more for Les

movin' on up

2010-08-23T15:53:00.001-04:00

Dear Reader,
This is my last blog entry for www.moreforleslie.blogspot.com/ Why??? CAUSE TREY MADE ME MY OWN WEBSITE!!! Cause he's awesome like that. So, this is just a little notice to tell you my blog address has moved to (wait for it...) http://www.moreforleslie.com/. Just drop the "blogspot." And now, go check out my beautiful new blog :)

dear reader

2010-08-11T14:31:00.000-04:00

I always love it when an author acknowledges you as "dear reader." It's like they know you're there and they appreciate your reading their work. It opens that fourth wall right up and acknowledges the bond that is formed when you read a book. Certain books touch you, affect you, and change the way you think, even feel about things. The best books inspire you.

When I'm shopping around for a book, I always open it up and read a page or two from the middle. I don't choose a book for the plot or the subject matter, I try to choose a book based on the author's writing style. The vocabulary, the turn of phrase (fyi: I love the phrase "turn of phrase"...I also keep trying to spell phrase with an f), the use of punctuation, these are the things that make me want to read (or not read) a particular book. I think it's this reason that being called "dear reader" warms my heart. Because, not only did I choose that author, not just the book, but that author is glad I chose them.

There is currently a stack of four books on my nightstand, just waiting for me to dive in, and for some reason I can't choose where to start. My father, for as long as I can remember, has always been able to read two, three...sometimes four books at a time. Quite frankly, I'm just too ADD for that. And yes, that is self-diagnosed.

What was I saying?

Ah yes. I can't seem to choose, because I can't seem to decide who's voice best suits my recent mood.

As I write this, I'm watching You've Got Mail. And right now it makes me want to go curl up in a corner at Barnes & Noble and get lost in the pages of some deep piece of fiction.

I don't know why I felt like sharing all this today, it's not even what I was thinking about when I clicked "new post" on my blogger dashboard page. I guess all this is meant to say thank you, dear reader, for blindly following my random thoughts...it really does mean a lot.

When I grow up...

2010-07-30T10:30:00.000-04:00

Ask your average 3rd grader and they'll have a ready made response...ask your average college student and they'll stare at you blankly as tears well up in their eyes and they fight back the urge to kick you in the shin.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

An astronaut, a cowboy, ballerina, teacher, doctor, lawyer, investment banker, missionary, preacher, photographer, actor, lounge singer, scuba diver, international spy...

As my 29th birthday was fast approaching, I realized something: I still don't know the answer to that question. But, thankfully, I've grown out of the desire to cry and kick people when they ask me. Somewhere along the way, we make a timeline for ourselves. I thought that by 25 I'd be married, thinking of children and well on my way to my desired career path. Now I'm 29 (holy cow...I'm TWENTY NINE!) and only one of those things has been checked off the grand To-Do list of my life. And strangely, that's an okay place to be.

So, maybe I can't tell you what I want to be when I grow up, but I CAN tell you this: I do not want to be a stock supervisor, store manager, courier, receptionist or office manager. And since I'm no longer any of those things, I find myself both terrified and excited at the prospect of finding a new job...even better, a career. The things I've loved doing in each of my past jobs were the things that were extra, not the things in my job description. At the Gap, I loved dressing the mannequins; at Hallmark, I loved arranging displays. It's the creative aspects that I got to include in each of my past jobs that I really enjoyed. Whether it's arranging words on a page, designing fliers and invitations, or arranging displays of knick-knacks, I'm happiest when my creative side can play.

When I grow up, I want to create :)

Intermission

2010-07-20T18:23:00.000-04:00

Somehow, in the midst of Project Powder Room, I got lost...distracted...saw-something-shiny-and-couldn't-focus. And that something shiny came with the delivery of my very first piece of REAL art :) I fell in love with My Painting at the Valdes exhibit at Hub-Bub during the run of Gutenberg: The Musical. And then, when the day finally came for the gallery opening, I got there only to find that My Painting had been SOLD! Lucky for me, it was sold to Todd Stephens, my Board President/former neighbor/all-around fabulous human being, who (after much begging on my behalf) sold it to me. Now, when you buy a painting at a gallery opening you don't get to take it home with you...you have to wait until the exhibit closes before you can get your art. And HERE is where Intermission begins...

Smack dab in the middle of Project Powder room came the close of the Valdes exhibit...meaning I had a bright new colorful painting that looked horribly out of place on the mantle of our earth-toned living room. So, while Trey was distract...er...busy filling a hole in the bathroom wall, I started rearranging things...a few knick-knacks from the guest room, a picture here and there...and before I knew it, we'd bought new curtains and a decorative hour glass and I'd totally reworked the living room. And of course, like with Project Powder Room, I have no "Before" picture to show for it.

Project Powder Room - Part 1

2010-07-08T14:37:00.005-04:00

"You have a great starter home!"

The first time I heard this, it sounded like a back-handed compliment. Starter home? As if we needed training wheels to have our own house. Ladies and gentlement, I am here to tell you that yes, you DO need training wheels. Home ownership is great...it's fantastic...you get to do things like paint and remodel without the permission of a landlord! But you also don't get to call the landlord when something breaks, or when the lawn needs some attention, or when there's a leak. No, you are solely responsible for taking care of those things on your own.

Ever since Trey and I got married, and I moved into his house (now, our house), there have been certain home-improvement projects that I've been dying to get my hands on...probably more than any other, was the overall make-better bathroom project. For those of you who have never been to our house, the hall bathroom (my bathroom - Trey uses the tiny bathroom off the master bedroom...I have too much crap to be confined to that space) is fine. Just fine. Not super welcoming or cozy, as I like for bathrooms to be. You know what I mean...don't you love it when you're a guest in someone's home and the bathroom is all neat and clean and has matching hand towels and candles lit? It makes you feel like you're not invading anyone's privacy, like it's the "guest bathroom." My bathroom's not like that. Mostly because the sink is cluttered with moisturizer and makeup brushes and random hair products.

Let me paint you a picture: the walls of the bathroom are cream colored, there's panelling around the room (about 4.5 feet high) with a chair rail at the top - the panelling is yellow. There's a white vanity with a medicine cabinet above that's so rusty that it can't be used, a cabinet that reaches from floor to ceiling, and a window that looks into the laundry room.

Well...not any more.

red

2010-06-25T15:37:00.003-04:00

Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood, you sure are lookin' good. You're everything that a Big Bad Wolf could want.
Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood, I'd like to hold ya, if I could. But you might think I'm a Big Bad Wolf, so I won't.

It's been a long week in the SLT office. Well, longer for some than for me...but I'm still feeling some of the effects. In about two hours, All-Day Production Camp will finally (FINALLY!) be over. In one week, one instructor, 5 helpers and 16 kids have put together a production of Totally Red - a 30 minute play that tells the story of Little Red Riding Hood in 5 different styles (including Shakespearean and Hip-Hop). And what have we learned this week? That no one should spend that many hours with that many kids. Ever. I honestly don't know how teachers do it. I would have committed so many violent crimes by now...

heavy

2010-06-21T16:37:00.003-04:00

Holy cow, it's been a while! My b.
Let's just skip the explanations and excuses and cut right to it, shall we?

Today I sound like an elephant.
How is that even possible? I'm wearing size 2 pants, and extra-small shirt (yes, I am bragging a little - hey, I lost 30 lbs and have kept it off for about 6 months...that's something I'm pretty dern proud of!), and some absolutely fantastic Jessica Bennett camel-colored-leather-pumps and I sound like an elephant walking down the stairs. And across the tile floor in the upstairs hallway. And across the carpet in my office. What is so freakin heavy that it weighs down all the daintiness I happen to be wearing today!?!?!?! We'll call it a "case of the Mondays" (thank you Office Space). Or we can call it my early-mid-life crisis. Or we can call it "I'm-supposed-to-sing-at-an-event-tonight-and-the-guy-who-roped-me-into-it-has-given-me-annoyingly-few-details." Whatever it is, I sound like an elephant.

And now, inexplicably, the song "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother" is stuck in my head.

it's a girl!

2010-04-28T16:45:00.006-04:00

Several months ago, I waved goodbye to my Saturn, Misty, and welcomed my fantastically spunky Kia Sorento...and was completely stumped as to what his/her/its name might be.

Tuesday, I was lucky enough to enjoy lunch with two of my favorite attorneys in all the land: Kristin & Shane (for those of you who used to read my myspace posts - that'd be CMA). We were discussing my change in vehicles during the meal - and then again via email from our respective offices because I was the idiot who left her windows cracked just enough for the inside of the doors to get soaked during the 10 minute downpour. I mentioned to them that the car had yet to be named. Shane was quick to respond with a slew of fun, yet not quite right boy names ("Gecko, Puff (the magic dragon), Goblin (as in the Green Goblin), My personal choice: Arnold (the pig from Green Acres)"). When I informed him that I was quite certain that my Kia was, in fact, a girl car, he was quick to suggest Jade - which we all agreed was a bit predictable. Kristin took the initiative to go online and check out some other names for Green...and she totally won!

