Like Two Bulls in a Small Pen

“Be thankful for every heartbreak, for they were planned.  They come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then leave.  Their purpose is to shake you up, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light can get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you have to transform your life.  And you do.”  I would give credit to the author here, but I got this from Pinterest and no author was listed…

Let it go on the record…I, Aleta Kaylee, am not the best at discernment.  Discernment is simply not my gift.  For others, red flags and warnings and alarms can be going off and I will sit there blissfully unaware, dazed by the newness and shininess of a new person. 

That dazed state is a pretty accurate description for myself for the past few months.  Perhaps I had simply been optimistic.  Perhaps I had really only scratched the surface with the person that I’d been spending time with. (Shrugs sholders).  Who knows?

Hindsight is 20/20.  Looking back now, there were so many signs that I had missed; or things that I didn’t analyze that I should have. 

Things had begun going south about a month ago, but as I sat at my friend’s wedding recently, I began reflecting…and I began thinking about what I needed and what was really lacking.

I think in any friendship, relationship, what have you, you will sometimes learn new things about yourself…and this had been no different. 

Now, while I have not been blessed with the gift of discernment, I have been blessed with the gift of encouragement.  I am always very forthcoming with compliments.  I love to give them.  I love to build people up.  In turn, something that I realized I desperately needed in a relationship was compliments. 

Call me vain all you like… I may be a chubby girl, but I put a lot into my outfits daily….ESPECIALLY when I go out.  It may seem like such a small, superficial thing, but for me…Very few things make me happier than if I have a headband, necklace, and purse to perfectly match my dress.  I put a lot into my outfits.  Frankly, in this day and age, where dressing like a homeless person is almost celebrated, I think that for one to put so much thought into their outfit…well, it SHOULD be acknowledged.  If you see that I have in any way dressed up or “gussied up something special” for you, I would like for it to be acknowledged.  It is nice for the little things to be noticed. 

Perhaps I’m vain, but even a “you look nice” wouldn’t have been that bitter to roll off the tongue.  What I got was “I’m no good with compliments.”  Frankly, I think at the very heart of the matter, it was more of a power play.   

Also, I’m finding that I am an extremely extroverted person.  I thrive when my schedule is chock full of social events and meetings with friends.  Again, this may seem silly or frivolous to some, but I enjoy “peopling” my life as much as I possibly can.   While I understand that not everyone is like me in that, it is something that I truly enjoy.

Although I already knew this little tidbit about myself…it has become abundantly clear.  I, Aleta Kaylee, am a control freak.  Before you begin chanting “amen” and vigorously nodding your head, I want it to go on record…he was too.  While I may can dress the part of a 60s housewife…I am wholeheartedly an independent, free-thinking, foul-mouthed, full of sass, millennial.  And him?  Well, he is a man with the mentality of a man in the 1960s.  Neither are bad things…neither of us are bad people…or “wrong” in our line of thinking.  However, in retrospect, I’d say we got along about as well as 2 bulls in a small pen about 60 percent of the time. 

Finally, the last thing that I can say that I’ve learned is…I am very okay with myself.  I know, I’m overweight.  I know that I have flaws.  But I am very confident in the skin I’m in.  There are things I want to change, sure…but I am “okay” with myself.  And that, in itself, is becoming a rarity in this day and age.  I hope that in relationships/friendships to come, no matter the opinion of another, I hope that I will not lose sight of that. 

To end this, I will say that in every “parting of the ways” there is always a bit of grief.  A person’s absence, whether it be a friend or more, leaves a bit of a void, and takes a part of you with them.  Who you were at that very point in time, when you were with that person, you will never be exactly that person again.  There is a loss there, and a bit of grief.  But we learn, we grow, and we move on. 

On my heart

I haven’t really prayed since my dad was diagnosed with cancer.  It wasn’t necessarily that I was mad with God, but felt it unimportant and useless because it was terminal and we knew what the end result would ultimately be.  I believe in God.  I also believe that God knows everything.  At that point in my life, pleading with God seemed helpless and hopeless...I knew what would happen.  I saw his struggles, witnessed him getting sicker and sicker.  I realize now that that was not the point.  The point is to talk to God, let him know what’s on your heart.  In that, I have failed.  Perhaps he knows my thoughts.  I hope that he knows what’s on my heart.  

There has been something on my heart for the past week.  Maybe it’s my hormones, maybe my emotions have been high this week...but tonight, I had to pray. I don’t say that to be boastful about my prayer.  I had to get something off of my heart.  Had to let God know one of my worries.  I have sat through the funeral of someone that died to soon in the military.  I have heard the 21 gun salute.  Felt the person next to me tremble and cry out.  I have seen a soldier hand the fallen soldier’s fiance a folded American flag.  I will forever have the image of the Patriot Guard Riders, standing with the flags on their motorcycles waving, creating a buffer between the funeral proceedings and the protestors.  I’m unsure of whether those images, feelings, and sounds will ever become less vivid.  

As much as I am proud of those who join the military, I always have concern wash through me.  That image will always cross my mind and I never want to go through this again.  I never want to see another person/friend/family member go through that.  

T-Shirt

I smile at the very thought of it.  Like sunlight beaming in the kitchen window, making even the dust seem magical; or the smell of Dixies baking in the oven; or the feel of the water splash up on your legs as you walk the beach.  The memories are warm, and affect the senses.  

It was a simple t-shirt.  It made me smile.  Given as a Christmas present.  

I hadn’t thought that much about it.  It was a gift.  It was just  a t-shirt that reminded me of you.  

Later, you told me it was your favorite.  Even after you had worn it for a few years, you still loved it.  Holes had covered it by then, and she often asked you why you still wore it and why you wouldn’t throw it away.  You told her the same, that it was your favorite.  

But then, after telling me that, you looked at me and smiled.  You said “It has holes all in it, but I still love it.  Every time I wear it, I think of you.”  

