Where in the world is...

Carmen Sandiego?  Well... I never really could quite get my Carmen finding shoes to fit just right so I don't really know.  However, I can tell you where I have been since my last post several months ago...

I've been living. 

Now before you scoff and mutter "No shit, Sherlock!" (Oh, too late perhaps?) Let me explain...

I've been REALLY living.  Not just going through the day to day motions of this crazy train we call life... but thoroughly enjoying living my life and all of the curveballs it has been throwing at me.  You see, I've learned that I can still bob and weave pretty darn well and my ability to roll with the punches, even when I thought I couldn't, has proven to be fruitful.  I have found happiness.  No, I didn't win the lottery.  I haven't been on any amazing trips, gotten a new car, been on any shopping sprees or anything like that.  I didn't even get new boobs!  But... I have found real happiness with myself, my home, my family, my career, my social life (or lack thereof) and many other aspects of my life.  I finally learned how to get out of my own way and the things that followed have left me with a complete feeling of satisfaction and peace.  I've grown up and it feels so good!  Yes, I have a long way to go but at this point in time I am happy with where I am and I will continue to allow things to just fall into place.  Who knew... you can't fit a square into a round hole, after all!

To those of you that are still following me, I appreciate your patience.  I hope to start blogging more now.  To those of you that don't follow me, you should.  To those of you that quit following me... I didn't like you anyway.

Small Town USA...

I spent my adolescent years in a small town in north Arkansas.  It wasn't very exciting to say the least.  There were no malls, a couple of three screen movie theaters, teenagers cruised 'the strip' and parked in Wal-Mart parking lot for fun and our biggest dose of culture existed in the form of the owners of our only Chinese restaurant that was the butt of many jokes.  I was twelve when my Momma decided we were going to move to Sarasota - a much larger town in southwest Florida.  I hated her for taking me away from everything I knew. For those of you that are familiar with Sarasota, you know it's not that huge of a place.  However, for a young girl born and raised in north Arkansas it was like another world.  It took roughly 20 minutes just to get across town, there were several malls, movie theaters, museums, plays, operas, the beach and an incredibly diverse population of people from all over the world and different walks of life.  I adapted pretty easily like most children and talked myself into loving my new home.  I made new friends and became comfortable with my surroundings.  As I got a little older and had a child of my own, I realized that I missed my roots and was ready to slow down and come home.

At the age of 20, I moved back home to central Arkansas with my mother and my one year old son.  Even though I wanted to come back I felt like I was a little better than the people around me because of where I had come from.  I've learned a few things since then.  Looking back, I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity that I was given to experience living in such a place.  I am confident that having those experiences gave me an education that I could not have gotten in school.  However, I've recently learned a little more about myself, who I want to be and where I belong and that's right here in Small Town USA.

I live in a town where my roots are deep and pretty much everyone knows who you are or who you 'belong to'. My grandmother was a fixture at a local bank for years and my grandfather was well known for his charitable and political antics.  The house on the corner will always be their house.  I bathed my kids in the same yellow porcelian sink that my Momma, my sister, me and my cousin were bathed in.  Friday night football is a really big deal and you better be prepared to see someone you know at Wal-Mart.  Speaking of Wal-Mart, the parking lot has it's usual crowd of pick-ups and is often the scene of some colorful stories.  The field next to it is where many kids, including myself, had their first real kisses and there will probably always be a cross where a young man was accidentally shot there not that long ago. Any excuse is a good excuse to put on a 'feed' and our answer to everything is to sell food.  Town news spreads like wildfire especially now that we have Facebook and everyone comes out of the wood work for something exciting.  The swimming and mud holes have been the same for years and I find myself hanging out on the same sandbars in the bottoms that my Momma hung out on when she was a teenager.  The politics are still pretty crooked and the reputation of your last name definitely precedes you.  What's left of our downtown is mostly 'junk' stores.  Every once in a while someone puts something new in but it usually doesn't last long.  You'll hear a train whistle about every 30 minutes and unless you are at the right place you're just plain stuck on one side of town for a few minutes. I have to keep my yard looking pretty nice or someone will tell my Grandma.  I hate that phone call. Just outside the city limits you'll find river bottoms, farmland and woods amidst a slew of tiny communities where the same families have resided for countless years.

All of that may sound terrible to some of you.  At one time in my life I hated it.  I hated that everyone knew my business and that I couldn't wear my pajamas to Wal-Mart because I'd surely run in to some folks from church. But living in the city gave me just enough of a case of the "I don't give a damn's" that I am happy here. Because in this town...

