behind another producer, Katisha, as she frantically tried to build a show in case we went back to local programming. To her left, the tv screen on her desk showed the burning towers. The towers I assumed had been evacuated, why wouldn't people evacuate?
When they fell, I didn't really feel anything except a bizarre sense of awe of the amount of smoke and ash.
Until I heard one of the network anchors remark about the loss of humanity. I felt the bile rise in my throat as I fought to not let myself think about the lives that had just been snuffed out.

It was a long day.
Images still stick in my head, like they do for everyone:
People clutching pictures and posters of lost loved ones.
Firemen covered in ash carrying bloodied and injured people.
Search dogs, scouring the smoldering remains of the towers, searching in vain for survivors.
Planes, slamming into buildings, over and over and over. Until the networks all agreed to stop running that footage.

We were so wrapped up in the details of the tragedy at work on 9/11 that the enormity of what had happened unfolded slowly for me.

The scope of it didn't occur to me until much later, when I finally got home around 7pm. Scott was on our couch, watching the coverage. He turned to me with tears in his eyes.
I hadn't even thought about crying until the floodgates opened and I couldn't stop.

Everyone remembers where they were. That night I remember being so grateful to be home with Scott, where I wanted to be, and how lucky I was to be there.

Paypal. Hate.

2010-09-07T22:26:00.003-04:00

Stupid Paypal. I'm trying to put together my outfit for the AU/Clemson game that's coming up in two weeks. And right now, PayPal is like the evil stepsister that does not want this Cinderella to go to the ball.

The necklace:

Dress I already have (go Big Blue!):

But it needs a new belt.... hhhhhmmmm, something orange. Like this orange polka dot belt on Etsy!

Perfect.

Yay! Outfit almost complete. Just need to purchase belt with easy-peasy PayPal transaction. La la la la... entering new address. La la la la.
Card reading error? What does that mean? Wait, where did my belt go? Why is it no longer in the Cart?

I will spare you the seriously agonizing 15 minutes of my life wasted on the phone with the customer non-service jerk who basically said that because Scott's PayPal account has the same card registered to it, I have to validate my card.

So, fine, validate it then. You need the three numbers on the back of the card? Pppffft. No prob.

But, oh no. It is FAR more complicated than that. PayEnemy has to send you a number on your credit card statement. You can use that number to validate your card. The process should take about three days.

Dude. I need the belt next WEEK. Do not have time for three day nonsensical processing of cards that are ALREADY IN YOUR DAMN SYSTEM, WHAT IS THE PROBLEM? Do not make me come over there. To India or wherever you may be hiding.

It is not advisable to get in the way of a girl and her Gameday attire. Not at all.

Grandma and the Nursing Home Fire Drill

2010-09-06T20:18:00.003-04:00

The title of this kind of reminds me of one of those little Golden Books from my childhood. Do y'all remember those?

As you can guess, the scene takes place back in Room 603.
The characters:

My Grandmother. By far, the best, most loving, caring, supportive and intelligent woman in the world. She taught me about class, hard work and most of all - how to make shit out of cloth napkins in restaurants to keep small children entertained for hours. She also once gave me a lit cigarette lighter to play with in the car. Accidently, we think. But seriously- she's my idol in many ways.

My Grandmother's roommate: Milagros. Mila, for short. Same age (86) as my Grammie but a little more with-it mentally. Sometimes.

My Grandmother's roommate's son: No clue. Let's call him Bob.

Me: Karyn. Incredibly talented writer just waiting on that call for a book deal to fall into my lap. {was that the phone?} Loving wife and sainted mother to Kasey the Dog/Creature.

I'm sitting on my grandma's narrow bed and chatting with her about the latest hurricane and its path. She may have dementia, but she is still somehow very in touch with the weather.

We're having a pleasant conversation on our side of the room and Mila and Bob are watching - yup - a telenovela. I think Grandma and I have gotten used to the level of noise blaring from Mila's tv.

But then, a much louder noise interrupts us all- WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP EEEEEEHHHHH EEEEEEEEHHHHHHHH EEEEEEEHHHHHHHH.

A light above the bed is flashing and nurses are scurrying down the hallway, slamming the doors of residents' rooms.
"Fire drill, stay put." One of the nurses yells over the alarm ringing in the hallway as she shuts the heavy wooden door of Grandma's room. Sorry, in case you missed that- she SLAMMED THE SOLID WOODEN DOOR SHUT.

Now. I may or may not have mentioned this, but I'm a wee bit on the claustrophobic side. Like, Can't Ride In Any Simulator Ride at Epcot or Universal Studios -kind of claustro. Mostly because of the CLOSED DOORS on those rides. And the loud noises and the uncertainty of when the ride will end.

(I once got out of my seat during the Flight of the Navigator or some ride at Epcot and bolted for the doors only to be met with really, really angry theme-park ride operators on the other side of the doors. Because apparently it is a 'danger to others' or something when you get up in the middle of a ride but you know what, Disney? It was a danger to others to try to keep me *on* the ride. Survival instincts and all. I also jumped out of the log flume ride at Busch Gardens after the ride broke down - that happens a lot when I go to theme parks. And I'm not making that up.)

Once the door shut, the chaos inside the room starts immediately. As I try not to think about the fact that there was no way out of the room (breathe... breathe), I turn to focus on Grandma, who is kind of tweaking out herself.

Just then, the door opens and I exhale for the first time in about 5 minutes. Same nurse, but now she is pushing a wheelchair-bound old lady into the room with us.

"This is Essie. She's going to stay here for now. Gotta clear the halls."
Essie stares at us blankly as the nurse turns to leave, and then spots another stranded person out in the hallway.
"Oh, and Howard, you need to be in a room too." The nurse wheels Howie into the very small room. Now the exit is totally blocked by old people in wheel chairs who can't move and are disoriented and there are a total of six people in a room barely big enough for two. Awesome.

Essie, looks around the room and decides that this is NOT her room and she needs to get back to her room, stat. She starts to make grabbing motions at the doorknob.
"Help. Help! Let me out!" Essie is getting a little hysterical. Internally, I'm right there with her, RainMan-style.

Meanwhile, Grandma asks: "Is there a fire?"

"Fire?" Mila asks from across the room. "Dios mio, is this a fire?"

"No! No, everyone calm down; there is no fire," I say. Pllllllease let that be true and also it's getting so hot in here but that could be because there we are at capacity and then some for amount of old people allowed in one room.

Grandma: "Karyn? Take the lady back to her room."
Me (to a frantic Essie who is clawing at the door): "Essie, you have to stop trying to get out and wait until they're done with their drill."
Howard: Slooooowly wheeling his chair closer to Grandma and I. Ahhhhhhhh- no, no! Personal space!
Mila: Rummaging in her drawer for her "things" so she can "get out alive."
Mila's son Bob: Totally absorbed in the tv show. Thanks for the help, Bob!

Finally, the alarm ends and the nurse wheels Essie and Howard back to their respective spots in the hallway.
Mila relaxes back into her Easy Chair.
Bob continues to be absolutely enthralled by the tv set.

Grandma, however, is now a nervous wreck, pulling at her socks and sleeves while looking totally bewildered.
"Where is my room?" she asks.]
"Gram. This is your room. Those other people don't live in your room."
"No, I need my room!" she raises her voice, very agitated now.

Mila chimes in from her side of the room and from behind the curtain that separates them.
"Your grandmother wants you to help the other lady to her room, Karyn."
"No, Mila. The other lady, Essie, is already in her room."
"Take me to my room!" Grandma interjects.
"No she isn't," Mila replies. "I hear her. I think the other lady needs to go back to her room."

Holy hell. Time for me to go back to *my* room.

On my way out, I passed the nurse's desk. "Would you all happen to know, ummm, when you're doing another fire drill?"
Nurse looks at me, confused. "We just did one."
"No, I know. But it kind of wigs my Grandma out and I just wanted to sort of, you know, be able to prepare her (or not be here) when the next one happens."
"Oh. Well, we don't ever know until the day of. So it's hard to say. But probably not for a while."
"Great, ok, I'll just hope for the best then."

And hope to not be anywhere near Shady Oaks when that happens. Cause next time I'm jumping off the ride, and taking Grandma (and maybe Essie) with me.

Tampa Living

2010-09-01T19:03:00.002-04:00

Today's moment:
Strolling down the street in beautiful, historic Hyde Park. A bag from Anthropologie swinging from my wrist. (It may or may not have contained a gorgeous blue dress . Hi, Scott! Pretend you didn't see that. But it is *perfect* to wear to the social media meet-up tomorrow at Datz's.)

Passing by Timpano's on the corner as I make my way back to the parking garage to head home after a long day, I notice two women my age sipping white wine on the outdoor patio. A contented bulldog rests at their feet.

A sense of fall skips in on a slightly cooler breeze as the light turns more golden under the cloudless sky.

I heart my city.

Robbed at the Emmys!!

2010-08-29T21:19:00.003-04:00

Kyle, even if the Emmys don't appreciate you, *I* think you (and your amazing hair) are all of it.

PS- Call me.

The Dog Ate It

2010-08-28T15:12:00.007-04:00

We, like most people, have two bedside tables. One on either side of the bed. One is mine, one is Scott's. I am a total OCD neat-freak in all areas of the house (the vacuum make an appearance at least twice a week, which is saying something because I hate vacuuming with a passion). The only place I tend to 'let myself go' is the top of my nightstand. Not sure why, really, but it serves as a gathering place for the following:

Magazines (US Weekly, People and InStyle. Also Wired. Does that make me less vapid?)
Pages ripped from magazines of things I'd like to buy but probably never will (Thanks, Pottery Barn)
Books (my friends, my friends)
Tissues (sexy!)
Mouthguard because Hi, my name is Karyn and I clench my teeth (also, sexy!)
Claritin (sexy and practical)
Clock (alarm= HATE)

So, aside from the fact that if you just looked it over you would assume I was 90 and an oxygen tank was also nearby, the table can be a bit cluttered. For some reason I am ok with that.

Since we've moved, I've misplaced, oh, a dozen important belongings ranging from the base to the Auburn lamp my brother bought me, my recipe folder that I've been adding to for eight years, various important documents, photos and probably a winning lottery ticket in there somewhere. In the chaos of us moving in while moving my grandmother out, things got misplaced.

It didn't really surprise me the other day when I couldn't find the note I'd left on the nightstand with my neighbor's phone number. He's a retired sheriff's deputy and it makes me feel safer at night to have his number nearby in case of a raptor attack. Of course, I could join the 21st century and put it in my phone, but this note was written in my grandmother's handwriting and, well, I'm a sentimental weirdo.

Anyway, the note wasn't there one night when I was getting ready for bed. I flipped through some magazines and books, but no, it wasn't tucked inside. Hhhhmm.

Scott went out of town and left me a love note, like he always does, under my pillow. I placed it on the bedside table as I called him to say goodnight. Getting ready for bed the next night, I couldn't find the note. It wasn't on the table and it wasn't in the drawer where I usually keep them. Weird.

A few days later, I came home to find a half-chewed packet of Claritin pills. Where did this come from? The dog tooth-marks and slobber pointed the finger at a not-so-innocent looking Kasey. But where did she get it? The trash can?
I remembered I had popped the last pill that morning, and so I wasn't worried about her OD-ing on Claritin, although I am concerned about her drug-seeking behavior.

I came down with a cold last week and relied on Nyquil for breathing while sleeping. Actually, with all the rain we've had, it might have been a severe allergy attack brought on by the mold spores I am certain are in the walls of Ye Old House. But regardless, Nyquil did the trick.

Until I came home and found: the chewed up remains of the plastic Nyquil cup. Just lying on the floor in the hallway. Next to a very VERY guilty-looking Kasey Dog.

All of a sudden, I realized two things.