The aforementioned promised cookie goes to Kristin Barber - my car's new name is a female Czechoslovakian name meaning “little green one."

Meet Zelenka :)

lucky me

2010-04-15T11:09:00.005-04:00

Please note the sarcasm dripping from this blog title in huge splashing puddles.

I'm having a week. You know what I mean. Nothing's going right, everything's going wrong, I'm on the verge of tears, and if you ask me what the heck is wrong I honest to goodness don't know how to answer. This happens to me from time to time. Sometimes I like to wallow in my self pity, sometimes I like to talk myself out of it...like yesterday. I decided it'd be good for me to get out of the house and play in the yard - an attempt to get back some of that yard work enthusiasm from last spring. So I got out the leaf blower and blew the pollen from the patio, I gathered limbs from the front yard so we can (FINALLY) mow the lawn, and I got out the weed killer and started attacking those evil mimosas. While I was at it, I decided to spray weed killer around the rocks that trim our front hedges. And that's when I found it. Under a shower of liquid plant death...a four leaf clover. Really.

Is a four leaf clover still lucky if you accidentally spray it with weed killer?

That's about par for the week. Arg.

athletic me

2010-03-31T15:18:00.002-04:00

I did it. I did it in under an hour and a half. I did it in precisely 1 hour, 23 minutes and 15 seconds. And I didn't get sick. And I didn't fall in the river. AND I'm actually pretty sure I want to do it again!

This past Saturday Blair, Melissa, Dominique and I drove down to Charleston for the 2010 Cooper River Bridge Run. And none of us vomited or shat ourselves. After some ridiculous girliness in the car and the LONGEST WAIT EVER for our dinner Friday night (how long does it take to make pasta, seriously...)and waking up at the ungodly hour of 5:00am we eventually made it to the starting line. Well...about half a mile behind the starting line. Of the 38,000 people who descended upon Charleston just for the purpose of running over a big bridge, I was number 24088. That was NOT my rank mind you, it was just the number I was assigned before the race. We had decided early on that Blair and Dominique (the more ambitious members of our foursome) would run ahead and Melissa and I would keep our short-legged duo and run the best we could...with the plan of walking UP the bridge. We ran a two full miles before the incline (heck yes, I could run two miles...and if I could run two miles, I could do anything). We started walking at the 2 mile mark, and started running again well before the 3 mile mark...which means, when all was said and done, we ran about 5.5 miles. I always thought people who could run five miles were athletic beasts! They were Ms. Dockery - the insane calculus teacher from FMHS. They were my friend Joey with his amazingly svelte runner's legs. They were people like Lance Armstrong without the bike. They weren't people with 27 inch inseams! Actually running across the finish line is something I consider to be no less than a miracle.

What does one do with this new found athletic ability? One SHOULD have committed herself to the nearest insane asylum...but nooooooooooo, this girl thought it'd be a good idea to start Power90 for the second time just 3 days after running her first 10K. And this time I promise to hold myself accountable by posting pictures...as I take them! I'm sure none of you noticed that I just never got around to that last time. SO - after the kick start week, I'll be taking my second "Before" pictures Sunday evening, so look for them sometime next week. And watch out - bathing suit season doesn't stand a chance against me this year!

a top ten list for you

2010-03-25T15:48:00.001-04:00

I know, I know. It's been an embarrassingly long time since my last blog post. My only excuse is that Seussical - the show that devoured everything in its path - also devoured any creative writing energy I may have had. That being said - here's my random blog post...

The top 10 actors I would most likely vote for should they run for President (please note that in this particular scenario my decision has nothing whatsoever to do with how well they might be able to run the country and everything to do with how awesome they are otherwise):

10. Kevin Kline - Have you seen Dave? Go rent it. Really. Because how can you NOT want Kevin Kline as president after hearing his rendition of Hail to the Chief? "Hail to the Chief, he's the one we all say hail to."
9. Bill Pullman - If you don't trust Bill Pullman to save your country (and the world) from alien invasion after seeing Independence Day, well then you just don't have any faith. Not only is he totally dashing (a fantastic presidential characteristic), he's level headed and cool as a cucumber.
8. Diane Keaton - She's confident, strong, no-nonsense but not without a sense of humor. Oh, and also, when I vote for her I'm not voting for her character in The First Wives Club, I'm voting for her in The Family Stone. Just so that's clear.
7. Colin Firth - Why not have a Brit? Since I'm making the rules here, I say I'll take a State of the Union Address with a British accent ANY DAY.
6. Annette Benning - While I know she wasn't the president in An American President, her character made me think she could have been. Which is why Annette has my vote. She fights for the little guy.
5. Don Cheadle - I just love him...don't you?
4. Sigourney Weaver - Sigourney Weaver could rule the country and the world and she'd kick some ass and take some names along the way - all while looking totally stunning. Like Bill Pullman, she could also totally save us from Alien (get it? Alien???) domination.
3. Michael Douglas - If Annette Benning's performance in An American President as the president's girlfriend earns her a place on this list, then certainly Michael Douglas earned his spot by playing the president. He also rocked my socks off in The Game. Which is why he'd have my vote.
2. Tom Hanks - I mean, the name speaks for itself. If Ronald Reagan can be president when all he did on the silver screen was play a cowboy, then Tom Hanks can certainly take over - he's brilliant. And also selfless...he did offer to jump into a volcano to save a small island. "He can GET the job, but can he DO the job." Heck yes he can! - "I'm not arguing that with you!"
1. Morgan Freeman - Okay, I'd have a hard time not voting for Morgan Freeman for president if he really ran. Seriously. Even if you only take his performance as the voice over guy for Visa, I'd still vote for him. But when you add in The Shawshank Redemption and Batman Begins (that is purely a reference to his particular character, not the movie as a whole)? How could anyone in their right mind NOT vote for this man?

I hope you found that entertaining and took it as a glimpse into how my twisted mind works...but not as any sort of insight into how I actually vote. Just so that's clear.

2010-03-25T10:19:00.006-04:00

Seussed

2010-03-16T09:44:00.005-04:00

For the past 6 weeks or so, Seussical has devoured me...and everything else in its path! Of all the shows I've ever done, no other has seemed to grow so completely out of control - and still manage to be amazing.

What started out as "Dr. Seuss set to music" ended up being something more like "Dr. Seuss ate Spartanburg...in a good way." It all started with the Who costumes. We raided the DRP costume room in search of all things yellow and orange. Well, some very crafty Whos (Kitty, Julie, and Steven) decided that just simple yellow and orange wasn't enough...they added buttons and ribbons and poofs and lace and hats and sparkles. And all of the sudden, the Whos from Whoville had their own dress code of awesome Whoiness that made everyone wish they lived on the "tiniest planet in the sky."

Well, with the Whos looking so spectacular...the Jungle Creatures had to step up their game. And they did - 80s punk rockers gone Seuss. Throw in a few Vegas Showgirls as the Bird Girls and a Vulture with fantastic Latino dance flair and the Jungle of Nool was one happening place to be.

Then came the set. Brought to you in STYRO-D! Yes, the set was almost entirely made of Styrofoam. And every color came straight from the pages of a Dr. Seuss book.

Take all that community effort and throw in over 20 musical numbers and a tree that actually bounced under the weight of Horton the Elephant (PS - Trey was AMAZING!) and you have a show that defies description...well, unless "it was so SEUSS" counts.

After nine, yes NINE performances, a couple injuries (poor Malcom! He's such a trooper), countless hours of rehearsal, and desperately trying to spit out all the words to Green Eggs and Ham while dancing, it's time to finally put the show to bed. And, as always, it's strange to say goodbye to the 50 people you've been sharing your life with for so long. Some of them I will see almost daily, some weekly, some once in a blue moon...and there will be things I miss about each of them. I'll miss my Bird Girls - there is a bond you can only share with someone when you're wearing identical saloon girl get-ups complete with tail and head dress. I'll miss the Wickersham Brothers - our partners in crime, causing trouble throughout the Jungle and having a blast while doing it (I still hate we didn't get a group picture!). I'll miss the Jungle Creatures - the hip swishers and saucy kids on the block who so effortlessly made Seuss cool. I'll miss the Whos - no other group could make wholesome so quirky and lovable. I'll miss the Grinch - the biggest flirt in the whole show; I'll miss talking to Schuyler through the wall of her little cave as we waited for the curtain to go up; I'll miss watching Matt try to eat that enormous olive (if you missed it, you missed out - it was pure comedic genius); I'll miss pulling Joanna's tail from her pouch and praying that we didn't accidentally pull up her skirt; I'll miss being saucy with Meg in Amayzing Mayzie; I'll miss being diva back up girls for Gina - she's a powerhouse and a delight to work with; I'll miss Scott and Melanie's Who Walk; and I'll miss tearing up at the end of the show as we all gaze at the baby Elephant Bird.

To the cast and crew of SLT's Seussical: it was a pleasure. A completely exhausting, hilarious, colorful, surprisingly delightful pleasure. I love you all, and I hope to be onstage with you again soon.

