Pearls of Wisdom for Young Adults living in Small, Southern Towns

**Disclaimer—don’t read this if you’re easily offended. This is meant as a funny blog, filled with things that some of us have done, for which we should've thought better.** So, growing up, sometimes adults and friends don’t tell you everything that you need to know. Granted, sometimes they might not think they need to tell you SOME things…when in fact, they might. So, this is a collaborative effort of advice that you will probably never receive from the typical adult: Doing anything to anyone’s mailbox is a federal offense…just so you know…and it’s even worse when it’s the preacher’s and the music minister’s. Along those same lines…never do anything illegal…especially if you’re related to the sheriff. And do NOT make a video of it, you’ll provide your own evidence. Don’t go parking down a back country road in the middle of the afternoon…because it is likely that a slow-moving tractor is bound to drive by and see exactly what base you’ve made it to. Don’t go out with the good, Christian kids, lest your brother get pulled over across the street from whatever local restaurant you’ve patronized that evening, who will then be forced to take field sobriety test. Never write “I love _____” in all of your textbooks, because it will come back to haunt you years later when you walk through Walmart and see all the young hipsters looking your way, and you wonder “do they know??” Everyone knows everyone in this town. Don’t hide your friends in your closet when your parents get home, they’ll have to climb out of the window. Don’t give your friends anything off your plate at Mya’s…you will get kicked out. Don’t learn your “drinking rules” in a “small, little drinking town.” Ex: You can’t get a mixed drink in one bar, and then walk down the street to another bar with it in your hand in EVERY town… Never show up to church hungover. You look like hell; people will probably see you and know; and chances are, the sermon is on partying. Hot tubs are dangerous. Trespassing is never a good plan…especially while inebriated. Even when returning someone's dog, be careful driving up someone's driveway...they might meet you with a loaded gun. Never take part in a sham wedding. Street sign theft is harder than you’d think. You’re never nearly as smooth as you think you are. It’s best to figure out that you’re allergic to latex, before some events take place…if you know what I mean… If you’re going to be out in the middle of East Jesus Nowhere, BYOP. You don’t want to have to buy dusty old pack at the local BP. Have a safe word. And by God, make sure you have people who will do something about it in the event that you scream it. Don’t buy a car at night. And along those lines…be hesitant when your parents say a car is in “immaculate” condition…you might find that your “immaculate” (being a mustang), and their “immaculate” (a Toyota truck with it’s side mirror being held on with a goggle piece) are not quite the same. Don’t buy things online that might be embarrassing for your neighbors to receive by accident. Never believe your friends when they say “you can make it” while trying to park a massive truck. And always, ALWAYS look behind you when backing up. Trust that your neighbors will call and report your driving to your parents...even when you're over 18. Don’t tan and use sunless tanner. You’ll become what we lovingly call “oompa-loompa orange.” If you’ve done something that will most likely make your parents angry, pray you don’t have company when you come home. That really makes it awkward when you come home with mud in your hair and your parents proceed to lecture you in front of said company. If you’re ever involved in an accident in the middle of town, don’t get out and say the f-word. Chances are, all anyone will be able to talk about on Sunday is that you were being a bad witness for Jesus. Be on the lookout for cauliflower. Don’t be surprised when your tire goes flat when you’ve had your radio playing too loud. Don’t drive down a dead-end road while trying to escape cops. Be very careful in relaying a story to your parents. If you’re like me, you’ll get nervous and start talking fast…which will change “and then my pants made me slide off” to “and then my pants slid off” real quick. And you will find yourself in a whole new pile of shit for no good reason. Never show your nipple piercings to customers in your employer’s parking lot…while on the clock. Married men are a bad idea…Married men are a bad idea… And finally, don’t go “parking” in the church parking lot…it’s never a good plan.

