Wicked Sweet Tea

Prayers please...

2012-02-10T12:15:00.001-08:00

I'll go into more details later, but if you are the praying sort, I'd really appreciate some my way. Things have gotten really bad today/this week.

Thank you.

Let's hope my husband really misses me...

2012-02-08T08:33:00.000-08:00

So my husband is out of town for a while...

and you know what they say...

When the cat is away...

the mice will totally redecorate the place.

I'm moving furniture.

Painting.

& redecorating.

Let's just hope my husband misses me really, really badly when he finally gets home so he won't have a total fit and kill me.

Especially because it's looking like I might just have a sunset orange backsplash in the kitchen in the next couple of days. & the bathroom is screaming for some yellow.

Did I mention that our entire home is pretty much brown and black, a la bachelor pad style?

Welcome to married life, MB. Your life is about to get a whole lot brighter.

Mopey Monday

2012-02-06T08:21:00.000-08:00

I have baby fever really badly today. Actually, it's more of a baby rage today. I'm bitter and trying really hard not to be.

My husband left yesterday for a couple of weeks for work.

It looks like we aren't moving with our lease up, although we may still move out of Savannah next year. The plus side is that I hate to pack. The down side is that it's another year with Stalkerella. & I had envisioned how pretty I would make the new place. We haven't really merged well in our current place. It is more MB's style than my own. While he's out of town, I am going to try to make our place homey.

I had an interview last week for a job. I need more people to call me for interviews.

I'm mopey today. I'm sorry.

& cheese and rice, I miss caffeine. & salt. & gluten. & sugar.

But on the plus side, tomorrow is my Living Beyond Yourself bible study and that day always rocks.

What you may not know about me...

2012-02-01T08:57:00.000-08:00

The Mama Pirate was kind enough to tag me in a Q & A session, so I'm going to tell you more than you want to know about me.

Here are the rules:

1. You must post the rules

2. Post 12 fun facts about yourself in the blog post

3. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post and then create 12 new questions for the people you tagged.

4. Tag 12 people & link them on your post. (or as many as you like)

5. Let them know you’ve tagged them.

12 Facts all about me!

1. I have yet to spend a Super Bowl game with my husband. Due to blizzards and work travel, we've always been separated during game time! Including this year, as my husband is leaving this weekend for most of the month.

2. I can't stand to hurt anyone's feelings. I so wish I could be mean sometimes, but I just hate the idea of someone hurting because of what I said. Not to say that I don't have my moments, but they are extremely rare. I can only think of one time in the past three years that I was truly, intentionally mean and it was at our wedding photographer. I hate that it came to that, but it did result in me finally getting wedding pictures so I think it had to happen.

3. I love politics but I hate political debates on social media. It just grates when people aren't informed. Believe whatever you want, but please, please have solid reasons and information to back it up. For this reason, I try really, really hard not to engage in debates on fb and twitter. Unfortunately, I've had to unfriend/unfollow some people because the temptation is too strong.

4. I'm a Republican. By saying that, please know that doesn't necessarily mean I go to the right on every issue. It's that the issues that are most pressing in my life right now or that I consider to be the most important ones facing the country fall to conservative standpoints and have to do with economic/fiscal/defense issues. When it comes to social issues, I'm not very Republican.

5. I hate the thought of someone being lonely, I'm a natural comforter. I drive my husband crazy because I'm always inviting older strangers in restaurants to have dinner with us.

6. Whenever I feel jealous or bitter, I'm praying "that God will bless them in health, wealth and happiness and give them everything in life that I'm praying for myself" (I got this from a twitter peep). When I hear of someone having numerous interviews in a week or getting a job within a week of being unemployed, it feels like a sucker punch. I'm excited for that person, but it makes my circumstances feel worse.

7. I had to do that prayer this morning for Snooki because she's supposedly pregnant.

8. I have several friends that are trying to get pregnant right now (and may even be!) but I would never have to do that prayer for them (so don't be scared to tell me!). I'm eagerly anticipating all the good baby news!

9. I'm convinced we are going to win the lottery tonight because when I bought the Power Ball tickets last night, the clerk accidentally did the Power Play (which he has never done in the past year of me buying from him). I didn't have enough cash on me, so I thought, but found I had just enough.