Now, I leave you with a quote...not from the show, but from it's creator:
"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." - Dr. Seuss

Olympic envy

2010-02-18T09:34:00.008-05:00

Okay, I know, it's been a while. And I have no excuse. So let's just pretend you didn't notice that I'm a blog-slacker and just get on with it...

I have Olympic envy. Who doesn't, right? I mean, the sheer athleticism alone is enough to make me do entirely too many crunches and push ups for my own good in an attempt to feel less like a mushy blob! This is quite possibly the first Olympics where I've actually been interested in something other than figure skating. Yes, you can point and laugh at me now. It's my inner gay man. I digress...I was absolutely floored by the cross-country skiing - seriously, I can't imagine how much strength that takes! And I was awed by the ski jump - next best thing to flying, I'm sure of it. And how can you not love watching Apolo Ohno speed skate? I mean, he's just so pretty :)

However, of all the events of the 2010 Winter Olympics, I found I have the most Olympic envy of the snowboarders. Well, one snowboarder. Shaun White. And I'm not jealous of his mad snowboarding skillz (which are AWESOME - did you see him last night?!?!?!). I'm not jealous of his TWO gold medals. I'm not even jealous that he's an Olympian.
I'm insanely jealous of Shaun White's hair.

Have you ever seen such beautiful red flowing locks??? I mean, I'm positively captivated. I want to know what shampoo he uses! The only thing cooler than watching him do insane flips and stunts in the air is watching him shake his hair from his helmet at the end of his run...it's amazing.

squeaky clean

2010-02-11T15:11:00.004-05:00

Yesterday I had my semi-annual dentist visit. I love my dentist office. I always have the same hygienist, Robin, who insists on telling me I have beautiful teeth. "If more people took care of their teeth like you do, I'd be out of a job." She's precious. And she always asks me about theatre. What shows are going on, what role I'm playing, would it be appropriate for so-n-so's grand kids to see? However, while I love her chit-chat, I must say it's a bit difficult for me to return the conversation when her hands are in my mouth! I mean, yes, that's her job - to get in there and clean my teeth and make sure all my pearly whites are super healthy...but don't ask me questions when you know I can't talk! Also, have you ever noticed that when the hygienist is flossing your teeth, she (yes, she - have YOU ever met a male dental hygienist?) rests her hands on your face and pushes off on your chin/nose/cheeks for leverage. That's just weird. And then your face is all powdery from the latex gloves. Eew.

While I understand that going to the dentist is no one's favorite thing to do, I hate it for a different reason. I don't mind the poking and prodding, the pushing off my chin to floss my teeth, the long waits, or the suction tube thingy that they stick in your face...I hate not knowing where to look. If you look straight up, the light is in your face and your eyes start watering. If you look to the left, it's like you're being rude and looking away. But if you look to your right, there are boobs in your face! And you certainly can't make eye contact with the person who has their hands and several utensils stuffed in your pie hole...that'd just be awkward. Can you close your eyes? Seriously...what's the etiquette there?

where the wind blows

2010-02-09T09:36:00.003-05:00

This is more like an extension of my previous blog...this video is one of the MANY examples of what causes tears of pride:

"We are the leaves and the limbs. And we are the trees in God's wind."
Love my Daddio (he's on the right...not wearing the yarmulke).

swell

2010-02-07T18:23:00.006-05:00

Those who know me best know that I cry at just about anything. Okay...you don't have to know me that well to know that. I cry when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm angry, irritable, overwhelmed, awed, sorry, tired, miffed, overjoyed, and proud.

Tears of pride are special. Because those are the tears I have the least control over. When I'm happy I can usually control the intensity of the crying. When I'm sad or angry I can usually fight back tears until I'm alone and can let them flow freely (complete with gasps and sobs) in the privacy of my home/bathroom/car/etc. Tears of pride sneak up on me and I am often overcome before I know what hit me. For example (feel free to mock me for this), when I went to see Dreamgirls in the movie theater I was so proud of little Jennifer Hudson - who didn't even make it in the top 3 of American Idol - for out-singing Beyonce that I pretty much sobbed through the entire movie. And when she belted out "You're gonna love me" I thought I'd never recover. I was that proud of her...in a local-girl-makes-good sort of way.

My first memory of tears of pride were for my Daddio. His father passed away when I was four years old. In February of 1989 (I was 7 yrs old), Grandma married her second husband, Mr. Bill. In honor of this momentous occasion, Dad wrote them a song. I remember listening to him pluck out chords on his 12 string (a Gibson) and test lyrics...writing, singing, crossing out, writing again. Dad performed "When Mertie Met Bill" at a family reunion that spring as a gift to the newlyweds. And as he stood in front of his mama, his brothers and their families, my eyes welled up and my heart swelled with pride. By the time he finished singing, I was crying so hard that Mom took me outside to make sure I was okay. I guess that's when I realized what a crier I really am.

Last night, as Trey and I were driving to Greenville to meet some friends for dinner, we were listening to the Seussical soundtrack in the car (shameless plug: Seussical, March 5-14, call 864-542-ARTS for tickets!) and rehearsing our respective vocal parts for the show. We were also discussing how difficult it was to rehearse with the cast recording because it makes it hard not to mimic the voices. I told Trey to just sing it in his voice because that's why he was cast. When "Alone in the Universe" started, Trey stopped imitating Kevin Chamberlin (the original Horton) and sang from his heart...and my eyes welled up, and my heart swelled with pride. I can't wait for this show to open so Spartanburg can hear my amazing husband sing. I don't know when I've been so proud :)

beep...beep...beep

2010-02-05T12:39:00.008-05:00

As much as I bash technology, I realized today that one of life's minor annoyances is now nearly obsolete because of it. Today, for the first time in I think years, I heard a busy signal. An honest to goodness telephone busy signal. And it wasn't until I heard this annoying reminder that my party was unavailable that I realized how much I'd enjoyed it's absence. Thanks to cell phones and voicemail and ring-back music, the days of the busy signal are almost gone.
This got me to thinking...what other annoying facts of life have been mysteriously absent because of technology? I thought...and thought...and thought some more. I suppose if I didn't have such a dislike for all things technological (have you read 1984???), I might have come up with something.

Oh well...

making a run for it

2010-02-04T14:42:00.004-05:00

I just did something I never thought I'd do. I signed up for the 2010 Cooper River Bridge Run. Yes, you read that right. "But," you might say, "Leslie...you don't run." To which I might reply "Au contraire, mon ami! I do now!" To which you should respond, "Liar." And you'd be right. I'd be lying. I don't run. Never have. But I do have an elliptical machine (which simulates running, even if it's not the same), and I have two very dear friends who DO run. That's enough for me to think that running a 10K in less than 2 months is not completely inconceivable.

So, in preparation, I've been talking to other runners...I don't even know how how many minutes it should take me to run a mile, much less how many is good. And I've been using my little elliptical machine more than usual. I really have no idea how to train for something I've never really experienced. Hopefully I can start running outside with people (Blair & Melissa ROCK) soon, and that will at least verify that I'm in over my head.

Wish me luck...
I just hope I don't fall into the river.

riddle me this

2010-02-03T12:31:00.004-05:00

Explain this to me:
This week, I've been an exercise Nazi. Monday night I did 40 minutes of strength training, 220 crunches, ran 3 miles on the elliptical and then went to an hour and a half dance rehearsal. Yesterday I ran two miles, did 220 crunches and had a two and a half hour dance rehearsal. Tonight I plan on more strength training followed by Tai Chi. I can't get enough. I want to move all the time. I want to run, crunch, sit-up, push-up, squat, kick, jump, and belt my guts out while doing it - and I want to do it all the time.

OKAY - so you'd think this exercise kick would continue through other venues as well...nope. I've been eating junk food all week. Peanut butter sandwiches, double cheeseburgers, Conversation Hearts (YAY! They're in season, you know), and mashed potato bowls from KFC. I'm CRAVING greasy goodness.

How does that work? How can I want to do something so healthy and simultaneously want to sabotage it? I'd love to do some yoga on my lunch break...but I'd ALSO love some good ol' Southern cookin from Wade's. When did my life become so conflicting?

snow, Snow, SNow, SNOw, SNOW!!!

2010-02-02T15:28:00.003-05:00

I'm glad I went to college in the mountains if for no other reason than the knowledge that snow really is way cooler than this.

Since Saturday morning, Spartanburg has been covered with an inch or two layer of what most Southerners call "snow." Oh how we're missing out! When it's this slick and crunchy, it's more like little balls of sleet. Don't get me wrong, we'll take what we can get...but it sure does make me miss the good stuff.

The first time I ever saw more than 2 inches of snow was my freshman year at App State. I woke up one morning and not only was the ground covered in white, but it was white all the way up to my mid thigh...and yes, I still had to walk to class. Boone knows how to handle snow. The streets and sidewalks have been salted long before the threat is there. Classes are never cancelled and there's not a mad rush for the grocery store. Snow doesn't come in inches, it comes in feet. It doesn't come in little specks, it comes in nickle and quarter sized flakes. And when it blankets the earth, it's soft, dusty, elegant. Not this crackly, crunchy mess that we've been stuck with for 4 days.

