This is Archie
Our sweet pupper, 13lbs of love and fluff.
Lately he’s being showing us his bark, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Heck, our cat not only outweighs him but is more of a bruiser than our boy.
But then, something comes over him. One minute he’s playing with his stuffed toys and the next…
the carnage begins
Rest in peace weird little ASPCA bird toy.
December 25, 2009-January 19, 2010
In line with the last post, here’s another little tid bit you may don’t know about me-I love a good quote. I love the feelings they evoke and the inspiration they can give. A good quote can center or, or rock you to the core.
For our 2nd ‘dating’ anniversary, knowing that I love to journal, the boy gave me a small leatherbound book with the words “carpe diem” embossed on the front. The book is a bit too small for a journal (particularly for a gal with as much to say as I do) so instead I created long desired compilation of quotes.
Though still in it’s infancy, there are already a variety of quotes. Everything from classic novels, to quotes found embroidered on tea towels. Anything that speaks to me.
The following is a quote that was in a Christmas card we received this year. I love the sentiment of it as much as the cadence. I also love the fact that the author is Ralph Waldo Emmerson. I learned this summer that my paternal grandfather, whose name was Ralph, held the middle name Emmerson after the great poet. Who would have known that this farmer family of mine had a love of poetry.
At any rate, without further ado:
Certainly I’m accused of being random…sometimes rather frequently. And you know what, I”m good with that. I keep it a little quirky. But that’s not what this post is about. Some time ago I started thinking about the things that no one really knows about me–things I don’t even know if the boy knows some of it.
Nothing earthshattering mind you; no felony records or hidden children. But still, random interesting little tid bits about yours truely. Today I thought I’d share a few here, just for.
I’m obssesed with ballet…or should I say ballet toe shoes. Oh yes, the en pointe jobbies. Just look at my outfit today. I have on a ballet inspired top in a power pink (ballet shoe color) and a pair of brown ballet flats, complete with squared off toe to even more resemble a real-life ballet shoe. Oh I never thought I could actually BE a ballerina…I’m not that naive. I’m about as graceful as a baby girraffe…and trust me when I say they aren’t. But oh how I love the way a point shoe looks, or the like pink of the satin, or the delicacy of the tulle tu-tu. In fact, I prefer the short little tu tu’s typically worn by the “lesser” parts to the long flowy dresses of the prima ballerinas. One time, my neighbor let me try on her pointe shoes. Aside from the fact that, oh, I’m not a ballerina, they were a solid 2-3 sizes too small. But I didn’t care. And I get up en pointe for about 2.7 seconds, which was followed by the world’s worst charlie horse.
But I would do it again.
You should also know that my worst fear is drowning. Oh sure the whole ‘no oxegyn’ part is bad, but I’m more concerend with the FISH. What if I swallow one or something starts nibbling at my toes while I’m busy dying?
Recently I was chatting with a dear friend of mine about the first night we met. She told me that when I walked into the room she remembers thinking how confident and self-assured I looked. I remember that night too…I remember not knowing anyone save the friend who invited me but trying to branch out. I remember “faking it” till I “made it”. And ironically I remember thinking how stunning she was. Funny how that works.
And you know what else, it was the Best compliment EVER.
I tend to take on the accents, mannerisms and ‘ticks’ of people I’m talking too. According to Oprah it’s b/c I’m good at relating to people. According to me though, I spoke wiht a Southern accent, then a Midwestern, then South Centeral and I’m pretty sure there was an Irish Brouge thrown in there all just between 2 and 4pm.
My memory is heavily connected with my sense of taste/smell. Sometimes Stargazer lillies stop me in my tracks. They used to be my favorite, but since I sat next to a bouqet at my uncle’s funeral years ago, it’s hit or miss these days. I kissed a boy in college whose scent was a mix of rum and Pepsi (Pepsi not Coke), skoal and CK1. I dated another boy who wore Versace’s Blue Jeans cologne. After we broke up I made the boy in front of me in math class move when he came in wearing it one day. (why I didn’t move I’ll never know). The boy however, has several scents. He is “the boy” afterall, so he gets multiples like that. Like the Burt’s Bee Balm, or the smell of his skin like soap, or Bourbon…though that last one usually doesn’t qualify as a “good” smell.