One, my dog has a drug problem (that cup was licked CLEAN, y'all) and

Two, Guess where I had left the cup? Yup, right next to the bottle of Nyquil on the nightstand.

Fairly certain that the previously mentioned missing objects from the past two weeks met the same grisly fate.
I'm also glad to know that I'm not going insane, and that the list of Missing did not 'enter the blackhole,' 'find a portal to the Bermuda triangle,' were not 'raptured' nor did they 'disappear from planet Earth to piss. me. off.' (All direct quotes. Most of them not said in a calm, rational manner.)

A list of other objects probably visible by x-ray in my dog's gut: (like when they cut open the stomach of the shark they believed was Jaws, only it wasn't):
*a lost Target receipt
*a missing recipe on an index card
*and the mystery of how a half-chewed cigarette butt came to be on the kitchen floor. (That last one was from Scott's birthday party. Apparently the cast of Mad Men were in attendance).

Since this discovery, we've also busted her in the act of eating a coupon and a dollar bill.

This my dog's brain on allergy drugs .... and scraps of paper.
Guess who has since cleaned off her bedside table?

Auburn Football: Gettin' Pumped!!

2010-08-26T13:43:00.004-04:00

War Eagle everyone!

If this Auburn video doesn't get you psyched for fall, then you probably also:

a) think the SEC stands for Southern Etiquette Class
b) think Auburn is in New York
c) live in a cave with Osama bin Laden

Our Gameday Saturdays are nine days away!
For those who have not experienced it, I though I'd chronicle a typical Saturday when we're watching the game from home:

*Wake up. Scott makes Dunkin' Donuts coffee for both of us (I get mine in handed to me in bed. Spoiled much? Plus Scott knows that it is not good to mess with me in the morning until I can haz coffee.)

*Turn on Gameday on ESPN. Even though ESPN hates Auburn, it's still fun to see the fans at the location and watch video on all the games that are coming up that day.

*Decide on our Gameday attire. A VERY important decision. The year we went 13-0 I wore the same shirt every Saturday. Obviously that was the reason for the perfect season. But the luck only lasted one season, and the shirt has now been semi-retired. And then there is the Orange/Blue combination. Sometimes we'll be matching, other times Scott will decide that Orange is for GIRLS and bust out a navy shirt. My little rebel.

*Decide on Gameday menu. This varies as to what time of day the game is on. We love night games because I have time to do a big meal at night and lots of snackies during the day when the Other Games are on. If it's a day game, we already kind of know we lost because Auburn cannot get up for 11am or even a 1pm game, no that is just NOT gonna happen. So we'll do a big breakfast and then maybe a Mexican dip or something for lunch.

*Stretch out- take the dog out for a walk so she leaves us alone for five minutes (ahahha, sure) and get some exercise ourselves before we engage in lots of verbal exercise later in the evening.

*Pre-Auburn Game- time for serious channel flipping. CBS has the Alabama/Ole Miss game on. ESPN 2 is showing Florida at Tennessee. This results in carpal tunnel syndrome and also tension headaches. (But it's worth it.)

*The GAME. Auburn is the night game on ESPN (natch). Yelling at the tv must burn some calories, right? And crouching behind the couch when you're afraid to watch the QB throw ONE MORE INTERCEPTION, for the LOVE OF GOD. That has to be good for the glutes? Victory dances and jumps and riling up the dog (it doesn't take much) are good cardio. *Streaking down the street in St. Pete when we beat Florida* definitely counts as a workout.

Needless to say, we normally watch games by ourselves.

Tampa Fashion: Online Edition

2010-08-25T22:47:00.001-04:00

Because I'm seriously excited about fall fashion (cooler weather!), I want to share some of my fav new shopping websites:

Gilt - Gilt is great for discounted designers. I just got this dress:

But you have to move fast- the Tucker line sold out within 20 minutes. I can't wait for it to come to Target in September.

Another favorite: She Finds - lots of great deals and totally on trend.

And even though the Hills are over, my love-affair with breezy Cali fashion is not: The Lo Down - her blog is not so much shopping as it is fashion/makeup/hair. But ya gotta love Lo.

Another California girl with great style and an eye for the aesthetic:
Cupcakes and Cashmere: Emily talks about food, beauty, and awesome fashion. All beautifully enhanced by her gorgeous photos.

There you go! Enjoy 'virtual shopping,' as I call it. My term for browsing on JCrew, Anthro, Nordstrom and adding things to your shopping cart and then..... not buying them.

Jersey Housewives Reunion

2010-08-24T22:47:00.000-04:00

Wow.
I wish Andy would stop holding them back and just let them go at it.

The Real Housewives of New Jersey - Videos - Previews - The NJ Housewives are Under One Roof | Bravo TV Official Site

Birthday Tree

2010-08-19T21:23:00.004-04:00

I want to spruce up outside around the front of the house just a bit. We are having people over on Saturday for Scott's birthday party and right now the yard looks like a site used for napalm testing. Maybe it was. That would explain so much.

It's barren and dirty and just a little on the unattractive side. There are a few sad shrubs and then there are just empty patches of sand/dirt where plants once stood tall and proud before the napalm-ing.

As someone who prides herself on having a slightly green thumb (only for outdoor type plants. Indoor plants die instantly in my hands. Like, before I take them out of their containers I notice that, hhhhmmmm those leaves look a little brown around the edges. Were they like that in the store? I can't remember. Oh, and now they're turning yellow and falling off in my hand. And now the plant has shriveled up into nothingness in less than five minutes.)

But outdoors- I can work magic. Seriously:
(Here come the pictures. You know I love to trot these out)

The Before:

Yes, we bought it looking like that. We were 'young' and 'energetic' and wanted a 'fixer-upper' because we liked 'do it yourself projects.' Those are all direct quotes from ourselves seven years ago. Now when we see couples throwing those phrases around on the show House Hunters, we laugh ourselves silly. And then we drink more wine and we cry.

I started out with foundation shrubs and some potted plants (also a spiffy new front door):

And it kept going from there...

A year and a half and lots of money, blood, sweat and mosquito bites later:

Not too shabby! Things are prospering. Note the absence of brown, withered and dead plants. Green Thumb Karyn prevails!

So it disturbs me greatly that the front yard of Grandma's house looks a little neglected. But, since the house has major foundation issues and is eventually going to be torn down, it pains me to spend money to landscape the front. What to do, what to do....

That is when I came up with the idea to call Juan, my yard guy. Juan and his team do a great job of mowing and edging and basically making the yard look taken care of.
They also do landscaping. But I don't want to pay them to plant stuff since a) house is a tear-down and b) I don't mind the planting. I would do it on my own if possible.

Then I had the idea that maybe we could sort of spruce up the front using some nice potted plants and maybe a potted hibiscus tree or palm tree. Yeah! Potted plants seemed so easy.

Until the phone call. Please, allow me to share it with you:

Me: Hi, Juan, it's Karyn. Are you busy or do you have a second to talk?
Juan: Si. (Juan's English is.... it's not good. His father's is better, which makes no sense since his dad is obviously older and if he knows English why wouldn't his son, who was raised here?)
Me: Oh, ok. Well, I know you all offer landscaping services?
Juan: Si.
Me: But I was wondering if you also could do something else. I'd like some potted trees for the front entrance way. Could you do that, and how much would it cost?
Juan: You want I plant trees for you, yes? Would look nice.
Me: No, no planting. Nothing in the ground. I'd like them in pots. Potted.
Juan: You have pot and want a tree?
Me: NO. I do not have a pot or a tree. I need both. Is that something you could do for me?
Juan: Si, si.
Me: Oh good! Can you have them by Friday? How much is it going to cost? I don't want to spend too much.
Juan: I write up estimate for the landSCAPING of the yard. (He always uses that emphasis on the last syllable and I think it's funny). We put in some nice bushes.
Me: NOoooooo. No. Juan, I do not want bushes or landscaping. Just a tree. In a pot. A potted palm maybe or a hibiscus?
Juan: Oh, you want potted palm?
Me: Yes! Something like that. How much?
Juan: Oh, for a 7 foot one?
Me: No, not that tall. More like a smaller one. It needs to fit under the awning. In the front. By the door?
Juan: Si, I bring some.
Me: Well, ok, but how much do they cost?
Juan: I show you. You like, you can pay.
Me: ..... I don't..... I'm not sure what that means.
Juan: Ok, I bring tree.

So one of two things is going to happen. I will come home from the grocery story tomorrow to find eight foot palms planted in the front yard and a bill for $400 or
I won't hear anything about this from him ever again, and there will be no Birthday Tree this year.

Edited to update: There was no tree. There almost was, but it came without a pot. But the birthday party was a success! Will update with photos!

Gun Powder & Lead

2010-08-17T12:14:00.001-04:00

Watch out.....

Turns out I'm not a bad shot! If you're a non-moving target of Osama Bin Laden that is. If he comes my way (in paper form anyway) he's pretty much dead.

Our friend James was brave enough to show me around the shooting range yesterday. I am not the most graceful person, so my biggest fear about shooting a gun for the first time was that I would blow off one of my toes on accident while tripping or dropping the gun.

I am proud to say that both James and I have all our toes!
You may have noticed that some of the shots look like they missed Osama. Well, they did, but only because James was being a gentleman and 'saving the face' for me. Awww, shucks. He aimed for the words on the left side of the target and then tried to make them in the shape of a question mark.

My first shot? The one right above his right eye. Thank you. I am awesome. Again, if a paper target ever attacks me, I will own it.

So how did this all happen.
I like danger in controlled environments.
James suggested I check out his gun to see if I liked it and would possibly ever want to buy one. Having never shot before, I was a little nervous.
I got to the range before he did and the guys working there loved that:
a) the gun case was in my preppy green and pink flamingo bag (Pretty!)
b) I have named James' gun Shelia. The guy behind the counter asked to shake my hand when he heard that. Yes, I am all kinds of cool. Until I told them I was there to "shoot stuff" and they exchanged a look that said "amateur" but HELLO check out the target!! Paper Osama is DEAD, y'all.

So, pulling the trigger for the first time was scary as hell. I'm not gonna lie. I had to stand there for a while to muster the courage (and apparently leaning waaaaaay the hell back away from the gun is not the stance that you're supposed to take but I was SCARED of it exploding in my face. I like my face to be on my head.)

Anyway. I used some anger/frustration stored down in there somewhere and made Osama pay. It actually felt pretty good, once I got the hang of it. It's definitely a rush.

The guys working at the range invited me back for ladies night. I don't think they found it funny when I asked if they served mojitos. Something about mixing alcohol and firearms. Kill joys.

FOR VINCE

2010-08-16T21:40:00.001-04:00

A little Tim- just for you! (You cannot deny the hotness).

Birthday Month, cont'd.

2010-08-16T11:34:00.003-04:00

The hubby and I are two years apart, but our birthdays are almost exactly two weeks apart. This time five years ago I was super stressing because I was planning a huge surprise party for him. It was at a place in downtown St. Pete, which has probably since been overtaken by bums, I'm not sure. Anyway, it was a really cool bar/restaurant and they had a separate room that I rented and they supplied the drinks and amazing food.

So all was going well until- Hurricane Katrina popped up on the radar. Everyone knew it was a storm to be reckoned with the minute it hit the Gulf waters. It was churning in the Gulf about four days before the party and for a while it looked like it could be heading right to Tampa Bay. As a potential Category 4 or 5.

I might have wigged out a little. Y'all. We had out of town guests coming, deposit on the restaurant already paid and now we might all be spending the night hunkered down in our closets while a Cat 5 raged outside? See, that wasn't what I had planned. My vision was more of us sipping martinis and wearing pretty clothes and yelling SURPRISE! as Scott walked into the room.

