The Love Story Continues...

The next fall I began planning my voice recital. It would be a kind of final exam for my private voice classes. I knew I wanted him to be there. I had to sing for him. I had to sing to him. I made a point to give him an invitation, and I hoped that he would show up. The night of my recital I was very nervous. I wasn't as nervous about the performance as I was about him being there. I kept peeking out into the auditorium to see if he was there. Finally, it was time for me to come out. I remember that I walked out and saw him sitting in the back. My heart did a little flip-flop, but I tried to keep my composure.
That night I sang my heart out. I put everything I had into singing. Every song was for him. One in particular was dedicated completely to him. The song was a German piece, and its translation reads something like this:

You my soul, you my heart
You my joy, oh you my pain
You my world in which I live
My Heaven you, in which I float
O you my grave in which into I eternally my grief give
You are the rest, you are the peace
You are from Heaven to me granted
That you love me makes me worthy to myself
Your glance has me transfigured before myself
You raise me lovingly above myself
My good spirit, my better self

When the recital was over, I made my way to where he was. I spoke to only one other person before him. He gave me a hug, and told me that he enjoyed the performance. I was just happy that he had been there. When he turned to leave, I began to walk away as well, but then turned back to look at him. He turned back to look at me too. In that little "moment" I decided that it was time to make a move. I didn't know what I would say or do. I just knew that it was time to do something. I had to let him know how I felt.

A Long Way from Barbieland

I thought I would take a break from the telling of my love story to write about my little sister. I was an only child for quite a few years before my sister came along. I was very lonely, and decided that I would pray to God to send me a sister to play with. I didn't know that my parents had been trying for some time to have another baby. I believe God hears the innocent prayers of children. He heard mine, and before too long I had my little sister. She was a little bitty thing. She still is. When she started school, my parents had to lift her up onto the school bus steps. Despite some initial jealousy, I loved my little sis and she and I became great playmates.
Our favorite pastime was playing with Barbie dolls. We didn't just play the usual "Barbie's getting dressed to go on a date with Ken" scenerio. We had intricate plot lines and complex characters. Barbie had many adventures, and was a victim of numerous disasters. She survived a flash flood, an earthquake, a couple of tornadoes, as well as a few wars. Barbie got married and divorced more times than I can count, and had more kids than the old lady who lived in the shoe. Our cast of characters included Barbie as a suburban housewife, as well as Barbie the undercover spy supermodel.
All of our dolls had names. No one was just called Barbie. We had Lynne, and Teresa, Christy and Misty (twins,) Lori, and more that I can't remember. Kens had diferent names as well. We had a young Ken named Kevin. We had a Ken doll that looked a bit like Bruce Boxlietner, so we named him Lee Stetson. Then there was the doll named Bruce. He was one of the oldest Kens we had, and he had a bit of a flatulence problem. Not an imaginary one either. He always really smelled like farts. He was a commitmentphobe as well. Whenever he would attempt to kiss his Barbie love of the moment, his head would pop off.
Our story lines got crazier as we got older. In one plot we had a Barbie that went nuts and started killing all her Barbie friends. Ken once played a phantomesque role as the weird guy who lived in the basement of the Barbie mansion. My favorite story involved Ken as a maniacal kidnapper with an obsession for dinner breads.
At one point in our childhood, my family moved into a house that had enough room for us to have a playroom. This room quickly became Barbieland, fully equipped with a grocery store, hotdog stand, school, and even a game show. We spent most of our free time there making up wild adventures for Barbie.
For the most part, my sister and I took care of all of our Barbie dolls. After so many hours of play however, they did begin to wear out. We played with them until they fell apart. My doll, Lynne, was one of these dolls. She had been my favorite, so she was quite battered. Upon realizing her impending demise, my sister and I made up one last story for her to play out. Lynne survived the earlier homicidal rampage of her fellow doll only to slip on a stick of Barbie butter, fall down the stairs of her townhouse, and break her neck. She had a lovely funeral, and went to the garbage dump in a comfy little shoebox casket.
Some of our other dolls were not so lucky. They became victims of our attempts at Barbie makeovers. Though I successfully gave one doll the "Rachael" haircut, my attempt at the Meg Ryan bob went horribly wrong. Instead of Meg Ryan, the doll looked like Sinead O'Connor. Barbie met with worse fates than bad haircuts in Barbieland. The playroom was a bit drafty, which led to one poor doll's unfortunate run-in with the space heater. Several dolls lost their heads in one way or another. I think there was even a time when Barbie's mustang was responsible for severing a leg during a hit-and-run.
I was in highschool before I stopped playing with Barbie dolls. I tried to tell myself that I was just entertaining my little sister. However, I know I enjoyed it just as much as she did, if not more. We had a blast. I miss it. I'm now a wife and a mother of two boys. There isn't a Barbie in sight at my house. It's kind of sad. I have hope, though. I've recently found out that I am going to be an aunt. I'm praying now that my sister will give birth to a little girl. If she does, I'm digging out my Barbies. Hopefully, I will be with her when she takes her first journey to Barbieland.