They're saying it's supposed to snow again on Friday.
Gosh, I hope this time it's real.

"What is evil?" you ask.

2010-01-31T14:16:00.003-05:00

Two snow days in a row can only mean one thing...that I have both started and finished reading I am a GENIUS of UNSPEAKABLE EVIL and I want to be your CLASS PRESIDENT. And it was everything I hoped it would be...and more. In addition to phenomenal writing and witty diatribe, the plot is extremely endearing and inventive as well as hilariously unpredictable (in all the right moments) and touchingly predictable (in all the right moments), and it comes with pictures...and footnotes. It is comic genius. But it's not for everyone.

After discovering the book, I told everyone about it. I excitedly rattled off it's hilarious title and enthusiastically read Jon Stewart's endorsement to anyone and everyone who would listen. Trey thought it sounded hilarious. My coworkers seemed equally intrigued and amused. My parents, on the other hand, looked as if I had just read a nonsensical paragraph that was neither amusing nor fit for the public. Somehow, it was both crude and ridiculous (in a bad way). So, dear reader, before going to your local library/Barnes & Noble/Borders/Amazon.com to obtain a copy of Josh Lieb's I am a GENIUS of UNSPEAKABLE EVIL and I want to be your CLASS PRESIDENT, I suggest you do some soul searching and determine whether or not blatant irreverent ridiculousity is right for you.

Now, without further ado:

When the third richest person on earth is also a genius of unspeakable evil, that person always gets what he wants. This is the case for twelve-year-old Oliver Watson...he has body guards protecting him at all times; he has a special button in the shape of a mildew stain installed on the school's drinking fountain so that, rather than water, Ollie can enjoy chocolate milk; he has his own underground lair and personal blimp; and he has thousands of minions at his beck and call. And no, his parents aren't aware of any of this. To them, and to the rest of the world, Oliver is The Dumbest Boy in School. "Mom" lives to dote on her precious Ollie. She has no friends and no purpose other than making him a perfect grilled cheese sandwich so it is ready at the precise moment he gets home from school. "Daddy" (he hates it when Oliver calls him that) is a ridiculous hippie who never shows Oliver or "Mom" any respect or affection - resulting in Oliver's pure hatred and disgust. When "Daddy" tells Oliver that he was once Class President, Oliver decides that he too can achieve such mediocre greatness just to prove to "Daddy" that he can do it. For a boy who has overthrown governments, taken over thousands of companies, and is a giant industry leader - running for student council isn't as easy as he expected it to be. Oliver will stop at nothing to win the class presidency: bribery, blackmail, he may even call in The Motivator. And when The Motivator suggests you do something...you do it. With his frontman Lionel Sheldrake and his dog Lollipop by his side, Oliver runs the school (and the world) with an iron fist. Those who get in his way are dealt with (Alan Pitt, the boy who called Oliver "Sir-Eats-A-Lot," has had a bad acne breakout which makes his face look like he's been making out with a slice of pizza - yes, his dermatologist is one of Oliver's minions). And those who behave in a way that pleases him, are rewarded. The story climaxes on election day...a day full of surprises (including but not limited to a parade balloon, a missile attack and a bladder control incident). And yes...I man-laughed pretty much constantly.

Go read this book. I command you.

sweet freedom

2010-01-29T12:33:00.002-05:00

The more I think about this weekend, the more excited I get. What's bizzare about this is that I don't really have plans. I start a dance class Saturday morning (woohoo!), but other than that, I'm beside myself with anticipation of having a day to curl up in front of a fire with my hubby and read, or watch movies, or nap. And sure, I've got to go to the grocery store and do some laundry, but that's nothing to combat the promise of a free Saturday.

Look out world, I'm unstoppable :)

lunchtime reading

2010-01-28T14:24:00.004-05:00

I've been going to the library a lot more as of late, and not just to visit my buddy Todd (Head Librarian, Spartanburg Little Theatre Board President and all around fantastic human being). Today, in addition to getting Todd to sign checks for the theatre, I also had a couple *Donald Harington books to return (*just found out that he passed away in November '09 - the world has lost a truly great writer). And what does one do when returning library books? Why, one checks out more library books! Since I'd already read the only other Harington books on the shelf, I decided to check out a couple of my other favorite authors and found myself carrying two Joyce Carol Oates books (one novel, one collection of short stories) to the front desk. As I passed the large staircase, I happened to glance at the display of library staff picks and something red, white and blue caught my eye. I'm a GENIUS of UNSPEAKABLE EVIL and I want to be your CLASS PRESIDENT by Josh Lieb looked just too delicious to pass up. Jon Stewart (of The Daily Show) said "If War and Peace had a baby with The Breakfast Club and then left the baby to be raised by wolves, this book would be the result. I loved it." How could I not take this book home with me and start reading it the moment I kicked off my shoes and fed the cats and went to the bathroom and changed clothes and fixed dinner?

Don't worry...I'll definitely be writing a book report.

state of...me

2010-01-28T09:49:00.004-05:00

Last night, after getting unwound at Tai Chi and singing one of my new favorite anthems at choir practice, I sped home hoping to catch whatever Glee rerun was playing and was pleasantly surprised to find the handsome face of our nation's 44th president smiling at me. So I grabbed a Yuengling, curled up under a blanket, let Frank take up residence in my lap and waited to hear the State of the Union Address.

It wasn't so long ago, in fact - maybe 8 years, that I would have gone to bed early rather than listen to the State of the Union. Maybe I just had no interest in listening to W address the nation. I must say, however, that as far as public speakers are concerned, I could listen to Barack Obama speak all day. Whether he's your favorite president or not, you have to admit, the man has presence. And maybe it's because he's our nation's first black president - but I haven't wanted someone I've never met to succeed so bad since Jennifer Hudson outsang Beyonce in Dreamgirls.

As I listened to the recap of what happened in America in 2009, I started to think about what's happened in my life over the past year. I know what you're thinking:

Leslie, you already wrote this blog. See "Resolution: crap..."

So I won't repeat things I accomplished last year, or list things I hope to accomplish this year. What I will say is that "sometimes the hardest thing and the right thing are the same"...which, in turn means that sometimes the wrong thing is easy. And sometimes, it's hard to tell which is which.

We're embarking on a new decade...let's make it better than the last.

an attempt

2010-01-27T09:58:00.003-05:00

I won't call it a resolution (Lord knows I'd never follow through if it were)...I'll call it a concentrated attempt. I'm going to concentrate on attempting to post a new blog daily...if I fail, you can't persecute me. Because, like I said, it's an attempt.

I opened today's blog with that explanation because, quite frankly, I can't think of anything to write about. Of the 36,684,219,437 things floating around in my head at any given moment, none of them seems like appropriate blog fodder this morning. I could write about my very frustrating afternoon yesterday when I found out a dear friend took someone else's word over mine and how I'm both heartbroken and pissed off at the same time; I could write about my late night trip to Walmart and the extremely uncouth and uncivilized woman who was shouting dirty words (mostly unkind titles for homosexuals - that's something I just don't tolerate) in the CD section and the fact that they were sold out of Metallica albums - which, for some reason, I really wanted to listen to last night; I could write about the amazing chocolate hazelnut Lindor candy bar that kept me company until midnight as I finished yet another of Donald Harington's brilliant novels (The Pitcher Shower); I could write about how the song Gravity by Sara Bareilles brings me to tears every time and somehow worked as an acceptable substitute for my Metallica craving - crazy; or I could write about how today I just want to crawl back in bed and not get up again until time for Tai Chi this evening.

But none of those things seem like enough today. Maybe it's because they all mix together to create my yesterday in a way that makes separating them feel shallow and unfulfilled. Or maybe it's because none of those things is significant/funny/thought provoking enough to make for a decent blog.

Or maybe I just don't feel like writing today.

lifeguard

2010-01-26T09:44:00.002-05:00

This morning I overslept...like I do every morning. I stumbled to the kitchen to feed Frank & Rufus, then dragged a protesting Roger to the bathroom to feed him (he's allergic to normal cat food so we have to feed him separately). Roger was finishing up his expensive breakfast of prescription cat food as I hopped in the shower...leaving him meowing in protest on the other side of the green and brown wall of the shower curtain. I had barely finished verse one of Beyond the Sea (who loves Bobby Darin? that'd be me) when Roger leaped onto the ledge of the tub, between the curtain and the clear shower liner. He stared at me, confused, wanting to save me from drowning. He paced the length of the bathtub, meowing words of comfort and aid: MEOOOOOOW ("It's okay, I'll get you out of there"), MEEEEEEOWW ("Hang in there, I'll save you!"). Eventually he gave up, realizing he was no match for the clear plastic force field that had me pinned under water. My hero collapsed in defeat - his front legs straddling the sides of the tub, his chin resting on the surface with his eyes looking up at me apologetically and his long black tail swishing back and forth down the inside of the tub, barely poking through beneath the shower liner to leave a trail of fuzzy black cat hair on the bottom of my tub.

I love my handsome man :)

things I can't get enough of...