Luckily for us (not so much for New Orleans), Katrina turned west and kept going. So the party was saved. (I know. I'm such a jerk for being so concerned about a party while people's homes and lives were in danger, but let's keep in mind that I'm pretty sure I spent about 10 times more money donating to several dog rescue charities of NOLA than I did on the party. So that excuses the comments like "Whoooo hoooo the party is on, bitches!" after the storm track veered away from us. I mean, how dare Mother Nature mess with mah par-tay!)

(The Birthday Boy, clearly oblivious to the drama that went on behind the scenes.)

Anyway- this is a popular time of year for hurricanes, but so far so good. We've had enough damn rain this summer, I can tell you that. (Annnnd I just turned into my Grandmother. Hold on while I go check the rain gauge.)

So I'm busy planning another party, not a surprise this time. I've got about a week to get this yard/house whipped into shape. NOT AN EASY TASK.
Today I'm on the hunt for:

Some pretty outdoor solar lights for the walkway:

And some cool string lights that won't rust or become disgusting with bugs within 72 hours.

Oh yeah. And menu planning! I'm thinking simple foods that people can pick on:
*My crockpot meatballs (SUCH a hit over Christmas)
*Chicken salad crossaint sandwiches
*Cheese and cracker tray
*Fruit tray
*Veggie tray with two different homemade dips (French Onion and Ranch)
*Pasta salad of some kind
*Desserts (I'm thinking the little mini petite fours from Publix)

What else.... Hmmmm, well it would be helpful if I hadn't LOST my entire recipe collection. Not a cookbook. I had a big folder where I stuck recipes torn from magazines, printed off the computer, or scribbled on the back of random bits of paper. Those were my staples. My favorite 'go-to' meals and appetizers. And yours truly has somehow misplaced them. So now I'm starting from scratch.
If you've got any fail-proof favorite dishes you'd like to pass along, please let me know!
Oh yeah, I also need to pick up a new folder when I go to Target today. Preferably one that has a LoJack.

Delish

2010-08-14T11:35:00.007-04:00

I don't know why or what is going on or anything more than the guy in the grey shorts is Tim McGraw and he is NOT WEARING A SHIRT.

I am online working on my Linkedin Portfolio because Duck Dodgers and the 21st century has passed me by and I wasn't aware you needed business cards, a website with samples of your work, a kick ass Linkedin Portfolio and a designer resume in order to get a job in today's economy. Possibly because I am a moron. Apparently it also helps you find a job if you have dancing unicorns and magical beans on the resume.

I am a writer. I am NOT a graphic designer or a very good networker. That's sort of why I became a writer- cause I don't like most people. But OH NO IT IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO JUST HAVE A GOOD RESUME WITH 10 YEARS OF KICK ASS EXPERIENCE. I probably have to start using a Twitter account now too.
So, a little busy this Saturday?? Yes, Yes I am.

But not too busy for shirtless Tim. And thus, that is the problem I have with the internets. It is very much necessary to be online to do all of the above but being online is also is the Devil because, "Hi distraction, what's up??"

Now... what was I doing? Oh, yeah. Gotta go find some dancing unicorns.

Surf, Sun. Repeat.

2010-08-10T20:54:00.013-04:00

St. Augustine Beach and Ponte Vedra Beach.

I love this one. And the guy in it.

St. Augustine Part 1

2010-08-09T22:46:00.044-04:00

St. Augustine!!
Both the food and the setting very much reminded us of being in Italy at times. So I grouped these pics together for a little show and tell!
I'm still going through the 300 pics I took at the beach, so I'll have those up later today or tomorrow.

Architecture

(Ok, not really architecture, but Scott was playing with the camera taking pics of the room and I was perched in my makeshift window seat, happily people watching. Yes, this is what I do all day if given the chance.)

Posing in this one. Love the light! I set the camera settings and Scott did a really good job.

The front of our hotel, Casa Monica.

Upstairs bedroom in our suite (it had THREE. FLOORS. It pays off when your hubby basically lives in a hotel for a living!) that had two queen beds and amazing windows with glass from the 1920's.

View out the small windows:

Culinary

Collage: Best restaurant ever.

The Tasting Room (where the Mentalist entertained us. More on that later.)

One of our favorite places.

Upstairs at Sangrias.

Chocolate!!!!

Birthday Month!

2010-08-08T22:00:00.040-04:00

Birthday Month could not have started off on a better note!

We had the best time visiting St Simon's Island and St. Augustine. The weather was gorgeous (sweating was kept to a minimum), we had amazing meals, walked off those meals touring the towns, and soaked up the beauty of the beaches. They are so different from our calm West Coast waters. I have to admit- my snobbishness about how the West Sigh-eed is the best might be based on the perception that the East Coast is rough and the sand is dark and not as pretty. Which, is true. The sand is a little darker. But the water!! Oh, the water. It's cold, refreshing and not sticky. We sat out at the beach all day and never felt sweaty or uncomfortable. Kind of a change of pace from the bathtub that the Gulf is right now. It's just not refreshing to "cool off" in 90 degree water.

We loved walking around St. Simons. Such a cute little town. Very Southern. I did a lot of shopping. A LOT.

And we really enjoyed the eating:

I bought a cookbook from this place. The veggies lived up to the hype.

We had Greek salads and dry white wine for lunch at this little cafe. We sat at a table in front of huge windows- perfect to watch people strolling by.

Bicycles were everywhere.

Orange bus!

A place called Gnats that we had to stop in and see for ourselves. (Gee-nat is a nickname of one of Scott's friends. The "Shot a the Belt" guy. So of course we had to get a tshirt.)

Our hotel was lovely, very posh. I thought the decor was a little heavy for a beach B&B, but it was definitely comfy.

(By the way, take a look at the loaded down luggage rack in the back. We travel light.)

Our view.

The top floor where dinner was served.

And then we traveled down to St. Augustine. Along the way, we took a little detour to stop for lunch in Amelia Island. It's very small. But cute.

We walked around the town and ate at a cute bistro.

Not the bistro, but a pretty art gallery:

I'll post more from our trip to St. Augustine tomorrow!

It was the best of times

2010-08-07T17:42:00.004-04:00

More later.

Emmett Otter's Jug Band, It's Not

2010-07-30T09:11:00.008-04:00

Last night I was awakened to sounds from the forest that occupies the vacant lot next door. (Lest anyone think I'm being dramatic about the 'forest' bit, we live out in the country on a lake and the land next door has not been built on. So it is a dense thicket of trees, large ferns, fallen logs, tall grass, spiderwebs and who knows what else. I'm not going in there to check. That's all I can see from my vantage point over here in the Safe Zone.)

So the sounds at first were delicate chirping noises. Raccoons? Armadillos? Possums? We have all three, so I just assumed it was one of them and rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
Y'all.
That is when I heard this:

{rustle, rustle.... rustle rustle} The obvious sound of something sneaking around. Now, sneaking around when you're playing hide-and-go-seek as a kid inside a house with other humans is one thing. Listening to creatures of the night sneak around in a very menacing sounding way RIGHT OUTSIDE your bedroom window is quite another.
Of course I sat up in bed and listened harder. Every muscle was tense and every nerve on end as I heard the blood pumping in my heart. And then-

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH!
W.T.F was that. I seriously almost died when I heard it. Official cause of death: Woodland Creatures Yelling Late At Night. (It's becoming a problem, I hear.)

Now it's totally silent... There aren't even any rustling noises. Wait, was that chirping?

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH! SCREEEEEEETCH!

The only way I can begin to describe the unholiness of this noise is to say that I had two thoughts in my head when I heard it.

One: I'm pretty sure whatever that is can come through glass, so I am not safe.

Two: I knew it! I knew the yard next door was Jurassic Park! It's breeding raptors. That is the only explanation for that horrible sound. Raptors fighting.

At this point, I realize that the trusty hound dog is still passed out and snoring on the floor, her breath fogging up the hardwoods.
"Hey." I nudge her with my foot.
Her eyes pop open and she stretches, looking slightly peeved at me for waking her.
And at that moment, more chirping and then SCREETCH! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH!

I look over at Kasey, trying to anticipate her next move. Will she bark? Do the scary thing where her fur stands up on her back as she growls softly and stares at the window? Lunge across the room to protect me?
Or at least tilt one ear up and listen?
Or ... something?
This is the point where she looked me up and down and sort of decided, "Meh, it's not worth me going outside and getting my face ripped off by bobcat demons so I think I'll just lay back down on this comfy wood floor and zzzzzzzzzzzzzz."

So much for that.
Not that I was going to let her outside, trust me, I've seen the vet bills from her tangling with the little Jack Russell across the street from us in St. Pete. No way would I send her out there to get mauled and then come limping home like Ann or Dan or whoever in Where the Red Fern Grows. (I would like to say that is a horribly sad book and why I had to read that as a sensitive fourth grader I would like to know.) Still, I would like to point out- I believe those dogs in that book fought a BEAR to protect their boy. Apparently I'm not worth getting up for to go investigate some possible Nighttime Creatures roaming the neighborhood.

And I would like to ask an important question that I thought of while sitting in bed and listening to Raptor Raccoons- if my dog doesn't bark or growl at this, what does she bark at? Like, what horrible creatures from Disney's Halloween Treat cartoon must there be to warrant that reaction? Or maybe she got her signals crossed and mailboxes are the enemy but T-Rex is probably ok?
Something to think about.

So the dog goes back to sleep but outside it's all:
Rustle rustle chirp chirp SCREEEEEEEEEETCH SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH SCREEEEEEEEEEETCH SCREEEEEEEETCH SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEETCH
SCREEEEEEEE-

And then the noise stopped abruptly, which of course makes me think it was a murder. I mean, there was no more rustling, no twigs breaking, no chirping and no screaming or squealing. Just sudden and complete silence. Creepy.

The Squirrel Mafia* appears to have made it's way to Tampa.
Soooo..... this begs the question of what WAS all that?? I looked outside this morning a little bit but didn't see any signs of any disturbances.
I suppose I was looking for a washboard left by Emmet Otter and friends.

(One of the best puppet/cartoon or whatever Christmas shows from the 80's. Y'all, any excuse I get to use that picture I will. Because it is AWESOME.)

*The Squirrel Mafia is something my brother and I witnessed as kids one crisp fall afternoon in Atlanta as we watched a trio of fluffy grey squirrels racing up and down the tall pine trees in the backyard. Until, that is, two of the squirrels ganged up on the other one and physically PUSHED HIM off a branch to his death on the forest floor. I'm not making it up. They were pretty happy with themselves afterward. I think I even saw a high-five.

Vacation, all I ever wanted!

2010-07-29T09:52:00.007-04:00

We are leaving for a little bit of East Coast beach hopping soooooon! I have been so looking forward to kicking off Birthday Month at a fun boutique hotel off the Georgia coast.

I found it on Trip Advisor, my favorite travel website. So far they've never steered me wrong. People take their reviewing responsibility very seriously. (Some take it a little toooo seriously. Like, put down the black light and step away from the Luminol... this isn't CSI.) Typically though, former hotel guests will let you know about bad room service, any construction going on at the hotel, surly bellhops (I'd be surly too if I was a bellhop, let's be fair) and paper-thin hotel room walls. They also point out cheaper parking options, the best beach or restaurant nearby and let you know about how to get free wine at happy hour. So, all in all, I think it's a good resource.

And I'm also looking forward to going back to St. Augustine. Our hotel is near the very picturesque Flagler College. I remember back in high school my parents sent away for campus information from Flagler. There was lots of talk about Flagler for a few days. How pretty it was, how 'neat' the campus looked, how it was a smaller college which would be 'good for you.'
And then apparently they got to the end of the brochure, you know, the part where it states how much money it costs to attend the college. I never heard anymore about Flagler.
Which worked out just fine; I love Auburn and it continues to be and always will be a Magical Land of Narnia to me.

While I was at Auburn and about three years or so after Mom and Dad had forgotten about the Flagler College Incident, I came home from AU with pamphlets about the foreign language study abroad program in Spain. Since I was minoring in Spanish, and at the time considering majoring in it (bullet dodged on that one), I really really wanted to go spend the summer in school in Salamanca with my friend and roomie.