That memory fills me with sunshine on my dreariest day.  It brings warmth to my skin...warmth to my soul.  It was a stupid shirt, but it meant the world to you.  Ultimately, is has meant the world to me.  

Letter from a Homewrecker

I don’t wear his ring.  I don’t don his name.  I get calls only when the timing is right.  She is his 8 to 5, I am his shift caught here and there, when it works for him.

She is nice.  She takes care of him and makes him smile after a bad day.  It makes me thankful for her, but also hate her.  I am his missing piece and she is everything I’m not.  

No family gatherings shared.  They do not know. Other people, aside from a few close friends, do not know.  No hands held in public.  No cute little public displays of affection.  Even our conversations in passing are cut short if the wrong person walks by.  No arm placed around me.  I am, after all, not “your girl.”  Eyes diverted, so others don’t see the emotion behind them.  Letters thrown out on your ride home...there is no evidence left.  

Many a night spent alone.  You'd be amazed to know how very much it eats at a girl to realize that a man wants her but not enough to change his current situation to be with her.  After a while, that takes an enormous toll on a girl's self worth.    

Guilt sets in when I decide to talk to someone new.  Irrational jealousy is inflamed in you.  Good guys come, and good guys go...and I cannot see past you.  I....can’t do that to you.  Ridiculous, isn’t it?  And the precedent is set, I am the one left waiting.  Always...Always.  

Moodiness.  Aggravation.  Then you make me smile.  Damn you.  Always.

I have to see you every once and again.  Have to deal with the memories.  Have to see her....sometimes with you.  Are you really happy when you’re home?  Do your worlds ever collide and you think of me while you’re...not with me?  

This is the double standard.  It is fine for your behavior.  Somewhat expected.  I am, in turn, labeled the homewrecker, the problem, the whore.  I am a good person, I swear.  I didn’t want this either.  But I am the one judged.  Because, as I damn well know, that ultimately, this falls on me...because it was “my decision.”  And that is the horrible burden that I bear.  

Ultimately, we will never really introduce each other to each's family.  We will never know what it's like to move in together, or get married or have babies.  I will never know what it's like to wake up in the morning next to you.  Or to know how rowdy you get watching football games on a lazy Saturday afternoon.  I won't ever really have that moment when I get to introduce you to my friends.  And if I was completely honest with myself..that's all I've ever really wanted.  You've always meant that much.  

Shaking my fists and the sky.  Hating myself.  This is not what I wanted in my life.  Not what i expected with my life.  And yet, you still remain.  10 years is it?  And nothing more than a screwed up, bleak abyss...not even a relationship....Could you even put a name on it?  And God no, never any commitment.  At least where it concerns me.  

Perhaps this is what our elders warned us about.  If I'd been smarter...If I had only listened....

But...after all this time...after all of this...mess...I still wait for a phone call.  And that makes me hate you.  But it makes me hate me more.  

Demons

 

I would love to give photo credit for this, but I got it off pinterest, 

and I have no idea where it originated from.

I would give photo credit to whoever took this, but I have no idea.

So I know, I know, I’ve posted a lot about Philip Seymour Hoffman this week.  Honestly, I am just downright heartbroken.  I can’t really even explain why it has hit me so very hard.   

The first time I ever saw him that I could remember was maybe Patch Adams.  I saw him on Along Came Polly as Sandy Luke, the grown-up child star with little tact, and he made me laugh.  But I really fell in love with him in Capote.  He embodied the high-pitched, flamboyant, lovable man that took himself a tad too seriously.  Honey, anyone that can keep that crazy voice that Truman Capote had throughout all of filming?  I tip my hat to.  Having read In Cold Blood, and partly knowing the background of the movie, I really had a deep appreciation of it.  All I can say is: his acting was AMAZING.  Which was evident when he took the Oscar home that year for Best Actor.  If you have not seen the movie, I simply demand you see it.  

I recently went and saw Catching Fire (my favorite of the Hunger Games books).  I cannot tell you what a happy surprise it was to see him in the role of Plutarch Heavensbee.  I am now looking forward to the movies that will come out posthumously with him, but I won’t guarantee that I will not cry through them all.

I hope that he will be remembered for his incredible acting ability, not the manner in which he died.  His ability to be a chameleon and very subtly turn into his character.  No, he never half-assed it.  He BECAME the character and had the audience believing every word rolling off his tongue was the “true” him.  An asset to his profession and a mournful loss to those he entertained for the past twenty years.    

His acting career isn’t really what this blog post is about though.  I wanted to react to some of the comments other actors have made about his death this week.

For those of you who haven’t read the articles.  When PSH was in his early twenties he had a substance abuse problem that he sought help for.  He had been sober for 20+ years before he fell back into the throes of his addiction last year; finally succumbing to it last Sunday.  

To be honest, I have been obsessed with reading just about every article in the past few days.  Perhaps, I wanted to take in every word hoping to be able to wrap my head around the fact that he’s no longer here.  Maybe hoping to understand his ill-fated last days.

Today, I read something that made me really angry.  There were some celebrities that made remarks such as that he was “selfish,” “senseless,” or “stupid.”  Some even said “what wasted talent.”  

Granted, doing drugs is not nearly the smartest thing one can do.  These comments just hit me really wrong.  Surely, SURELY, those that made those remarks do not realize what a strong hold addiction can have on someone.  An “addiction” is not simply social drinking...it’s not the occasional pot use.  Do they not realize that anyone facing an addiction feels guilt any time that they put that needle to their arm?  That glass to their lips?  Their need for their vice is just too strong.  It’s not necessarily a “selfish” life...it’s a guilt-ridden one.  

We all have demons.  For some, alcohol plagues them.  For some, drugs.  For others, adultery.  Gambling, excessive shopping, the list goes on and on...it could even be thoughts or a form of mental illness.  