10. I have crab rangoons for dinner once a week. It's the one vice I refuse to give up.

11. I am officially caffeine-free, and vegetarian 95% of the time. Next week, I start detoxing from sugar completely (other than my 4 crab rangoons a week).

12. I cry every week in church because without fail, my husband will lean over during the music and say either, "You look so beautiful" or "I thank God for you every day".

13. I love getting stuff in the mail unexpectedly. Cards, little presents, little happies. I had a group of friends that we mailed stuff each month. Little things but it was so much fun. We don't do it anymore but I'm toying with the idea of starting up a blog one where each month you send one little package to someone and you get one in return from someone else in the group.

Here's the questions for me to answer:

1. What is your favorite ice cream flavor? strawberry or butter pecan

2. Do you have any tattoos? How many and what of? Nope

3. What was your first pet? A bunny rabbit!

4. Favorite day of the week? Wednesdays because my husband is home, it's Modern Family & Revenge night, and my current favorite P90x workout day

5. Least favorite chore? vacuuming or putting up laundry.

6. What inspired your blog name? It's a merging of MB & me. "Wicked" is 'very' in Yankee talk where my husband is from, "sweet tea" sums up the south where I'm from.

7. How do you unwind at the end of the day? Cooking or playing a game with my husband

8. If you were going to be reincarnated as an animal, what would you want to come back as? I'm pretty much loving lions these days after watching the Chronicles of Narnia.

9. What is your favorite site to get the news from? Twitter

10. What was the last place you went on vacation? I guess New England

11. What is your favorite holiday? Easter, I love the colors

12. What is the first thing you do when you get online? (check you e-mail, read blogs, get on Facebook, etc.) Email

I'm tagging anyone who wants to do this!

Good things and a few wedding pictures...

2012-01-31T17:36:00.000-08:00

Every just feel like you are going to burst if you don't tell somebody something??

I feel like that today. Y'all! I just have to tell you about what today has been like. God is doing some mighty big things in our Wicked Sweet Tea household!

I am just so excited to see all of this come together and I'm so thankful. There are new possibilities for jobs, a new home and God knows what else!

My big thing is that I've got to let go of the worry, fears and anxiety that I get inundated with and become paralyzed to move. I'm scared to "rock the boat" per se since I don't have a job. In just a few weeks, we won't have my car. I'm afraid about how to do some of the things that I think God is bringing to us.

I just need to remember that God has a plan for me (a plan to prosper me and not harm me). Someone has a job for me. Someone has a car for me (we will buy used when we can buy). Someone has a home for us. All these things are happening, real, and out there, I just have to wait on God's timing (and I suppose the owner of the company, car and home!). This is a huge struggle for me.

So with that, I ask for prayers. & if you have prayer needs, please post a comment or email me. I would love to pray for those that I know have prayed many, many times for me.

& I'm finally getting to go through wedding pictures. Here are a few sneak peeks at some that I love! Soon, I will actually write about the wedding and all the neat special touches, and about the people who made it happen. Saint Sarah, I'm looking at you!

Happy Endings...

2012-01-24T10:41:00.000-08:00

I like happy endings.

I'm not even going to dignify your mind in the gutter and clarify that I didn't mean THAT.

I only like movies with happy endings. I prefer to read books with happy endings. I prefer my life to be filled with people, stories, and experiences of happy endings.

& like all good stories, movies, and such, the happy ending has to be BIG. I like dramatically awesome happy endings. Fiction or real life, I don't care, I want it BIG, HAPPY, TEAR-WORTHY.

Like J.K. Rowling, who was a single mom who made it big with Harry Potter.

Like Oprah. I mean, oh-mah-gosh, we all know Oprah's story and her big triumph. Hello, it's Oprah.

Like Jen Lancaster, who lost her job but landed a book deal and can now smirk like crazy.

Like Cinderella. Hello, Prince Charming and the Happily Ever After.

Like the Christian who gives his life to the Lord, and then the next day God does something so amazingly big in his life that it causes people in the bar to go running to the pulpit.

Like the guy who decides to play the lottery for the first time and wins $100 million.

I think you get it. Like my chocolate, my wine glass and my pajamas, I like my happy endings huge.