They'll still carry your groceries out for you.  Young men still wash their trucks before their Friday night dates and they still open doors for women. If your dog gets out, someone will bring it back to you.  Unless the dog catcher gets it and even then you can usually talk him out of charging you anything to get it back.  It's still safe for our kids to run around the neighborhood until dark and most of the time people forget to lock their doors.  If your neighbor hasn't seen you in awhile, you can rest assured they'll check on you and everyone looks out for the elderly folks.  If someone saw me stopped on the side of the road they would stop and see what help they could offer me and if I had to walk somewhere you can bet I wouldn't be walking for long.  My family has been members of the same church for many, many years. I got married and my son got baptized under the same roof where we said goodbye to my beloved grandfather. Who, by the way, is buried in the same cemetery on the hillside as my great-great-great grandmother. When someone in your immediate family passes away you'll be assaulted with food and an army of people to help you get through the tough time.  People still sit on their porches and drink sweet tea.  I've seen more people drive a tractor or riding lawn mower through a drive through than I can count and it's funny every time.  It makes me proud that the same people that watched me grow up are now watching my children grow. I've spent long hours on the bleachers during baseball seasons cheering on the same boys like they were my own while sharing stories with their Mommas - who look after my son, too.  You can't buy alcohol on Sundays and you may have to wait awhile to get anything done during deer season.  One of my favorite things? When I went in to register my son for school, I didn't have to tell them who I was or who my kid was.  They knew because they've been with him for years and if I have a problem?  I can walk right in to the principals office... not wait for a call back only to have to explain who my kid is, who I am and what teacher he has - because they actually know him and care about him.

I spent a long time trying to figure out where I fit in and it was right under my nose the whole time.  I have found peace in finally knowing who I am and where I want to be.  I finally found out what's important and it isn't fancy clothes, designer handbags or the latest clunky gadget to 'keep me connected'.  It's the feeling of joy I get sitting around a fire and cutting up with good friends or wearing torn up cut offs and sticking my feet in the river.  It's the love I feel when someone hugs my neck in the grocery store and tells me how much they miss my restaurant.  It's the warm fuzzies I get when I have the opportunity to sit around and shoot the breeze with a group of contrary old men - some of whom knew my Grandpa and never fail to remind me so much of him.  It's the countless memories I have spread all over town - both happy and sad. It's the happiness I get when I toss my line out, even when I know I'm not going to catch anything but I try anyway... just in case.  And trust me... there is almost always a fishing pole in my trunk. Last but not least, it's the feeling of contentment I feel every time I hear the train whistle - which happens about every half hour or so.  When I was little my 'Poppy' and I would sit in the car downtown and watch the trains go by.  I always counted the cars.  I'm 27 now and it's been many years since he and I watched trains pass but I still count the cars and when the caboose goes by I always feel like he's sitting there counting with me.

Will I always live here? Probably not and I'm okay with that. I'm actually looking forward to spreading my wings a little bit.  There are places just like this one every where.  Will I have the same stories, friends, roots or memories? No but I can make new ones anywhere.  It's nice not to feel stuck or scared to leave - something I attribute to my little bit of 'culture education'.  The best part? I can always come back and it'll still be pretty much the same.  But wherever I end up, I'll always seek a little small town like this one because it's where I belong.

The moral of the story?

Be proud of where you come from.  It may not be glamorous and it may feel like a prison sometimes but it's home and a little piece of you will always belong there. And a little piece of it will always be in your heart.

Making changes...

I started this blog with a goal.  I wanted to have a little edge, a dash of humor but ultimately harbor a message that made it worth putting up with.  That goal doesn't include cutesy craft how-to's, warm-fuzzy pictures and play-by-plays of my kids birthday parties.  I try to chose subjects that avoid anything other than a vague reference to my actual life and its adorable details to keep in line with my plans for this blog.  So far, my intentions have more often than not gotten in the way of posting as often as I planned to.  I recently was discussing this blog with a friend of mine.  I was telling him about it, my plans for it, why I was having a hard time posting to it and all of that nonsense.  It was then that it occured to me that this is me blog and I can do whatever I want to it.  It's new, has only a few followers and will always be whatever I want it to be.  Sometimes the only thing I have to talk about is some of the craziness that happens in my life because it's what is on my mind.  Can I post about that and still relate it to my original goal?  Of course I can.  It's like a puzzle... and I like those!
So, why am I telling you all of this?  Because I recently decided it was safe and possible to add a bit more of a personal touch to my blog without risking the loss of my overall goal.  Will the blog change entirely? Not a chance.  There will never be a post about how to make a tye-dye shirt or a nature encrusted picture frame.  I'm pretty happy with my content up to date, however lacking it may be.  But from time to time there may be a post with a little more of a personal touch nestled in there somewhere... and I'm excited about that.

To those few of you that are my followers - thank you for sticking with me through the months of nothingness. I hope that these changes allow me to bring you more posts and in turn more followers.  I think opening up my creativity a little and allowing myself a little more content flexibility will do just that.    