Again, the parents were all for it! Yes, it's a great idea. That's really the only way to learn a language, to be immersed in it! Imagine the experiences you will have! Three months overseas, our little girl (tearing up eyes, the whole thing.)
And then..... "$3,000? Wait, are you telling us it costs MONEY to send you to a foreign country? What the HELL? We did not expect this. NO. No, you cannot go. Probably no one else will go either and the program will end because who can afford this kind of nonsense? Three THOUSAND dollars for three months of living expenses? {Angry laughter} No. You will be a waitress at a restaurant and suck at it majorly and waste an entire summer living at home while you receive post cards from your friends in Spain and cry."

That's pretty much how that went. I think my parents thought things in life were free? I don't really understand. Maybe they were hoping to sell me into slavery and that didn't pan out? We give you girl child and you give us 20 pesos and a llama?

Ahem. Anyway. I have veered shockingly off topic.
To sum up: Very much looking forward to a week of:
Seafood, bike rides through quaint towns (no, Scott, the bike seat is not trying to "rack your balls"), shopping, sun, sand, and more seafood.
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh, vacation time.

Wait. Hold up a second... The hotel is *charging* us to stay there? Oh hell no. Who do they think they are?

Stories from Room 603

2010-07-22T11:51:00.008-04:00

This is probably going to be a regular feature (yay!) because the sheer amount of Crazy in my grandmother's nursing home is enough to fill a real book.
Grandma has a roommate named Milagros. Mila for short. It's sort of like college; their room is complete with mini-fridge and a shared bathroom. Oh, and an excessively loud television set that is constantly blaring Telenovelas or some other Spanish television program featuring wailing women, explosions, yelling and more wailing. In other words, it's LOUD. And the roommate is DEAF. Which makes visits with Grandma in her room go like this:

Me: I got a card from Mom, do you want me to read it to you, Grammie?
Grandma: Sure.
Me: Ok. {Throat clearing} 'Dear Mom, today is hot and sunny-'
TV: Nooooooooooo! ! No te muerta!
Grandma: What's that.
Me: It's your roommate's tv program.
Grandma: Oh.
Me: Anyway, so Mom says that the cats killed a bird in the yard -
TV: BLAM! BLAM! "Aye, Pilar! Dios mio!" LOUD EXPLOSION.
Grandma: What?
Me: What.
Grandma: Did something explode?
Me: No. {sigh} That was Mila's tv. She's watching a show. Very LOUDLY. (I peer past the curtain and look over at her, hoping she'll hear me and turn it down. But she's very absorbed in her show and definitely not turning it down. Actually, I think she just turned it up.)
Me: Ok, so back to the letter. Mom is making more pickles from her cucumbers. Maybe she'll bring some down when she visits, would you like that?
Grandma: Yes.
Me: Me too. And then we can -
TV: Beep. Beep. Beep. Tick tick tick. "Es un bomb!" (Ok, I don't know how to say 'bomb' in Spanish, my eight years of taking it failed to prepare me for the world of Telenovelas. But anyway, the effing show had a bomb.)
Grandma: What's beeping?
Me: Ugh! Grandma! It's the TV SET. It's on a show. It's not real.
TV: Beep! Beep!
Grandma: No, I hear it again, you need to turn it off.
Me: There. Is. No. Bomb. It's a show. I can't turn off her show.
Grandma: Something is beeping in here. Do you hear it?
Me: YES. It's your roommate's tv! See? (I pull the curtain back to reveal Mila in her bed watching the tv).
Grandma: I have a roommate?

So it's like that. Last night we had dinner out in the lobby and then I brought her back to her room to help her get ready for bed. The 'getting ready for bed' requires two people and lots of patience. It takes a long time to get her out of her clothes and into her pjs. Then there is the bathroom routine: teeth brushed, face washed, ect. After all that, she's worn out, the attendant is worn out and it's bed time for Grandma. Except that she inevitably pops back up as soon as she's tucked in to say that she has to go to the bathroom. And thus the process of getting her to the bathroom and then back to bed starts again.
Last night was much the same. After the second trip to the potty, and with Mila's tv blaring away, I bend down to rub her head and kiss her goodnight. And that's when I hear it. A 'click-clack' sound from her jaw as she moved her lips to kiss my cheek.
"Wait just a minute," I say, pulling away from her and studying her face.
"Do you have something in your mouth?"
No response.
"Grandma. Did you eat a piece of hard candy? Because you cannot lay in bed on your back with candy in your mouth. You'll fall asleep and choke. Spit it out, please."
I put my hand under her mouth.

She glares at me with all the white hot hatred of a four year old refusing to let go of her favorite toy.
"Grandma." I say again; a warning.
And then, from behind the curtain comes Mila's voice, loud and insistent:
"Priscilla!"
I ignore Mila, who was obviously into her show and now apparently talking to the characters on tv. Whatever.
"Grandma. Spit. It. Out."
"Priscilla!!" More urgent this time. "Priscilla!"
I turn and faced the curtain. Is she talking to me? I peep over the edge of the curtian and see Mila, gesturing at me with a box of tissues in her hand.
"Priscilla, give this tissue to your mother so she can spit out her candy."

Ok. First of all, I'm not Priscilla. Karyn, Priscilla... no, not even close.
Secondly, she's my grandmother, not my mother. Holy hell, how old do you think I am?
Thirdly- YOU'RE DEAF. How in the hell did you even hear that conversation between me and my grandmother over the crazy level of decibels you listen to?

So I very sweetly reply, "Mila, thank you but I'm Karyn, not Priscilla. And this is my grandmother I'm visiting. She has her own tissues, but thanks."

I turn back to grandma who is still stubbornly holding the candy in between her teeth.
I bend down close to her face. "Eat it or spit it out. Seriously. I'm not playing." I hiss in her ear.

There is a pause and then...
Crunch..... crunch... crunch.

Fine, so she's eating it and won't choke on it. I've done my granddaughterly duty, and I'm heading out now.
I pick up my purse and kiss her goodbye again.
"See you tomorrow, grandma."

"Cindy!" Mila shouts over her tv.
Cindy is my aunt. Now she has me confused with her.
I sigh and walk over to her side of the room.
"Hi, Mila. What can I do for you?"
"Oh, hi Cindy. How's your love life?"
(I'm not making this up.)
I held up my left hand. "Well, pretty good. I'm married."
"Married? When did you get married?"
"Seven years ago," I reply.
"Oh. Maybe I'm confusing you with Priscilla."
"Maybe. Goodnight, ladies."
"Goodnight, Cindy."

End scene.

Summer Lovin'

2010-07-15T22:50:00.006-04:00

This summer is going by FAST. It's almost my birthday. And you know what that means!! Presents!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also, it's almost time for college football- wooohooo!! 50 more days. Can't wait!

We've been a little sports-starved around here, so we went to the Tampa Bay Darlin's roller derby. Last time Scott was in town, my friend Shem called up and asked if we had plans. It had been raining all day, so we were a little stir crazy. She suggested roller derby. Scott paused, verified that they did indeed serve beer there, and then decided that it could be awesome.
It was definitely entertaining. Pretty sure we were the only straight girls there.

The jammer is the one up front with the star on her helmet and she's the one to beat. I did learn that. That is all.

Lots of girls fell down and the black team won. Or something. I don't know; there was beer.

Student IDs rock. Yes, we used ours again to get in. Awesome.

Recession Eats

2010-07-07T17:53:00.005-04:00

So, the whole Oil Disaster and Thanks Obama for Stepping Up is still going on....

Please note the Pissed Off Expression. That is the expression that says, "You have about two minutes to straighten up and fly right or something bad in the way of lots of yelling will happen."
So, watch out, BP. Because, um, I will like wear shirts to protest you. Or something.

But a girl has to eat, right?
And since this girl does not have a JOB, I've had to cut back on the going out. (So tragic, I know. Please hire me.)
Anyway, Creative Loafing has this awesome Food and Drink column I just recently stumbled upon. They have a list of Food Events that showcases specials and discounts.
This week I'm taking advantage of two:

NoHo Bistro tonight in South Tampa. I've been wanting to try this place since it opened because of the rave reviews. Wednesday is $15 for two tapas and two glasses of wine (I'm hoping I might be able to switch out the wine for beer since the Stomach Bug of 2010 left me with- let's just call it a strong distaste for white wine. Possibly forever. It really is sad. If not I guess one of my girlfriends will get four glasses for $15.) And I just discovered that the place is owned by an Auburn grad! War Eagle.

Then on Friday it's going to be lunch at the Pita Pit for $4. Sweet. I'll take some Tzataiki sauce on mine!! YUM.

Recession never tasted so sweet.

SOS- Save our Seas

2010-06-26T11:16:00.009-04:00

I moved back here from Houston because I missed the water so, so badly.
Missed long days at the beach with the smell of salt in the air and feel of warm sun on my skin.

Missed amazing sunsets.

Missed dining seaside.

Missed the inner peace I only find at the beach. But right now? Right now there is no peace.

Right now I'm mad. Mad at BP for not taking proper precautions to prevent against a leak. Mad at our country for not stepping up- this is a national disaster. This is HUGE. But where are the fundraisers? Where is the support from Hollywood entertainers that has been so prevalent in disasters *overseas*- the tsunami in Thailand, the earthquake in Haiti?
Is it because to acknowledge the scope of this disaster would be to criticize the 'super cool' new President and his lack of response so far? I actually think that's part of it. So sad.
I didn't vote for Obama in the past election, but now that he's in office I want him to lead this country. STOP the leak. DO it. We have technology to put men in space but all we can do about a leaking pipe is to wait for oil to come ashore and then scoop it up into garbage bags?? Surely that isn't the best and brightest of our country.
I believe Obama's hands are tied by Big Oil just like every other president and politician. So terribly disappointing.

Not to get all political up in here, but if you don't like it, feel free to tell me. I don't care. This is MY beach. MY home. And I'm mighty pissed off.

I don't want to miss this.
It is worth fighting for. If only I knew who to fight.

Hi, Monday. It's me, Karyn.

2010-06-21T10:58:00.004-04:00

Calls so far today:

(Ring ring)
Lady #1: Chet's Pest Control. How may we help you?
Me: Hi. Fleas. Many. Itchy. Spray?
Lady #1: Sure. That'll be $200.
Me: Does it work though? Again, itchy.
Lady #1: (pause) Ummm, yes?
Me: Wow. Confident about that?
Lady #1: Sure. Pay us $200. We'll be there later today or tomorrow.
Me: Ok, see you later.

(Ring, ring)
Lady #2: Good Morning, Pope's Well Water Solutions.
Me: Morning. Pump's making lots of weird noises. Air in pipes. Water spitting out of pipes. Also water softener not working. Again. I fear total plumbing meltdown.
Lady #2: Oh dear. Ok, we'll send someone out in two hours.
Me: (Gulp) Cost?
Lady #2: No idea. Good luck.

(Ring, ring)
Lady #3: Nuccio Air Conditioning. Mary speaking.
Me: Hi, Mary. Have service contract with you. Need to schedule yearly maintenance for AC unit *before* it breaks down again. (Getting smarter).
Lady #3: Oh. Our computers are down.
Me: ? Maintenance?
Lady #3: Yeah, not today. We'll call you. Don't call us.

Is 11:15 too early for a drinky? I think not. Oh good, the plumber is here.
(This post is for Scott. Who routinely asks me what I "do" all day.)

Life of the Party

2010-06-17T10:06:00.005-04:00

My grandmother used to always comment on how long friends and family stayed at her dinner parties. I have vivid memories of her putting on pajamas and cleaning up around the house as well-intentioned guests overstayed their welcome. She never did it in a rude way; she'd never want to hurt anyone's feelings. But she made her point.
I also remember her remarking that certain people didn't stay long enough. "Why bother?" she would say as my father's brother beat a hasty retreat to his car after spending about an hour with us one Christmas vacation.