& it seems like whenever someone is going through something hard, we all encourage them with the same words or at least something along the same lines... "Don't worry, God has something really big and really special for you".

Lost your job? God has a better job or even your own business in mind. Miscarriage? God has a special baby or twins coming to you or an adoption of a child you know was meant for you. Break-up or Divorce? There's a better man (woman) out there who will appreciate the wonderful qualities about you.

& the thing is, we all really mean it. We all believe that something better is out there or coming for that person.

But what about when that person is actually you?

I don't know what's harder, believing that there is something bigger & better for you or realizing that it might not be the case.

Because as much as we all love bigger and better happy endings, that's not always the case.

Stick with me here.

One thing I've learned this past year, and God's truth - I've learned a great deal, is that sometimes it isn't a happy ending and even more than that, that's not the point.

Sometimes, the "happy ending" isn't some big reward at the end of the race. It is simply the fact that you finished the race. If you are anything like me, I don't take much joy in completing a race. I am a prize-driven girl here. If I run a race, I want a medal. I want a lot of attention and the chance to say, "It was so worth that year of training, pain and giving up cookies". I want to finish the race in a dramatic way as well. Think Tim Tebow one-pass-in-overtime dramatic.

However, this is where I have the most to learn. Sometimes, it's not the happy ending.... it's the happy journey.

My sweet husband, bless his soul, drives me crazy on road trips. I'm a goal-oriented, results focused girl. We were driving to New England, so obviously we had a destination in mind. I prepare for the road trip like I'm about to go into battle. I want the quickest, most effective route there, want to make good time so I'm forgoing drinking anything, and I have us granola bars and peanut butter crackers. I don't know if my husband was more afraid to look at how fast I was driving or to ask to go to a restroom.

However, after ::much:: discussion, my husband took over driving and declared it to be a two day journey instead of one. He also strongly encouraged me to actually pay attention to my surroundings, enjoy the journey and let the aggressive drivers go their merry way without me.

We had the best conversation, rediscovered our love for the city we fell in love in and even stumbled accidentally upon the restaurant we had one of our first dates in which led to discussion about us possibly moving back there since the job situation is sucking for me, and y'all... I realized there was a huge, beautiful body of water in Connecticut that I had never seen despite driving past it 3 times previously.

While the end result and happy ending was about us getting to New England, there was so much more importance in that journey that had absolutely nothing to do with us getting there. By focusing on that journey, our marriage was made stronger, and our lives may very well take an entirely different course than we imagined.

In another analogy, obviously my goal the past 11 months has been to find a job. However, my journey to finding that job (God willing, there is indeed one in the future for me) has changed the very core of who I am. My journey has included branching out into new things I never thought I could do, meeting people that have changed my life, engaging in bible studies and time with God, my name as I'm now married, my hopes, dreams and attitudes. This journey has changed my life in ways I don't even fully realize yet. & while I haven't necessarily been happy on this, I'm learning that I need to be. & I've learned why.

So here's the takeaway, for me and hopefully you. Happy endings exist. Sometimes though, they aren't as big and dramatic and OMGOSH, OPRAH GAVE ME A CAR as we would like. Sometimes though, we need to make sure to not focus on the happy ending because it very well may not be the point.

Focus on the happy journey.

Where you been, Brynn....

2012-01-23T10:05:00.000-08:00

So there's nothing quite like trying to re-enter the blogosphere after an unexpected, unexplained hiatus, right?

& cheese and rice, with each passing day it only gets harder. So, at the suggestion of a wise friend, I'm turning my blog over for the day to a good friend of mine who is "interviewing me" and jumpstarting this blog again. B is awesome and not yet (but I'm working on it) a blogger.

Hi, I'm B.

Wow, I spent 15 minutes trying to come up with an intro so maybe I shouldn't be giving Brynn a hard time after all. The main reason I'm interviewing Brynn is because I freaking miss reading her blog. She has this neat... and slightly off-kilter way of looking at the world. So if this is how the blog has to come back, so be it.

Okay, Brynn. Let's get down to business. Why haven't you been blogging?