The Steel Magnolias

We are the ones that don’t know God’s plan but have faith that He will see us through. We stand beside our father’s bedside, holding his hand, choking back tears, so that we are strong for him in his last hours. We are the ones that stand in a long line of mourners to pass our friend’s casket to give our condolences to her family. We are the ones that step in to help a child facing bullies or hardships. We are the ones that hold our mother’s hand as she faces her first round of chemo. We are the ones that make the extra effort to make sure some of the needy families have their needs met. We are the ones that beg God to loosen the grip of alcoholism that our husbands or boyfriends are facing. We are the ones that stand and receive a folded flag in place of our fiance's safe return. We are the ones that face the defeat of rape and abuse and sexism and harassment and come out of it stronger. We are at our husband's side when he is weak; yet, we can stand on our own. We are the ones that can survive poverty, or bad relationships; we are the ones that thrive despite bad odds. We believe in greatness. We hold our heads high even when our world is crumbling. Yes, we are the ones that smile through our tears. You will not see our worry lines on a daily basis, but you will notice how our laugh lines somehow soften our face. We dream through our despair. We continue to see beauty even when the reality of life knocks us down. We love fiercely through the hate. The only thing that surpases our beauty is our strength. We are tough as nails, and yet somehow tender. We are just as God intended. We are the Steel Magnolias.

Just A Little Love Ditty

You… Make me nervous, Give me butterflies, Leave me speechless, Never cease to impress me, Make me want to be better, Leave me wanting more. And while others cannot understand it… I would like to… Hold your hand, Look into your eyes, Caress your face, Whisper sweet nothings in your ear, Make you smile, Slow dance with you, Hold you, with your heartbeat repetitiously thudding in my ear, I would like very much to kiss your lips. Above these things, I would like to Stand beside you when you need support, Rub your shoulders when you were stressed, Hold you when you felt weary, Make you laugh when you felt blue, Wipe your tears when you were sad, Open your eyes to your worth, Pray for you when you need guidance, And everyday, have my kind words flow through your ears to tear down the walls that time and disappointment have built around your heart. These are the things I wish to do.

To My Journal Babies

To My Journal Babies

Allie Claire,
I can remember the day I walked into work, and your “Pap” had put the little message that your mama put on a caramel apple and surprised them with telling them that you were coming! I can remember it saying “something sweet is coming in October,” and boy was it right! Your MeMe and Pap couldn’t have been more excited. Our Journal family could not have been more excited!

The days before you were born, your MeMe was baking up a storm, trying to get brownie points with your daddy so she’d secure some “sugar-time” with you.

The day after you were born? If I heard your Pap say “she’s just a living, breathing doll” once, I heard it fifty-million times. What a proud day for him, and our Journal family. I could not wait to meet you. I didn’t have to wait long, your mama brought you by as soon as she could.

I fell in love with you as soon as I laid eyes on you. You were the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen. When I first held you in my arms, you won my whole heart. Up until that minute, I had never had someone so little have me completely wrapped around her teeny-tiny pinky.

I remember you wearing your little denim overalls and your shiny red shoes, and I remember working while I held you, sleeping, and just being completely and utterly taken aback at how precious you were.

There was nothing that could brighten my day more than getting a sweet visit from you, Whitt, or Gus. All the Dora episodes watched, all the messes we made out in the store front, talking about “poh-ta-bot” hairbows, all the coloring projects we made, and all the “shopping” we did, were some of my most favorite memories from the Journal.

And the sweetest words I ever heard you utter were: “Aunt Leeta, I luh you.”

Gus,

I was sitting at a restaurant in Carrabelle when I got the call from your MeMe saying you had arrived.

When I saw your big brown eyes, I swear my heart grew twice its size. I remember seeing your first little picture in those tiny overalls and being completely smitten. I never knew how much fun a little boy could be until you came along! No idea!

You brought so much joy to my heart. You’ve been “all-boy” since day one, and I have loved watching every minute of it. Bless your heart, you’ve been bossed by Allie since you were tiny. She thought she had to teach you the ropes, little did she know you’d be giving her a run for her money so quick!