To bring this point home, I will share this:  My personal demon would be thoughts of suicide.  There is probably not a day that goes by that that thought is not in the back of my mind.  Granted, I know that these are not rational thoughts...I know this, therefore I do not act on them.  But that’s the thing about “demons”...they’re always lurking somewhere in the background.  Brought forth to the front at the slightest sign of insecurity or resignation.  I can be smiling and seemingly full of self-confidence.  But there is always that voice in my head saying that I am worthless and unnecessary.  When my mind wanders to those dark areas, I often wonder if a loss would be felt if I was not here.  I feel a lot of guilt for things that have happened in my life that perhaps could not have been avoided, but I have strapped on my shoulders.  I’m just illustrating a problem, that I’m certain that others deal with as well, and fight every day.  Again, I’m just sharing a darker side of my story to prove a point.  

I tell you that to say this:  Money cannot make you free from addiction or “demons.”    Nor talent.  Nor status or popularity.  Nor friends or close family.  Nor faith (although it can be an aide in getting through it).  

Let’s always keep in mind that people can be facing battles that others may not can see or understand.  That’s something I, myself, need to work on, too.

Rather than scrutinize his death, and talk about what he could’ve/should’ve done...let’s celebrate the life of a brilliant actor.  One of the greatest of his time.  Let’s remember him.

I wish this past year could have been easier on you, PSH.  

You will forever be missed. 

For those of you who have seen the Hunger Games,

 or read it, you will understand this reference.

Christmas traditions with a Southern Flair

Tonight, as Mom and I were driving home from Chiefland, the Redneck version of the 12 days of Christmas came on.  Y’all know the one....  Jeff Foxworthy belts it out as only he can.  Now, while I believe that The 12 days of Christmas (the original version) might possibly be the most annoying song ever.  But the Redneck version...well, it cracks me up.

Why?  

Well, right before I left Hitchcocks to go to work at the Journal, I was up there one day right before Christmas.  We were all just hanging out in the back.  I don’t know how, but we got to talking about the 12 days of Christmas song (the original).  Dennis was trying to list them off.  He got stumped on day 8.  Without missing a beat, I blurted out “It’s eight table dancers.”--Please note here, that I feel SURE Dennis had never been privileged to hear that version of the song--Insert crazy look from Dennis, as he kindly said “Yeahhhh....I don’t think that’s it.”  I’d said it without even putting a thought to the words tumbling out of my mouth.  Needless to say, my face was crimson.

This being said, I will mention yet again, that I’m “a far cry from white trash, and a shoutin’ distance from Southern Belle.”  

You can dress your casserole up in a pretty dish; slap on a cute apron and matching hairbow.  You can gussy up in full Scarlett O’ Hara fashion and let pure sugar drip off your tongue.  You can win people over with your “y’alls” and “Sugars” and “Honeys” and “Darlins.”  You can say your prayers to Jesus, and idolize the great Mrs. Paula Deen...But if you’ve got Redneck in your roots, there’s just no shakin’ it or coverin’ it up.  It’s there...Sure as death and taxes.

Lately, what with thoughts of Christmas cookies, Christmas decorations, jingle bells, and reindeer dancing in my head, I got to thinkin’ a little about Christmas traditions.  

My Holidays are as deep-rooted in tradition as the next Southerner.  Every Christmas, inevitably the “Santa” Christmas blocks get rearranged to say “Satan.”  The “Noel” blocks wind up saying “Leon.”  Our Christmas mouse goes missing from our Advent Calendar.  Somebody cranks up the dancing Black Santa.  Someone might possibly chip a tooth on one of the baked goods.  Someone tries to find a lower fat version of a Classic Southern dish.  Somebody gets mad.  Someone always takes it upon themselves to buy the “person who has everything” a truly awful gift...such as sailor pants or a stuffed, real-looking chicken wearing googles and a #1 medallion around his neck. Someone may or may not come home with a new piercing and gets chased with a bug zapper.  And someone may or may not bring a (friend and) drag queen to add a little spice to the holiday :)

No matter how crazy your family is, love and cherish them.  I love mine dearly...fruits, nuts, and all.  Variety is the spice of life, and without a few nuts, life would sure be dull.  When you’re watching a scene befitting an episode of All My Children, or the family drama Cake Boss, or...well, Cops unfold at your Holiday gathering...Just think: “Without these stories, I’ll have nothing to talk about when I’m 80.” 

Christmas traditions with a Southern Flair

Tonight, as Mom and I were driving home from Chiefland, the Redneck version of the 12 days of Christmas came on.  Y’all know the one....  Jeff Foxworthy belts it out as only he can.  Now, while I believe that The 12 days of Christmas (the original version) might possibly be the most annoying song ever.  But the Redneck version...well, it cracks me up.

Why?  

Well, right before I left Hitchcocks to go to work at the Journal, I was up there one day right before Christmas.  We were all just hanging out in the back.  I don’t know how, but we got to talking about the 12 days of Christmas song (the original).  Dennis was trying to list them off.  He got stumped on day 8.  Without missing a beat, I blurted out “It’s eight table dancers.”--Please note here, that I feel SURE Dennis had never been privileged to hear that version of the song--Insert crazy look from Dennis, as he kindly said “Yeahhhh....I don’t think that’s it.”  I’d said it without even putting a thought to the words tumbling out of my mouth.  Needless to say, my face was crimson.

This being said, I will mention yet again, that I’m “a far cry from white trash, and a shoutin’ distance from Southern Belle.”  

You can dress your casserole up in a pretty dish; slap on a cute apron and matching hairbow.  You can gussy up in full Scarlett O’ Hara fashion and let pure sugar drip off your tongue.  You can win people over with your “y’alls” and “Sugars” and “Honeys” and “Darlins.”  You can say your prayers to Jesus, and idolize the great Mrs. Paula Deen...But if you’ve got Redneck in your roots, there’s just no shakin’ it or coverin’ it up.  It’s there...Sure as death and taxes.

Lately, what with thoughts of Christmas cookies, Christmas decorations, jingle bells, and reindeer dancing in my head, I got to thinkin’ a little about Christmas traditions.  

