Monday, November 26, 2007

Dear Santa Claus...

I think I may need a GPS.

For many years I have considered myself to be fairly geographically inclined. I can usually find my way around and know more or less where I have come from and where I need to go. So, I ask, how is it that I made it to Goodlettsville TWICE today without trying?

Goodlettsville is a suburb of Nashville to the North and while trying to travel from North Nashville to East Nashville, somehow I ended up in another county. TWICE.

I have lived in the Nashville area for 13 years and can make it from Franklin to Nashville on I-65 with my eyes closed. Well, at least I think I could, I've never really tried. However, the second I veer off of 65 onto 40, 440, or 24 I have no idea what's going on. In fact, for a few years while in college, I would have to call my good friend Sara (who had lived in Nashville for considerably less time) and ask her how to get to the airport. And yes, I had to call her EVERY time.

This is not something I understand. I have always thought I knew what was going on regarding directions and arriving to point B from point A but at some point that information left me...Probably with the part of my brain that remembers names...but I digress.

So, here is my Grown up Christmas List:
A GPS - so I can successfully drive to my clients' houses

And, well, while we're at it, I'd like a new camera, clothes, Money, maintenance on my car, a massage, and a new pair of brown boots.
Sarah Katherine Lindsey
P.S. I'm ALWAYS good.

Monday, November 19, 2007

Archive #7 - Baby Got Back

One of my favorites:
Wednesday, August 01, 2007

Workin it

It's no surprise that I was "blessed" with a larger backside than some other white girls. I've always had it, always will and unless it gets to the point where I have to order an additional plane ticket to ride comfortably, I'm ok with it.

It is also no surprise that men (and women apparently) of some ethnic groups (hell, "even white boys got to shout") are particularly fond of a girl who's "got a motor in the back of her Honda."

Ever since I "became a woman" I have endured comments from men about the booty. Once when walking back to our ghetto hotel in New Orleans, a man screamed down the street "Dayum! You got a booty like a black girl!" Thanks.

Having that said, the following is what I had the pleasure of experiencing today:

For my internship I go to client's homes in predominantly African American neighborhoods mostly comprised of government-owned housing. Today I went to see a client. She was not home. On my way back to my car I walked by quite a few of the residents. They were men, women, babies, teenagers, etc. On the opposite side of the street was a woman walking and carrying her small baby. I hear:

"Work it girl!"

I ignore it. Surely no one is yelling at me. I look around.

"Work it girl!"


"Work it girl!"

It's clear she's talking to me, now. I laugh.

"It's been a while since I seen a booty like dat on a white girl!"

I laugh again

"You work it girl, work it, work it, work it."

So I get back into my Honda, promptly turn off my workout tapes by Fonda and dial 1-900-MIX-A-LOT. Baby got back.

Archives #6 - New Shoes, New Shoes on my Feet

Sunday, July 29, 2007
New Shoes, New Shoes on my feet
I'm a shoe girl. Nope, haven't always been a shoe girl but for the past few years my love has grown...and grown. I have red shoes, orange shoes, green shoes tall shoes, flat shoes, shoes with zippers, buckles, peep toes and laces. There's even a pair of leopard print pumps in there (thanks Annie) and no, I have not had the guts to wear them yet.
Taking that into account, probably my favorite pair of shoes at this very moment are these:

No, it's not the stark white exterior (although I am a fan of the "lightning/kiwi/navy" color combo), it's what's inside that counts.
There's just something about new running shoes that make me, the never-meant-to-be-an-athlete type, feel like I could run a marathon. Right now.
I never quite knew what that felt like until last year when I finally broke down and went to Fleet Feet to get "fitted" for running shoes that actually fit me and are good for what I use them for and won't make me feel arthritic after a half a mile stroll down my street. So, I went in, got fitted, spent my $90 and immediately went home with extreme buyers remorse. $90? on shoes? Yeah, not something this girl on a budget does, needs to do, or can do for that matter. I promptly found them online for $30 cheaper and returned the expensive pair to the store, tail between my legs, embarrased and guilty that they spent time fitting me and I didn't buy from them.
The truth is, I have a guilty conscience and feel guilty about almost everything so it wore off pretty quick when I put those babies on my out-of-shape feet.
I began to run down my street and actually noticed the lack of back pain, knee pain and hip pain. No sir, these new Asics weren't my former New Balances from the sale rack. These had, what's the! I ran my entire trek around my neighborhood and wanted to run more. I began to think crazy thoughts of training for the marathon and buying a new sports bra. I was a runner! A real live runner!
For those of you that know my "athletic" history, you will know that it is short and uneventful. I used to whine and get out of P.E. I would always get this cramp in my foot that made it feel "like it was going to rip in half" and so I would get out of any long distance walk or run that I could. I didn't run my first mile till I was 19. For me to feel like a "runner" is absurd.
All that to say, the first pair of real live running shoes have since lost all means of support and have been reduced to mowing(ha! I don't mow)/camping/OLD shoes. I found a new pair of the same model, new year shoes (also for $30 cheaper, I might add) and received them in the mail this week. Tonight was the first night I was able to put them on and I promptly ran 3 miles...with a Golden Retriever for 1 1/2. I had energy, stamina and my legs feel great.
Now, I'm not going to go crazy and actually consider the marathon (I have what, 9 months, to think about it?) but I just might go for that new sports bra.

