Parade Scenes. Circa 2007.

It's September! In Mayberry this month revolves around one word: CORN! We're harvesting it, eating it, shucking it, freezing it, canning it, creaming it and frying it. Heck, we even have a festival devoted to it every third weekend of September. This year's Corn Festival is coming up next weekend and I'm excited. I'll be in the lemon shake-up booth while everyone else enjoys the various events, but it'll be fun just the same.

I know you're brimming with anticipation to hear about how it goes so to tie you over, here are a few scenes from the parade a few years ago...

Mom and my sisters love seeing the different floats in the parade.


Like the high school wrestling team, who seems to go to State every year. Actually, I believe that the year this was taken they won state.


Then there's the football team, who wasn't doing so hot that year. But this year's team is ranked in the top 10 in the state right now for their class. Woo!


Popcorn, anyone?


My kid sister loves the parade. And she loves the candy various floats toss to the crowd.

I love the parade, too.

Pitter Patterage

I believe in love.

Kind of.

I believe that "till death do us part" actually means something to some people. Take my grandparents, for instance. They've been married for 64 years and love each other more today than the day they said "I do."



While long marriages are good and great, I also believe that some people will never find someone to share their piece of forever with. But that's not what I'm gonna talk about today, that's another episode on the soapbox entirely.

Today is all about what comes before the 64 years of wedded bliss.

Before forever can cross your mind or the L-word pass through your lips, there is something else, right? Something you can't define or put your finger on but you know it's there. It's like an electricity going through you when your Beloved comes into view. It's a look, it's a feeling - one I've only been given by 2 people in my entire life. (This feeling isn't love by any means, so don't think I am or have ever been in love with those two lucky men, because neither of them will ever hear those words from my mouth.)

Continuing, I call this feeling "pitter patterage" but you can call it what you want. This excitement is the look I described back in May when I was overcome by the heart flutters in a local establishment in downtown Mayberry. And the source of that look still gives me the pitter patters, although it's really getting old and by "old" I mean I like it, relish it and frankly I enjoy it, but it can stop at anytime because my poor heart just can't take it.

That is the source of today's post.

I'm all for someone making my heart go wild every time I see them, but only if the feeling is mutual. Dual pitter patterage is the best pitter patterage. However, in my current situation it is one-sided with no hopes of ever being more. Now the tricky question: Since I know nothing will ever come of this feeling, why is it still there? Why does this person still have that affect on me every time we speak? How does one text message that just says "hey what have you been up to" make me lose my train of thought and forget my name for a few seconds? What was I talking about again?

See what I mean about being annoying? It's aggravating and I'm starting to think it's overrated, too. Who needs their heart to palpitate uncontrollably, anyway? I make a fool enough out of myself without an erratic heartbeat to further prove my weirdness to the world.

Maybe pitter patterage is all in my imagination and there's really no such thing. Maybe I've hyped it all up to mean more than it does. I probably just have an undiagnosed heart condition. Whatever it is, this feeling is getting on my nerves and I can't figure out how to shake it. Maybe dual pitter patterage is in my future. Maybe it isn't. Regardless, I just wish this one sided pitter patterage I have now would go away and take it's false hope with it.

"Send me away with the words of a love song..."

You ever had a crazy dream? You know the kind when you wake up and look around to see where you are and if you have any battle scars? Those dreams just seem SO real and you can't quite differentiate between what really happened and what you thought happened.

I had one of those dreams last night.

A gunshot (in my dream) woke me up in a cold sweat and I looked around my dark bedroom in sheer horror, wondering what on God's green earth just happened. I couldn't figure out why I dreamed up that certain scenario in my head and, while sparing you the details, I had no idea as to why the people involved were there in the first place and how the setting we were in came about.

My brain must be fried. Perhaps I shouldn't go to bed on a full stomach anymore. Or maybe it was that NCIS episode I watched as I drifted off to sleep? Yea, definitely no more of that. But Gibbs and Abby make me laugh. Oh well, I'll get over it.