My Holidays are as deep-rooted in tradition as the next Southerner.  Every Christmas, inevitably the “Santa” Christmas blocks get rearranged to say “Satan.”  The “Noel” blocks wind up saying “Leon.”  Our Christmas mouse goes missing from our Advent Calendar.  Somebody cranks up the dancing Black Santa.  Someone might possibly chip a tooth on one of the baked goods.  Someone tries to find a lower fat version of a Classic Southern dish.  Somebody gets mad.  Someone always takes it upon themselves to buy the “person who has everything” a truly awful gift...such as sailor pants or a stuffed, real-looking chicken wearing googles and a #1 medallion around his neck. Someone may or may not come home with a new piercing and gets chased with a bug zapper.  And someone may or may not bring a (friend and) drag queen to add a little spice to the holiday :)

No matter how crazy your family is, love and cherish them.  I love mine dearly...fruits, nuts, and all.  Variety is the spice of life, and without a few nuts, life would sure be dull.  When you’re watching a scene befitting an episode of All My Children, or the family drama Cake Boss, or...well, Cops unfold at your Holiday gathering...Just think: “Without these stories, I’ll have nothing to talk about when I’m 80.” 

A little Christmas Blessing

So, one of my absolute favorite things to do during the holidays is sponsoring a Guardian Ad Litem child for Christmas.  There is nothing I love doing more than searching for that perfect gift for the child that I've been given.  I may not have met this child, but for a small amount of time, I'm allowed to dote and "spoil" them in some small way. :)  I try to picture what their face will look like when they open my gift on Christmas morning.

I, myself, have been very fortunate in my life.  Growing up, I may not have gotten every single thing I asked for on my Christmas list to Santa, but I was very fortunate.  There are so many kids out there these days that aren't even having their NEEDS met, much less having any of their wants met.
I ask y'all, that this Christmas you take a moment to thank God for all your blessings and take the time to find some way that you can give back to those who might not have ever experienced the kind of Christmas that you have grown accustomed to.
 
I promise you, it will bless your heart.

I'm attaching a copy of the Guardian Ad Litem Sponsorship flier.  If you have any questions, or would like to sign up, please contact Jenni Ellis at jenni.ellis@gal.fl.gov.

My Contest Winner

So, y'all after a really hard decision...I've finally named a winner....but first, here were all the participants in my contest.  Remember, it was supposed to capture "what fall is to you."  I loved all of these entries :)

Chana’s Photo Description: This is fall to me..my baby in a pumpkin. Lol my first October as a mama :)

Chana’s little boy, Waylon, is the cutest thing ever.  Put him in a pumpkin and what do you have?  Absolutely-fricken-adorable!  And it was really sweet that this is what comes to her mind with Fall.  Her first year of motherhood.

Christy’s Photo: Chana submitted this photo for her sister. It was taken while she was on a walk in New Mexico.

Chana actually submitted this for her sister, Christy.  And this photo was spectacular.  I loved the landscape, and the colorful autumn trees.

Charon’s Photo Description: I think of the mountains, leaves changing colors, hunting season.....

Charon encompassed what comes to mind for so many around here.  For so many, hunting season and Fall are almost indistinguishable in their minds.  What a beautiful photo. 

Chris’ Photo Description: My “Fall” is Bird Hunting. I remember growing up my dad always had a bird dog: Fran was a German Short-Hair, Sue was a Black Lab (and mother of), Syd which was a yellow lab, and the last bird dog he had.

Chris...Chris always surprises me (always has, as we were coworkers for over 6 years).  When he said that he was going to submit something, I had no idea what to expect.  I loved the fact that bird hunting was what he thought of when he thought of Fall.  This was a really cool picture, I loved the dog :)

Lanie’s Photo Description: This is fall to me...fun,family,and fall leaves!!!=)

For those of you that haven’t gotten the pleasure of meeting Lanie...Lanie was a Chiefland girl that got married last year and moved to Alaska.  From everything she has posted, I am absolutely chomping at the bit to go.  But Alaska experiences Fall quite a bit earlier than we do here.  I thought this picture was beautiful, with all the colorful leaves in the background.  It completely caught the spunk of her three kids too!!  Such a fun family!

Whitney’s Photo Description: The air was crisp, I was an independent college grad with the world at my fingertips. For the first time in my life, I was completely confident in my own skin. I was free of a 'man' who was anything but that---and the hole in my heart was finally healed. My skin was flawless, my smile was contagious and SO real, my highlights were incredible. I was in Nashville - my favorite city, living my dream and truly happy, falling in love with the man I would marry three years later. The leaves......they were the prettiest I'd ever seen. And this me, the me in this picture? It's who I've been every fall since then. No matter what I look like, whether my hair is highlighted or not, if I'm in shape or out - - I am the girl in this picture eVeRy fall. It's my favorite time of year for one simple reason: I fell in love with it, it defined me, and I will never forget the way it made me feel.

This photo was gorgeous.  Whitney looks beautiful, and the leaves are gorgeous.  What really struck me was her description.  How could that not be inspirational?  I just loved it.

Quite possibly one of my all-time favorite photos in the history of ever, my friend Krystle submitted.  However, she asked that she not be part of the contest as it might seem biased if she won.  But let me tell you, this is my computer screen saver at the moment, and is absolutely a "muse" photo.  I love it.

So, who wins??

I loved all of these photos.  Every single one of them.  But quite possibly the one that inspired me the most, inspired me because of it's photo but also because of it's caption.  F. Scott Fitzgerald once said that "Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the Fall."  With her caption and this photo it captured that for me.  With Fall, everything takes on a different tone, things take on a whole new vibrancy.  We take on different attitudes...and sometimes these new attitudes continue to last.
So, Whitney is the winner of this contest.

But, wait, there's more.  Each of those that took the time to enter will also receive "one of Aleta's favorite things."  Thank you so much for submitting.  I loved them all.  I truly did.  