The moral of the story?  Stop getting in your own way.  =)

Mother of the Year...

This week a three year old little boy was found dead in his Mother's apartment. Police found the child still warm in the oven after responding to an emergency call.  There appeared to have been some trauma to the head but it's unclear whether the child was dead before his Mother allegedly burned him in the oven. Undoubtedly, this is a sad story.  Although I chose not to get too worked up over it because my faith in the fact that everything happens for a reason is pretty strong.  The kid was probably doomed to a life of living hell with a Mother like that anyway.

Here is what baffles me...

Later in the article the Mother's twin sister goes on to say that her sister was a good person and Mother and people shouldn't judge her before they get all of the facts.  They shouldn't call her a bad Mother because that's not what she is.  Wait! What??  I'm sorry.  I must not have heard you right.  So let's be completely hypothetical here and say that the Mom didn't kill the kid.  He still somehow ended up in a hot oven that he obviously couldn't get out of.  As a parent, I've had some pretty big 'oops' moments.  I think we all have.  At times, parents can be their childrens worst enemies.  Ever shut your kids hand in a door?  Knocked them over? Yeah I think we've all been there.  But to screw up so bad that your kid ends up getting stuck in an oven and dies?  I can't say I've done that before...  Frankly, I've had my moments where I thought, "Oh crap!  I'm a terrible Mom!"  but I've got to say that this woman makes me look like the best Mom ever.  So thanks lady for screwing up so bad that I look good.  Suddenly taking my kids to the store with dirty faces doesn't seem like such a big deal.

And the moral of the story is... There comes a point in life when you have to stop wasting your time defending people that aren't worth defending.  Especially when they thought it a good idea to go all Betty Crocker on their kid.

Fly away friends...

I've noticed that the older I get the harder it is to make friends.  I've put a lot of thought in to why this is and I've come up with several reasonable answers.  It could be because I'm pickier about who I befriend.  Or is it that as people get older they are smart enough not to befriend me?  Maybe it's because as we get older we are less likely to travel outside of our already existing social circle for no real reason at all except we're content where we are.  I thought that other factors such as time and ability were pretty viable reasons, too.

Naturally, as it becomes harder to make friends you hold on to the ones you have tighter.  You also get a little more excited about the new ones you do make.  We've all been there, haven't we?  You meet a new person that you hit it off with right away.  You exchange phone numbers, Facebook information and whatever other method of contact you prefer.  You have many things in common, you invest a lot of time talking about current events and the rollercoaster of life and you may even tell some secrets.  Things are going great and you're stoked that you have this new person to hang out with.  Then for no obvious reason at all they're gone.  They don't return your calls or texts.  Maybe they don't show up for a planned outing.   You have this great new friend and the next thing you know your little friendly heart is broken and confused because they obviously aren't into hanging out with you anymore.  Do you smell bad?  Was the slightly racist joke you told too much?  Did they find out you really weren't rich after all? The bottom line is who knows!  At this point all we can do is try hard not to become the weird stalker-friend that no one likes to have.  Don't do that, it's creepy.

I'm a pretty big believer in people come in to your life for a reason and that reason may only last for a season.  If you've recently lost someone that you thought was going to be a good friend then I offer you a bit of advice.  First of all, don't take it personal.  Sometimes people just come and go and you're left with only yourself.  People are largely flighty by nature and suck in general.  The best thing to do is mold yourself in a way that you like and be comfortable with who you are because you are going to be alone with yourself a lot.  Second, put down the ice cream and get over yourself. Take a step back and take a look at the situation.  What was going on in your life when you met this person?  How did they fit in to your life at that point in time?  What did you get out of the friendship?  If you look hard enough you'll find some reason why they were beneficial to you at that point in your life.  If you look even harder you'll likely find why they won't be beneficial now.

Am I saying it's okay to be a fly away friend?  No way.  Don't do it.  It sucks and no one likes someone that changes friends like they hopefully change their underwear.  I'm simply saying that it's important to realize that they exist and you shouldn't always hate on them for having crappy social skills because your most recent fly away friend may have done something really great for you.  You may have to dig deep to find it and that is probably going to force you to be pretty honest with yourself but then again that's a good thing too, right?

Yes, it's certainly harder to make and keep friends as we get older.  Probably because life simply gets in the way.  Hold on tight to the friendships you already have.  Be a good person and do the right thing.  But if you had a bad experience with a fly away friend don't let it keep you from putting yourself out there and making new ones - even if they'll fly away too.  Chances are they did something for you and maybe you helped them, too.

Riding on the death bandwagon...