You have made me laugh so much. From you walking into the Journal done-up in your cowboy boots and your cowboy hat, to hearing you say your MaeMae was a “donkey,” to having you tell me about Tiger football and baseball, to having you point at everything that looked like a deer and go “pow-pow,” to hearing about you and Allie running away to go see the parade, you have brought me so much joy.

I enjoyed every single ballgame we had in the front of the Journal. I enjoyed every single minute I spent with you. And my heart smiles at every memory of you calling out for “Aunt Leeta.”

Walker,

I knew about you before your mama ever told me she was expecting you. See, your mama always seemed to have a hankerin’ for Mexican food when she was pregnant. Personally, I thought your big sister was going to come out with a sombrero. I knew about you as soon as she told me she was driving to Chiefland to go to the Mexican restaurant.

Your mama and daddy were so proud to tell us that you were going to be a little boy! They were so very excited! We were excited to have another little boy running around the Journal. God had different plans, though, and needed you with Him.

I never got to meet you, but I held you in my heart and I said a many a prayer for you. Your mama, daddy, and sister loved you so. Our Journal family loved you so.

I know that you are with Jesus, and I long to meet and hold you one day.

Whitt,


I was so very excited when I heard you were on the way! I can honestly say, I prayed for you from day one. You know, your little heart gave us quite a scare.

I had the least amount of time with you, but you were still so very special to me. I can remember holding you and your mama calling me the baby whisperer, because you fell asleep with me. Of course, I think this only happened once. You were a bit of a force to be reckoned with. Being around your big sister and Gus, I don’t know how you couldn’t be…just to get by.

You have such a fun personality. Part daredevil, part sweet boy. I cannot wait to watch you grow up.

Remember, even when Allie is bossy, it’s just because she loves you so much. Gus once tried to trade Mattie Mae for you, and she said “no.” Speaking of ol’ Gus, I hope that y’all get into as much dirt and mud as you can, I hope y’all get to ride oodles of tractors and boats, and y’all get to catch as many fish as you can handle.

Mattie Mae,

I, like the rest of the world, am anxiously awaiting your arrival. I can just imagine you being the perfect combination of tomboy and girly girl. I hope that you have a love of huntin’ and fishin’, and a great appreciation of hairbows and handbags. I know that you will be the apple of your mama and daddy’s eye. And your big brother…well, you’re going to be the best present he could’ve ever gotten. He might be a little bossy from time to time, but just know that he’s the best big brother around, and he loves you so! He’ll be there to teach you how to play ball, he’ll teach you all about the Tigers, and he’ll show you how to play in the mud.

I cannot wait to meet you, sweet Mattie Mae.

I love you, Journal Babies. I hope you always know this.



Thoughts bouncing around in my noggin today

1. We always seem to pressure people who have had facial hair (as long as we can remember) to shave it off at some point. Then we see them without it and immediately want them to grow it back.

2. The song “Two Black Cadillacs” bothers me… When have you ever seen a wife find out about their husband cheating and plot with the other woman? Hell, a good majority of the time, they blame the other woman and want to plot against her. Not realistic, people; not realistic.

3. Why is it that every single time I paint my nails pink, every red item in my closet pleads with me to wear it?

4. Sometimes I think that we’ve placed so much emphasis on rules and regulations, policies and procedures, that we’ve almost substituted those for a conscience. Does someone really need to have to tell you that it’s against the rules to look up porn in a public library when children could walk by and see it?

5. Along those same lines… In this day and age, everyone has to be so dang politically correct. We don’t want to infringe on the rights of others…And there is confidentiality clauses in almost EVERY-dang-thing…but when it comes at the cost of others safety, what is it that we’re accomplishing exactly?

6. I wonder where all of the money for the fundraisers really go.

7. OMG, I’m becoming a conspiracy theorist. :-/

8. I wonder whose idea it was to paint the walls white in mental institutions…why not a more calming color? Like a sunshiney yellow, or a sky blue,…maybe a seafoam green?

9. Floral wallpaper…whoever came up with that idea should be hit with a bus…

10. The remake of the Great Gatsby looks awesome.

11. That old adage “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop” isn’t quite true for me… it’s more like “Idle hands are the making for a crazy person” where I’m concerned.