My Fellow Travelers

I am downright giddy with the excitement of a trip upon me. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel now!!! It has been far too long since I have packed my bags and just took off. I am definitely one of those “planner” types; as much as I’d love to be spontaneous and go here, there, and everywhere…it’s just not in me. I need to at least semi-plan. This trip has been a bit of a chore for me. I had dates set, I had turned in my PLT form, my bags are practically begging for me to over-stuff them (as I tend to pack three times as much as I actually need)…and yet, you know what is missing? A location. Originally, the plan had been to go into Alabama, possibly Mississippi and tool around. However, Georgia and the Carolinas beckon…so in a little while, we will be off to Savannah (this will be Rheba’s first time in Savannah…yes, I know, the heavens just opened up and I can hear the Hallelujah chorus), we will also take in Charleston, Myrtle Beach, and possibly Wilmington. I am trying oh-so-hard NOT to have everything planned down to the minute. But I would like to ask any of you who have frequented these areas: Is there anything that we absolutely must do in any of these towns? Being the eternal foodie, are there any restaurants that we shouldn’t miss? Sights? Museums? Are there any other cities along the coast that I simply must not miss? Our last trip primarily consisted of a big shopping weekend (as it rained during most of our stay in Fernandina). I would kind of like to not shop the entire time during this trip and take in more of history, sights, etc. I was fortunate enough to go to Savannah a few years ago, and I loved it…so I’m looking forward to returning there. I have been to Charleston, but it was during M-Fuge, and we didn’t get to see much of the city. As for Myrtle Beach and Wilmington…I am at a complete loss. Whatever advice y’all have for me would be greatly appreciated.

Fall into Fabulousness.

Tonight, I got an email from Pinterest saying that my friend Naomi had tagged me in a comment. When I went to the pin, it said “If you look in the mirror and say “pumpkin spice latte” three times, a white suburban girl in yoga pants will appear and tell you everything she loves about Fall.” First off...I liketa died. How true is that? I’m a white girl, yoga pants are my favorite, and I LOVE FALL. I love the color orange. I love when the leaves change. I love boots. I love scarves. I love hoodies. I love cuddling. I love sitting by the fire. I love EVERYTHING pumpkin. I love hot chocolate. I love when Bath and Body works comes out with the fall scents. I love football games. I love the promise of a change every fall. I love the smell of fall.... Lol. It’s time for a contest, y’all. Ok, so, is it odd that I’d picked out a prize for this contest before I’d established what I wanted the contest to be? Lol. Here is what I’m looking for: I want you to submit a photo that is the epitome of Fall, in your eyes. It could be a picture of a landscape. It could be a picture of an interesting old house. Hell, it could be a photo taken at a football game. I'm so excited to see what Fall is to y'all! I have a muse board of things that remind me of places and times to inspire me to write...and I am dying to have some Fall pics to add to my muse board. --- The prize: Some of Aleta’s favorite things... I promise, if you’re a girl...and you like girly girl stuff...this is right up your alley. Some of the items in the prize basket include: my all-time favorite lip gloss (Urban Decay Lip Junkie), Lauren Conrad earrings, a unique and super cute headband:), one of my favorite books, and some other goodies that I haven't decided upon just yet :) The deadline: November 15th. I want everyone to participate...so guys, if you so should choose, I’m sure the girl in your life would be thrilled to get the prize. How to submit? Email me on facebook...or email me at missmargarita8604@yahoo.com. Y’all get to submittin’ :)

