A big love for Idiots wearing fascinators, dressed in tinfoil, eating fried chicken at the Crack Shack

Ok, that's just a jumble of what this blog is about...but hey, it got you to read it :)

If you know me well at all, you know that I have a never-ceasing love of fried chicken.  I love it.  This might just explain my fabulous curves a bit :)

In my opinion, the Cracker Box a/k/a Crack Shack has the BEST chicken strips ever…and luckily it’s just steps behind my office. 

Another thing that I love about the Crack Shack is the smiling faces that greet you there.  Not a day goes by that you can’t find some of the County Commissioners or the PGBC pastoral staff eating lunch.  And rarely do I walk in there that D. Ray doesn’t greet me with “Well, there’s my street walker, don’t forget to add mine to your bill.” (I campaigned for him in 2006).  It’s just such a nice place to eat lunch. A little slice of Mayberry, if you will.

And Mrs. Julie…I love Mrs. Julie.  She is always as sweet as she can be…and fabulous, that woman is fabulous.  We became Crack Shack friends, and then we became Facebook friends…which you know is the all-official sign of a true friendship. :)  Maybe it was our bonding over our love of big hair and loud hair accessories.  I must say, it’s nice to find someone in Trenton that can appreciate a big fascinator.  

After being (ahem!) rushed through lunch by my dear friend Crystal Rodgers, I went up to pay and got to chat with Mrs. Julie.  She had read the beginning of my post this morning where I referenced wedding planning…and she said something that rather blessed my heart. 

She said “I read your post this morning and I thought ‘What? Aleta is getting married?’”

My response was “Oh hell no, Mrs. Julie.”  Haha

She said “I thought “Someone must have swept Aleta off her feet.  He must be a really special guy.”

:)  That made me smile.  Yes, it will take a very special guy to sweep me off my feet.  Sadly, no.  I haven’t met Mr. Right just yet.  Or maybe I have and just don’t know it yet.  Still, I am hopeful.   

Over the years, I’ve watched others strike out in love and completely give up.  It’s sad…they become bitter…and don’t want to try any more.  Believe me, I know it’s an easy hole to fall into.  I have those days too.   However, I still feel like every experience molds us…shapes us into something that will one day be beneficial to the one we are meant for.  At least that’s my belief…

Marriage still scares the hell out of me…I’ll be honest.  It really does.  Commitment…Forever…Every time I hear those two words it kind of makes me want to run screaming for the hills.  Still, it’d be nice to meet my knight in shining armor instead of an idiot dressed in tin foil.

Sigh…it will happen eventually.

20 randoms

Lets pray I've counted right...lol.

1. I truly believe that I was a smoker in a past life. I will literally stand there and sniff someone who’s been smoking a cigar.

2. I have an unhealthy obsession with Robert Pattinson. There! I said it!

3. I used to be afraid of reading/watching something sad/sappy. Now, I’m beginning to think that I have a heart condition b/c my heart does spastic things when I watch/read them. No lie, it actually hurts. It's really weird.

4. My latest fascination has become collecting books. As we were talking one day at work, Chris made the comment “I need to build myself a bookshelf.” I said, “See, that’s where we differ…you’re thinking of making yourself a bookshelf, which is normal... and me, being neurotic, I’m considering buying myself a big a$$ safe for my books.” Have I mentioned that I tend to obsess about things?—Another addition to this, I’m a little crazy when it comes to how someone holds a book that they’re borrowing from me. Just ask my sister. She had a paperback of mine opened and laying face-down on the bed one day and I nearly flipped. Don't get me started on people who dog-ear books. Yes, I’m just a little crazy.