Ummm. Uhhhh. ::clears throat:: I guess... it's because there's too much to say yet nothing to say. I get caught up in thinking I can't blog about what's going on or what I'm thinking because there's little backstory on the blog so then I'd have to dredge everything out and then I get overwhelmed with it and think, 'well, that's not how I want my writing to go this year'. It's not an identity crisis, but yet I don't know what kind of "blogger" I am anymore.

How about we just agree that you can be a blogger who writes regularly about whatever and quit trying to put your writing in a box?

I'll probably come off as deranged or having a serious case of ADD.

True, but honestly, all of us regular readers already know that to be the case. So you write anyhow. Moving on, we all want to know if you are pregnant.

I'm not currently pregnant. However, I've been trying to get healthier so that pregnancy could happen down the road. Cue the past few doctor's appointments.

& how's that going?

Not well. Apparently, if and when we decide to get to babymaking it won't be easy. & if I don't get a few health conditions taken care of first, it may never be possible.

Of course, if I don't get a job, that will never happen anyway. But in all honesty, as of this moment, MB and I are indefinitely holding off any discussions for a baby for at least a year. We need job stability for me, grow savings and to try very hard to get me healthier.

& how are you doing with that?

I have good moments and bad. & almost always confusion.

Any news on the job front?

Not even a speck. I apply, sometimes I get an interview, and so far... I never get the job. It's like I have the plague or something. While MB and I were in DC a couple of times over the holidays, we did decide to widen my job application span to include DC, NY, and New England. The thought of moving back to DC doesn't seem as heinous as it once did and we are just praying and trusting God to see where he wants us.

How's married life?

Absolutely wonderful. That's the one area of my life that just shines. & not just because MB gets black eyes with rugby.

Since you haven't been blogging, what have you been doing with your time?

I started running again. I started P90X again and I'm proud to say I've made it two weeks without quitting which is a new record for me. I'm doing a Beth Moore bible study which I'm absolutely loving. & I've actually been doing a lot of writing.

Writing?

Part of trying to work out anxiety and figure out what to do. Writing for me has always revealed the solutions for me, or at least the pathway. I have an intense fear of something happening to my husband. It seems crippling at times. I've lost people extremely close to me, and that was so hard to get through. I just don't think I could handle it if anything happened to MB. So, I've started seeing a therapist about it-- well, all the anxiety, but writing always helps clear the picture for me.

For instance, a few years ago, one of my co-workers vanished into thin air. There were no leads, there was nothing to indicate foul play or even that he did so of his own accord. It was puzzling to me (and others). It was featured on all kinds of national news stories and such. (Google John Glasgow for those who are interested). Anyhow, last week I found out that they have new information and that he may have been murdered, and they are looking for the body in a specific place. I sobbed for hours that day and couldn't place exactly why. I mean, I knew him, I worked with him, but we weren't close friends by any means. By finally writing about it, I realized that I was more upset for his wife. I mean, I don't think I could go years not knowing what happened to my husband and then to find out he was murdered. I'd go out of my mind.

Between that happening at your last job before you moved to DC and then your most recent job that you lost, it seems like you tend to work in some very bizarre circumstances. What is with the crazy workplaces??

I have this knack for finding the crazy, huh? The sick and twisted thing is that I tend to work extremely well, almost thrive, in extreme circumstances. However, I just want a normal job where normal or even semi-normal people work.

So back to writing. Any chance of a book?

I have been writing a book, but honestly it sucks. It sucks so bad I haven't even let MB read it. If it gets good, I'll put it on my blog.

Let's sum up. You are lost, confused, ADD, not pregnant, unemployed, happily married, maybe moving somewhere in the world but you don't know where, want a normal job and don't know what happened to John Glasgow, but vow to keep writing regularly on the blog again, right?

Affirmative.

Wicked Sweet Presents and my wicked sweet birthday...

2011-12-21T12:25:00.000-08:00

Pssst... World Vision saw my previous post and today it is on their blog! Check it out-- it includes pictures not seen on the blog!

It seems that every year our gifts to MB's family has a theme. Last year's theme was "Savannah's Best" and we loaded everyone up with treats and treasures to entice them to come to visit us. & I suppose you could say we even went one step farther when we gave everyone a darn good reason to come here when we decided to get married here instead of in New England.