Celebrating Cornbread

Tomorrow is my daddy’s birthday. And I cannot believe that he’s been gone almost two years now. Time is passing so quickly, it’s hard to believe. Rather than having a blog post that talks about how much I miss him, and Lord knows I miss him, I thought this would be a great time to do a compilation of his funny quotes, and his funny stories. I will add a little disclaimer about some of the pictures...as you will notice, many of the pictures I post are of him without a shirt. He did, in fact, own shirts, lol, he just preferred not to wear them when lounging around at home. So if my pictures offend you, I’m sorry. So here goes: Cornbread on driving: “If you wouldn’t have had your radio up that loud, you wouldn’t have had that flat tire.” “If you drive 45 mph everywhere, you’ll save on gas.” “Aleta, in the last two weeks you got a speeding ticket and hit a parked car...that doesn’t speak too well does it?” (Talking about a certain somebody driving a porta-potty truck): “She drives that shit truck like it’s a firetruck headed to a fire!” His favorite story about his slow driving: “There I was, driving the inmate van to Itchetucknee, and we went through the School Zone. That crossing guard always hated to see me coming. The school zone was 15 mph, so of course I went 5. There that lady stood, waving her hands for me to go faster, yelling “keep going, c’mon!” The inmates just laughed. Now, if any of y’all ever got behind my dad while driving, you’d have known it... He was one of the only people that could make church members cuss both going to and coming from church. And Lord knows you didn’t pass him. I did once. I had had it. He was going 30 the whole way home, I’m sure just for my benefit, and I’d just had it. So I sped past him... which led to this statement when he made it home: “Aleta, you drive like a bat outta hell.” What? Because I went the 55 speed limit? :) Cornbread on idiots: “He’s not the sharpest knife in the tool shed.” Cornbread on Dental Hygiene: While watching his favorite show “Hee-Haw” one night on tv, he took out his dentures and started cleaning them. As I watched him eyeing his teeth, he looked over at me and said “My God, I think I’ve got a cavity.” If you can’t say anything nice, come sit by Cornbread: We used to have a lady, (bless her heart), that we were around that thought she could sing. The only real way I can describe the voice is: Tammy Wynette on crack. Well, dad, any time this lady would get up to sing, would look over to my cousin’s wife, Jodi. And she’d try as hard as she could not NOT look at him. And just as soon as she did, those big eyes of his would near ‘bout roll back in his head. I must say here, that I’ve nearly got “that” look down-pat now ;) After Easter service, as soon as he walked in the door: “That ugly little girl made fun of my overalls. Hell, you’d have to tie a pork chop around her neck to get the dog to play with her...and she made fun of my overalls.” “She’s good people. She’s a burnt out pothead, but she’s good people.” Honesty IS the best policy: We had an Evangelist visit our church multiple times. Now, dad was not the fondest of this man, and normally, if he knew he was coming, dad would just go to Sunday School and then head home...but he actually sat through his sermon one Sunday. Towards the end of the service, the Evangelist asked the congregation who was planning to come back that Sunday evening. A majority of the church dutifully raised their hands. Then, the Evangelist asked the congregation who was planning not to attend that evening. I looked over at dad, as he was hard to miss, as he raised his hand high towards the heavens, the only hand raised in the whole congregation. Nope, he sure wasn’t planning on coming back that evening. Cornbread on the War on Drugs: During a dinner party...with church-going family friends...in the middle of dinner....out of the blue: “You know...we just need to legalize marijuana...I mean, we’re just losin’ this whole war on drugs.” Cornbread on alcohol: At the New Year’s Eve party at my Aunt’s house, to Jarrod who was pouring him sparkling grape juice: “Now, this doesn’t have any alcohol in it, right? I don’t want to get drunk.” Someone told him that a sip or two of wine might help when he woke up with muscle cramps, so we had some in the house. He tried this trick, he had maybe two sips. Here was the conversation that ensued the next morning: Mom: “So, Jackie, did the wine help the cramps last night?” Dad: “Not really, it just made me drunk.” Cornbread on healthcare: To a nurse, after he’d been kept on a liquid diet for two days: “I know what y’all are doin’...y’all are gettin’ me all slim and trim so I’m casket sharp.” After giving the stink eye to a nurse, after dad was returned to his room after a minor surgery: “Cindi, you would not believe where they had me!! You would not believe where they did my surgery. They had me in the woodshed out back.” Walking in one morning to one mad Cornbread...sitting there with his arms crossed, his eyes rolling..... “Dad, did you sleep okay?” (insert eyeroll) “Hell no. They put me in here with him (as he points to his roommate), and he had his tv going wide ass open all night.” Cornbread on Politics: “You know who I’m writing in on my ballot? Willie Nelson. He’d get rid of the IRS and he’d legalize marijuana.” Cornbread on a balanced diet: “I need to start eating better. I do. (As he sorts through the plate put in front of him) Now, who wants this banana. I don’t want that crap.” “I don’t like grape popsicles. They make me burp.” Cornbread on Foreigners “You know those people from England that can’t speak good English?” Cornbread on Religion: This conversation happened while awaiting surgery, to determine whether he would accept a blood transfusion if needed: Nurse: “Sir, are you Jehovah’s Witness?” Dad: “Hell no! I’m Baptist.” Cornbread on phone etiquette: I cannot tell you how many times in my life I’ve heard my dad answer the phone “Well, hey you big dummy.” To telemarketers: “Don’t you ever call our house and wake me up on a Saturday again!” “Hell no, we’re not interested.” When the Pizza Hut Delivery man hadn’t come within an hour’s time, on the phone with Pizza Hut: “Well, thank God that boy wasn’t driving an Ambulance.” Cornbread on Work Ethic: “I lovvvvve my job.” (I think that this one...by far...was his favorite saying, ever.) Truth be told, my daddy provided me the funniest material to write with. For those of you that were blessed enough to be around him, you knew how funny he was. There are so many things, so many funny memories that pop into my mind every day. My mom, Rheba and I were truly blessed to be “Jackie’s Girls.” He brightened our lives with his dramatic flair and always put a crazy spin on any situation. I miss him terribly, but you know what? Laughter has always been what got me through anything hard. This year on his birthday, I want to celebrate his life, not mourn our loss. I want to laugh at his memory. I want to remember him in his best possible form. If you have any funny memories, I encourage you to post them. I would love to read them!

The Great Sheffield Pancake Incident

I am a foodie. My hips do not lie. I also, on occasion, will throw down and act like a bit of a bitchy princess. I will also admit, that I am a bit irrational at times. Some may even argue a little insane. And I may not dispute that point, because I might…somewhat…sometimes agree… But, hell, I am a woman, after all. It just stands to reason that I may, at times, become irrational…especially when booze, food, or social media are involved. Another fun, little fact about me would be that when I wake up from what I call one of my “coma naps,” people need not try to reason with me…or even talk to me…for about an hour. I needn’t have conversations, drive a car, handle heavy equipment, bake, or try and talk someone off a ledge during that “coming back to reality” hour…because bad things will happen. So, that is the little backstory as to how Great Pancake Incident transpired. Fast-forward to Tuesday, 3 p.m.— I call mom while I’m at work and ask her if we can have pancakes for dinner. While I am normally NOT a breakfast-for-dinner type-gal, I had the biggest hankering for pancakes. Well, pancakes and Nutella to be exact. Mom said she’d think on it. I should probably mention here that I do none of the cooking at our house. While I would like to think that I am a skilled baker, I absolutely HATE cooking. I hate it. So there I sit…for two long, painstaking hours thinking about my pancakes. Nutella and pancakes? HEAVEN. I go home, and decide to take a little siesta after my oh-so-long day. Fast-forward two hours when I awoke from my coma nap. I walk into our living room and ask mom where ol’ Smitty is. She tells me that he went to town to get some spaghetti sauce. **Insert “What the wha??”** **Insert crazy face** **Insert hostile, sleepy, foggy headed foodie** **Insert hissy fit befitting a two year-old.** **Insert statements such as: “Well, what the heck happened to my pancakes?” “Why do you constantly choose to make things I don’t eat.” “I DON’T EVEN EAT SPAGHETTI!” “Well whose idea was this??” Then the following conversation happened: Mom: “Aleta, I will make your pancakes for you.” Me: “Nooooooo. Don’t bother. Just fix your stupid spaghetti…Don’t worry about me.” Fast-forward a few minutes: One very un-happy, unsatisfied, grumpy princess sits on the couch eating Eggo chocolate chip waffles covered with Nutella, deleting certain people from her house off her facebook. Lessons learned: 1. I am a woman and I am sometimes utterly ridiculous. 2. I really hate spaghetti. 3. It’s not wise to not give a hungry, sleepy foodie what she wants. 4. Just because you live in my house does not mean you’re exempt from being deleted from my facebook friends. 5. I really wanted pancakes.