2010-01-25T16:37:00.003-05:00

jeans; my rainbows; bright purple eyeshadow; day trips to Ikea; Glee; 96.7 Steve FM; old cars; new models of old cars (have you SEEN how hot the new Camaro is???); singing at the top of my lungs; playing guitar; reading books by Donald Harington; quirky movies; Tarantino movies; inside jokes with my sister; inside jokes with my girls; inside jokes in general; artichoke dip with Blair & Melissa; ping pong with the Daddy Man; nesting; walks in the rain when it's warm out; rocky road ice cream; KFC mashed potato bowl...mmmmm; driving with the windows down and the radio up; Damien Rice; Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers; Roger, Frank & Rufus...even if they do shed EVERYWHERE; Sunday afternoon naps; The Mentalist; quote books; being on stage; karaoke; Leslie & Amy's Day O' Fun (part 4 coming soon!); costume Christmas parties at Josh's house; late night talks with my Sara; writing ridiculous lists like this; After Hours with my JSHW ladies; rehearsal...yes, really; dancing; working with my hands; Harry Potter; The Biggest Loser - I want to put Bob in my pocket and keep him forever; Will & Grace re-runs...anything but the final season; Aqua; good beer; painting my toenails; Wes Anderson movies; yoga/tai chi; the kick boxing portion of Power 90; hot showers; man laughing; chocolate hazelnut candy bars; my amazing family; my FM guys; my FM girls; reading old journal entries and reminiscing; flying

all in a day's work

2010-01-23T22:59:00.003-05:00

I have a secret love of manual labor. I love building, demolishing, loading, lugging, digging, mowing, and otherwise using my body to accomplish typically messy tasks. Today, I was a popcorn-ceiling scraper. There's something refreshing about the instant gratification that comes with making a rough surface smooth, something invigorating about starting the day clean and ending it covered from head to toe in dust and plaster. Today, I felt like I earned my keep. I love the mindlessness that comes with hard work. You don't have to think about life, you don't have to worry about things, you don't have to ponder what anything means...you just have to get the job done. If only life were that simple. I love being sore at the end of the day and knowing that I deserve a nice cold beer. I love stripping down and ridding my body of the filth of the day and greeting a hot shower like a long lost friend. Days like today make me so thankful that I inherited my mother's brute strength...an attribute my father refers to as being "freakishly strong for a girl." Days like today make me secretly wish I were a construction worker instead of an office manager. I'd rather don my Chuck Taylors and a pair of holey jeans to go to work than a dress and heels. I'd rather wear a t-shirt than a button down. I'd rather be exhausted at the end of the day because I've used up all my strength than because I used up all my sanity.

you are my sunshine

2010-01-23T00:14:00.004-05:00

It seems these days that I find myself attending more funerals than weddings. That's a reality I didn't expect for a while...at least not while I was still in my twenties. Your twenties are supposed to be filled with weddings and baby showers, your thirties with school plays and soccer games and maybe a few divorced friends, your fourties with chaperoning youth retreats and drivers ed, your fifties with graduations, your sixties with grandchildren...not until your seventies is your life supposed to be filled with funerals of friends.

Sometimes, even when you're grieving...especially when you're grieving, going home just makes sense. Those who know me best know that Fort Mill has always been home, and they know I've been secretly hoping to go home to stay for at least the past 8 years. Today was the first time I stepped into the newly built sanctuary at Philedelphia United Methodist, the church where I grew up. On a day when I was going into that building to remember, I found my new surroundings to be cold, abrupt and uninviting. This afternoon, as we celebrated the life of Sam Garrison, my former Sunday School teacher and family friend, I found myself longing for the old church building. Johnny Cash's voice swept over the mourners, wrapping us in Sam's favorite lullaby, and I found myself wishing I could go back to that dark and narrow upstairs room and sit on the yellow naugahide couch where I spent so many Sundays as a youth. Seeing so many old friends today was like running into someone you know in an unexpected place...the friendly face you knew so well from behind the counter at the bank didn't quite register as the same person when you ran into them at the gym. They were out of place friends, yet no less dear. And everyone I embraced shared the same conflict: "I'm so glad you're here; I just hate the reason."

Today, for the first, last, and only time in my life, I chanted to myself when Tiger Rag played as the mourners exited the church:
C L E M S O...N! Just for you, Sam.

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

Resolution: crap...

2010-01-06T11:20:00.004-05:00

I'm a romantic...a hopeless one. I love the idea of a fresh start. The excuse to recreate who you want to become in the next 365 days has always filled me with great excitement and anticipation. So this past New Year's Eve I got excited...I waited with great anticipation...I kissed my hubby at midnight and toasted friends with champagne...and nothing. I couldn't think of a resolution. Not a single one.

By the end of 2009 I had been married to the love of my life for just over a year. I had, in the past 4 months, lost about 30 pounds. I got a new job that I love, and that pays more than my last one. And I bought a new (to me) car. Lose weight, check. Be with the man of my dreams, check. Get a better job, check. Get rid of the clunker, check. Seriously, what's left?

I could look back at the resolutions I made on New Year's Eve 2008 and see what I didn't quite achieve, but let's face it, my handwriting's not gonna get any more legible just cause I want it to. So then, there's the obvious "maintain recent weight loss, man, job and car." But come on...that's not new. That's not recreating myself to become something better in 2010...that's being the same in 2010, where's the fun in that???

There is one little (huge) guilty pleasure that I could resolve to give up...but quite frankly, I don't wanna. And no, I'm not goint to share what that is ;)
So what does that leave me with?

write more
pick up my guitar and play more
laugh more
sing more
love more
cry more
go to the library and get books to read more
clean more
give more
take more
live more
build more
grow more
be a better friend and keep in touch more
learn more
experience more
take chances more
dream more
do more
pray more
forgive more
ask for forgiveness more
risk more
try more
ask for more
be more

...and maybe go skydiving :)

That's what Christmas means to me, my love :)

2009-12-15T09:38:00.013-05:00

Ten days. Can you believe Christmas is in 10 days???
This year, it's taken a while for me to get swept up in the Christmas spirit. Maybe it was because Thanksgiving was so late that my holiday body clock is behind. Anyway, now it's here in all its glory...and I have 3 specific events to thank for that.

It's not Christmas until...my tree is up and decorated.

And it's not just that the tree is up and decorated - it's the whole process. Picking out the perfect tree, tying it to the roof of the car and clumsily trying to get it inside the house...stringing up the lights and watching a plain evergreen turn into a sparkling symbol. I love that I have beautiful glass blown ornaments and sentamental ornaments from friends and family, and ornaments that I made in kindergarten...

It's not Christmas until...we get dressed up for Josh's annual Costume Christmas party.

For the past 6 (correct me if I'm wrong) years, my dear friend Josh, whom I've known since 8th grade, hosts a themed Christmas Party. This year's theme was Walkin in a Winter Wonderland Winter Prom. There are few things I love more than spending time with my Fort Mill friends...and being in costume just makes it better. Since this year's theme was prom, the event was littered with nostalgia. Just about everyone reenacted their prom photo with their prom date from 10 years ago. Amy, Josh, Justin and I all posed for a picture because, while we didn't go to prom as 2 couples, we probably should have since we spent entirely too much time as a foursome. Ah, memories :)

It's not Christmas until...I get to belt out "five golden rings" with my cousins at the Harmon family Christmas get together.

I must admit that I was nervous this year...there were so many people who weren't going to make it to the Harmon reunion this Christmas. And Courtney was sick and couldn't come at the last minute! But, while those not there were sorely missed, we still had a blast. Uncle Joe was in rare form...singing "Out Behind the Barn" and cracking jokes. Cade somehow knew most of the answers to Dad's Christmas quiz and wasn't shy about shouting them out. Ed is no longer sheepish about picking up his guitar and playing along with the uncles as we sing Christmas Carols. And even though there was no hay-ride, it was fun...if you don't believe me, search facebook for Mariah's pictures of Diana and Adam eating turkey legs with their bare hands.

So that's my list. My list of things that make Christmas Christmas.

That's what Christmas means to me, my loves :)

Old. Blue. Eyes.

2009-12-02T15:56:00.009-05:00

My blog title has several meanings, the most obvious of which you should get - and if you don't get it, I'm disowning you. Ol' Blue Eyes - The Man - Frank Sinatra.

Trey brought home a Sinatra Christmas album the other day and I've been listening constantly, since I've been painting our bedroom blue (get it, there's another part of the meaning). There's nothing like painting an entire room by yourself (by choice - don't go fussing at Trey for not helping me) to make you feel incredibly old (now you're getting the hang of it). There are days now, when I literally feel like I have been alive forever. Not just old - ancient. I feel stiff and immobile and dry...liked cracked paint. Blue paint - because there's a strange sadness that comes with feeling old. And I feel like I'm waiting for something to happen...any minute now. I just don't know what.