_______________

On another completely unrelated note, I have a song stuck in my head today. While this is nothing out of the ordinary, I find it humorous due to the song's title. I first heard "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry while I was driving down a back road a couple months ago late at night. My windows were down and I was on a narrow road with tall rows of corn on both sides and a warm breeze slowly blowing through the cab of my truck. Then that song came on and the eeriness of my surroundings were multiplied.




As I listened to the lyric, I couldn't help but fall in love. Death has always fascinated me and I even began planning my own funeral at age 18, certain I would die before I hit 30. My family blamed it on the stage 4 cancer discovered in my dad and never really said too much about it. Then after going to the only funeral home Mayberry has one afternoon to look at caskets, my dad had enough. I've known the Funeral Director my entire life, as he and Dad were good friends, and as soon as I got home I was told to drop it because "you're not dying anytime soon." Now I plan in silence. There's a playlist on my iPod of songs I want played and a Microsoft Word document of what to do once I kick the bucket. I'm such an optimist like that.

Anyway, back to this song.

"If I die young bury me in satin
Lay me down on a bed of roses
Sink me in the river at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song"

Wow! For the next three minutes and forty eight seconds I had goosebumps.

"And I’ll be wearing white when I come into Your kingdom
I’m as green as the ring on my little cold finger
I’ve never known the lovin' of a man
But it sure felt nice when he was holding me hand
There’s a boy here in town says he’ll love my forever
Who would have thought forever could be severed by
The sharp knife of a short life, well
I’ve had just enough time"

Man I love this song! One of my best friends and I were riding around a couple of weeks ago and she asked if I'd heard of it. When I said yes she said "Oh my gosh, I thought it sounded like something you'd write!" I couldn't help but chuckle. If you haven't heard it, go buy it on iTunes right now!

I'm going to go add this to my playlist now so people have something to laugh about as they stand in line to express their condolences (or joy, because you never know) to my family.

Hermit

Today was Monday. For the record, I've never really disliked Mondays but every now and then a Monday comes around that makes me realize why everyone else around me can't stand them.

Today was one of those Mondays.

Don't get me wrong, nothing horrendously awful or atrocious happened, but none the less I was off my game.

It started when I was getting ready for work and mixed up my eyeliner pencils when I didn't have my contacts in yet. Then at work I failed to differentiate between "good morning" and "good afternoon" every time the phone rang. And making the day complete were the numerous random blond moments that I have on an everyday basis, but multiplied by 9.

So what caused this? I have a theory.

This weekend I was a hermit. No Friday or Saturday night plans evolved and after church yesterday I came right home. My social skills need some exercise. One thing is for sure, this weekend I have to get out of Mayberry and find my way to a town with more than five stoplights. Or maybe I'll just find my way out on a backroad surrounded by half-harvested corn fields and pastures of cow manure.

No matter where I end up this week, I definitely will have to stop being a hermit and get outta this house. I can barely wait!

Have a great week, everyone!

No ifs, ands, or butts

What is wrong with this picture? Anybody?

How did this cigarette butt make it's way into my floorboard? I don't smoke. I find that habit repulsive. There is no smoking in my vehicle and I most certainly have no idea what to think of this.

I'm sure it probably got stuck to my shoe or something one day, but what a nerve this cigarette butt has. It's a brave little bugger! How dare it!

I hate cigarette butts.

Just thought you should know.

Writer's Block

Ok, so in my last post I ranted a bit, but you know what? It turns out I was right. Now I'm happy to report that no tears were shed, as the perpetrator was stopped before anything bad happened and everybody is happy as a clam here in Mayberry.

I really don't live in Mayberry, but it sounds good, right? Anywho, I don't really know what to write about today. Nothing super interesting has happened lately and I'm suffering from a horrible case of writer's block. I feel like the world's worst blogger since it's almost been a month since I've posted anything.

Surely something fun has happened to me in the last month.... hang on, I'm thinking......