12. Based on her music, Miranda Lambert gets me. I’m not sure if that says much for my sanity…but nevertheless, it’s true.

13. Men always blame a woman’s bad mood on PMS. What’s their excuse? I’ve met some men with worse mood swings than a menopausal woman with an addiction to candy corn and crack.

14. False eyelashes look so cool (I’m a mascara addict, for those of you that didn’t know). But I’m afraid I’d wind up looking like Miss Piggy after a rough night. Or I’d wind up effing up my real eyelashes or glueing my eye shut.

15. I used to think it was odd that my friend’s little girl said her favorite color was brown. Out of all the colors…brown was her favorite. That just seemed odd. Now: You wanna know what color is awesome? Black. I think it’s my favorite. Slimming…Classy…Dark…Mysterious. Such great qualities for a color.

16. Why is it that I’m 26, and still have to move my hands to the right or left when giving directions? It takes me that amount of time to remember which is which. My hands are somehow faster than my brain.

17. Note to self: No one should ever ask me for directions.

18. I’ve been at my new job nearly six months, and I still have to pause for a good three seconds to remember how to answer the phone.

19. Men never think to spruce up their emails. I mean, c’mon…add some depth…add some emotion. I can’t figure out if you mean “hey” as in “Hey! Good morning, sunshine.” Or “Hey, I’d like to hit you with a bus.” --Or maybe, just maybe (here’s my little disclaimer), I’m the only lunatic that would think this. Maybe they just literally mean “hey.” If this is the case, I completely would like to blame my High School English Honors teacher, as she made us pick everything apart, and try to see symbolism in just about everything ;) Gotta love Mrs. Flemming.

20. We really need a live-in maid at our house. I wish I’d inherited the Sheffield OCD cleaning gene, but I didn’t. And it’s not that I’m lazy, but I’d rather be shot in the head than have to clean my house. People who like to clean, who feel compelled to clean ALL the time are weird to me.

Confessions of a Failed Farm Girl

Y’all, I may live dead in the middle of Watsonville. There may be two fields on either side of my house. My uncle and cousin might grow watermelons every year. My sister may have shown steers at the Suwannee River Fair. But farm girl, I am not.


Animals hate me. I could kill a cactus. I’m tellin’ y’all what…there’s a reason I never wore that pretty blue corduroy jacket.

Chicken farming: fail. Us owning chickens was proof that God has a sense of humor. Now, I didn’t even realize we had chickens until about three months after we had gotten them. I think mom’s craft room was being worked on at the time, so our freezers were sitting on our outside porch. I had to run out and find something to cook for Rheba, when I heard this noise behind me. I turned around, and near about had the bejeezus scared out of me. There they all gathered, looking like they were fixin’ to gang up on me and peck at my bare feet. Needless to say, I hauled tater inside, and Rheba probably got spaghetti-o’s that day.

Fast-forward a few years. Those damn chickens had gained a knack for following me around the house. If I was in my bedroom, trying to sleep, they were clucking outside my window. If I moved to the living room, the roosters were crowing right outside of those windows. I hated those damn animals.

Picture it: The Notebook had just come out on DVD. I had waited MONTHS for that day. I was about an hour into the movie, when, low-and-behold the damn rooster had decided to go around to the living room window and start his normal crowing (at three in the afternoon, mind you). Well, I’d had it. I’d beyond had it. I found the closest thing to me and ran outside. Poor Daddy and Dale got an eyeful as I chased the chickens around the yard with a spatula. To this day, those things hate me. I think they’ve passed the story along to their baby chickies.

Plant identification: fail. Aunt Tammy was taking me home for some reason one day. And she happened to notice something growing out in Uncle Greg’s field.

She asked, “Aleta, what are they planting out there?”

“I think it’s watermelons,” I said, only half paying attention. Nevermind the fact it was fall…and those said “watermelons” had knee-high trees coming out of the ground.

Oy vey.

