Do What???

Okay, first of all I want to say that I really do love the South. I love the Southern hospitality, the trees, the "The Cracker Barrel," the sweet little Southern lady who calls me "Honey" everytime I stop at the gas station. I love all of it, I really do! But there's one thing that really irks me about the "dialect" so to speak in the South. It's the question I have heard countless times and sometimes unnecesarilly in my opinion. "Do what?"

What does that mean anyway? Where I come from, Queens, NY we said things like, "Excuse me?" or "Pardon?" or "I'm sorry, what?" and "What was that?" when you didn't hear something someone said. You know the normal responses. But here in TN and other Southern states I'm learning "Do what" seems to be the typical response when someone wants you to repeat something you've said. I don't know what annoys me more, the question or the deep Southern sometimes unrecognizable to my Big City ears accent that comes with the response.

As much as I love TN, I'm literally lost in translation at times. Like I said before, I love the Southern hospitality but there are days I find myself missing the push and shove, the bluntness, the accent and the overall culture of the "Big City." I guess as much as my ears sting at the sound of that "phrase" I will have to put up with it. But something that I've declared to all who surround me here in the little world of hills, biscuits, honky tonk, and country ham festivals is that I will never say "Do what?" or my other "favorite" phrases, "Doggone" and "Y'all." My Southern-bred husband will second that.

Now, I hope I've made myself clear. So don't you dare ask me that question!

Mrs. H ; )

I Love My Backspace Button!

One of the reasons I love to write other than the fact that it is therapeutic and fun is that sometimes it is easier than talking. I find sometimes that the realtime verbal use can be overrated. You see in real conversation you can make all kinds of mistakes like saying something really stupid or making faces in a conversation (I'm guilty of this) you'll regret later. But these issues rarely arise when writing. No one sees you when you write and you can delete as many things as you want and get rid of all that extra stuff before anyone sees it. This is why I've come to love my backspace/delete button.

I'm one of those people who takes 20 minutes to write a paragraph long e-mail. E-mails don't have to be grammatically correct you may say. But as a former college English major these things matter to me okay? I'm not swimming in debt for nothing! (Whatever) Plus, I like all that I write to make sense, which is why my e-mails are throughly proofread before I send them out. (Did I mention I'm also OCD? That's another story I may or may not get to) ; )

Anyway, blogs are included in the tweaking process. And even after I've finished a blog I will come back time and time again and change, eliminate, or add words and necessary corrections. Don't worry this blog entry will not be neglected.

Why am I so meticulous? Because I care about what I put out and simply because I can. So if you see anything here that's misspelled let me know so I can DELETE. It's only a click away!

~L

A Weekend Spent in a Palace

I slept in a princess’ room last Friday night on January 16th. The room was filled with books that spoke of fairytales and dreams. The pillows on the bed were covered with wild flowers and dandelions while Princess Belle smiled at me with her big brown eyes glistening as she sat on a shelf against the wall. I thanked Princess Kinsley for allowing me the honor of sleeping in her palace.

Princess Kinsley is the daughter of a dear friend of mine who hosted a very fun ladies night for our closest friends. She made me feel welcomed as she brushed and made knots with my hair. I'm not one of those who dislikes having her hair brushed and done so I enjoyed the combing, brushing, and sometimes pulling. : ) I felt pampered and comfortable. The ladies and I danced, ate pizza, played games and watched chick flicks until 2 a.m. It was the ultimate ladies night. And God knows I needed it!

After weeks of non-stop work and exhaustion I took some time out and enjoyed myself. The busy part of my head hesitated but I’m glad I listened to the voice that said, “Have fun and don’t think about the list of to-dos you created for this weekend.” In the end I was glad I listened to the other voice because I had one of the best weekends in a while. Yea for girlfriends! And yea for fairytales and princesses that remind me of who I once was before I became a “busy” grownup.

Starbucks: A Place for Inspiration (I wonder what the guy behind me is reading?)