Oh yea, now I remember! I had a blind date (which is nothing new for me I suppose based on the way this summer has panned out) but then it was pointed out that in a six week span I had 3 different first dates. Then at the end of two came one of the dreaded lines "Well, you're really fun and nice, but..." Then it can be any number of excuses, all of which I've heard at least twice: "I'm just not ready for a relationship right now." "You're too much fun to waste your time with a guy like me." "I still have feelings for someone else." "I think of you more as a great friend." "I'm moving overseas tomorrow for five years." "I start a job in Kenya next week to help feed starving children and won't have any contact with the outside world."

Ok, so maybe I went a little overboard on the last two, but I seriously have heard it all. Two of the three dates ended with those lines and while I applaud honesty in matters of the heart, at the same time I wonder why men could take a gal out when they have no romantic feelings for her. I mean, if you're still hung up on an old flame, I understand. I've been there. But if I were in your shoes I'd try and get over it before embarking on another excursion. And what's worse than hearing one of those lines? Not hearing a thing. When the date is over and he's walking you to the door, he says "We need to do this again sometime." Well that's all wonderful, but if you then drop off the face of the Earth, a girl is left wondering what the heck is wrong. Don't act interested if you're not. It's not very chivalrous.

But the date that didn't end in one of those lines actually went well. He actually seems interested. And he actually calls me first. Everyday. But (you knew that was coming), he lives two hours away and neither of us want to be in a long-distance relationship. Then why did we go out in the first place? A favor for friends. We thought if we did then they'd shut up and leave us alone, but now here we are a month later in a situation we really don't know how to handle. So, we do nothing. We're friends, I think. But when we see each other it's like we're a couple, I think. Let's just leave it on cruise control.

Oops. I think I ranted again.

On another note, Mayberry is a farming community and the harvest season has begun! Driving to work this morning I met combines, trucks hauling corn headers and semis filled up on the way to the elevator. Let me tell you, I loved every second of it. Then I got behind a tractor and bush hog on the highway this morning, and while usually I think 55 mph is too slow, driving 35 behind a John Deere doesn't bother me at all. I'm a dork like that. In fact, this dork took a picture. Please excuse the 763 bugs on my windshield.


Have I mentioned that I love living in Mayberry?

Skeptical

I'm a skeptic. Who knows the reason, but that's just how it is. I wonder what some people's motives are and can't help but make up scenarios in my head when someone is being unusually and uncharacteristically nice to me. This could stem from being played for a fool too many times in my life, but then again I'm not a psychiatrist.

In third grade I learned the only reason one of the most popular girls in my grade invited me to her birthday party was because she wanted the brand new Glitter Hair Barbie. Unfortunately, another girl got her the blond doll, so when I gave her the one with auburn waves (myself being a carrot top at this point in my life) she acted less than thrilled. Needless to say, I wasn't her friend after that and wasn't invited to her party in the fourth grade.

Then there was a teacher once who I had a complete personality clash going on with and that made it difficult if I ever needed any help with the coursework. One day, though, I couldn't quite get the hang of an assignment and I asked her for help. Expecting her to tell me to ask a classmate like she usually did, she surprised me by walking to my desk and showing me herself. Whoa. For the next two weeks I was on my toes, wondering why on Earth she was so dadgum nice to me. I finally did realize that on that particular day, there was an additional student in the class, only he wasn't a student at all, but rather a member of the school's board who was evaluating her performance. It figures. Never again did she come to my desk if I had a question.

Then there was that super cute guy in one of my college classes who asked me to a big frat party. He said to be there about 11 and I was, but I found out that he only asked because he and his girlfriend would need a DD back to his apartment before the sun came up. That night was a waste of eyeliner and double sided tape.

Nowadays I don't trust anybody, but it's both a blessing and a curse. I rely on first impressions and gut feelings when dealing with new people. Usually I'm right, but there are instances when I'm not. Recently, I've been given another reason to question an individual and I really wish I could give the said person the benefit of a doubt, but my gut feelings are interfering. My instinct has been wrong before, but I can't help but think this person is out to hurt someone I love for his or her own personal gain.

So do I sit back and let it happen or try and warn my dear friend of the ugliness I foresee lurking around the corner. People have to make their own mistakes, right? So here I am with one eye on the predator and another on my friend. Let's hope I can help before its too late, or better yet, let's hope my skepticism is just getting the best of me and no tears will be shed.