Over the weekend singer Teena Marie was found dead in her home by her daughter.  The "Ivory Queen of Soul" was 54 years old.  Well, that's sad.  I wonder how she died?  They aren't saying yet.  If we're lucky, something really interesting happened to her but she probably just died from a drug overdose or a heart attack.  I'm kind of tired of those causes of death among celebrities.  Why can't more people die in some freak accident?  Like Steve Irwin for example.  He died because a sting ray got him in the chest.  Not only was it a total coincidence that the sting ray had great aim but Steve died doing something he loved.  So now he has a cool story to tell in heaven and he doesn't have to pout because he spent all of that time and energy chasing after things he probably shouldn't have been only to die in his armchair for some boring reason.  Lucky bastard. 

Have any of you ever noticed that there is a death bandwagon?  Let's take Teena Marie for example.  Sure, she made history.  In 1976 she was the first white act signed by Motown.  She had a successful and inspirational career and was often regarded as a pioneer for many of the R & B divas.  Although would you want to be regarded as the person who paved the way for the likes of Mariah Carey to parade around acting like spoiled brats?  She was the lover of her mentor, Rick James (I know what you're thinking.  It's not the right time so don't!).  All in all, she was a talented singer and songwriter.  However, when is the last time anyone really thought about Teena Marie?  She probably hadn't heard from any of her fans and most of her friends and/or family for years.  Now she's dead and all of these #1 fans come out of the woodwork and talk about how in love they were with Teena Marie and how she changed their lives with this one song they heard back when they were 16 and having sex in the backseat of their parents car. 

It's so frustrating and sad to me that people wait until someone is dead to talk about how great they were and what a difference they made in their lives.  We see this most often with celebrities but it isn't just limited to them.  Even my beloved Grandfather, who was prone to tangents at the local City Hall and who sat in his yard hollering at passersby because they were driving too fast down our residential road, had a bit of a death bandwagon.  People that generally thought he poked his nose where it didn't belong and wouldn't give him the time of day when he was trying to address some issue that was important to him showed up at his funeral and talked about what a good guy he was.  Funny how they were all so quick to dismiss him when he was alive but talked about what great things he did (or tried to do) once he was dead. 

My favorite is when people who generally bad mouth someone during the course of their life show up at someones funeral and talk about how close they were and how much they liked and/or respected the person.  I suppose it's much cooler to be a friend at the funeral then the person the dead guy couldn't stand to be around.   

The bottom line?  If you love someone, if they made a difference in your life somehow, tell them now before you're the person that's singing the praises at the funeral of someone you haven't talked to for years.  And if you didn't like someone?  Don't go to their funeral.  Everyone will just talk about you behind your back.  On second thought... Just go ahead and go.  Let them talk about you.  Then they'll come to your funeral, too.

This is SPARTA!

Let's start out with a bit of a song, shall we?

"He's making a list, checking it twice..
Gonna find out who's naughty or nice...
Santa Claus is coming to town!"

If this were true, nearly all of the nation would be screwed out of every present they ever wanted.  What is it about Christmas that makes people lose their heads?  The closer it gets to Christmas the more you can expect people to act like absolute idiots that have no common sense at all!  You want a new pair of shoes?  TOO BAD!  You can't have them because you took out an eight year old with your shopping cart! HA!

I'm late doing my Christmas shopping.  Like always.  I've come to expect the normal hustle and bustle amongst shopping centers this time of year.  It's a fact of life that I've learned to deal with since I'm always late.  Naturally, a normal person would expect that since they waited until the last minute to buy gifts for the umpteen-gillion people on their gift lists that the crowds and lines were going to be horrendous and that many of the items they wanted were going to be simply gone.  However, since Christmas is literally right around the corner, people act as if they have gone completely nuts and normal is no longer an option.

For example, I was nearly run over more times than I could count today.  You name it and I was probably hit with it.  Strollers? Yep!  Shopping carts? Absolutely!  People? Of course.  Automobiles? You betcha!  Those electric scooters that mostly fat people take advantage of so that the people that really need them can't use them? Check!  I anticipated the hustle and still managed to go in feeling festive and quite cheerful.  I came out thinking that if it weren't for the fact that my son would really miss his beloved Halo Lego set that I would happily stick it right up someones butt with a beaming smile on my face.

Seriously people... get a grip.  It's CHRISTMAS!!!  We all have places to be, things to do, food to cook and gifts to buy.  I can assure you that your gifts are no more important than anyone elses... especially mine.  Oh, and that parking spot what was about half a mile from the door anyway??  You can have it... I'd rather spend my money for gifts for my loved ones than on repairing my bumper because the thought of walking an extra two parking spots difference made me want to cut myself. 

Practice a little patience, folks.  It's Christmastime.  And to those of you that still insist on shoving me around so that you can get the last Olivia house instead of me.... I hope Santa brings you coal!