I get the sense now that she's the one who's trying to slip away. Like that guest who wanted to come to see you and show their support but now looks a little tired and is edging towards the back door, keys in hand.

Sometimes when I come into her hospital room or nursing home room I don't say her name right away. She normally has her eyes closed and is resting but not sleeping. As soon as I say, "Grandma" or any variation of that (Gram, Grammie, Gramalama) those eyes pop open and she searches the room for my face. Doctors and nurses can't get that reaction from her. In a way it's nice to know that I have that connection with her. That the part of her that's still the most alive is the part that connects with her grandchildren. Being a grandmother was her calling in life- hands down. Even to this day, she still wants to play with us and entertain us. She wants to be that Grandmother to us. Part of her does. The other part is moving on and I can tell she's fighting an internal battle between the two. I don't know how long it will go on.

Until that time comes, we take trips down memory lane when I visit. She remembers the past very clearly. Yesterday she was laughing about a softball game we all played in the rain when we were kids. And how my cousin always won the carnival games at Busch Gardens. Or the time she took all four of us to eat at a Christmas-themed restaurant in July. And I used the dog's brush to primp and comb my hair before going inside.

I hand out those little memories like party favors; eager for her to open them with me before she heads home.

My first byline.

2010-06-15T18:46:00.003-04:00

(ok, technically it's my first *print* byline because you don't get recognition for cranking out 20 stories a night in tv news. Bastards.)

Anyway- Woot!

Cafe Hey: Skinny Bi-otch, Quad Shot & Rebel Rebel, On North Franklin In Downtown Tampa

PS- I did not forget to pack any shoes. However, I did leave the credit card that I used to book the airline ticket at home. That came in handy when I tried to check in at the counter using the credit card. That I did not have.

11:50pm

2010-06-09T23:49:00.003-04:00

Let's check the old clock and see what time I finished packing tonight: yup! 10 minutes to midnight.
What IS the deal with that?
I have no idea what's in the suitcase. I had a last minute panic attack about how my bag is going to get left behind somewhere and then possibly stolen with all my cute clothes inside. So then I had to switch tactics entirely and only take SOME of my cute clothes. Which means if you see me walking around the streets of Atlanta in a 1990's Atlanta Olympic sweatshirt, you'll understand.

And THEN I went online and booked my seat which is a middle seat because I forgot to do that whole "seat booking" thing earlier and apparently there are lots of people waiting for the exact minute that Airtran opens online booking for their flight. Guess I didn't get the memo.

I'm pretty sure I forgot to pack shoes.

Packing

2010-06-08T19:30:00.006-04:00

Going to Atlanta for the weekend and I'm packing. Well, no, I'm not. I'm *supposed* to be packing. Instead, I am taking pictures of my prett-ay new jewelery and the new dress I got. The Stella Dot necklace and earrings came just in time!

Posing with the sweet starfish necklace:

I got the little dress at a boutique in South Tampa called the Pink Palm. They sell lots of Lilly Pulitzer stuff there, which is why I wanted to check it out. But then this caught my eye:

Sooooooo cute! Not sure that I'm bringing it to ATL though. It's definitely more of a Florida dress. I don't think Roswell is ready for this jelly. Or something.

Anyway, since I am nicely avoiding packing (hi!), my suitcase will most likely be thrown together at midnight tomorrow night while frantically trying to find my cell phone charger. I remember when I used to start packing days- even weeks- before a trip. Now it totally stresses me out so I avoid it and then end up with lots of shoes and no underwear or hair products.
Plus, the airlines are not helping with their extra charges for checking the bags now. I cannot fit everything into a carry-on, much to Scott's extreme disappointment. (I take no accountability in that- he knew what he was getting into when he put a ring on it.)

Ok. I am now going to eat dinner and then I will pack.
Hahahahah. No, I won't. I'll attempt to look through the closet before becoming incredibly upset that I don't own a skinny zebra stripe belt that would look *so* cute on the strapless red dress I plan to wear to dinner.
And then I will pick up my Jodi Picoult book and pretend that suitcases magically pack themselves.
Which is the Scarlett O. approach to life: "I'll think about that tomorrow, when I can stand it."

Tim McGraw - It Felt Good On My Lips

2010-06-08T16:21:00.006-04:00

So. Freaking. Hot.
Love the new song.
Three Tim concerts in one year would be considered stalking, right?
(Sigh)
Guess I'll have to make due with youtube videos.

Ta Da! (Sort Of)

2010-06-06T20:27:00.028-04:00

I wanted to have a "Big Reveal" moment when we were finally finished with all the unpacking, painting, decorating and goings on at the Casa Loca. But it likely will never be "done" the way we originally envisioned it. Some tricky structural issues with the foundation meant that the house is basically not going to be around much longer.

We had to scrap our plans to rip up the carpet and re-stain the hardwoods underneath. Not to mention the major kitchen and bathroom overhauls that won't be happening. No reason to throw money down the drain on a house that will unfortunately have to be torn down.

Sooooooo, having said that, I do want to show you what's been done so far. We'll call it the "Best We Could Do" Reveal: (ALSO: some of the "after" pics are blurry if you look at them up close. I realized after I downloaded them that I had the lens set on Auto while using the camera in Manual so as to capture the natural light. Not ideal. And not redoing it right now either, since it took about 30 minutes to get the pictures in the right order in the blog. So, just don't look at them up close. Thank you, that is all.)

Living room before:

Living room after (with Kasey, who in case I didn't mention is a camera WHORE):

Dining room before:

Dining room after: (my Pottery Barn hurricanes- I love them so)

Office before:

Office after:

Master bedroom before: (I seriously wanted to walk away when I saw this)

Master bedroom after: (going to paint the walls about two shades darker since the white furniture is getting lost against this color. A rattan ceiling fan, a green hanging fern for the corner and some throw pillows are also in the plans.)

Breakfast room before:

Breakfast room after (One of my favorite rooms in the house. I love the way this is coming together):

Florida room before:

Florida room after (excuse the paintings and mirror stacked against the wall- they have yet to find their rightful spots on the walls):

It's feeling more like home. At first having to combine our furniture with my grandmother's seemed like it was never going to work out. Her colors are blue and blue. Our color palate is warmer neutrals with some reds and greens thrown in the mix. I detest blue, unless it's something like the turquoise accents I have in the breakfast room.
But it all came together well, and although there are many, many things I'd still like to do (new curtains! new lighting fixtures!) for now, it's good.

Especially because I love the fact that we were able to take beautiful pieces like my grandfather's piano and drag them out of obscurity and into the room to be a part of the family. It just makes me happy to see it there. I didn't get the chance to know my granddad; he died before I was born. But I think he would like to know that he is remembered and the house he built with my grandmother is once again a happy home.

Now, if only someone could teach me how to play the piano.... what? Just because I gave up the violin after about six months does not mean I am not musically inclined. I have an EAR, people. Also: the violin is noted as being the hardest instrument to learn to play. So, therefore, I can't be judged on my musical talents based on Tales of a Fourth Grade Music Class Dropout.

Dot Dot Dot

2010-06-03T10:04:00.005-04:00

Going to a Stella Dot trunk show tonight!! So excited about the earrings. Or maybe I'm more excited about the necklaces.
I only just became aware of Stella Dot Jewelry a few months ago. It's all the rage in the South.
Now that I live closer to the south again, I'm a bit more plugged in.

And by the way- while this post veers shockingly off-topic, I feel the need to clarify. Southern and Country = two different things. Let's not confuse the two. I do like Country music, but I consider myself a Southerner, not a "Country Girl." I don't camp, make my own sausage, shop at Walmart or say 'yeehaw.' Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just not mah style. This and this and this... those are definitely my style. Oh brother. I'm in trouble already.
Maybe I should host my *own* trunk show! :)

Memorial Day Parrrtay

2010-06-02T10:44:00.008-04:00

No lifeguard at sunset. But plenty of life at the beach this weekend!

Good, good times.

Sun. Sand. Smiles.

2010-05-17T23:15:00.006-04:00

What do you do after a hectic weekend of house stuff, a sudden flea infestation on the poor dog, a very necessary oil change, and a few visits with Grammie in the nursing home?

Packed the cooler, grabbed the beach towels and headed out to the beach.

Today started out rainy and stormy. But by noon, the sun was starting to break through.
And the water was perfect!

I love days like this.

I never take living here for granted. People pay big bucks to come and enjoy what we get for free. Definitely makes me appreciate what we have!

Back

2010-05-09T09:51:00.008-04:00

... at the Ford Amphitheater on a balmy Florida night with good friends ...

Great seats...

An amazing show...

Oh yeah, and the music was pretty good too. Hee hee.

The only thing missing was Scott. Hurry home, honey. It wasn't the same without you!

Where the F(lorida) have I been?

2010-04-18T12:15:00.008-04:00

Hi. Yes, it's been a while. I haz excuses for not updating the blog:

*Sick grandma who has been in and out of the hospital and assisted living home all month long.
*Sick me- Had the stomach flu that lasted about four days.
*A house full of junk to clean, organize, and move into. There will be photos of my Herculean efforts... I'm getting to that. Simmer down.
*Some freelance work that hopefully will turn into a full-time job soon.
*New anesthesiologist and new course of treatment for the nerve damage. It went well until the last injection, which seemed to aggravate the nerve. Nice. Have a meeting with him on Tuesday to see where to go from here...

Sooooo, I can haz break now?
Sorry, I'm in total LOL Cat mentality. You would be too if you set your suitcases down and looked around at the house you were living in and saw this:

My grandma didn't leave the house looking like this, exactly. But this is what we emptied out of closets and drawers and nooks and crannies. It's been a hard job, sorting through everything.

To begin, you need the proper attire:

A Florida Lakewatch hat (sort of like Baywatch, only more hardcore) and a mask to prevent the dust bunnies from trying to suffocate you. Now you're all set to dig around in the scary recesses of the closets.

I think I'm getting better at figuring out what to keep (a painting by my talented grandmother):

And what can be tossed:

When Spices Go Bad:

A jar of rusty nails, anyone?

Hopefully next time I'll have some "after" pictures of The Great Clean Up. Unless this house swallows me whole.

Horses, Cows and Tim. Oh, my!

2010-03-10T23:17:00.012-05:00

Tim McGraw played at the Houston Rodeo on Monday night. Of course we went, because I cannot NOT see Tim if he's in the same town.

Even if this is the venue:

Yes, that's Tim. And yes, he's walking off the stage and in the very wide circle of dirt that surrounded the rinky-dink stage. So, apparently? At the Rodeo? The main attraction is really the cows and bulls that come before the concert. Not the singing.

Evidence:
Lame people sitting through the entire concert.

Sitting. At a concert. Seriously.

The people behind us actually tapped us on the shoulder and asked if we were going to stand up the "whole time." I just looked at them. I mean, really? It's a concert, not VH1 on your tv set at home. Tapping my toes to the beat is not what I do at concerts, y'all. Oh no. There is spastic dancing, clapping and lots of jumping around.
Since we were in the bottom level, the only other seats closer to the stage were the "floor" seats. I use that term loosely because floor seats usually mean you're somewhat close to the stage. Not 25 yards away. But whatever. It's Houston, it doesn't make sense.

I spotted a ticket-taker person at the entrance to the floor seats. I very sweetly explained to her that we? Just wanted to dance. And the people back there? Not so much.

I asked could we please just stand against the back row of the floor seats, that way we wouldn't be in anyone's way. Just want to dance.

She smiled and said, "I'll do ya one better."