This year's theme is most definitely grace and charity. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a huge believer in giving back to the community that supports you and that we (we, the people not necessarily 'we' as in the government) have a responsibility to help those in the world.

Last week, my very good friend K and I had lunch at this wonderfully delightful restaurant named "The Tea Room". We dined on girlie food and sipped on Emperor's Bride Tea while enjoying the quietness and stillness. Truly, I felt a million miles away from the hustle and bustle, chaos and traffic of the holidays.

She shared that she had read an article in Oprah (and y'all know how I love my Oprah) about small donations that can make a big difference. For her families stocking stuffers, she had made a donation in their honor to one of the charities listed that was very personal to each member of her family.

MB and I decided we wanted to do this with our family and friends as well. I had so much fun researching each charity and finding one that was personal to each person. For MB's eldest daughter, we donated to Cellphones for Soldiers where $4 provides a couple of hours of pre-paid cellular use for a deployed soldier to call home. Not only is it something she can relate to, as the daughter and granddaughter of military members), but it was started by a young girl not too much older than she is.

For his retired firefighting uncle who just so happens to be a drummer (like piping drum band as well), we donated to Little Kids Rock which will provide drumsticks to public school children. They actually provide all musical instruments, but the drum thing was special to our uncle.

For his sister who's in the field of medicine, we donated to Doctors Without Borders which will cover 15 measles vaccinations for children in developing countries.

22 charitable gifts that are personal to the intended receiver and they pack a powerful punch for such a small donation.

Another gift I'm excited about, that really has nothing to do with grace or charity, is the one for our sweet baby niece. What is it about little people that make it so very fun to shop for? I don't know if it's the adorableness of miniature everything, the innocence of them or the fact that they haven't learned to speak therefore they haven't sassed you yet.

Anyhow, we are giving her a cake knife and server that are engraved with her name and birthday. Now, hold up and listen to why I think giving sharp objects to a 5 month old is acceptable.

She will use the cake knife and server on her first birthday and every birthday thereafter as well as on her wedding day. I absolutely adore this gift, as I'm sentimental, and I hope that she will treasure this. Although if she grows up to be a goth/punk/satanic teenager, well then I just hope that knife never turns up on a criminal report.

But she's a sweet angel baby with witty bitty toes and dimples and she is just going to be a princess and absolute saint her whole life.

My gift to myself this year was to download the blogger app on my iphone so that I can post more often. Yes, it's free and no, I didn't know about it before now. What can I say, I'm easy to please.

Tomorrow is my 31st birthday and we will be en route to New England to spend Christmas with the girls and MB's family. It's a 18 hour car ride, so let's hope a little of that grace and charity gets bestowed upon me so I don't go completely stir crazy like normal. Cabin fever is a terrible thing I inflict upon my husband. :)

Have a great day!

The gift we are most excited about...

2011-12-15T06:35:00.000-08:00

This is my most favorite gift that we are giving this year.

Even more than the tablets we are giving the kids, but that might just be because I'm frustrated with trying to set them up and figure out why they won't connect to our wifi. Seriously, Apple has spoiled me because all of their stuff just works and works easily, but with a 10 and 12 year old, there was no way that we were going to buy them iPads because they are 10 and 12. Which means their gifts have to be indestructible or at least not cause their father to cry if they break them.

& on that point, can I just say I miss the days when you got the kids presents that you spent four hours putting together instead of electronic gifts that require massive hours and google to set up?

Anyhow. Back to the point.

My 10 year old stepdaughter, that I've yet to come up with a blog nickname yet so we are just going to call her Sugar today because her name starts with an "S" and she has such a sweet tooth, has the biggest heart. Truly, Sugar just loves on everybody and there isn't an animal, baby or person that escapes her hugs and kisses. She delights in trying to find ways to show you that she cares about you.

This gift is technically for her, but is for our entire family.

We sponsored a child through World Vision, a little girl born on the exact same day as Sugar so they are the exact same age. Her name is Veronica and she lives in Bolivia. We have absolutely no doubt that Sugar will delight in writing her letters, making her cards and sending packages every month. Those are Sugar's favorite activities as it is. She loves mailing us pictures she's colored and cards she's made. They lovingly cover our home.