I drove myself crazy trying to convince myself that I felt nothing for this man. I told myself I was a fool and a juvenile for having a crush on a teacher. However, my arguments were put to rest in April of that year. I had been working really hard that semester. So hard in fact, that I wasn't eating properly. Or much at all. One day I started feeling really bad and I knew I needed to eat something. At that point I knew I was too light-headed to drive, so I tried to call a friend. She didn't answer, so I made my way down the first floor hall of one of the campus buildings. It just happened to be his building. I didn't make it to the end of the hall. The neat thing I knew, I was lying on a bench in the hallway with some strange guy looking down on me. At some point someone called an ambulance, and as I was being prepared to go to the hospital, I saw HIM. He looked very concerned.

At the hospital, I was told that I was hypoglycemic. That's why I fell out. I didn't really care about that though. I just thought about the way he looked when I left. I wondered if maybe he would call to check on me, but decided he probably wouldn't. I was right. He didn't call to check on me. He came to the hospital to check on me.
I had gone out into the hallway to try to call someone to come get me. No one answered at home, and I started to get really worried. Then I heard a familiar voice around the corner. I looked up in time to see HIM come around the corner. At that moment I knew I could no longer ignore what I felt for him. He came for me. He was like a knight charging to my rescue. Except his white steed was a big grey Chevy truck.
I knew I had deep, true feelings for him. Maybe he felt the same. I couldn't be sure. But he had come for me. At that point it was enough.

More of My Love Story...

The first couple of weeks of class passed by without much excitement. I liked the class and found it very interesting and tried my best to be a good student. Then, one day as I was taking a test, I decided to make a little joke about some of the material. When he passed the graded tests back to us I noticed that he had made his own little joke. I laughed out loud and looked up and noticed him looking at me. I think that's where it all began. At least my part.
After that, I found myself thinking about him a lot. I made a point to get to class early and I tried to prepare myself well so I could be brilliant in class. I guess it might have worked better if I had actually spoken in class. I always felt so timid. I would see him in the hall and he would say hello and I would just smile. I knew if I tried to speak it would just come out as "duhhhh..."
The next semester I tried to stay around the building where he taught. I couldn't take him for any more classes because I had taken everything he taught. Instead, I scheduled classes near the ones he taught. My French class was across the hall from him and we would wave at each other every day. My theater class was down the hall from him and I would make special trips to the bathroom so I could see him. For someone who didn't normally go crazy over any particular guy, I had it pretty bad.
One day I made up my mind that I would go by his office and talk to him. I wasn't sure what I would say, but he provided me with the perfect opportunity. I was passing by when I heard classical guitar music coming from his office. I stuck my head in the door and made some comment about the music. He knew I was a music major, so it was a perfect topic to discuss. After that initial conversation, I made a point to stop by and speak to him at least once a week. I was finding out so much about him. I realized that he and I had a lot in common. I really liked being around him and before I knew it, I found myself falling. Hard.