Vegetable identification: fail. Looking back, I honestly don’t know how Ryan Weaver ever kept a straight face when he was around me. I would like to think I’ve been fairly successful at all of the jobs that I had, but being a cashier…might not have been my strong suit. God bless that man for his patience.

My first day on the job I mistook a cucumber for a zucchini. In my defense, that was the biggest damn cucumber I’d ever seen.

Then, a few months later, I had the pleasure of helping a little old woman who apparently had a hankerin’ for “crook-neck squash.” Well, I don’t know beans about squash. All I know is that I don’t really care for it. Well, I had to ask the lady what type of squash it was. She replied “crook-neck.” Well, I looked at my list, trying to figure out what number I would ring it up as. “Crook-neck” wasn’t on my list. So, I called Ryan to the front. I asked him. He replied “Aleta, it’s crook-neck.” Well, being both embarrassed, and slightly agitated at whoever had created the almighty and powerful “list of produce” and not put “crook-neck squash” on it, I was on the brink of a spaz attack.

I said “crook-neck isn’t on my list, Ryan!” through clenched teeth.

This only made Ryan laugh. Come to find out… “crook-neck squash” is also known as “yellow squash”…I just hadn’t gotten the memo.

Yes, y’all, you won’t find me on a tractor any time soon. Farm girl, I am not.

Just a girl...

I’m just a girl. I love red lipstick. I love to dress up. I love the look of heels, but can never choose them over my flip-flops. I love bright nail polish. I love to paint my nails, but I always wind up with “sheet nails.” I speak my mind. I’m quiet until you get to know me; then, when you get to know me…you see a whole new side. I’m gullible. I overreact. I can throw a hissy fit like none other. I get my feelings hurt far too easy. I’m just a girl.


Trying to get glitter nail polish off AND Toys-R-Us at Christmas is my own personal hell on earth. There’s nothing better to me than a movie day with my best friend. Carrabelle is my favorite place ever…Savannah being a close second. I am a foodie. I will plan my vacations around restaurants I want to try. I hate when people discredit me because I’m a woman or because I’m young. I believe in buying clothes that look good on you, nevermind the designer label, nevermind the cost. I believe that everyone can be beautiful. I love makeup. I can’t go anywhere without at least foundation, concealer, powder, blush, and mascara on. I’m just a girl.

I hate going into Walmart. I’m sweet until you make me angry…then it’s on. I love to bake, but I don’t enjoy cooking. I hate obligations. I hate all shower (bridal, baby, etc) games. I love white trash tv shows. I try to fix people. I love men with dark hair and light eyes. There are fewer things I like more than a deep Southern drawl. I am a hypocrite. I’m just a girl.

I love a man with a little pudge around his belly. I love reading. I love peach cobbler. I hate when people cough. I love Twilight. I love to write. I love to people watch. I love sad songs. I love a good affair song. I’m just a girl.

Grace Metalious is my hero (if you don’t know about her, read up). I love Urban Decay. I love the rain. I can be mad at someone and within five minutes they can make me laugh, and the thing that made me mad is gone with the wind. I love the Fall. I love hats, scarves, headbands…any accessory that will make my outfit. I believe that everyone has good qualities if you look hard enough. I’m just a girl.

I love to travel. I hope to have my life in order within the next five years. The future scares me. I am a walking contradiction. I love to gossip. I love to laugh more than anything in this world. I hate scary movies. I am a compulsive facebook checker. I have OCD tendencies. I love Southern Living Magazine. I have the patience of crack-crazed lab rat. My mood swings will give you whiplash. I believe in the power of sunshine. One thing I’ll never understand is why people ask my opinion about things. I’m just a girl.

I love big bows. I love Karter Lee. My family is awesome. I like all the wrong guys. I believe that size and age are just numbers. I have a horrible temper. Sometimes I drink too much and delete people off of my facebook. I’m dying to get a tattoo. I’m just a girl.

I fail. I try. I hope. I care. I hate. I apologize. I want. I expect. I rock. I wish. I do. I succeed. I love. I will. I am…just a girl.