5. I was mighty proud when my Key Lime Trifle went for $250 at the FFA Cake Auction, recently.

6. I am becoming more and more forgetful. I can’t think of words sometimes. Like easy words…like “lane.” I was trying to describe something to a friend one day and I think I said something to the effect of “So we were driving in this…part of the road.” She was like “Do you mean ‘lane’?” “Yes,” I admitted embarrassed. Then, I was helping a customer one day, and was trying to write his receipt. I stared at what he was buying for way longer than I should’ve…just trying to remember what it was called. All I could come up with was “paper-clippy thing,” so I finally just left it blank. It was a clipboard. A. Clipboard. This would crack me up, but I’m afraid people are going to start thinking I’m on drugs.

7. My sense of smell is really heightened right now, and that is weird. Maybe it’s from being congested for the duration of about 2 weeks, and now, I’m finally able to breathe and smell again…I don’t know. But I smell EVERYTHING.

8. I had a really good start to my book…like 30-something pages, but after a few name changes, I’m at a complete loss. Which brings me to…

9. I am a very indecisive person. And it’s nerve-racking for people, I’m sure. This is why I never can decide what I want to do with my hair, this is why I can’t figure out what I want as my tattoo. I’m better when I don’t make a decision until the last minute. It’s impulsive, but I don’t have time to dwell on it and change my mind a million times.

10. I am currently on the search for a specific ring that I want. But I’ve “decided” (laughable) that I’m not going to buy one until I’m absolutely, positively sure that it’s the exact one that I want. So this might be a long venture.

11. In the last month, I’ve thought about running away at least 5 times. I know where I’d go, and that’s really no secret, but some days I feel like I might burst if I don’t get out of here.

12. The “I hates.” I hate…flowers. I hate having to repeat myself more than twice. I hate loud noises. I hate when people sneak up on me. I hate the Hallmark Channel. I hate cleaning. I hate (and sometimes love) how the smallest thing can trigger a memory.

13. I miss my dad…daily.

14. I have the strangest Thursday night show line-up. First, Project Runway. Then, Swamp People. Finally,... Jersey Shore.

15. I know I’ve said it a million times on fb. But I desperately want a Volvo. My mother doesn’t see it as necessity…and I balk at the idea of taking on another car payment right now. Plus…they don’t get great gas mileage…which makes me sad. Once you’ve become accustomed to getting 30+ mpg, is there really any way you can go back?

16. I hardly ever get online while I’m at home anymore.

17. I’ve never actually been in an accident that involved another “moving” car. I’ve hit several parked cars, I’ve almost driven off into a rock pit, and I nearly created a new drive-thru at the Chiefland Burger King (ahem! Steph Mackin), but never a moving vehicle. The latest parked car I hit was my sister’s truck (the first with my Mazda…the first in 5 years…that should say my driving is improving, right??). Scared the mess out of me. She handled it well. Especially considering I was so freaked out, when I showed her, I said something like “Ok, I hit your car. I’m sorry. It’s not so bad, though, right? (said waving my hands at the dent)” And then I pretty much ran to my car, got in, and started driving away as she stood there staring at her truck.

18. I worry daily about people that I cannot change; that I cannot fix.

19. It’s strange, I would’ve expected the opposite effect, but in the last year, I’ve become less compassionate, and a bit colder. It’s not that I don’t care, but I just have gotten to the point where I feel like people expect too much of me. A person can only give so much. To better explain this, I will say that I had a couple of people come to me with their problems after my dad passed away, and I simply wanted to shake them and say “it could be so much worse!” In my defense, my dad suffered quite a bit before he passed, pancreatic cancer is a horrible, horrible way to die, and having to witness that, I think it would’ve been impossible for me to stay the same person.

20. I think some of the most fun that I have is with my family. My mom is quiet but she is hilarious. And my sister…well, Rheba is an odd duck, and full of flair.

21. Every movie that I went to in 2011, I went to see more than once. Breaking Dawn...I went to see 3 times. lol

Things Pancreatic Cancer can't take away

My heart has been torn between so very many emotions over the last week. For those of y’all who didn’t know, my dad passed away early last Wednesday morning.