My husband is amazing. He is truly my soul-mate. I met him a few years ago at the local university. I had gone back to school after having my first child with the intent of earning a degree in music. I ended up getting my MRS degree instead. It was all meant to be that way though. I don't believe in luck or coincidence. I heard someone say once that coincidence is just when God chooses to remain anonymous. I believe it. Only God could have made such a perfect match. People had been telling me for a long time that I was just too picky. However, I feel that in the choice of a life-long mate,one had better be picky. I don't believe in divorce. At least not the way that some people do. In the age of the "disposable marriage," I was determined to find my soul-mate or remain single if I could not. I was blessed to finally find him in the fall of 2002.
I remember that day as clear as anything. It was my first day back at school after taking a break to have my first child. I was very determined to be a serious student this time. My second class on that first day was where I met him. I remember he came in a little late. At the time, I didn't really think anything about him. I was there to learn. And anyway, I was too old to have crushes on teachers. Right? Sure.
Yes, he was my teacher. The strange thing was that neither of us were really supposed to be in that class. I didn't realize it at the time, but I had already taken that class in Junior College under a different number. The class I was in was supposed to be taught by someone else. But there we were...

The Indestuctible Wasp

There was a wasp in my house this morning. I was afraid it would sting my baby, so I decided I must kill it. So I took a section of newspaper and rolled it up to swat the little pest. It flew over to the kitchen window, and I thought, "Ha! I've got you now!" Wrong. I swatted the wasp. It fell down, but then hopped right back up on the window screen. I hit it again. Same thing. This happened over and over. Swat the wasp, jump back. Swat the wasp, jump back. I was definitely doing some damage, because the wasp started buzzing around bumping into stuff. However, I couldn't kill the little sucker. I just kept right on hitting it. Five minutes later, the wasp had one leg and no wings, but he was still going. I decided I had to end it once and for all. I started in with some rapid succession swatting. Wham wham wham wham! At last, the little bugger curled up and gave up the ghost. The battle was over. In the words of my father, (the official bug-killer of the household,) "You die!"

The Case of the Soggy Socks
This morning I woke up and looked in on my sweet baby in the bassinet. He was awake and smiling. I noticed however, that his socks were sopping wet. I picked him up and felt his PJs. They were dry. His sheets were dry. I wondered how his socks had gotten so wet. I figured it out after I returned to the room to give him his bottle. There he was, with both feet in his mouth, happily munching on his toes. Mystery solved. "Don't put your feet in your mouth Baby," I told him. "There will be plenty of time for that when you are older."
In other news, I read in a fashion magazine the other day that butts are the new boobs. I don't know why. If that's true, then I'm like the Dolly Parton of the butt world. Maybe I should open up a theme park and name it Bootyville. Another magazine said that 30 is the new 20. So now according to the fashion world, I am 18 and a 44DD. Yay me!
I am also gald that the metrosexual fad is over. Metrosexual, for those of you that don;t know, was a movement in society where men started carrying little handbags and getting pedicures. Yuck! If I wanted to marry a gay guy...well, there's just no way to finish that sentance. The new movement is the ubermale. This is where men go back to being the big, burly, burping, scratching, guys we all love. I want to feel like my man will protect me. Not like he'll be afraid to break one of his perfectly manicured nails. Sure, I think guys should look nice. They should be able to dress up when necessary. But that's what wives are for. Keep your pansy man. I'll keep my Brawny man!

I am soooo excited! I finally joined the 21st century and got an iPod. I love it! It is actually my birthday present from my husband, but I got it a little early. It is so small, but so cool! I feel very modern walking around with my little earbuds in. I have spent most of the evening importing songs from CDs to it. It feels very cool to say that. "What are you doing?" "I'm importing." Now that my favs are on my iPod, anyone want to buy some CDs?
My son was out of school today, so we went to the park. We all had a good time. My older son took pictures of the baby on some of the play equipment. It was such a pretty day. When we got home several packages were waiting for us. My iPod came, the charger, and my baby's halloween costume. He is going as a monkey. (Very fitting!) My older son is going as a pirate. Ever since we went to Disney World and rode "Pirates of the Caribbean" he's had this pirate thing. He has declared his name to be Captain Red Bass. I don't know... He has quite an imagination.
Today was a really nice day. I had both of my boys at home, I've become Judy Jetson, and it's all very cool.