That is front row. I know it doesn't look like it based on relation to the stage, which is very, very far. And thank GOD I didn't try to talk Scott into shelling out $$$ for those seats. Because, really. I was lucky enough to be in the front row once. Scott referred to it as my Super Bowl, because that's how much the tickets cost. It looks more like this:

But still, the ticket-taker lady was a total angel and I gave her a hug. She rocked.
So did Tim.

Since this was an abbreviated concert, I'm going back in May to see him in Tampa for the full Tim experience. That will be my 10th Tim concert. I know. But I love him.

Oh, and one more thing I will not miss:

Hour and a half traffic jams just to get home from the concert. Half an hour just to get out of the PARKING LOT, dear God.
"Six lanes... tail lights, red ants marching into the night...."

Meet my new friend....

2010-03-07T10:47:00.000-05:00

Milly.

Officially obsessed.

Third Time's the Charm

2010-03-06T20:49:00.008-05:00

In 13 days I will be moving to Tampa for the third time in my life.

I'm leaving Houston for good. Y'all have NO idea how long I've waited to type, say, sing those words.

It's the end of a very rough chapter in our lives, to say the least. Homesickness, medical issues, tons of family drama and starting over in a city that looked great on paper but proved to be a huge disappointment - all of that has made the past two years the toughest I've had to go through.

I'm going back now to be the caretaker of my grandmother's home and property; as well as helping to care for her as she moves into an Assisted Living home. I have some good job leads in the works and I'm certain something will come of them in the next month or so.
Scott will join me as soon as he can transfer or find a comparable job in Tampa. Until then, it's going to be a little sad. Long distance sucks. But we've done it before and it's a small hurdle compared to some of the obstacles we've faced.

We left Florida with the notion that we'd find a 'new' life. But it doesn't work that way. We'd put down roots in Tampa without even knowing it. Leaving was like slowly pulling a stubborn tooth that just doesn't want to let go.

It didn't feel right as we left that day in July of almost two years ago. I sat at our kitchen table in our new rental house and cried my heart out as soon as the movers shut the front door behind them. They were headed back to Tampa. They were going home.

We tried. We found a church, I found a job, we found friends.

But my heart ached. I missed home.
Scott's heart ached that he couldn't fix it, couldn't make it better.
This city with endless highways and ugly oil refineries would never compare to blue skies and sparkling waters.

*******
I moved to Tampa one week after my college graduation to start work as an associate producer a tv station. I was on top of the world. I spent the weekends at the beach with new friends, spent precious time with my grandmother who I love more than anything in the world, and stayed out too late and drank too much in Ybor City. It was the perfect place to be young, single and discover who I am.

After a year and a half in my new city, Scott and I moved away to Atlanta in December of 2000 for his job. I was ecstatic to take the next step in our relationship and move in together. But I cried as I followed our Uhaul with my meager belongings up I-75 to Georgia. (Are we seeing a pattern?) We lived in Atlanta almost two years. And then, we moved back to Tampa. I missed it. Missed sunny Sundays at Raymond James stadium. Missed lounging in my grandmother's backyard. Missed Cuban coffees, technicolor sunsets and flip flops.

So we spent the first six years of our married life living in the city by the Bay. Countless happy memories crowd photo albums and the pages of my journals. But it seems like it's those happy times when I begin to wonder what else is out there. It's dangerous. I know now that sometimes, when you're looking for a change, a haircut will do. Moving 1,030 miles from everything you love is kind of like leaping before you look.

But we survived.

A few months ago, I was trying to keep hope alive that we wouldn't be in Texas forever, and I told Scott when we move away from here the good news is that we'll never have to come back. There is nothing here for either of us, and I am glad to know that. We both thought that there was 'more' for us. More of what, I'm not really sure. But we felt we needed a new challenge. And to be fair, Scott got a great job offer. So away we went, with visions of Big City Living that never came to pass. Houston is huge, sprawling and intimidating. It has pockets that are enjoyable- The Heights is a cool area just north of downtown. But driving an hour to go shopping then stopping for margaritas and tacos at one of the million Mexican restaurants along the freeway are the norm here. It's just not our scene.

I'll miss the people I've gotten to be friends with here. I know I'll keep in touch with several of them. I am very, very grateful for them. To be fair, I never really let them in because I knew I was leaving at some point. So, I won't ache for them the way I have in the past two years for a glass of wine and belly laughs with Christina, a night on the town with Leigh and Nick, Christmas Eve with my cousins, watching Auburn games with Jake and Cheryl, coffee in Hyde Park with Steve, relaxing with Marisa, and countless good times with Greg and Tina.

There are some lessons that I've learned while we've been here. I've definitely overcome some personal fears. I've learned not to sweat the small stuff, because some big, big stuff has come crashing down in the last two years. Knowing the difference between the two is a priceless gift. I just wish the learning process had been kinder, gentler and less traumatic.

I know that Scott is my rock and my hero. I mean, I've always known that, but this time in Houston has made me realize how much I depend on him and his unending support. He fights my battles for me and carries so much on those big strong shoulders. Moving here has prompted some tearful fights of "you moved me here and I hate it", but in the end, it's brought us even closer. We branched out together and made new friends, we carved out a new life here. Marriage is about give and take, and we've both proven we can do that.

I learned that - whatever happens - we are ok just as we are. We ARE a family, and don't need a child to fill a void. If we adopt or get pregnant down the road, I'm sure that will be an awesome addition to what we've built. But I'm done with fertility treatments for good. God does have a plan, and his plan is for me to help out my grandmother right now. She's always been there for me, and it's an honor to be able to care for her now.

I'm blessed to have this opportunity, not only to go home finally, but to move into my grandmother's house and live in a place that radiates happiness and joy. A place that will stay in our family now for at least another generation. As it should.

So, we can close this chapter and walk away forever. There is nothing for us here. Houston will never be home. Tampa has always been home; it has just been waiting for me to figure it out.

To Where The Heart Is

2010-03-06T13:19:00.009-05:00

I fell by the wayside
I fell on my knees
Crying, why was I so hard to please?
I stood at the crosswords
Took a long look at me
Sometimes you don't know where you're from til you leave
And I've been out there searching
For a place where I belong
And on my way I heard my song
Let it sing me home

PS- I didn't adjust the color on this at all. This is looking into St. Pete/Pinellas County from the Courtney Campbell Causeway. I stopped and happened to have the camera with me. So glad I did because the sunset just kept getting prettier. Ahhh, Florida. I've missed ya.

Snip

2010-02-17T22:49:00.007-05:00

My hair has been looking a little, um, boring lately. So I got a new cut. It's nothing drastic, just more layers. But it makes a big difference just in the way it feels on my head.

Also: Grow OUT stupid bangs. Gah.
My hair is so dark that it's hard to see the layers in a photograph. I'm still considering highlights, just haven't pulled the trigger yet. Mostly because I'm so pale I resemble a yellow vampire.

Material Girl

2010-02-15T21:54:00.017-05:00

As my friend Vince gleefully exclaimed when I told him I'd been indulging in a bit of retail therapy: "Momma wants to see what you got!"
So, in case y'all are wondering too, and since I mentioned it, oh, five times in my previous post, here are some of my sweet finds:

First there was some Anthro-ing done two weeks ago while I was in Dallas with my cousin.

I love, love, love this jacket. It's soft, it's lightweight and it's perfect for Florida WHEN WE MOVE BACK THERE.

It's white and blue striped and I have some blue dresses that this would look cute over.

It also looks so good with this:

It's a chiffon-y material with a ruffled neckline that's so elegant on. I hope the ruffle trend does not go out of style for a while. I have done some serious investing in ruffles. And rosettes. But that doesn't stop me from wanting to buy every dress/top/sweater I see that has ruffles and rosettes on it. It may be a problem.

That was my cute Anthro outfit that I treated myself to while Virginia and I did Dallas.
We also did some cultural things like taking a very quick tour of the SMU campus, only to decide that the car? With the heater? Was a lot warmer than the walking in the 40 degree weather and posing next to fountains.

Back in Horrible Houston, I managed to find a really cool vintage shop.
This sleeveless Asian top caught my eye. I tried it on and it fits perfectly. Score!

Cute and warm corduroy jacket that looks like it could be hanging in the window at Anthropologie:

Never been to Colorado. I hope to someday. Until then, I can pretend I have spent some sleepless nights in...

It's ok if you don't get the reference, although it does make you less cool. But that is ok! I will still be your friend. If you buy me wine.

Scott was talked into some purchases that he now likes but was afraid of trying on at first because "what if someone else wore it." I.... I mean, it's a vintage shop. Someone else wore it. That's what washing machines are for.

Good as new.

I Heart ....

2010-02-14T22:52:00.010-05:00

Dogs in pink bandannas.

I went into Anthropologie and found that they had a shelter dog adoption site set up INSIDE the store. People. That is not fair to combine my two greatest weaknesses- beautiful clothing and sweet helpless animals. Not cool. At all. I was so overwhelmed I actually just made a donation for Kasey's bandanna and left. I couldn't even SHOP. That is how upset I get by seeing homeless animals.

So, just get another one! Oh, that is a fine idea. About four years ago, we went through the long approval process of adopting a rescued golden retriever named Ranger. He was a 9 month old ball of soft fur, wet nosed kisses and love. Just pure love. And so I finally brought him home, expecting Kasey to be kind of pissed off about the new addition for a while.... but instead she went nuts. The kind of nuts that made the 48 hours we had him the longest of my life. She tormented that poor dog to the degree that I actually wanted to return *her* for being so mean. Everywhere he went, she chased him, teeth bared and ready to pin him down and do some damage. We pulled her off him numerous times. Separated them. Let her eat first, let her sleep in the bed with us while he slept in a crate. We did all the things that the books tell you to do about Alpha Dogs and Dog Craziness and Help My Dog is Cujo What The Hell Do I DO???

The sweet, friendly, happy dog that I brought home turned into a terrorized dog that shook and hid behind my legs and finally ran into the sliding glass door head first in an attempt to get away from a snarling Kasey.

That is when I broke, y'all, and called the dog adoption counselor (yes, there is such a thing) and asked her what to do. She asked me to describe the situation at home and when I was done there was a pause and then a question, "Why didn't you call sooner?"

I drove sweet Ranger back to his foster mom and sobbed when I patted his head for the last time. I felt like a failure. I felt like I let him down. I felt horrible.

Later that week, the adoption counselor called to tell me that Ranger was placed with a family that had two twin eight year old boys. I think that's when I stopped crying.

So, we are a One Dog Family for now.

Anyway, I still heart:

This is the Anthro in Highland Park in Dallas. I can find them where ever I go, it's sort of like an internal magnetic pull. I follow it and end up $200 poorer. (Stay tuned to see the adorable outfit I got! It's so cute. I'll have to take a picture of it tonight for y'all.)

I also heart: waffles...

and Valentine's Day Brunch. It's our new tradition. Why fight crowds on Valentine's Day evening when you can have a lovely, laid back brunch with your honey? Mimosas are awesome.

Scott was even willing to do more shopping. (That's right, I got him drunk and took advantage of him! Muahahhahah.)

Seriously cool and HUGE vintage store. Everything from 80's sunglasses to bad ass cowboy boots and Asian blouses.
I will take photos of my finds later.

Cozy

2010-01-31T00:15:00.004-05:00

I had big plans for today. Plans to, like, leave the house.

But instead, I worked on a report for my job for most of the day that's due tomorrow. BOR-ING. (I could have had this done last week, but the boss was out of town and there were lots of 3 hour lunches. So, lots of slacking last week= extra weekend work. Not that I mind terribly... there's nothing to do here anyway.)

And now we're eating some homemade soup and then.....

I read a review of this in People, and thought it sounded a lot like my all-time favorite book: Gone with The Wind. So of course I had to run out and get it. I am so excited to read it! I'm only on chapter three, but so far, so good. I love a good, epic romance! I'll keep you posted.

Fashion Beltway

2010-01-30T19:34:00.015-05:00

So, I've been to Anthropologie....