Anyway - most of the songs on the album are predictable: I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm, White Christmas, Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas, etc. Then there are a couple that I was unfamiliar with: We Wish You the Merriest (which is the funnest - yes I know that's not a word - duet EVER, with Bing Crosby), I Wouldn't Trade Christmas, A Baby Just Like You and What Ever Happened to Christmas. BUT the most surprising song on the album is the finale - what's most surprising is that the most surprising song is Silent Night. There's no crazy accompaniment, it's not a special arrangement. It's just pure and simple Silent Night. What makes this particular version so special is Frank. You can hear the age in his voice, he had to be in his 60's if not his 70's when he recorded it. There is something so pure and honest in this simple Christmas carol. It brings a tear to your eye. And for the first time ever, I heard the true meaning of Christmas in one of my least favorite Christmas hymns.

I have always been a sucker for blue eyes.

everybody plays the fool...

2009-11-23T15:14:00.004-05:00

...sometimes. Now is definitely one of those times (and not just because I quoted an Aaron Neville lyric). I can't say what caused it - but I'm having one of those days where I feel like a complete idiot. It's as if I had an idea in my head, and just when I got used to it and decided it was worth keeping, I realized the idea was all wrong. And the only response I seem to have for myself is to repeat over and over how much of an idiot I am for believing said thought in the first place. Perhaps this is the result of my recent melancholy state. Perhaps I just need something to occupy my mind and this seems to do the trick. Perhaps I have Thanksgiving fever something awful and can't wait to spend a weekend with my family laughing and eating till I hurt. As much as I'd like to believe it's one of the latter reasons - I'm fairly certain it's completely due to the first. I've done some research (yes, Dictionary.com counts as research) and here's my dilemma: in my current condition, am I best described as an idiot or a fool? I would ask you to tell me, but since I can't even tell you why I feel the way I do, I can't imagine you'd have the answer. Here are the definitions nonetheless:

id⋅i⋅ot /ˈɪdiət/[id-ee-uht]
–noun 1. an utterly foolish or senseless person.

fool /ful/ [fool]
–noun 1. a silly or stupid person; a person who lacks judgment or sense

While I feel like an idiot, I think "fool" sounds more romantic. So let's go with that, shall we?

"And I am torn assunder by conflicting thoughts, each one, it seems to me, as valid as its opposite. I am a sinner, bound for hell; I am a saint purified by love; I am only a fool." -Lee Smith, Oral History

Sing for You

2009-11-18T13:27:00.003-05:00

I just heard my new favorite song. Tracy Chapman, Sing For You
Enjoy the lyrics (and then go out and buy me the album for Christmas).

One, two, three, four

Sweet and high at the break of dawn
Simple tune that you can hum along too
I remember there was a time
when I used to sing for you

Do-n do do, do do
Do-n do do, do do do-do…

I used to sing for you

Do-n do do, do do
Do-n do do, do do do-do…

Knew all the words to the popular songs
With the radio on full volume
I remember there was a time
When I used to sing for you
Do-n do do, do do do
Do-n do do, do do do do-do…

I used to sing for you

Do-n do do, do do
Do-n do do, do do do-do…

Forget the chorus, you’re the bridge
The words and music to every-day I’ve lived
There’s nothing, I wouldn’t give
For one more time, when I can sing for you
Do-n do do, do do do
Do-n do do, do do do do – do…

Oh Yeah
Do-n do do, do do do do
Do-n do do, do do do do – do…

Soft and low when the evening comes
Holding you, sleeping in my arms
I remember there was a time
When I used to sing for you
Do-n do do, do do do do
Do-n do do, do do do do – do…

…when I used to sing for you

Do-n do do, do do do do
Do-n do do, do do do do – do…

I used to sing for you.

powder

2009-11-12T10:08:00.003-05:00

I started it. It's completely my fault. In the midst of all my DIY projects this summer, I started one that I could not finish. One day, back in August, I just decided it was time to start stripping the paint off the walls in the master bathroom. Which means we've been sharing the hall bathroom for 3 months. I can't complain that a boy is in my bathroom because it's quite my fault that he's moved in there in the first place. In addition to that, the bathroom, our bedroom - under the beds, in the closets, on dressers,in drawers - have been covered with a thin layer of white powder...since August. My bad.

Trey had some vacation days he had to use up before the end of the year so he took off work this Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. And guess what, no more powder. Last night, my amazing hubby finished sanding down the walls, cleaned up and Pine-Sol-ed the entire bathroom and moved his boy toiletries back from whence they came. I have my bathroom back!!! Now, all we have to do is paint it...guess what I'll be doing this weekend!!!

explosions

2009-11-11T16:55:00.003-05:00

Do you ever feel like you're going to explode? I used to feel that way all the time - it must have something to do with the reckless abandon of youth. All at once, all the feelings you have ever felt, good and bad, are all on the surface, pressing against your skin until you just want to jump up and down and shout! Sometimes the explosion is a bad thing and leaves behind it a trail of snotty tears and puffy eyes and really bad self-composed guitar songs that only use 4 chords. But sometimes the explosion is more subtle, sometimes it's happy. Sometimes it's that you can feel all the blood rushing to your face and you find that you can't stop yourself from smiling...no, grinning like an idiot. I can't remember the last time I felt the need to explode (either happy or devasted). But strangely, even though I can't remember the circumstances, I can remember the people who made me feel this way. And I wonder now if they even knew they had that effect on me? I thought of listing some names and leaving it up to you to guess which ones caused good explosions and which ones caused the bad ones...but I won't do that. Because, even the bad ones were worth it. And I promise, while the worst bad explosions I've had (2, to be exact) were caused by the most predictable sources, the people who have caused the best happiest explosions might surprise you. Don't worry, Trey is definitely on the good list ;)

Falling

2009-11-10T10:35:00.002-05:00

What is it about this time of year that makes me fall in love with life? Something about dying leaves makes me feel rejuvenated. Maybe it's because every time I walk outside, I am surrounded by my favorite color pallet. Maybe it's because all my clothes now match my surroundings. Maybe it's because every time I see a whirlwind of leaves swooshing through the air, I imagine being swept away with them. Whatever it is, I love fall.
With Halloween just passed, and Christmas right around the corner, I find myself in my favorite time - Thanksgiving time. Don't get me wrong, I'll turn into a wide eyed child full of the wonder of Christmas as soon as December strikes (and possibly earlier), but there's something about the season of Thanksgiving that gives me peace. It lets me think of where I've been and where I have yet to go - and it makes me thankful for the people who have been there along the way. This year, especially, it makes me thankful for old friends. Some old friends are lost in years of being busy with our own lives; some old friends never go away and are more precious with every passing year; and some old friends, though they were once lost, are found again and you can't remember why you stopped being friends in the first place.
Happy Thanksgiving-time to my friends - old and new, lost and found. I love you all.

Post-its

2009-10-26T12:42:00.005-04:00

This weekend was the Fort Mill High School Class of '99 reunion.
How on earth did 10 years fly by so fast?

I hate to admit it...but I was actually nervous. Nervous and edgy about who would be there, what they would think of me, what I would think of them, and of course, of finding the exact right outfit. And proud that I ended up wearing the little black dress that I wore the same day I graduated from Fort Mill High School in 1999.

Upon entering Six Pence Pub Friday night, it was like a bizzare case of deja vue...or like seeing someone who you know you're supposed to know, but can't quite figure out how - except you have that feeling about every single face you see. Honestly, I feel like I should have studied. There are some people who haven't changed a bit, some who've changed so much that the one person who recognized them had to shout out their name in greeting to help out the rest of us, some who lost weight, many who gained weight, and a couple who I have no recollection of whatsoever.

The reunion was many things - not one of which was what I had expected.
I found that the people I was most nervous about seeing were the people who do theatre...and I found that none of them do it as often, or as well as I like to think I do. I found that catching up with a few people who I was really excited to see was about the most underwhelming experience of the weekend. I found that the greatest ego boost of the night came from a most unexpected source (Ryan Keitzer)and was as simple as a greeting: "hello gorgeous." I discovered that the last person in the world I would have ever thought of as a funnyman made the most hilarious comment of the evening (Michael Allen, when responding to John Kinards inquiry as to what he'd been up to: "I invented Post-its.")And I was most surprised (don't ask me why) to discover that the people I was most excited to see walk in the door of the Home Run Cafe at Knight's Stadium Saturday night for the main event were the people I've been keeping in touch with all along.

Overall, the weekend was great fun. Lookin' good FMHS - see you in another 10 years!

Power 90

2009-09-27T12:53:00.009-04:00

Sometime in July, and I don't remember what prompted this, Trey and I decided it was time to start living healthier. Well, living healthy. Somehow, in the midst of our newlywed bliss, we had gotten in the habit of eating out about 20 times a week. That's a bit excessive. There were days when each of us would eat out all 3 meals. Not only is that unhealthy (cause, you know, we weren't getting vegetables from those drive through windows), it was getting pretty darn expensive. So we did what any other red-blooded American would have done - we BOUGHT something. At the suggestion of one of his collegues, Trey went online and purchased for us Power 90 - this is the baby brother to P90X. Basically, it's a 90 day diet and exercise program that guarantees to whip your butt in shape.