Last night my husband and I took our baby to the theater. Not the movies. Live theater. Of course, it wasn't his first time at the theater. He's only four-and-a-half months old and he's already been to see two shows. We took him to see a musical back during the summer, and last night we saw a Neil Simon comedy. Our child is so cultured! He did very well, despite the problems with the sound they were having. He just sat up in my lap and looked around as if he really enjoyed the action on stage. There was another baby there who didn't do so well. And she was older! After the show, I wanted to tell everyone, "My baby wasn't the one crying. He was the one writing a review for the local newspaper."
My older son went to his dad's house last night. They have a routine for every weekend they spend together. They visit their favorite restaurant and get hamburgers, then it's off to Wal-Mart to look around. They like video games and stuff like that. I'm not into gaming. I'm just too uncoordinated. My guys take a few steps, and then they die. Poor Mario never made it past the mushrooms.
I believe today is going to be a lazy day at my house. It's beautiful outside. Warm, but not too warm. I have to go to the store to buy the neccessities of life: milk, bread, and toilet paper. But after that, I'm crashing in front of the TV to watch my team get massacred. I love weekends in the fall!

Project Runway was such a bust last night. I can't believe I skipped the Barbara Walters interview with Terri Irwin to watch it! It was so obvious the judges had planned on booting out Uli. They had to send eveyone through because she won! Laura's dress was very pretty, but very safe. Michael's dress was nice...on paper. It didn't work on that little Jennifer Love Hewitt look-alike. Uli's dress was okay compared to that "German house dress" she originally made. The beading with that print was a nice combination.
When Heidi said that Jeffery's dress belonged on a milk maid I laughed so hard I thought milk was going to come out my nose. And I wasn't even drinking milk. You could tell he and Michael were nervous when they were in the bottom two. They were both sweating like Michael Jackson trying to figure out which Survivor team to be on. I think there will be some sort of surprise challenge that will narrow it down to a final three.
In home news, my baby had a breakthrough today. He has recently started eating rice cereal, and has had some problems with it. For one thing, Mommy just doesn't shovel it in fast enough for his liking. Up to this point he's been on a bottle and can suck down its contents in a matter of seconds.
I've contemplated changing his name to Hoover. Today he had a breakthrough. He realized that if he opens his mouth wide, mommy will shovel in a big spoonful of grub. This he likes.
He also got a new toy. He's been playing on a little mat that has toys hanging over it. He's become very bored with that, so I ordered him this little bouncy thing. It's called an exersaucer. It has little do-dads all over it that squeak and spin. He seems to like it a lot. Maybe he won't get bored with it for a while. I hope at least a week. He and I have been taking daily walks. We walk all over the neighborhood and I show him all kinds of things. Yesterday I introduced him to the joys of mushroom kicking. There was a mushroom on the side of the road that was so big it could have housed at least a dozen Smurfs. I ran up and kicked it, and it exploded with a big POOF! It was so cool. Ahhh, the simple pleasures of life. Mushrooms to kick, spinning toys, and a mouthful of grub. Who could ask for more?

My boys are adorable. My oldest son is six and a half, and he is the light of my life. He is very creative, imaginative, and sooo dramatic! He reminds me of someone...hmmm. We are very close. We have always liked to play tricks on each other. One of our favorite things to do is try to scare the devil out of each other. He likes to sneak up behind me when I'm out on the back porch reading. The other night as he was getting ready for bed I sneaked into his room and hid behind his bed. When he came back into the room to get into his bed, I jumped up and barked at him. I think he jumped about ten feet. Poor kid. He'll probably need therapy before he hits puberty. He'll get me back though. I'm just waiting for it.
My sons have always been my favorite toys. Kids are fun. They are a great excuse to go see all those animated films you wanted to see but were too embarrassed to go by yourself. I love having kids. I get to go trick-or-treating again. I can watch Spongebob without feeling totally lame.
My other son is four and a half months old. He is really beginning to show his personality. He likes to give kisses. His kisses are really more like slobber deposits, but it's still sweet. He coos and giggles and thinks it's very funny that he can make raspberries with his tongue. He has recently discovered his feet, and is constantly studying them. I think he's trying to figure out how to get them in his mouth.
My husband and I still haven't figured out his hair or eye color. He may end up as a redhead like his mommy. Right now though his hair color is best described as "bald." He has a little bit of fuzz. His head is very round, but not quite as round as his big brother's was. His head looked like Charlie Brown's. Or maybe the Great Pumpkin.
I love my boys. They fill my every day with wonder and delight. Their futures are wide open to possibilities. My oldest wants to be an astronaut, or a race car driver, or a police officer, or a fire fighter. My baby hasn't made any future wishes known yet, but it looks as though he may be a food critic. Or maybe a podiatrist. Who knows?