Presenting: My Belts, Let Me Show You Them

I've had the turquoise and brown ones for a season or two, but the others are new. I couldn't help it- belts are my new favorite way to dress up old standards and create new outfits.

I've had both this dress and belt for about a year, but just realized how cute they look together.

This dress is from Anthro too, of course. I just love how the turquoise color stands out against the navy. And with a pair of brown heeled sandals- adorable.

I was getting kind of bored with this dress- just your standard black cotton summer dress. But the pretty red belt makes it more outfit-y. Another bonus: The lack of belt notches means you can wear it high under your bust for empire-waist dresses, or wear it at your actual waist. No need to try and squeeze into the right notch.

I have way more cute outfits to show you.... but my head started getting hurty after staring through my lens for about an hour and a half taking those photos. The upside: I took all these in the Manual setting on my Big Girl Camera! The downside: it took me a while to get the aperature, ISO and shutter speed right for each photo, especially as the light changed in the bedroom.

At least they're in focus... mostly.

Spazzy

2010-01-29T12:25:00.004-05:00

Friday! Woot! My brain is fried, so therefore I will post about....

These babies:

Brand new for $100. So psyched about that. It pays to have friends who work in retail, that is all I will say. My other basic 7s are about to wear through, I've had them so long.
I do love 7s. Hudson jeans and Rock 'n Republic are right up there. Style wise, I like the look of my R&Rs better than 7 jeans, but nothing is more comfortable than the 7s.

Paige jeans are great too, that may be my next purchase. I never have been able to get Citizens that fit me, so I'm can't understand the craze for those, although I know that they seem to fit lots of people.

And to wrap up the week: Things I have done this week that make me an asshole:
Loudly called someone a spaz right in front of a very sweet lady who has a child with autism. The bad kind of autism. The kind that other kids more than likely point and laugh about and call him names. Like, oh, I don't know. Spaz?
Well played, Spaz.

Blah Mondays Suck and Other Sunshiney Thoughts

2010-01-25T12:01:00.008-05:00

I really hate Monday. Actually, I think I hate Sunday night more because Monday is COMING. But the hatred of Monday is right up there.

And why the hell am I still living in Texas? I mean, I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel but I'm itching to get back home.

Also, I would like this new Coach bag:

I haven't been inside the Coach store in about two years cause Scott's all "blah, blah, fiscally conservative, here is a TJ Maxx, don't they sell purses?" And then I pull out the "You Moved Me to Texas" Card and the tears come and normally that's when he sighs and says "Fine, Stop with the Crying and Venom about Texas. Go Buy Your Purse/Shoes/Sweater/Plane Ticket to Tampa."
But now? The boy has a card that he plays ON TOP of my "Boo-Hoo, I Hate It Here More Than You Understand Card."
His card? The "You Want to Buy a House in Tampa, Yes?"
It's like a Double-Reverse Wild-Draw Four card in Uno. I can't top that one.

On a totally unrelated note: Guess who's going to be at the Ford Amphitheater in Tampa this May?

Tim McGraw!

What, you didn't know we were an item?

I really regret making such an unfortunate looking face in this picture.
He's all: "Sure, I'll pose for another photograph with yet another adoring fan."
I'm all: "Squueeeeeeeeee! We are so MFEO. Let me scrunch up my face in an attempt at adorableness and instead go right past adorable and into the realm of uncomfortable and sort of psychotic-looking." Also, apparently I felt the need for large, dangling silver earrings. It's kind of painful for me to look at this photo.

I am working on getting backstage again this year... We'll see what happens. Also working on controlling the Spaz faces. It's a work in progress.

Pink Sky at Night

2010-01-24T22:07:00.006-05:00

On the list of things I miss most about Florida, amazing sunsets are right up there with being able to wear flip flops all year round.

Tonight color of the sky reminded me a lot of that pink light that illuminates the sky just before nightfall in Tampa. It is the softest light of the day. I tried to capture it on camera, but photos never do justice to sunsets unless you're a skilled photographer.

I'm going to my first photography class with a friend on Saturday. So excited! Only it's at 8am. As in, an ungodly hour to be up on Saturday. There is no reason to be up that early. Unless you're heading for the airport, catching a flight to an exotic locale. But I think the only place I'll be heading is Starbucks. Are they even open before 8am?
Maybe I'll finally get a cranberry scone before they sell out.
And then I can come back and dazzle you with my mad photography skillz. Or at least learn what the "P" mode stands for on my camera.

Color Therapy

2010-01-17T17:50:00.004-05:00

The best cure for winter's blues is a healthy dose of orange.

Especially if you picked the oranges from the grove at your grandmother's house.

Back Again... Tell A Friend

2010-01-15T13:19:00.002-05:00

So it has been a minute, yes? Since, what, October?

I haven't felt very inspired to write much since I've been going through some Crap. And when you're going through the Crap, you just want to fix it and move on and THEN get back to "real life."
But the Crap keeps lingering, and so... you sort of realize that maybe you best learn to live with it.
I still don't want to get into it, really. Suffice to say, the Crap has to do with medical issues of weird and uncertain origins.

For the past seven months or so, I've been:
Picking up bottles at the pharmacy marked Drink Me and Eat Me.
I've gotten smaller and taller.
I fell through a rabbit hole.
I changed my name to Alice.

And then there was some stuff at a hospital involving things called Nerve Blocks which are not fun.
Also, problem: remains unresolved.
So that's good times!

I did however, get a Surgery Plant out of the deal. Most people leave a hospital with flowers or balloons perhaps. I left with a dying plant. As I was being wheeled out of recovery, one of the nurses pointed to the nurses' station where several pathetic plants sat in much neglected states.
"Which one do you want?" She asked kindly. "We're sending one home with you."

At this point, I wondered if maybe I had actually died during the procedure, and maybe the Surgery Plants were some sort of cosmic challenge. Picking the healthiest plant meant I was not a hard worker and would be labeled Lazy and Uncaring and sent to toil in Purgatory. (I mean, there was anesthesia still pumping through my veins. It made perfect sense at the time.)

So I gave them all a once-over and chose the most neglected looking of the plants. I don't know. Does that guarantee me Karma Points? Do I also get Points for rescuing my annoying-ass dog and keeping her this long? Cause Hoo Boy, I could fly to Hawaii on those points.

Anyway, I nursed the Surgery Plant back to health and it is doing wonderfully now, I'd like you to know. Very happily photosynthesizing as I type this.

I'd like to think we're both on the road to recovery.

Five Places I'd Rather Be....

2009-10-06T18:16:00.004-04:00

Rather than sitting in my cold window-less office, I was day dreaming of places I'd rather be since it is fall in other parts of the country, even though it is 90 and humid still in Houston:

Here they are:
(WEIRD: as I was typing that Pandora radio just played the part where Tim McGraw sings "here we are" in the song Angry All the Time. Here they are, here we are... Tim, we are so cosmically LINKED. Call me.)

1. Anywhere in Auburn. There is no fall like an Auburn fall. The red/orange leaves on the trees, crisp blue skies, cool air, and all things tailgating.

Like Tiger Walk.
Oh, and I think I forgot to mention: WAR EAGLE!! 5-0!!?? Not too shabby for a team with pretty much an entirely new coaching staff.

2. At my grandmother's house in Tampa. Fall is my favorite season in Florida. Yes, Tampa has seasons. They're just subtle. That is why I love them. As long as it's cool enough to wear boots without sweating, I'm a happy girl.

3. Having a glass of wine at the little bistro up the street from my Mom's house in Roswell, Georgia. Fall makes Atlanta actually enjoyable. Otherwise it pretty much sucks December-August with a nice week or so of spring thrown in there around the beginning of April.

4. Seattle, Washington at Snoqualmie Falls. I know that's random, and I have no physical photographic evidence to back it up. I did at one time, but Snapfish ate the photos from our trip a few years ago. I'm not really sure why. Or how. Anyway, don't listen to people who say all it does is rain in Seattle. Fall is spectacular up there. The tree leaves change color. I don't know why that surprised me, but it did. Note to self: Fall happens in the Northwest.

5. Rounding out the Top Five Places I'd Rather Be Than Here in October: Ummmm, anywhere? Yeah, you knew that was coming.
Ok, ok, I'll pick an actual place:

New York City. Again, another city that is pretty miserable at all other times of the year. Summer- can be brutally hot. Winter- way too cold and slushy (Times Square on New Year's Eve is great to do once in your life and then that's enough of that).
Although, I'm not sure Scott would agree with me on NYC in the fall. It can be rainy and wet in the fall too. Especially uncomfortable when wearing wet cashmere sweaters while hailing a cab. (Well, I wasn't going to do it):

Victory

2009-09-08T18:41:00.004-04:00

Yay!
37-13. A definite W. I'll take that for our first game of the year!!

Still pissed about the Tuberville thing... and still not sure what a Chizik is. But I will try to stay positive. War Eagle!

Fins

2009-08-14T15:15:00.005-04:00

New obsession: the color turquoise.
It's kind of a weird time of year to want to decorate the house in blue, since I'm also attracted to autumn's rust and red.
I think it has to do with missing living near the water. Not that we were at the beach every weekend, but water was all around us and I probably saw it more than I realized at the time. Driving into St. Pete meant crossing the bridge and getting a good five minute view of the bay. Part of the appeal of favorite restaurants like Oystercatchers, Bahama Breeze, and Frenchy’s was being able to sit by the water. I’d go out of my way in South Tampa to drive down Bayshore Boulevard. It was sort of meditative for me. Even the nightly news bump shots provided a glimpse of beach sunsets or the redneck fishermen hanging out on the Gandy or Courtney Campbell.

I miss the water. So until we move back, I’m going to bring the water to me. In the form of Z Gallerie. I got this vase in turquoise on my lunch break.

I’m sort of reminding myself of Darryl Hannah in the movie Splash when Tom Hanks gives her the Tiffany’s box and she loves on it because it’s blue like the ocean. Oh my gosh, y’all, maybe I’m part mermaid. I wonder if that would help me get a job at Weeki Wachee Springs.
I think I could pull off the fins, don't you?

There is a Season

2009-08-12T16:38:00.002-04:00

I am bummed. Fall is one of my favorite times of year, and a lot of that has to do with my Auburn Tigers. Now, I didn't used to be such a college football fanatic. In fact, I can remember 'pretending' to go to a game when I was in school there with one of my friends. We got all dressed up and walked around the stadium to see people.... and then we went home. I'm not really sure why? I just remember thinking that it was hot and we wanted to get ready to go out later.

That girl has come a long way. Something clicked the year I graduated when I met Scott in Auburn for the AU/Bama game. I actually wanted to go and also actually cried when we lost.

Since then, the football fever has become more... intense. Auburn flags, t-shirts, and other items have ended up in the trash can after a loss to UGA or Arkansas (our Achilles heel in recent years for some reason). On the flip side, I have danced down College Street after an amazing upset over Florida that nearly gave me several heart attacks. I lost my voice for two days after an especially nerve-wracking win over LSU. I gleefully wore my AU shirt into gas stations in Gainesville on our way home from an on-the-road victory.

This is the time of year that I normally get all kinds of revved up. I read the sports blogs and AP wires for any information about our team and our SEC rivals. Scott and I mentally go down the list and see which games are wins and which ones are potential losses. We plan our AU road trip down to the tailgating spot and food. (Ok, I plan that part. Scott would tailgate standing outside the stadium pouring liquor into a cup of Coke from his plastic baggies hidden in his pants. Actually, he has done that on several occasions.) But I like to *plan* the list of who's bringing what where we are we meeting. And of course, I have to plan the outfit! Finding something to look sporty, cute and be somewhat comfortable in for an entire day of tailgating is not as easy as it looks, my friends. (Ok, it usually involves shopping, which is not so hard).