To say that my heart is broken would be putting it mildly. In the weeks leading up to his passing, I had witnessed his decline, and that in itself was the single hardest thing that I’ve ever had to experience. To watch a man that was so full of life, who loved to laugh, and who was so determined to fight against this cancer, struggle with his illness and slowly succumb to the disease left me shattered and broken inside.

Daddy was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer at the end of July. This diagnosis came after having problems with pain in the upper right area of the abdomen even after having his gallbladder taken out. He had complaining and going to the doctor since May. Everyone had thought it was the gallbladder, including me. Knowing that pancreatic cancer has a terrible prognosis, our family was in shock. Not only did he have the mass on his pancreas, but the cancer was already in stage 4 and had already spread to his liver. Still, after hearing that he may only have a year or even less to live, my dad was still determined to fight the cancer and get better. He began chemo treatments in early August. They had told us that the chemo would be very aggressive, but we were still not prepared for what was ahead. After two of the aggressive chemo treatments, and after being put in the hospital after both, my dad had dropped 100 pounds. He couldn’t eat. We couldn’t cook because he couldn’t bear the smell. It was horrible. He was weak, he hardly got out of bed. And yet, his co-workers, having loved my dad for many years and being the good people that they are, would come and get him (from Itchetucknee) and drive him to work on the days he felt up to working.

After my dad lost the 100 pounds and couldn’t even keep water down, he was admitted into the hospital for the last time. He spent five weeks there. We watched him struggle with nausea; have a N-G tube put in (a tube that goes down your nose and is used to drain your stomach); have a feeding tube put in; gain 100 pounds of fluid; become unable to walk; and slowly slip into liver and kidney failure. The family was told the Friday before he passed, which was actually his birthday, that he may not make it through the weekend. We did what we could. We threw him a birthday party (which he slept through), and we camped out there so that we could spend every moment we could with him. The last several days, I spent as much time as I could just holding his hand. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, he pretty much slept through the day, but Monday and Tuesday he was wide awake and was able to communicate with us. I will always think back on his face, and how prominent, expressive, and beautiful his eyes were. I am so, so very thankful that God enabled him to talk those last two days. Rheba and I were able to tell him what a great dad he had been to us and every chance we got, we told him that we loved him.

These are the things that I am thankful for: God blessed me with a father that was nothing less than amazing. I am so thankful that I had 25 years with him. I was given the opportunity to tell him how much I loved him. We have had the most amazing family surrounding us these past couple of days and I cannot even begin to express my gratitude for the prayers, cards, food, flowers, and calls that were sent our way. His coworkers have been amazing through all of this. Dr. Acs was the most compassionate doctor that dad could’ve had, and his nurses were wonderful. God surrounded us with wonderful staff at NFRMC and loving nurses that treated my dad like family. I cannot say enough how much Mr. Leroy meant to my dad and my family. And most of all, I am thankful because I know that one day I will see him again.

Saturday, at my dad’s funeral, I had an old friend come up and say “It looks like you’re holding up pretty well.” For some reason that has stuck with me. What an odd thing to say. In fairness to him, it probably seemed that way. Again, it’s been very surreal these past few days. But that was my DAD. A man I loved dearly, a man I laughed with, shared such fond memories, and got a lot of my values from. I am trying to hold it together. But as reality is beginning to set in, and the void is becoming more and more apparent, I am quite sure that I will have days where I won’t want to get out of bed. I am certain that there will be days when I will fall slap to pieces. But see, right now, it’s only starting to feel real to me.

This was the man that had my name on the side of his truck for so long.

This was the man that bought me a shriner’s car when I was 2, because he thought I needed one :)

This was the man who made me a tee-pee in the front yard when I was learning about Indians.

This was the man that I shared so many laughs with and loved dearly.

This was the man that I so wanted to walk me down the aisle and hold my baby one day.

THIS was my wonderful, amazing father.

He will be missed.

I pray that who I am and what I will do in my life will always make you proud.