When I’m alone in the car, I like to turn on Broadway showtunes (my current fav is Wicked) and imagine I’m on the stage somewhere and belt it out. Usually it’s pretty detailed (and random). Like once recently on a particularly bad traffic day I imagined that the Ole Miss Marching Band was playing “Defying Gravity” and they had two women singing the appropriate parts, but then the one playing Elphaba got sick and they needed a stand in at the last min. Since my She She works for the Alumni Association she told them they should have me do it, and of course I had to fill in and save the day! So I get up on the riser and belt my heart out!
Yea, I’m a dork. I know.
So there you have it…you know me a little better know. Aren’tcha glad? 
Dear Interweb,
I am home. I thought that I just had a scratchy throat from the dry dessert air. I always do.
I thought the sneezing was from TI’s nasty casino perfume. It’s rank.
Sadly, I’m sitting on the couch in humid NOVA in a smoke-free house and my symptoms have only gotten worse. I must accept the sad sad fact that I’m sick.
I say it like that because aside from one other itty bitty detail* this is the first time I’ve been sick this winter and typically once I’m sick I continue to pick up crude until the spring.
At least I made it this far.
*The one itty bitty other little detail may be the fact that I just spent 7 days with the entire techy world. I can’t say how many people were there just yet, but I can say it’s a lot of people…a lot of people that I came in contact with one way or another.
Oops-sorry ’bout that press peeps.
Anywho, I’ll try to write about my week soon, but for now here are the top 10 things I learned this week:
1.) Added security screening apparently means that the United check-in agent has to call her friend “Ang”, chat for a few mins, then chat with “Mike” for a few more mins about where he’s been and what’s new and oh yea, confirm I’m not a terrorist. I feel so safe.
2.) I have the most beautiful downstairs bathroom thanks to my sweet husband…even if he did refer to it as “Tarheel Blue”-ACK!
3.) Treasure Island’s line of shampoo and condintioning products reminds me of something one would find at an *ahem* adult store.
4.) I FINALLY got to see the fountains at the Bellagio…was a let down. Even worse I thought they were “all of the way” down the strip. Umm yea, they were next door.
5.) Las Vegas is not for children. The flashcards they hand out, when accumulated, don’t equal a pack of “old maid” cards.
6.) 3D TV’s are cool, but mostly for gaming. And if you aren’t wearing the glasses you can be pretty sure you’ll end up with a migrane.
7.) New micro-blogging cameras are sure to cause a problem…but are freakin’ cool.
8.) Lady GaGa is the new face of Polaroid….umm WHY?
9.) The Tuscanny Suite at the Las Vegas Hilton has a 11 fireplaces, 12 TV’s, and 8 bathtubs including one that requires a lifeguard.
10.) Most of what you bring home from Vegas requires a Rx…bleh.
Disclaimer: I’m typing this on my Netbook for the first time. The keyboard, I’m fairly certain, was originally made for little people. As a former pianist who has more than a full octave reach this learning curve may prove challenging. In other words, I”m blaming my typos on the keyboard.
Dear JJill,
Over the past year plus, I’ve taken a special focus on trying to find “my style”. I’m still working on it, but from what I can gather I lean towards clean, flowing lines. You can imagine then my joy when I discovered you in all your clean flowing line goodness. YOu can imagine my extreme happiness when I found that you carry talls. And now that I’ve hit 32, (God that sounds old to write) I feel that I’m at the beginning stages of being able to wear your sundries…or at least I”m not waiting any longer and will just resign myself to dressing over my age. Ehh, why stop now right?
Ahem, I digress.
As you know by now, my sweet She She gifted to me a lovely gift card to your fine establishment for Christmas. Finally those beautiful dark indigo trouser jeans would be mine, all mine! But your sizing is….odd, and I found that according to you your straight size tall jeans would not fit, and therefore I would have to settle for women’s. Odd I tell you, not that Christmas has caused me to eat like a heifer or anything. But whatevs. Because you are the amazing store that you are, even your regular length pants will work. Be still my heart! So I placed my order, and I waited.
And waited.
And Waited.
At long last they arrived! And as I tried them on I discovered something so horrific, so tragic, so utterly unspeakable…..
There was elastic in the waist.
So maybe I’m not ready to be THAT old just yet.
Sincerely,
Me
PS-your pants were too big anyway, so neah!