Well, before you can start this 90 day program, you need a 6 day "prep" week. That's 6 days of high protein, no carbs and LOTS of cardio. I started the prep week at 146 lbs - the most I have ever weighed in my entire life.

This is my attempt to stay on track and chart my progress. Trey's a bit braver than I am and has already posted his "before" pictures - you're not gonna see mine until there are some dynamite "after" shots to go with them. But have a look at the stats:

Day 1 - August 24th
Body Fat: 33.57%
Weight: 138.2 lbs
Chest: 39 in
Waist: 36 in (31 in)
Hips: 38 in
Right Mid-Thigh: 23 in
Left Mid-Thigh: 23 in
Right Upper Arm: 11.5 in
Left Upper Arm: 12 in
Neck: 13.25 in
Resting Heart Rate: 94 bpm

Day 30 - September 22nd
Body Fat: 32.60%
Weight: 129.0 lbs
Chest: 38 in
Waist: 34 in
Hips: 37 in
Right Mid-Thigh: 23 in
Left Mid-Thigh: 22.25 in
Right Upper Arm: 11.5 in
Left Upper Arm: 11.25 in
Neck: 13.0 in
Resting Heart Rate: 86 bpm

So, you ask me if this program really works? During the prep week alone, I lost 7.8 lbs, and at day 35 I'm down 17 lbs. Trey has lost 28 lbs.
Yeah, I'd say it works.

out with the old, in with the new-to-me

2009-08-13T16:48:00.005-04:00

It's been a while! What is it about summer that makes life simultaneously fly by and slow to a halt? I feel like fall will never get here, yet at the same time, I have no idea what happened to July!

I must admit, there is no real purpose to this blog entry other than the fact that I noticed I hadn't written in a while. I guess the major significant things that have happened since then would be that I've had a birthday (somehow, I strangely accepted 28 about two weeks before my actual birthday and then when my birthday arrived I felt as if the celebration was belated) AND I got a new car. And by new, I mean a 2005, 58,000 mile, pre-owned Kia Sorento. Yes...I know...it's a Kia.

This is the car that, for the past 2 months, every time I would see it I would perk up and say "OOH! What is that?!" And inevitably it was the Kia. And every time I would realize that the "OOH! What is that?!" was a Kia I would yell "BLAST YOU KIA" and shake my fist in the air, John Fagan style.

So, the day finally came that Trey and I decided to go car shopping for real (by for real I mean when the dealership was actually open). As fate would have it, the only affordable, acceptable, GREEN vehicle on the lot was my new Kia. And you know what, I secretly love it.

SO now, I put to you a quest - Misty (the misty-green Saturn) was easy to name, but I'm stumped with the kia. I'm pretty sure it's a girl car. But that's all I have to go by. Whoever comes up with the most fitting name that doesn't suck gets a cookie!

wounded

2009-07-01T15:49:00.004-04:00

Monday was definitely a Monday. Well, let me retract that - Monday at around 1:15 was definitely a Monday. The rest of the day, I suppose, was fine.
I wore flip flops to work on Monday - cause I can. But when I was coming back from lunch, I opened the huge metal door leading into the theater building right onto my toe! So I hopped down the stairs, grabbed the first aid kit and headed straight for the bathroom, where I, in extremely ladylike fashion, hoisted my leg into the sink to further examine my injury (did I mention I was wearing a dress?).
***IF THIS SORT OF THING GROSSES YOU OUT, STOP READING!!!

It's pretty disgusting, I'm not gonna lie. After thorough cleaning, the wound still looked dirty. But I bandaged it up as best I could and hobbled around for the rest of the day.

Yesterday, I got a little braver with it - much to my demise! I had taken the bandage off to let it breathe - and when I went to reach for something in the hall closet that evening, I bumped the same toe AGAIN into a suitcase. I don't know how, but I felt both excruciating pain and complete numbness all at the same time. What I thought was just a flap of skin on the tip of my toe, is not...it's a chunk of meaty grossness. And if you touch it, it kind of feels like my toenail, and the entire top chunk of my toe will all come off. Did I mention it has a pulse?

***IF YOU STOPPED READING BEFORE, YOU CAN START AGAIN NOW!!!

It's honestly not a big enough wound for me to seek medical attention - but it's starting to freak me out! I have an unnatural love for my feet. I once got a cat scratch on the top of my left foot and was in tears over the thought that it might scar. If this doesn't heal soon (and in a way that makes it completely unnoticable that I was ever wounded) I may not recover mentally.

I'm in desperate need of a pedicure - but it'll have to wait till my little piggy is all better! Please say little prayers for my toe!!!

DIY addiction

2009-06-30T14:47:00.005-04:00

This summer, I have found myself looking at everything through new eyes. Through the eyes of possibility, the eyes of promise, the eyes of Do It Yourself! The first, and most obvious, phase of this new way of life for me was the yardwork. A couple of months ago, I was overcome with a deep need to prune, clean, gussy-up, and otherwise make-pretty our yard. Well, with the heat the way it is, the yard is having to take the backseat to other needs - the need to tear up the awful astroturf/carpet that was on our screened-in porch; the need to paint the pavement under that astroturf to make the screened-in porch an awesome outdoor (yet mosquito free) getaway; the need to start painting the bathrooms; the need to rearrange furniture; and most recently, the need to cut my hair. Yes, cut my OWN hair. I did mention this was a do-it-YOURSELF addiction, didn't I?

And if I can do that...I can do anything.
Look out world.

Camp

2009-06-26T14:58:00.005-04:00

I came back to work Monday a week ago after a week-long trip to England. Well, we all know how hard it can be to play catch up after a vacation. I spent the first two days of that week rifling through piles of strange papers on my desk and trying to make sense of what looked like an impossible puzzle.

On Tuesday of last week, I got an email from my dear friend Caroline: "Hey girl! I hear we're in charge of Musical Theatre Camp next week. Give me a call sometime so we can meet and come up with a game plan!" This was news to me! When Matt off-handedly mentioned that he might need some help when I got back from vacation - I understood that to mean SOME help, not "co-lead the whole camp."

After a couple planning session and a fight or two with some piano accompaniment, Caroline came up with a plan - we would teach 7 kids 2 songs in 5 days. That sounds easy enough, right?

Monday came and I must admit that I was a little excited! And a little nervous! We wanted to give them a variety to work with - how "variety" turned into "two different Rogers & Hamerstein songs", I'm not quite sure. But somehow, it worked! We thou

ght we'd pick something slow and serious and something that was more like a character song: "You'll Never Walk Alone" from Carousel and "The Farmer & the Cowman Should be Friends" from Oklahoma!

We taught 7 VERY different kids - ranging in age from 9 to 15 - how to work together as a team, how to perform as a group, how to "sing out Louise," AND how to detangle themselves from a human knot.

I don't think I've ever been so proud in all my life!

green

2009-06-05T15:58:00.004-04:00

After 7 hours of nothing to see out the plain window but ocean and sky, England appeared as if from nowhere. Even from the air, I could tell this wasn't like home - there was something different. It was more...well, green. There were fields after fields divided by hedges and I could tell from our lofty perch that the trees were different from the trees back home. There is something magically pastoral about the English countryside. Once we made our way through the maze that is the London Gatwick Airport and boarded the coach (or enormous yellow tourbus), we set out for Oxford - our first tourist attraction of the trip. Just looking out the window across the motorway (yes, I will be dropping British terminology here and there) I could tell that England would be very different from the US. The trees are fuller, the grass grows more freely - they don't mow the grass by the highway, yet somehow it doesn't strike you so much "overgrown" as lush.
And it is beautiful.

Other than it's lush foliage, the most drastic difference between here and home is the bicycles. I have NEVER seen so many bicycles in all my life. People in all sorts of clothes from business casual to athletic were riding them everywhere - but more than that, they were parked. Chained to fences and leaning against walls, they littered the streets of Oxford. There were more bicycles than pidgeons - and trust me, there were lots of pidgeons.

countdown

2009-06-01T16:07:00.003-04:00

3 days to go.
The enormous to-do list from my last blog entry has been significantly dented after this past weekend - much thanks to my fabulous husband! All the weekend activities have passed and we finally got the shrubbery mulched! For those of you who have never seen our yard, you can't imagine what a difference this has made!

Now I've got girl's night, about 5 loads of laundry, eat all the perishable food in the refridgerator (which hopefully will be taken care of during dinner tonight), let the bank know we'll be out of the country(oops - forgot to do that when I deposited my paycheck today), verify that the cats have a babysitter - beg said babysitter to also make sure my pansies don't need watering, go shopping for a rain coat cause it apparently rains a lot in England, and make sure all our bills are paid before we go.

The panic is starting to ebb.

Is it weird that more than the trip, right now, I'm mostly looking forward to the 10 hour plane ride to London - that's 10 hours that I can't do anything but read, sleep or watch movies. And I think I've earned it.

time

2009-05-28T16:06:00.003-04:00

My church choir is traveling to England on a week-long concert performance tour. Who would have ever thought that "little ole Trinity" could achieve international musical recongnition? We've worked very hard - we're ready.