It's funny how different my life is from the way I imagined it to be when I was younger. When I was a teenager and knew everything I decided that I was going to be an actress. My plan was to graduate from highschool and then head straight to NYC to find my big break on Broadway. I was not going to get married, and I was certainly never going to have children. My life was my own, and it was going to stay that way. To me, my hometown was a hopelessly uncultured place that was just unworthy of me and my talent. What an ignorant little brat I was! Luckily, I never headed off to the big city. I went to college instead and began studying music and I discovered how little I knew about anything!
Today I'm married with two beautiful children and a house in the country. And a cat. Sometimes I am still amazed that I have all this. Occasionally I ask myself, "What if?" Do I have any regrets? Do I wish I were a Broadway star instead of a PTF mom? Heck no! I love this life. I love packing lunches. I love going on school field trips. I love it when my husband comes home from work and I greet him at the door. I love getting up in the morning and feeding my baby while watching the Tyra Banks Show. Oh, I still have the acting bug. But I satisfy it through my work with the local theater group. That's much more fun anyway. I can perform for familiar faces. Hometown people. Their applause means more to me than sold out shows in New York. These people know me and appreciate me. I love that I can be a star one night and then go home and be just a normal person.
Well...maybe not normal.
It's still funny though. The other day I found myself separating meats to go in the freezer and I had to stop and smile. Who needs fame and fortune? I have family. I am very blessed. I am rich beyond my wildest dreams.

My dad is a preacher. When I tell people that, most of them say "Oh! You're one of those!" Yes. I am a PK. A preacher's kid. A lot of people are under the assumption that since I am a preacher's daughter I am a hell-raiser. To be honest, I have done plenty of things I am not proud of. However, I don't think I could be put in that category. My sister and I were raised with some strict rules. We were not allowed to listen to rock music. We didn't watch movies that had anything but a G rating. My dad didn't make us wear dresses all the time, but our pants could not be too tight or our shorts too short. (Above the knees was too short.) My dad has always been great though. He's a very straight-laced, right-wing conservative. However, he has great compassion for people. He would be the first to speak out against drinking and gambling, and homosexuality. But he would be the first to reach out to and embrace the people brought down by such things. He's probably the hardest working person I know. A lot of people think a preacher just works on Sunday and spends the rest of his time sitting around eating fried chicken. Not my dad. I've seen him go out at 3:00am because somebody needed to talk to him. He is always on the go. He visits people in the community. He visits people in the hospital. He volunteers at the local mission center. He just got back from a mission trip to Africa. He's been to Russia several times as well. I am proud to be a PK. Sure, my childhood was a little sheltered. Looking back I'm grateful. I see kids who were not raised by a good Christian father, or no father at all. A lot of them are now in serious trouble. I was blessed. So what if I couldn't wear a two-piece bathing suit at the beach? I wouldn't trade that for the life I have now. When I looked for a husband, I looked for someone with the same qualities as my dad. I was blessed to find him. I'm happy to know that my sons have great male role models to look up to in my husband, my dad, and my brother-in-law. If they are anything like them, they will be just fine.

It is the first day of fall and it still feels like mid-summer! It was like 90 something degrees outside today! To further add to the disappointment, my team lost today. They could have won if their kicker was not a total moron. Okay, I know. I couldn't kick that little ball through the uprights, but come on! That's what these guys do! (Breathe!) I'm better now. I'm telling you, I get into my football.
Yesterday I took an online psychic ability test. It told me I definitely had some psychic powers. ( I knew it.) Funny though, I could guess what was behind the cards and yet I never win the football pool...hmmmm. I wish I had known I was going to catch a cold. My head is full of mucous, and I am aching all over. My husband had it first. That's the beauty of marriage; you share everything. Oh well, here's to "in sickness and in health." I'm going to go crash on my couch. Happy Fall Ya'll.