Archives #5 - TMI

This is from my days working as a Social Worker in a Medical Clinic.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

TMI Current mood: Ewwww
Working in a medical clinic has it's free Advil and medical advice. However, working in a medical clinic means that people automatically think you know what to tell them about their problem...or that you care. Granted, if I had been to any amount of medical school then I would possibly be qualified to tell someone how much medicine to take or what to do about that growth but I have not even set foot in a school where they teach you that kind of stuff. I'm a social worker. I don't even know what to do about the cold I've had for 4 days.
My absolute favorite is when people decide that I need to know about their weird growth or sexual dysfunction. Yeah, I don't want to know nor do I need to know....not for your benefit OR MINE. Yesterday I had a patient/volunteer tell me about his erectile dysfunction as if I could do anything about it. Another time a patient told me that "She has just lost all Sex-ual desire."
These are things that the average human being does not need to know about you. In fact, the only time I can think that I would need to know that is if we had shared wedding vows and a bed.
So, take 2 Advil, call me in the morning, and hold the details.

Archives #4 - Goodbye my Sweet Aunt Dorothy

Monday, December 11, 2006

Goodbye my Sweet Aunt Dorothy

This weekend I traveled unexpectedly to my Great Aunt Dorothy's funeral. It was a wonderful celebration of her life and a good time to be with family. She was a beauty queen, Methodist Sunday school teacher, cattle farmer, mother of 2, Grandmother of 4, artist, flower arranger, and gardener.
I learned a lot about her this weekend. She was a perfectionist who always believed in doing your best and looking your best. She gardened in pearls and high heels. She painted beautiful paintings that she would never give to us or give and take back because she didn't like one part of it. A few years ago I fought her for a pastel drawing she did of me when I was young. It was very well done but she didn't like the nose so she refused to give it to me. I eventually told her that she had no choice and that it was going home with me. I think I got some of my strong will from her as well.
Aunt Dorothy was the first woman in her town to buy blue jeans but only because she needed them for working with her cattle. She despised jeans and to this day I'm not sure that she's seen me wear them more than once. She was very focused on looks and weight and keeping slim. One must "neva let yourself go." In order to leave the house it was a few hours ordeal because you couldn't possibly leave the house without a full face of makeup on, pearls and high heels. Like I said, the woman GARDENED, as in WORKED IN HER YARD in heels and pearls. What a woman.
This weekend I became painfully aware of where I received my perfectionism from. At this time I want to thank my Great-Grandmother Ada for raising her two daughters, my Grandmother and Great-Aunt, to believe that you have to be perfect. I don't even know where I'd be if I didn't have such a high standard to live up to. Wait, I see it, it's me in blue jeans at the grocery store with NO lipstick on. AHHHHHH!!!!!!! Actually, I'd do really good to be at the grocery with blue jeans AND lipstick on. People might think I'm going to a party.
I am confident that Aunt Dorothy is up in heaven giving the other angels a run for their money. I'm sure for her new body she picked out the one she had when she was a beauty queen. She was gorgeous and she HATED being old. She's probably eating bags of potato chips because she can and there's no way you can get fat in heaven. She's probably painting beautiful paintings with the nose just right and enjoying time with her husband, Uncle Brister.
Rest in Peace, Sweet Aunt Dorothy. We love you and miss you.

Archives #3 - Yay! I saved for college at...

Monday, July 24, 2006
Yay! I saved for college at...
Current mood: Apparently drunk

I am enrolled in a program called Upromise which allows me to "Save for college with my every day purchases!" Since I have graduated college I am no longer saving for it but paying it back, penny by penny. This program is good in theory but apparently I don't shop at the right places because every time I get one of those monthly statements it ALWAYS says that I have saved $0 for college and I should spend more money at their sponsored stores. Honestly, that's way too much work for me and I'd rather just spend money where I usually spend money and see what happens.
Out of all of the emails I have received from them I have only received two that say that I have actually saved for college. They come in bright lettering and lots of exclamation points to say: CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE SAVED FOR COLLEGE AT... The anticipation nearly kills me as I open the email to see what kind of purchase I made that contributed to saving for college. Was it Kroger? Target? Was it because I bought a book that will better my life?
Oh no, the two that I have received have not been from Kroger or Target or some intellectual bookstore but McCreary's Irish Pub and Jackson's Bar and Bistro. Apparently my drinking is really helping me out on those college savings...All $2.20 of it.