***SHAMELESS PLUG*** Don't believe me? Come hear it for yourself. Sunday afternoon at 3:00pm, Trinity United Methodist Church, 626 Norwood St, Spartanburg, SC 29302 is our Farewell Concert

A week from right now, right this very moment, I will be on a plane hopping "accross the pond." Do you have any idea how much I need to get done before we leave?!?!??! PANIC!

Tonight I'm visiting a friend regarding some gardening advice; tomorrow we have dinner with friends; Saturday we have a wedding in the afternoon and a friend coming to stay with us that night; Sunday we have church, a concert to perform, and a recital to attend, Monday is girl's night; Tuesday will be my first chance to think about packing. AND in the midst of all that, we have to finish mulching the shrubbery, do about 5 loads of laundry, eat all the perishable food in the refridgerator, let the bank know we'll be out of the country, verify that the cats' have a babysitter - beg said babysitter to also make sure my pansies don't need watering, go shopping for a rain coat cause it apparently rains a lot in England, and make sure all our bills are paid before we go.

When the heck is all that gonna happen?

landscaping

2009-05-26T11:30:00.005-04:00

Those of you who have been to my house know that there is an enormous fir tree out front with branches that droop to the ground and ivy growing all around it.

Well not any more! Now, all the branches are at least 12 feet from the ground and there is NO ivy :) The removal of this bit of undergrowth makes our front yard look twice as big - and we didn't have a small yard to begin with!

Saturday Trey and I hauled two car loads of random crap we've found while working in the yard (a broom, two bath mats, various metal poles, plastic edging, a rotten bird house...you get the point) and afterward we stopped at a mulch place on the side of hwy 29 and purchased 4 cubic yards of red cedar mulch and one pallet of rocks (smooth, creek-hiking sized rocks - about half the size of a good watermelon). They should be delivered today or tomorrow.

And yesterday we worked from about 10:30 to 5pm getting rid of all that ivy mess.

See, we're like the mail man - neither rain nor sleet nor snow shall keep us from making our yard look totally awesome.

Oh - and (thanks Mom & Dad) we inheirited a grill this weekend.

Look out for a cook out.
Oh yeah.

drive

2009-05-22T09:40:00.003-04:00

I drive a 1996 Saturn SL2. That's a 13 year old car. Misty (that's her name) got me through college, moved me into 4 different houses/apartments, and has been with me through every significant relationship I've had in my adult life. We've been through a lot together and she's been a great little car. And I never had problems with her until that one little fender bender back in 2004 - I don't care what the cop said, the other girl ran that red light.

Since that wreck I've had to replace my motor mount (it was completely cracked in two), I've had SEVERAL break repairs, and for the past six months or so, I've been ignoring my service engine light because I know it's telling me to get my O2 sensor checked.

The thing about the O2 sensor is that it will slowly kill your car. You can drive for months (let's say, six months) on a faulty O2 sensor before it actually starts to effect the quality of your driving experience. Well...aparently my time is up and the quality of my driving experience has been effected. Misty is now sputtering like a life-long smoker singing karaoke. It's not pretty.

So off to the dealership we go! Tomorrow at 1pm I'll take Misty to the car doctor - I would greatly appreciate happy thoughts that it won't cost me some ridiculous amount that might prevent me from making yard renovations this weekend!

intro

2009-05-21T13:53:00.003-04:00

After having exhausted myself blogging on myspace, and later trying to switch to "notes" on facebook, I've decided to actually get a real blog. This is my first, first blog entry.

Before I go on, I feel I should make a confession. I have every intention of copy and pasting past blog entries from myspace and facebook in order to beef up my new blog.
Don't scoff, just enjoy the flashbacks.

more for Les

2009-05-21T12:10:00.001-04:00

My father always addresses Christmas presents in creative ways. Like "To Delilah, From Samson" if it's from him to Mom. One year he gave me pair of gloves and all the label said was "more for Les." I decided to adopt that phrase as my new outlook on life - so far, it's served me well.

rest

2009-05-20T15:32:00.002-04:00

I assume that last night I dreamt it was Friday and was discussing my Saturday plans with someone.I assume this because I remember thinking upon waking that it couldn't be Friday. And I said so to Trey as I rolled over in my still half asleep state: "How is it possible that it's ONLY Thursday?" I groaned. "Baby...it's Wednesday." I groaned again and rolled over praying that the clock would allow me 15 more minutes of sleep...it didn't. In fact, it was 8:38 and I have to be at work at 9:00. At that point I may or may not have uttered a few explitives and ran as fast as my sleeping legs could carry me to the shower.Why is it that I can sleep for over 9 hours at night and not feel the slightest bit rested? What does that say about my general health and well-being? I get moderate exercise (thanks to weeding) and I don't allow myself caffiene in the evening or late afternoon. Also - I'm NOT EVEN 30 YET! So why can't I rest? The obvious answer would be that my brain is still going 90 miles an hour and therefore I can't fall asleep - but it's not, and I can. It's just that when I wake up it feels like I haven't gotten a full night's sleep. I feel disoriented - like I've been ripped from a Sunday afternoon nap too soon. I ache. I have joint pain. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? Maybe I should take vitamins.

growth

2009-05-18T16:09:00.000-04:00

Last Wednesday I was talking with friends regarding my reservations about auditioning for a show. I love the show and would love to do it any other time - but (strangely) I've recently found a love of yard work! Meg Foster (is awesome) looked at me and said "I'm glad you're enjoying your garden, but did you ever think there'd come a time when you'd say you'd rather do yard work than be in a play?" The answer is no - if you'd told me even 2 months ago that I would refuse to audition for a summer play so that I could do yard work in in the heat and mosquitos I would have put money against you. I think what it amounts to is that Trey and I have had this huge list of things to do to the house (mostly yard related) since he bought it almost 2 years ago and now (for some inexplicable reason) I have the drive to do it! So rather than auditioning for a show I adore I decided not to take the chance and to claim my free summer! And it was strangely liberating.

Yesterday I went shopping and got a trowel and potting soil and some hanging baskets and seeds and weedex fabric to prevent weeds from growing up around my shrubbery. Now all I need is a bunch of mulch and some rocks and to get the lawn mower out of the shop and my yard will be well on its way to fabulousness!

I used to write...

2009-05-15T16:02:00.001-04:00

Someone recently asked me if I write anymore...The answer, sadly, is no. I can't remember the last time I wrote anything for writing's sake. There was a time not so long ago that I found myself writing pages and pages after a long day at work simply because I HAD to write. It was a need...a necessary flushing of emotion/observation/guilt/anger/hurt/want/desire/questioning that if not taken care of would have caused a bottleneck of feeling from which I would have had difficulty recovering. What do I do with that feeling since I've stopped writing? Is there a lack of feeling? I think not. Have I found another outlet? Even as I write this question, the answer pops into my head. It must be theatre - more specifically, singing. Now that I think about it, there is a direct correlation between when I stopped writing and when I got involved with theatre. But, does that mean I have to give up writing? Or worse, does it mean I've lost my voice?
Sorry...when I sat down, I actually thought this was going to be funny. Not sure what happened there. However, I promise here and now to make an attempt to write more...and I guarantee (because life is nothing if not comical) at least some of it will be funny.

The Curious Case of the Clorox Cleanup Wipes

2009-01-30T17:21:00.001-05:00

Mr. Roddy is our janitor. I don't know why we call him that. Perhaps it is because he is paid for janitorial services. However, he doesn't clean anything. Apparently, when he was younger, Mr. Roddy was injured in such a way that his head is permenantly fixed to his shoulders...he seriously has NO range of motion in his upper body. So he only "cleans" (and I use that word loosely here) things between 4 ft. and 5 ft. up on the wall.

This morning when we got to work, the window (which is up near the ceiling) in the women's bathroom was open and there was a dried up, flattened Clorox Cleanup Wipe on the window sill. This is approximately 5'0" above the ground. There was another Clorox Cleanup Wipe draped across the top of the bathroom stall. This is approximately 6'0" above the ground. There was yet another dried up, crusty, flattened Clorox Cleanup Wipe on the back of the toilet. This is approximately 2'6" above the ground. Now, taking into account that it would be difficult for Mr. Roddy to even SEE any of these locations, and the fact that all of the Clorox Cleanup Wipes were found spotlessly clean, AND that the area on each surface surrounding the found Clorox Cleanup Wipes was still dirty has caused several of us to ponder how the heck they got there.

It's as if Mr. Roddy had an accomplice to place these "clues" for us to find as if they were proof that he might actually clean something.

Things that make you go "Hmm?"

"I HAVE A DREAM"...had a dream...ate something funny before bed

2009-01-28T10:51:00.001-05:00

I dreamt last night that I was at some conference for something or other in DC and President Barack Obama was there. For some reason we were sitting by each other listening to the speaker and we just kept cutting up. In my dream we got along fabulously and had very similar senses of humor and we became such good buddies at this conference that I got invited to the White House any time I want, just to hang out...and also in my dream, Malia and Sasha were white. Strange. But it was a very cool dream.

He might be my favorite President ever and he's only been in office a week.