As sad as I am, I still have so many fond memories to look back on. Pancreatic Cancer is a horrible disease, but there are some things that it can’t take away…

The Laughing Zipper and new Cornbreadisms

There is definitely a reason why I was born and raised in a small town. I’m figuring this out, as this is the 10^th day that I will be driving to and from Gainesville to visit my dad in the hospital. Lord help, I hate making that drive everyday.

Anyways, back to the point of this blog. Well, to all who didn’t already know it: my dad has been in the hospital since last Wednesday. This makes the fourth time he’s been in the hospital since July 3rd. And omg, it’s been a roller coaster.

Now, besides my hatred of the daily drive, I am also getting sick of ALL the restaurants around. See, we have eaten out at least one meal a day since July 24^th. It has been insane. And OMG, my waistline is the tell-tale sign. I have seriously gained like 10-15 lbs and am drawing closer to just going out and buying some pepto-pink, floral muumuus.

I pulled my favorite jeans on the other day (I have like 3 of the same exact pair because I love them so much), and I swear y’all, the zipper laughed at me. It LAUGHED. Though I would like to blame it on a faulty zipper, I cannot. I did a “tuck all the pudge in” dance as I tugged the zipper up, it stayed for a split second, and rolled back down. I even did the lay-on-the-bed-and-try-and-zip method. That was a no-go, too. I went to my mirror, tried again, the zipper rolled back down. I swear y’all, it was mocking me.

Wouldn’t you know, I have to go back and see the doctor soon? That’ll be down-right pleasant, let me tellllll you. But I have a plan…I’m going to bake him a cake. Hopefully, just by my efforts, he won’t give me a hard time. But if he should say something, my response will be this “How the hell do you think I could ever be a size 0 when I bake this good??” …I pray it works. :-P I'll let y'all know!

Now, onto Cornbreadisms in the Hospital…

“For shame” me if you will, but I’ve got to have something to make me laugh.

One night, Brett and Mrs. Pegi came over to visit with him. He was telling them about some “foreigners” he had recently encountered. He said “You know…those people from England that can’t speak good English.” Lol.

Dad: "I need to eat healthier. Here, does someone want this banana they gave me?"

In the middle of the night, he shook his hand at my mama and said “Cindi, bring me a Miami.” Her reply was “what??” “I said, ‘bring me a Miami.’”….we still have no idea what he was talking about. He never got his “Miami.”

He woke up from a dream, on one of the days last week, and told my aunt “I hope Aleta got the lead out of Karter Lee (our dog).” She asked him what he was talking about. He said “I hope she got the lead out of Karter Lee. You know she stabbed her with a pencil.” ….What on earth that was about, I’ll never know. I love that dog! Promise!

The kicker: On Wednesday, he had a feeding tube put in. As they brought him back to the room after surgery, I noticed he kept giving the nurse the hairy eyeball (a/k/a the stink eye). After she walked out, mom asked “Jackie, how are you feeling?” He said “I’m hurtin’ real bad. You wouldn’t believe where they had me.” Mom was like “Where?” “They had me in the woodshed out back! They did my surgery in the woodshed.” He was so serious. And about that time the nurse walked back in and he kept pointing his head in her direction and rolling his eyes like something you'd have seen on Sanford & Son. Signaling that she was the nurse that had taken him to the “woodshed out back.” I had to walk out, I was laughing so hard. Mom was turning a nice shade of red trying to hold it together. He was still as serious as he could be.

Men...

Men… Smart, funny, sexy, sweet men.

I’m telling you what…Give me a man with a good sense of humor, southern accent, man hands, with some meat on his bones (just my type :) ), showing a glimpse of chest hair and you will have me in dire need of a glass of sweet tea and a fan. And don’t even get me started on a man that can sing…pheewwww! Lord help, there’s also something to be said for a man with nice arms that knows how to hug and/or hold you….

Pardon me, I’m getting distracted. Let me wipe my drool and get back on track here…

But men…sometimes dumb, crude, disgusting, tactless men….