For us though, the gift is deeper and we hope this brings an awareness of so much more for the girls.

The greatest values I personally wish to impart upon the girls are kindness, graciousness and humbleness. In fact, it what we say to the girls the most other than "no more marshmallows or cookies for now". Remember to be kind, gracious and humble. They get this reminder every time we are going anywhere or they are going to be spending time with others.

We hope that this opens up their world even more and fosters an interest in things that are bigger than themselves or the Disney Channel and dare we hope, Justin Beiber.

We hope this inspires them to want to do good in the world. We hope this inspires them more in their faith. We hope that they start developing the desire to have a meaningful life when they become adults and that they feel like they have a purpose in the world already, beyond being the apple of our eye and the delight of our hearts.

We hope that this gift reminds not only the girls, but our entire family, the true meaning of the season. We hope that this gift makes us not only thankful for the blessing God has given our family, but thankful that we are blessed beyond our means and can bless the lives of others. We hope that this reminds us that it is indeed far greater to give than receive.

We hope that this gift doesn't just enrich our girls' lives, but Veronica's as well. We hope that she will feel loved, connected and that there is so much good in the world. We hope that this imparts kindness, graciousness and humbleness in her life and that she will use those values to do good in the world when she grows up as well.

We hope that she always feels comforted knowing that she's important in our lives and that we are hoping and praying big things for her and her family.

We hope that this gift is one that enriches all of our lives. We are hopeful that this will exceed our expectations and that we might even go to visit Veronica in Bolivia one day.

I love this gift and I'm so excited that our family is doing this. This is the gift we can't wait to explain when it's opened.

Because Lord help us, it's not looking like we will be able to explain much about the tablets.

What's the point....

2011-12-12T14:10:00.000-08:00

I really don't know why I'm not blogging more.

The thoughts are certainly there, rambling in my head and begging to get out of there. There has been more time to blog, unfortunately because that means I continue to not be working. There are certainly things to update on. Things to reflect on. Things to laugh about.

I think the problem is me.

Shocker. I mean, I am the one who authors this blog after all.

When I started this blog, I did it with the sole intent of making lots of money.

I kid, I kid.

When I started this blog, I did so because I wanted to connect with people. I wanted the stories I shared to connect to someone like you, because I was connecting to a few select bloggers who were sharing their stories. It made me feel like I wasn't alone in whatever I was going through, whether it was major stuff or just trying to figure out if I was too old to wear ruffly headbands.

Which for the record, I was at 29 when I first pondered that on ye ole blog and as I am about to be 31 on the 22nd, I am sure as sweet tea too old to pull it off. But I don't care. In fact, I wore one yesterday.

Getting back on topic, I also used this blog as a reflection of truth. To learn who I really am, to see if my thinking was skewered and to gain a deeper sense of authenticity.

& more than anything, I succeeded most in that. I've never felt more authentic in my life.

But it's a catch 22 because the more authentic I want to be on the blog, the greater the struggle because I can't. It's an anonymous blog. Now sure, it isn't too difficult to figure out who I am in real life for those that are curious, but it's not an open invitation either. I struggle between wanting to be more real on the blog but understanding that I can't.

& now I find myself in a new place. For the first time in my entire life, I'm not a singleton. I am married and I have two precious girls that call me "mom".

I'm a wife.

I'm a housewife. (I still don't have a job, but thank God that a housewife sounds respectable because before I just sounded like I was a freeloading mooch.)

I'm a (step)mom.

Who may or may not have children of my own one day.

But God-willing, will have a job outside of the home soon.

So what does this have to do with my not blogging?

I, like my blog, am having a slight identity crisis. Who am I? What are my passions now? Dear Gussy, with another job rejection, what type of work should I do? What kind of wife am I and what kind of wife does MB need me to be? What type of mom am I and what kind of mom do my girls need me to be?

What's the point of this blog?

I am tired of it being an outlet for my continuing whining about not working. I want it to be like someone has come in and sat down to have a glass of wine (or I suppose sweet tea, as that is relevant to the blog title). I want it to be funny, yet insightful. Consistent and meaningful.

So, with this, I am returning to the blogosphere and in hopes that while I explore and find meaning in my life in my new roles and what may come, my blog finds a voice again.