Archives #2 - C-I-V-I-C spells Defeat

This expresses my love for FREE STUFF
Original post: Wednesday, May 10, 2006
C-I-V-I-C spells DEFEAT
Current mood: defeated

If you know me well, you know that I LOVE FREE STUFF. Therefore, it only fits that I am a HUGE fan of Dumpster Diving. Every year around graduation time I stalk the parking lots of college apartment complexes and dorms to see what kinds of goodies I can find. The year I graduated I found a futon frame, a microwave, a desk, a desk chair, an over-the-door shoe rack, and tv trays all at the same dumpster. Some poor guy couldn't fit it in his car to take home so therefore it became mine, all mine, for FREE.
This year was the same, driving around Belmont and Vanderbilt's parking lots looking for something that would fit nicely in my new house. There was little left because it was evening and not everyone has moved out yet but I did find a desk at a dumpster at Belmont. I need a desk and have needed a desk for a few months now but was waiting for such a momentus occasion as graduation/move out time to score one for free. That's just how I do it.
So last night after my sister's middle school choir concert I decided to make the rounds at Belmont. I found this desk, eyeballed it and decided that yes, this desk will be mine and I will take it home with me tonight. So, I got out of my car and emptied my back seat. My trunk is full of old clothes that I am trying to get rid of and just haven't yet so that wasn't an option. So, I think I have pretty good spatial judgement and so I pick up the desk (first time not so heavy, times thereafter heavier and heavier) and proceed to put it in my backseat. It barely fits but I can budge it...just not far enough. I walk it around to the other side of the car to try the other way. Still no budging. Soooo, determined not to be defeated, I emptied my trunk into my back seat and after strategically arranging it, I lifted it up...AND, it's TOO WIDE.
After many attempts and even calling a friend with an SUV, I determined that a Honda Civic is not an appropriate vehicle for furniture hunting. As of now, the desk has been sitting in the pouring rain overnight and is probably no good anymore which totally bumms me out.
It was a perfectly good desk, on a perfectly rain-free night with a not-so-perfect mode of transportation.

Archives #1 - Things that Make you Say F.%@ or The Day I Flooded the Caldwell's House...Twice

This Blog was originally written on Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Things That Make You Say F.%@, or The Day I Flooded the Caldwell's House...Twice.

For those of you that know me well know that I do not like the "F" word. I don't like to say it (nor do I on a regular basis) nor do I particularly care to be around people that use it in their daily vocabulary. This really goes for any "cuss words" when it comes down to it. I am a firm believer though that if you are going to use such words let there be a purpose for it and let it be loud!
I believe that this past Sunday I had every reason to use whatever word or words that I wanted to and I had every right to scream them loud enough for neighbors to hear.
This past Sunday I flooded the Caldwell's playroom, not once but TWO TIMES. I said lots and lots of really ugly horrible words and I actually REALLY enjoyed it. Thank GOD it was Communion Sunday, I had a lot to ask forgiveness for.
It started out like the past 4 Sundays that I have been at the Caldwell's house. I woke up, stripped the sheets to wash, started the coffee maker and went down to throw the sheets in the wash and shower. I threw the sheets in the washer and started it but decided that no, I was going to wait until after my shower to wash sheets and I'd throw the towels in too. I turned the washer off. So I showered, threw in my towels and started the wash AS I WOULD ANY OTHER DAY.
I went upstairs to get ready, hair dried, makeup and all. I picked up my purse, suitcase and keys and proceeded to walk downstairs to go to church. I was on time (which is rare) and I was ready to go to church to sing at the early service (my first time). I entered into the playroom which has the door to get out, my phone rang (it was my parents, making sure I was up), and as I was answering it, I stepped into a half inch of water. Oh yes folks, a half inch of water that covered a good 10 feet out and 15 feet wide of the wood floor playroom that has lots of books on the floor as well as an area rug and moving boxes filled with things like books and photo albums. F&&&&&&$$$$$$$$$@@@@@@@@!!!!!!!!!!!!
It started with "Damnit, Damnit, Damnit" then went to "SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT" then further to the word of the day. Yup, the "F" one. The floodgates opened and much like the overflowing washing machine the "effing" river flowed.
Thankfully it was my parents who called and I could immediately freak out on the phone (minus the horrible words) and tell my dad to come with the shop vac and NOW.
So my hero, my father came, shop vac in hand to assist his freaking out daughter who had flooded a home that 1). Was not hers, 2). will soon be on the market to sell, 3). belongs to a family who is traveling from their SECOND funeral in a week and has had a HELLUVA YEAR, and 4). has had a contracter working downstairs to repair the garage celing (which I decided to send water flowing through the light fixtures of).
The rest of the story is just boring details about vacuuming up water and setting out paper to dry and mopping and cleaning and saying more dirty words but all the while finishing the job (in my church clothes, mind you) and making it to church on time.
I came back after church to make sure everything was ok and to try to run the laundry to see if it was me or the washer. Turns out it the washer was to blame and the shop vac had to make a repeat performance but this time wasn't nearly as bad because the floor was clear and we already knew exactly what to do to fix it.
Everything ended up ok and as it turned out, my dad noticed a potentially dangerous plumbing problem so in the end I actually SAVED them tons of money and problems by catching it before their whole house flooded.
All's well that ends well...F$%@ (For old times' sake)

Big-Girl Blogger

My good friend Annie ( inspired me to have my very own Big-Girl blog. So, I have decided to transfer my myspace blog to this site. My first few posts will be from the archives of my former blog.