Recent Obsessions

Ok, ok…so I haven’t posted in a while. While I do have quite a bit of fodder for a few posts…I have had no, and I mean NO ambition to write here lately. In trying to get all inspired, I will go back to an old crutch…my recent obsessions. 1. As I mentioned in a Facebook status today, I am absolutely in love with the message of the Semicolon movement. Last night, I stumbled across a pin on pinterest (while scoping out tattoo ideas), of a person that had a semicolon tattooed on their wrist. The person’s whole forearm was covered in scars, where I’m assuming they had cut themselves. The message below the pin said “The self-harm semicolon. On April 16, 2013 everyone who self-harms, is suicidal, depressed, or has anxiety, is unhappy, is going through a broken heart, lost a loved one, etc. draw a semicolon on your wrist. A semicolon represents a sentence that an author could’ve ended but chose not to. The author is you and the sentence is your life.” What a powerful message to anyone who is struggling. 2. A far lighter, and more trivial, current obsession of mine would be glittery eyeliner. I came across some in the Walgreens while shopping for eye shadow to wear in a friend’s wedding in early August and have loved it ever since. 3. V8 energy (preferably in Blueberry Pomegranate). It really does give you energy and tastes yummy too. 4. I’ve mentioned this more than a couple of times. But just roll your eyes and read on…I am completely obsessed with Criminal Minds. In college, I took Forensic Psychology and Abnormal Psychology under a professor named Mr. Jeannette (you may remember him from previous stories…he’s the one that sent me to an Alcoholics Anonymous class to see how group therapy worked). Hands down, the coolest, most interesting courses I took in college. We had numerous discussions about Criminal Profiling…And truth be known, if I could handle the blood and gore, I would have hopped, skipped, and jumped right into that profession. Just ask my mama, who just took dozens of my true crime/criminal profile books off to the Good will…I love the whole process of trying to see what makes a person tick. 5. And on that same note…again, I may have mentioned this… Shemar Moore? My word! I’d have his babies. 6. My hair. Now, it took me a long while to finally take the plunge and chop my hair off--and while, it’s probably going to take me a bit to learn how to style it—I am in love. Kalyn Jerrels is AMAZING. I went home last night and tried my hair combs, my bejeweled hair clips and my headbands in it…and it all looked super cute. And the plum colored highlights, gave me a modern, fresh little pop…just in time for Fall! So, if you’re searching for a stylist, I would highly recommend Kalyn! 7. Charming Charlies…If you are close to one of these stores, I stand in amazement that you aren’t up to your eyeballs in debt. This is my new favorite store. Such cute accessories! Thank you to Carrie Mizell for telling me about it, and causing my downfall 

Unscrupulous

She always gave herself October and July to go crazy in.  October, because that’s the month she fell in love with him.  July, because it was in that month that he was taken the following year.  It was those two months that the memories seemed to be so closely tied to him.  It was then that the blistering sadness would wash over her. 

If you asked her what she missed the most about him, what would she say?  There was not one single thing about him that she could consciously say that had left the biggest void in her heart.  Maybe it was his clear green eyes that could quicken the beat of her heart while looking directly into hers.  It might just have to be the way the faintest brush of his hand on her arm could send goosebumps across her skin.  Although, his arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her into him, wasn’t the least of what she missed.  Those arms...not too tightly muscled, not too squishy were the perfect texture.  They just brought you comfort, like a cup of tea or warmly, glowing fireplace.  It was in those arms that she had truly felt secure.  Maybe it was his laugh, though.  The deep, growing laughter that came from his belly and resonated out of that perfect smile.  Perhaps it was his devilish grin that he could shoot her way from across a crowded room that would make her knees knock just the teeniest bit.  Maybe it was the fact that he could bring the sparkle back in her eyes on the dreariest of days.  Or, on the other hand, it might’ve been the memory of his lips parting against hers and being able to taste the faintest hint of tobacco and Coca Cola on them.
 
No.  All these wonderful things, these wonderful memories; and yet, she could not pinpoint what she missed most.  Not one characteristic outweighed the others.  It was truly him as a whole, his whole being, that she missed the most.  It was just him.  Her loss, losing him, had turned her into a shell of the person that she once was.  From that, she would never recover.  She was able to muster enough sincerity and graciousness to pacify the world the other ten months...but in October and in July, she just gave in.  She would always surrender herself to the pain.  It was then that she would look at the rest of the world with a glazed, confused look and say "Go to Hell."
--Aleta Kaylee

Oh for the love of Overalls

As a coworker and I were talking today, the subject of overalls came up. She told me that her uncle, who was notorious for always wearing overalls, once strolled into a Cadillac dealership. Now, he had the ability to pay, in cash, for any new Cadillac that he saw fit. The dealership salesman, noting his tattered overalls, and writing him off as some penniless hillbilly, told him that he didn’t think that they had anything that he could afford. Well, he went down the road and purchased a brand new vehicle, paying cash. Needless to say, that Cadillac dealer sure did miss out on some commission.

I really liked that story, but it reminded me of one of my own. My daddy gave me an appreciation for a man in overalls. I don’t think there’s anything sweeter than a little baby boy, or a little rough and tumble boy, or an elderly man dressed in overalls. My dad, a lover of Liberty denim overalls, would wear those everywhere. In fact, for a short while, when one or two of his pair got a little raggedy around the hem, he had Mama cut them off and make them into overall shorts. Well, thank you Jesus that trend didn’t last long. He looked awful funny sportin’ those overall shorts and brogans.

My daddy once told me, when I had big dreams of a wedding, that he was going to walk me down the aisle in his overalls. At the time, I was appalled, and said “You most certainly won’t.” I’ve got to say, what I’d give for that man to walk me down the aisle now. If he were here now, I’d even let him wear his most-favorite tattered pair of Liberty overalls.