But not this year. No, there is no joy in Mudville without our coach.

I just can't get behind this, much less wear it:

What the hell is that?

Oh, Auburn. It's going to be a long season.

32 Years Later

2009-08-09T16:10:00.014-04:00

So exactly 32 years ago, I was born right here in Houston, Texas. What weird set of circumstances have led me back here now, I have to wonder. I'm also wondering when the call is coming to say we're going home!

Because:

hahhahahhahahahha! Yes, my husband and the friends that I've met since moving here apparently know me pretty well.
They know I like:

Surprise birthday parties:

Shrimp boils:

Presents!

Shots! (I'm pretty sure that was straight vodka, Cedric)

And general craziness:

Thanks for making Texas not suck so much, y'all.

Antique-y

2009-08-02T22:43:00.001-04:00

Sold! I saw these at an antique mart and wanted them for the dining room wall in a bad way. Scott didn't get it at first. "Why do you want something that looks old and beat up?"
Will the boy never learn? (I also wanted these bad-ass King Louis Bergere chairs that were purple velvet with gold-tone frames, but Scott said no. He said we didn't have anything that matched purple chairs. Which, that is the entire *point* but whatever. They will be mine one day. Oh yes... they will be mine.)

Anyway, apparently these window panels or shutters or whatever they are came off some gorgeous Spanish church in Mexico. Probably someone actually found them full of termites in a junkyard somewhere, but still. They are international! And now they are on my wall:

I hate that we live in a rental house right now. It is killing me not to paint that wall a lovely dark yellow... or a red maybe... or even a turquoise.
When we get back to Tampa I will have my turquoise wall. Right? Right???

Summer fare

2009-08-01T22:43:00.002-04:00

Shrimp, basil, cherry tomatoes and a sprinkle of parmesean cheese. Delish. This is the most cooking I've done all week, since it is still 100 degrees here. Everyday. Welcome to the Seventh Layer of Hell.
At least we have shrimp.

Texture

2009-07-26T19:44:00.002-04:00

Guess who discovered how to add texture layers to photos?

Time for a Change?

2009-07-22T22:38:00.008-04:00

Why, yes, that is Tim McGraw. And yes, I am making some sort of strange gopher face in my excitement. Because of course I couldn't play it cool. Of course not.

Anyway. Why am I bringing up a photo from two or three years ago, you may ask? Well, I need some opinions. I'm considering getting highlights again. (And I happen to have highlights in the above picture. It also happens to be one of my favorite photos ever, despite my ridiculous expression. So humor me.)
It's been two years since I colored my hair. And that's unusual for me. I've been dark brown, brown with highlights, sort of blonde and red. I love playing with hair color. But I had a really horrible experience with my last hair stylist that has left me totally afraid to ever put bleach in this hair again.

I loved my stylist. He knew my hair and could do no wrong whether it was dark, blonde-ish or reddish. Until he developed a TEENY tiny drug problem. I'm not too familiar with how people act when they're on coke, but let's just say that it became pretty obvious. And me, like a dumbass, kept going to him. Because, let's face it, a drugged-up stylist that you know and trust is better than one you've never let touch your hair, right? You could end up with a mullet or green hair or something worse from a new stylist.

Or, your old stylist could be high and screw up your color. Big Time. I went in for my yearly autumn "let's add a little reddish brown to the mix" phase. I always do that in the fall. Something about cooler air in Florida makes me want to wear boots, sip hot cider and dye my hair.

And so I went in with a head of blonde summer highlights and asked for the pretty brownish red color he put on my hair the previous year. It was subtle. It was the kind of red that looked like a rich brown until the sunlight hit it, and then a hint of red came through. It was perfect.

Except he not only used a different color... he used TWO different colors. One on my roots and one on the rest of my long hair when he went to mix up more color. I left in tears with a crown of purple red hair on the top of my head and an orange-brown color on the rest.

I was sick to my stomach. There is no way to really FIX a color job that bad. He did try, but the problem was that the blonde hair had soaked up so much color that no matter what he did, my hair was two-toned. It was a horrible feeling to know that I hated my hair. It took about a year for it to totally grow out.
I never went back to him, obviously. But I also never trusted another stylist to color my hair.
I wore a LOT of hats that year:

And now... I'm bored. Bored with the brown. I want to change it up. So I'm thinking... maybe just a FEW caramel colored highlights? Could it be that bad?
Surely that sort of thing only happens once in a lifetime, right?

Should I go for some highlights, or stay a brunette?

(And I'm not going THAT blonde. But that's just to give you an idea).

10 Things

2009-07-21T16:30:00.006-04:00

10 Things I Wish For:

1) To see my little cousin soon. (She is moving to Austin with her fiance next week. Yay for family in the same state!)
2) My eyelid healing quickly. (And looking normal when it does)
3) My dad having the strength to overcome.
4) This dress (I may have stolen this from GRITS. But she seems sweet and like she'd share the love of Lilly.)
5) These boots
6) Cooler weather (you know, just under 105 degrees would be nice).
7) A tan.
8) Tim McGraw tour (withdrawal!!).
9) A safe and fun trip to Virginia for my brother's wedding next month.
10) A moving van filled with our belongings, heading back to Tampa. I wish for that. A lot.

Stock Up, Stock Down

2009-07-21T16:02:00.004-04:00

We're going to play a little game called: Stock Up, Stock Down.
It's pretty easy, I think you'll get the hang of it.

Kasey: Stock down. She's staring at the front door, pining away for Scott who left for San Antonio this morning. She refuses to hang out with me. What kind of a dog won't hang out with her mom, especially when her mom is recovering from eyelid surgery?

(Which leads into)
Eyelid: Stock Up... so far so good. It's healing slooooooowly. Some bruising still and it's still very swollen, but otherwise all is well.

(Except for...)
Recovery: Stock Down. I AM SO TIRED OF SITTING AROUND THIS HOUSE, DEAR GOD. You ever wish you could just laze around and not do anything for days on end? Yeah, I'll never wish that again. Since I'm not allowed to do anything that might raise my blood pressure and possibly open the incision on my eyelid, I have to just sit. No exercise. No bending over. Do you know how often during the day we bend over? To tie a shoe, grab the dog's leash, pick up the trash, or get something out of the oven?? Do you know how hard it is to avoid doing all of that?? I just want to go to the gym! Or clean the house- how bad is it that I want to clean just for something to do?

Braces: Stock Up. Again, so far so good. No broken brackets, no major issues. Of course I want to take them out myself with pliers at times. But I'm hanging in there. (8 more months, 8 more months...)

Scott: Stock Way Up. He has played endless games of Yahtzee with me this weekend and cooked for me and wouldn't let me lift a finger, literally. He even drove way out of his way just to get me more wax for the braces today. Such a sweet boy.

Baby Showers: Stock Down. I am missing one of my best friend's showers back in Tampa this weekend. I can't even describe how sad it makes me. Normally baby showers are kind of lame and boring: a bunch of women sitting around watching the mother-to-be unwrap Boppy pillows and Bumbo seats (or whatever they're called). But this baby shower is different, because this mom is different. Her first child's shower was at a funky urban coffee house. There were no "Guess how large the mommy's tummy is" games played. We all had such a good time that no one wanted to leave. And if you've been to your fair share of baby showers, that is saying something.

(Which brings me to...)
Texas: Stock Continues on a Downward Trending Spiral. Seriously. Time to go.

Things I Can't Eat....

2009-07-20T22:47:00.003-04:00

It has been one week since I had braces put on my upper teeth. For the second time in my life. Good times! I've already gone through one packet of wax. Oh yes, the wax is exactly the same. That's because braces are still just as sharp and uncomfortable. Also the same? The never ending list of things I can't eat. Like:

1) Apples. So long, my daily 4pm ritual. I can no longer bite into an apple for another 8 months. In fact, I can't bite into anything that requires front teeth action. So tacos, big sandwhiches, baguettes, English muffins and bagels are all things I've struggled with in the past week.

2) Caramel

3) Carrots and celery (see #1)

4) Salad (I don't know why exactly, but I'm having a hard time with this)

5) Jason's Deli turkey wrap

I'm sure there are many other foods I can't eat. But these are the main ones that are pissing me off tonight. Oh well, just another 8 months of this...
I'll post some photos of my new additions when I'm not feeling so self concious. Which will probably be never.

Big D.

2009-07-12T14:59:00.003-04:00

It's too bad that you can't hear the Dallas theme music running through my head as I type this. Because that would make it more real for you. Right? Right.

In our effort to find a city in Texas that does not suck, we have been to Austin, San Antonio, Houston (obviously) and now Dallas. Let's run down that list, briefly.

Austin: We visited Austin a few years ago and it was..... hot. That's honestly all I really remember. We went there just after Hurricane Katrina and the overflowing levees destroyed New Orleans. My friend Susie moved to Austin from Tampa a while back. So we made a trip out there in early September and it was about 105 everyday. Austin wasn't really what I expected. We stayed a few blocks away from the University of Texas, right downtown. But it was not a typical college town. Of course, I might be kind of biased, being that I went to the best university ever. Still, there was no real 'university' feel to Austin. No school spirit. No tailgating or Tiger Walk. That left us a little disappointed. I did get a pair of real cowboy boots while we were there. So it wasn't a total loss. And we got to hang with Susie on the famous 6th Street.

Fast forward a few years... and we moved to Houston. Obviously, not the best move. However, we both have good jobs and are blessed and blah blah blah. Houston is just huge. Sprawling. Hard to get around. Not a pretty city. And oh yeah, it's HOT.

San Antonio: We ventured out of town on Valentine's Day to visit the city three and a half hours west of us. San Antonio is odd. If you like Mexican food, you'll love it. If you are allergic to it, then San Antonio is probably your version of hell. I'll leave it at that.

Plus, Scott was terrified that he'd fall into the river at the Riverwalk the entire time we were there. Even when we were miles away from the river.
At least it wasn't hot.

But again, we were on the search for a city that had a Karyn and Scott vibe. A cool city with fun things to do. A quick weekend trip that we'd be able to look forward to every now and then. We were running out of places that are within a reasonable driving distance.

Dallas: I didn't know what to expect. There is a saying out here that if you love Houston, you'll hate Dallas and vice versa. This gave me hope. But I didn't want to get too excited.

We went up there last weekend for the Fourth of July. And........ it doesn't suck. Actually, it's really cool.

(Lobby at the W)
Swanky, even. We stayed downtown at the W Hotel in Victory Park thanks to Scott's mom and her awesome family discount.
I loved the W, but Scott had a few meltdowns over the service at the hotel. However, he also drove the wrong way down the same one way street multiple times on our trip, so I'm not really sure he was mentally all there that weekend.

But we both were pleasantly surprised by Dallas. It's kind of the opposite of Houston in every way: No feeder roads! Low humidity! A central downtown where people live, work and play.
Take a look for yourselves:
A cool theater:

Lovely tree-lined streets. Anyone who says Dallas has no trees hasn't been downtown or is confusing trees for bums. Dallas has no bums. But there are plenty of trees:

See? More trees:

I'm checking the concert schedule to see who's playing here:

I took that from our hotel. How awesome is that? The American Airlines arena is right downtown. Imagine a city where you don't have to drive 45 minutes to see a concert.
Dallas, I think I love you.

Rah.

2009-07-12T14:57:00.000-04:00

All was well, except now I am having html issues.

Doh!

Moving On

2009-07-12T14:42:00.001-04:00

Oh y'all, this is so much easier. Blogspot is kind of generic, yes. But Wordpress would not let me share any of my photos with you anymore. It used to be so simple, and then .... something happened. I don't know why. I suspect user error but that has not been confirmed. Also, the dog looks like she may know more than she's saying.

So you can find me here. On Blogspot. Does that make me a Blogger? Or a Blogher?
And now the real question: Do I move over all the posts from TampaBayBites? Or just let them go?