Anytime I want to get out of the house and clear my mind Starbucks is the place to go. I don’t know what it is about this coffee brewing environment that provides such adrenaline for my imagination. Is it the artsy setting? Or could it be the odor of the coffee beans as they’re being fragmented and ground for the next expectant patron? As I sat one day taking a sip of my favorite White Chocolate Mocha I realized that Starbucks isn’t just a place to drink coffee it’s a place to get away. It’s a hangout for friends and family, a place to escape to on a weekday after a long day of work, but I found that for me Starbucks is foremost a place for inspiration.

I remember as I sat drinking my coffee one night notebook in hand a man entered the coffee shop with his daughter. I noticed that he dragged a small suitcase with wheels, which I like to call the roley poleys. Immediately my mind began to work as I created a story. What if he and his daughter were going away on a trip because he just separated from his wife and is now a single dad? What if after being laid off from work he had no other refuge than to visit his very favorite coffee shop and he brought his daughter along for distraction. What if...well, you get the picture.

As I took notes for possible story ideas I smiled to myself. This is why I go to Starbucks. Not only to have a tall cup of my favorite coffee. I go to Starbucks to dream, brainstorm and to exercise my creativity. And my inspiration is not only the setting but also the people who like me are there to dream, talk, relax and escape. Thanks to them I’ve now created a new blog.

Hey, maybe Starbucks will give me some Royalties or a free drink for this Advertisement I mean, blog. (wink wink) : )

Evangelize Me

This poem is for all those who have been wounded by the love-less evangelists of our day:
Evangelize me
I am only a number
Befriend me
And tell me you love me
And then boast to your listeners
Of how you got me
Rebuke me for my weaknesses
And cover your hypocrisy
With spiritually coated words
Speak to me of that higher power
As you break your vows with another
Then I’ll pose a question to you
“Tell me Saint,
What makes us so different?”

Why of all things did I have to inherit this?

As a child I laughed at my mother for always carrying around shopping bags.  Whether we were taking a walk to the convenience store or to the local park she always had a bag in her hand.  When we shopped at department stores like JCPenney, Macy’s or KB Toy Store my mom would always ask for the largest bag at the register.  Even if all we purchased was a pencil she needed her shopping bag.  It was a sight to see a woman standing at barely 4’11” carrying bags that at times she dragged across the floor.  My sister and I would shake our heads and giggle.  I’ll never be like that I said.

            One day my husband of two years and I were cleaning our house when he asks me a question that catches me completely off guard.  “Why do you leave so many bags lying around the house?”  “What are you talking about?” I said. “All these bags everywhere.  What do you have in them anyway?” “Stuff that I need,” I said.  “Well, maybe you can empty some of them out and put everything in one bag,” he said.  “Okay, I will,” I muttered.  There that fixes that.  Or so I think... 

Recently out of the blue my boss asks me if I want to leave my “bags” in her office. As I'm laying my things neatly on the floor beside her chair  she turns to me and asks“What do you carry in those bags every day anyway?” “I, uh (sigh).” I uttered the words I never thought I’d hear come out of my mouth.  “I guess I’m a bag lady…just like my mother.  Not the homeless kind though…” I said nervously.  She laughed and walked away as I slumped my shoulders over. 

Okay, so I’ve become the kind of person who carries the “just in case stuff,” you know the napkins left over from a meal at a restaurant (That’s another story we won’t get into now).  I carry a notebook for inspirational purposes, a light snack for when I get hungry during the day, and other necessary items.  Okay sometimes I leave junk from a week ago that I no longer need in my bags.  I’m a clutter bug as my husband likes to call me.

            I guess whether we like it or not we always end up inheriting something from our parents even if it’s something as neurotic as carrying a shopping bag to the local coffee shop.  So, I’m coming to terms with the fact that I am now heading the new generation of bag ladies in my family.  She inherited it from her mother and now it’s passed down the line to me.  Well, I’ll carry my bags proudly! 

So  the next time someone asks me why I carry so many bags I’ll say to them, “Because I never know what I’ll need.”  I can almost see my mother nodding with an “I told you so” look on her face.