One thing that I will always remember about my daddy was the fact that he always made it a point to wear his overalls to church every Easter. He did this as a bit of a protest. See, while all the ladies were gussyin’ up, putting on their very finest new dress, and the men were sprucing up and putting on their Sunday best, Daddy just didn’t see the point. He always felt that it didn’t matter what you wore to the House of the Lord; just as long as you went. You didn’t have to be all done up to go in and worship and pray.

Well about five years ago, there it was…Easter. Mama and Rheba were done up, and there dad was…walking into church in his overalls. Behind him were a group of young women. One of the girls said “Can you believe what that man has on??” Then they all started snickering. Well that just grated Daddy’s nerves. I remember him coming home telling me all about it, as we had drove separately.

“That girl hurt my feelings! It doesn’t matter what you wear to church! You don’t have to be dressed all snazzy to pray!...”

And then he continued with, “And that girl’s sittin’ there talking about my overalls…Look at her! She’s so ugly, you’d have to tie a damn pork chop around her neck to get the dog to play with her!”

Real nice coming from a man that just got out of church, right? I sure did love that man.

Lawsy, I do love a man in overalls.

Summer Reading

Okay. So, it’s after midnight and I’m just fired up. So, tonight I watched The Great Gatsby, and loved it. Here were my thoughts after the movie: “Omg, I LOVED that movie! It was so beautifully made, and followed the book really well. They couldn’t have picked a better cast, and it could not have been made any better.” Next, “I need to have some hair pieces made like the ones in the movie. They were beautiful! And the hats...oh, the hats.” Then, “It makes me really sad when I hear that people haven’t read books like The Great Gatsby.” Finally, “I need to write a blog promoting Summer reading.”  So, y’all, bear with me. 

I nearly had the heart palpitations the night that I was talking about F. Scott Fitzgerald and my sister asked who that was. When I said that he was the author that wrote The Great Gatsby, she replied “I never had to read The Great Gatsby in high school.” Y’all...I nearly fell out. That’s one of the classics...that’s one of my favorite books. I was astounded. I might add here, that my sister loved the first movie made of it, and watching the new version tonight has got her dying to read the book. My heart is happy. 

I was always the girl that could be found in the corner reading a book. I loved to read from an early age, and my mama promoted it. Growing up, it literally pained me that Rheba hated reading for so long. Partially, I’d like to blame the Accelerated Reading program. None of the books that she was “allowed” to read piqued her interest in any way. Finally, she was blessed to have a teacher that said “Rheba, I want to you to find a book that interests you...never mind the reading level.” It was then that she found the Heartland series, and got hooked. Since then, she has enjoyed reading when she had the time. 

I was truly blessed to have great teachers at Chiefland Elementary, Middle, and High School. One of my absolute favorite teachers ever would have to be Mrs. Flemming (I knew her as Mrs. Slade), because she opened our eyes and instilled such a love of the classics in our English Honors class. She is one of the greats, as far as I’m concerned. 

I cannot even express how important I find reading. It provides an outlet. It provides an escape. It gives you an opportunity to travel, to see things you never would...it builds your imagination. So, this Summer...I urge you to read. I urge you to promote reading in your household and encourage your kids to read. If you can’t afford to go into the bookstore and buy a pile of books, I would encourage you to visit Abebooks.com or visit your public library. 

I would like to supply some recommendations, really all across the board. 

For children: Some of my favorites would have to be Little Critter books, Berenstein Bear books, Junie B. Jones, Beverly Cleary books (such as Ramona and Beezus) for the slightly older crowd; and I’ve heard rave reviews for the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. I think it’s important for kids to find books they’re interested in. Summer is a time where they don’t have to read and test on books, so let them find the things that they WANT to read, which might build their reading skills and be beneficial next school year. 

There are a few books that stick out in my mind for the maybe age 10-12 reader: Summer of my German Soldier--this was one of my favorite books. Not only was it extremely well written, it was also an important book. It opened my eyes to see that not everything is always as it seems. Jacob Have I Loved--a book of sibling rivalry and a coming-of-age. Spectacular. Little Women To Kill a Mockingbird--Such an important book.  

For Adults: 

Classics I recommend: To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Scarlett Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne, In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, or any of the Jane Austen books 

Modern Classics: Tigers in Red Weather by Liza Klaussmann--This book has a very Fitzgerald feel to it. Very well-written. The Secret History--This book was Donna Tartt’s first novel. Looking at it from the writing perspective, I was amazed that this was her first novel. This book, I felt, had some similarities to The Lord of the Flies, but I loved it. 

Just for Laughs: Jenn Lancaster’s Bitter is the New Black; Bright Lights, Big Ass; or Such a Pretty Fat Stephanie McAfee’s Diary of a Mad Fat Girl, and it’s sequel Happily Ever Madder 

Summer Reads: Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells Mary Kay Andrews: One of my favorite Summer-read authors. Her books include: Spring Fling; The Fixer-Upper; Summer Rental; Little Bitty Lies; and Hissy Fit. Summer in the South by Cathy Holten--Mystery, Ghosts, alcohol-filled parties, and Sweet Tea. Shoot the Moon by Billie Letts 

Before there was Fifty Shades of Gray: My all-time favorite author is without a doubt Grace Metalious. She wrote Peyton Place. I realize that it is frowned upon by my Grandmother’s generation, as it was banned in libraries and bookstores all across the country. Although it was racy and provocative in its time, to read it today it is quite mild. Anyone who enjoys small town life can appreciate its content. I’ll revert to the imagery that Metalious mentioned, (in any small town) sometimes when you turn over a rock, you begin to see all the things that crawl under it. And if you like Peyton Place, you will also enjoy her sequel Return to Peyton Place, The Tight White Collar, and No Adam in Eden. 

I urge y’all to read this summer. Find what interests y’all and dive in!