Yesterday afternoon my husband and I attended the University English dept get-together. I prefer to call it the "Nerd Picnic." It is always fun to see nerds outside their natural environment so we packed up our little four-month old nerdling and a Death By Chocolate dessert and headed to the Alumni House. Of course, our baby was the star attraction. He is afterall the cutest baby in the world. I would post pictures, but there are just too many pychos on the Internet.
When I refer to people as nerds, I am not being derogatory. I am myself a nerd, and I enjoy the company of other nerds. Nerds are quite fun to socialize with. We are very witty. However, most non-nerds don't understand our humor. We love puns and wordplay that would make a lot of other people groan. Nerds aren't totally abnormal though. They still put on their suspenders one arm at a time just like everyone else.


*J.J. gives a good mad scientist laugh: Mooha ha ha ha ha!

My husband and I are totally hooked on Project Runway. Actually, he turned me on to it. Weird, huh? FYI, he's totally straight. It's a funny thing to hear the man who drives a big honkin' Chevy truck comment on the fashions. "The design is nice, but the print is just so busy..." He actually has very good taste. Especially in women. (ha ha!)
P.R. is a very entertaining show. There's nothing like a room full of gay guys trying to "beat each other up." The cast this time has been quite interesting. The first to go was scary Malan. My husband does a great impression of him. (with a pseudo-British accent) "Mummy, please don't lock me in the closet again! I won't design anymore! Mummy!!!"
One of my favs this season was Kaine. He reminded me of my good friend Tony. If Tony were a gay pageant dress designer. He got canned last week mainly because he thinks eveyone should dress like Elvis. Laura is another I like. She's a Mom with five, no make that six kids and a mouth like a sailor. My pick to win is Michael. He's friggin' awesome! I would buy everything he designs.
Of course the show has no shortage of *itches and jack asses. Angela would do good to get hired by the Ringling Bros. costume department. Creepy Vincent will probably end up at the funny farm after leaving his job, cashing in his 401k and still getting kicked off...twice.
As for Jeffery, aka Jack Ass, he would be more successful if he stopped designing for the 80's Madonna (think cone-shaped bra) and designed stuff you could actually wear out in public.
This week decides the final three and I just can't wait! Check it out. You'll be hooked!

Yeah! It's Friday! Here in the South TGIF takes on an entirely different meaning. Thank Goodness It's Football! You've seen Friday Night Lights? Well, it's pretty accurate. In the South football is life. Football season is like a holiday that lasts from the end of summer well into the winter. There are parties, we have football "outfits", and even songs (fight songs.) We send each other greeting cards that say things like "Have a Blessed Orange Bowl" or "Tuberville is the Reason for the Season."
Tonight my family is planing to attend a game between to local rival highschools. It should be quite an event. Aside from the action on the field, there's nothing like sitting in the stands with a bag of warm roasted peanuts in one hand and a cup of hot chocolate in the other. Sigh...is it 7:30 yet?

I have been telling myself for some time now that I need to start a blog. So here it is. tick tick tick...
It's funny , for months my head has been full of things to write and now I find myself searching for what to say. I suppose I could begin by telling about myself.
I am weird. Let's just get that out in the open. Not creepy weird like that guy that hangs around outside the BP. I'm...unique. I realize that by saying that I become totally un-unique because everybody says that. But really, I am a square peg. Well, maybe not square, just kind of oblong. My husband and I have declared ourselves nerds. In our eyes being a nerd is a good thing. I hope my children become nerds. Now, there is a big difference between a nerd and a dork/geek. Dorks/geeks are those guys in the chess club. Nerds are the people who sit aroung talking about Arthurian legends and debating whether or not Shakespeare really wrote all that stuff. My husband is a college English instructor (also known as nerd). His friends are all nerds. They all use proper grammer when speaking to each other. ex: "How are you today, Dr. So-and-so?" "I am well!"
My husband and I are not quite that bad, but we are fairly nerdy. Most nights we sit together in the livingroom doing our puzzles. He's hooked on sudoku, and I love anagrams and cryptograms. See? Nerds.
There is another side to me, but I'll get into that later. I don't have a light over my keyboard and my eyes are getting all fuzzy. G'nite all.