Coming home on Friday night from seeing The Help my friend and I nearly ran off the road laughing so hard about some of the things guys say and do. It started with me telling my friend that I had seen a guy that she might be interested in (considering he was clean cut and wearing wranglers and boots) when I was in Hitchcocks the other day. I told her “he seemed your type…I don’t rightly know my type of guy…other than a$$hole apparently.” By the end of the ride home and were nearly in tears laughing so hard. SO I’m going to create a list, a collaborative effort, of some of the funniest and dumbest things some of my friends and I have ever heard men say. Feel free to comment…I know y’all will have some.

-“All my friends are either married or on cocaine.”

-After stating that she had extra clothes in case she got muddy while riding around on four wheelers that day, the guy said “I want you to go home in dirty clothes and tell your mama ‘look mama, I’m a dirty girl.’”

-(One of those “I want to see you” type things) “Oh well, my friends are going to walmart, so they can drop me off at your house and them pick me up when they’re done.” (Said by a 27 year-old).

-“My ex is in the other room…” (as he's trying to fool around with my friend)

-“You wanna go see some deer trails??”

-“If my friends approve of you, you’re alright.”

-said to one of my friends about me “Do you think she’d go out with me? I’d have to bring my mom along.” (from the mouth of a 32 year-old).

-“I’ve been in jail for 9 years. I’m just lookin’ for a good girl…if you know what I mean?”

-“Get behind the truck…no one will see.”

-“Girrrrrl, I like your cheeks.” (No joke. These words were spoken.)

-“Wanna come home with me and make me dinner? You can sleep in my bed.” (…said at about 1 a.m. I guess a Betty Crocker fix was needed??)

-“I’ve got a king size bed and clean sheets.” (THAT was his pick-up line. Well, hot doggg, let me run get my coat!).

-“Don’t use big words around me!!!” (The word was polygamy and he had “Big Love” tattooed on his arm. It was bound to come up…)

The ultimate Valentine screw up moment was the time a guy sent his high school girlfriend a teddy bear with I love you written on a sash across it. I guess he thought “I love you” was too big of a commitment. He had put duct tape across the “Love” and had written “like” with a sharpie… Lord help.

My dear sister has this friend…well, I guess we can call him that. He’s a bit of a stalker. He called her up one night singing “I love you” (just those three little words, over and over and over again). My sister said “What do you want?” He said “I just wanted to talk to my besssst friend.” She replied with “I’m not your dang friend, ___, you need to go out and find you some!!” (It would sound as if my sister is the mean one here...but this is the guy that has called her--having not ever been invited into our house--and gave her vivid descriptions of what he could see that night with the living room light on...)

The best of the best… My friend had me listen to her voicemail one day and I nearly wet my pants.

Her ex’s first message “Honey, you need to call me back.”

2nd message “I miss you honey. Love you!”

3rd message: “I hate your guts and wish you would die.”

4th message: (He could only further express himself through song)

Well could you Paint Me A Birmingham
Make it look just the way I planned
A little house on the edge of town
Porch goin’ all the way around
Put her there in the front yard swing
Cotton dress make it, early spring
For awhile she’ll be, mine again
If you can Paint Me A Birmingham.

I about died…

Men…strong, tactless, sweet, handsome, clueless, men. They do at least give us something to laugh about :)

Just a' cussin'

For those of y’all who know me well, you probably have already realized this. I have one major flaw (well, several,…but I won’t get into that tonight). I have a trash mouth. Trash. Mouth.

I will cuss at the drop of a hat. It just happens. It rolls off the tongue and my teeth just don’t even attempt to stop it anymore. I realized I was a compulsive cuss-er the other day at the hospital. I cussed in front of a minister (mind you, it was a friend and we’ve known each other a long time). Shameful, plum shameful, I tell ya.

I guess my cussing started at an early age, though… My mama used to use the term “hecky-doodle” in front of me (yes, I know, scandalous. But for those of y’all who know my mama, you’d appreciate that :). My dad, a little more liberal with his phrases, used to say “hell” every once in a while. Well, one day when I was about 2, my little mini rocking horse was blocking my way to my room and I kicked it and said “Get the heck and hell out of my way.”