The virtue I'm working on

Technology is a funny thing. Personally, I consider myself a child of such technology. My cell phone is rarely more than 3 feet from me, I have an external hard drive full of thousands of songs and pictures. My iPod is loaded, my CD player has hundreds of albums to choose from, my camera stays in my purse fully charged and I wireless internet in a restaurant makes my day.

But, with having all these means of communication at my disposal, I think I get a little too wrapped up in it sometimes. If I try to call someone and they don't answer, I leave a voicemail in hopes they'll return my call as soon as they can. When I email someone who I know is in their corner office with internet pulled up at all times, I expect a response within a couple minutes. If I send a text message, I want a reply immediately. Everyone has their phoned bolted to their hip, right? However, while technology is lightning speed, life isn't.

Recently I've been dealing with this thing they call patience and I am sad to report that it is making me lose what little mind I had. Text messages that (in my world) should take a couple minutes to get a result from are now taking hours. Phone calls I thought would come weeks ago aren't lighting up the lines and through all the "e-this" and "i-that" stuff we have around us, there are way too many things I have to wait on. But 300 years ago, any news was delivered on horseback and took forever. If you were sending word to a cousin in the next state that you were on your deathbed, they wouldn't even hear about it until after you're 6 feet under. Wives would go for months and years without hearing from their husbands during times of war and still they dealt with it while they made lye soap.

This makes sense in my head, I hope I'm not losing any of you.

I guess my point is that if it weren't for technology spoiling me and cutting time in half in just about every aspect of my life, when it comes to living my life, I'm too impatient to let nature take its course and do its thing. But on a positive note, while I'm sitting here on the porch swing being patient and letting life do what it does, I can play Tetris on my phone while I make homemade soap.

Gossip Town

The last couple weeks have been crazy busy, but now I finally get a chance to sit down and take a breath.

Since the last time you heard from me my small community had a county fair, I celebrated a wonderful birthday, and was taken out on the first real date I've had in a while. In that order. Now this week it's back to the grind and the start of the gossip. I suppose that's all some people have to do around this place. I just think it's funny because no matter how hard I try to not make a big deal out of something, people start talking about it and some who I don't even know come up and ask the nosiest questions about who my male companion was the other night.

The night in question was four days ago and it seems everyone I see is asking me when the next date is and if I had fun and how happy they are to see me "getting back on the horse." Yes, those words were used. I want to scream in their faces "ONE DATE! Just a date. Calm down!" And to make matters worse, I was trying to keep it from a few especially nosy family members but based on the people who saw us out, I decided to tell my mother the bare minimum. Now who knows what she's heard. Jesus, please don't let her go to Wal-Mart or the beauty shop! I'll probably be engaged by the time she gets back. And the boy wondered why I didn't want to tell my mom about the date to begin with.

Sittin' by the Sea

Last week my family went on vacation, which was a much needed experience considering the events of the past year.

The East Coast was just what we needed. As I sat with my toes buried in the sand and the Atlantic before me, I couldn't help but reflect on my life. Am I where I want to be? Yes and no. Am I pleased with who I've become? For the most part. Where will I be a couple years from now? I have no idea.

When I thought about the later, my heart was erratic and my head full of crazy ideas about the things that might happen...

Sure, I conjured up some wonderful daydreams about my dream job in the heart of Music City, living on a couple acres with a westward facing front porch swing and a dog. Maybe I'll have some kids, or I could stay in this podunk town the rest of my life. But no matter where a certain daydream had me living, thoughts kept drifting to who I'd like to have those kids with. Will I ever tie that knot, or will it never be more than a slipknot on a lonely fence post? I can't tell you now. Maybe there is someone out there who God has in store for me who I haven't met yet, or perhaps I already know him. Then again, maybe my knot is best untied to see how high I can fly.

Whatever happens, happens. Right?

So if your mind should start dancing around all the "what if's" and hypothetical situations, take a seat by sea to clear your head.