Now, mind you, MY cussing isn’t like something you would see on an old episode of Springer. I do try to class it up a bit (if it even can be…). I use terms like “Well hells bells” and “Oh Shitter!” (the latter paying tribute to my partner in crime). I’m telling you what, though…on those really bad days, it helps you blow off steam. The doctor gives you bad news…say a few four letter words. You accidentally hit someone’s pet turkey with your golf cart…say a few choice words. It’ll make you feel better. Sometimes cussing is a good remedy. Just sayin’…. It might not help situations but it’s one heck of a stress reliever. Hey it’s better than stapler throwing, right?? :)

Patient Cornbread...and I ain't referring to the adjective...

When I was little, my mama used to always say, “you are just like your daddy!” Back then, I took offense to this b/c normally when I had gotten myself into some sort of trouble.

Now, I understand what she meant. My dad and I have very similar personalities.

Well, for those who do not know, my daddy was in the hospital last week. I’ll tell you, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows by any means; but it never fails, my daddy is bound to do something to crack me up.

So, last Wednesday, my daddy was not a happy camper. Not at all. He had been on pretty much a liquid diet since Sunday night. They had cut off foods and liquids on Monday night at midnight, thinking the test he needed to take would be early Tuesday morning. SURPRISE! The doctor wasn’t working that day. So, Tuesday at midnight had rolled around and they starved him again. Grumpy doesn’t even begin to describe his mood Wednesday morning, bless his heart.

We walked in to a miserable Cornbread sitting on his bed, arms crossed and eyes rolling. Mama made the mistake of asking if he’d slept good…

“No, I didn’t sleep good, that old man (the other patient in the room) had his tv going wide a$$ open all night!”

(Thank the Lord the man in the room was deaf as a door knob…which is why his tv was so loud.)

Then we met his nurse of the day, a woman who will ever be known nurse Hitler with the napoleon complex. That woman was mean as a snake. —By the end of the day I was ready to call up friends to round me up some bail money b/c I was ready to throw something at the witch-- After arguing with dad over the time of his test, and several other things, she came back in with paperwork.

“Sir, are you Jehovah’s Witness?”

“Hell no! I’m Baptist! Why in the devil are you asking me that?”

“Jehovah’s Witness don’t accept blood.”

“Oh. Well, I’ve donated 12 gallons of blood over the years. Lotta good that did.” Oh my Lord, was he grumpy.

As a side note, I have to tell y’all…I my sister and I were cracking up the first night we went to see dad.

We had to park in the ABC Liquor parking lot (which I later found out is frowned upon). We start to walk to the doors of the hospital, and we see a doctor lift the back of his Honda CRV. One of those oxygen tanks on wheels comes barreling out and fell on his foot, and he has to chase it across the parking lot. Beeb and I were the rude girls doubled over laughing.

Then, we get in the elevators… For those of y’all having to visit the hospital, there are a few issues with the elevators. There is one elevator, that has the option to go to the fifth floor, but it won’t allow you to go to the fifth floor (even if you push the button a bazillion times…). We went up to the fourth, I pressed the button for like the third time and it didn’t light up, then we started going back down. Well, Rheba got the bright idea to go to the fourth and then take the stairs… Somewhere along the lines, she got out of the elevator and said “screw this,” I didn’t follow, so the doors shut with her standing on the floor, with hands raised going “Wth?” …Then I forgot which floor I lost her on…. I was giggling the entire time going back up the floors trying to figure it out. The nurse thought I was “special.” When we finally got up to the fifth floor, I was about to fall out from laughing so hard.

It’s always an adventure with the Sheffield clan.

Speaking of which...guess where I'm going tomorrow night? My dad wants me to go to a Dog Hunters Association banquet. I don't hunt. So this should be fun. What do I even wear??