& one that isn't whiny and mopey, because that just isn't working here anymore.

Poised for Success

2011-12-10T12:40:00.000-08:00

I love twitter, and while I could write a love letter listing all the many reasons why I will just tell you one.

Because it opens the doors for me to connect with people I admire.

One of those people that I love, adore and worship is Jacqueline Whitmore. She authored Business Class: Etiquette Essentials for Success at Work, which I would have loved to have gifted to several people I've had the pleasure of working with.

I've been following her for months and she always has the best tips, advice and nuggets of wisdom. Being a good southern lady, I adore social graces and etiquette naturally (I mean, did you read the previous paragraph about the 'pleasure of working with'? If that isn't social graces and etiquette I'm not sure what is.)

When I heard that she was releasing a new book, Poised For Success, I begged and pleaded for a copy.

Being the amazingly gracious lady that she is, she obliged and within days I had my very own copy to delve into.

As most of you are aware, I've been unemployed for most of 2011. I've been on numerous interviews and countless networking events. I've started to lose my touch when it comes to professionalism, and that's saying it kindly.

It was time to start from scratch and go back to school, so to speak. In Whitmore's book, she outlines the four qualities that distinguish outstanding professionals and teaches you how to master them. The four qualities are Presence, Polish, Professionalism and Passion. As her publisher states, "In the past, the business world favored the aggressive “Type A” personality. But in these unsettled times, being courteous and thoughtful has proven to be a more effective way to win clients and customers and influence others. The competitive advantage depends on your ability to use your emotional intelligence and social graces to take your career to the next level.

In POISED FOR SUCCESS, Jacqueline Whitmore states that good business etiquette is important, but she also knows that there is more to becoming invaluable at work than simply mastering good behavior. In order to be poised for success, you must cultivate what Jacqueline calls the four “P” qualities: Presence, Polish, Professionalism, and Passion. These include how to:

-Package yourself for success by refining your personal brand
-Nurture professional relationships with flair
-Master the five ways to make yourself more memorable
-Learn the seven unwritten rules of workplace etiquette

Whitmore, using her 15 years of experience as a protocol and etiquette expert, will arm you with the skills to become more self-aware, more confident and comfortable in your own skin, and better able to communicate with others in a credible, authentic manner.

As you might have guessed, I most definitely needed a refresher course in all four qualities. Stat. My favorite chapter, and what I'm currently rereading every morning, is the Gratitude, Grace and Acts of Kindness chapter. I cannot even express how much of a difference this is making in my life, but I will be telling you in some ways that I am demonstrating it later this week.

I'm incredibly grateful for the opportunity to read Whitmore's Poised for Success, and I encourage everyone who feels like they are lacking in those precious four qualities to grab a copy for yourself. For those of you who are looking for Christmas gifts for college kids, unemployed folk, and those re-entering the work force, this would make a wonderful gift.

Disclaimer: As I said, I begged to read this book and was given it as a gift. My opinion is my own. I get absolutely nothing as compensation for this review.

A Wicked Sweet Day....

2011-11-29T06:17:00.000-08:00

On Saturday, November 26th.....

MB and I were married.

So now you know why I've been MIA so much! Planning Thanksgiving and a wedding in such a short amount of time pretty much consumed every minute I had!

I will be talking more about the wedding and all the special touches we did, but I wanted to introduce you to a few very special people first. I'm limited on pics at the moment, but here's what I have.

That wicked handsome fellow with the boyish grin? He is my husband!

Those two beautiful girls beside me? My new daughters (who made me cry immediately after the ceremony because they started calling me mom).

The lovely, skinny minnie beside the cream puff is none other than Saint Sarah, the lady who kept me sane throughout this process and served as my matron of honor, best friend and saving grace.

Sweet "S" was our flower girl....

and this lovely little lady, "A" was my junior bridesmaid.

& with that, you have been introduced to the Wicked Sweet Tea Family!

I'm still alive, unemployed and the wedding is still on...

2011-11-17T07:35:00.000-08:00

So.... it's been a couple of weeks, huh?

Please know that when this wedding is over, I will return to normal and return to blogging my (mis)adventures on a regular basis. Since I'll be married very, very soon, you won't have to wait too long. :)

Anyhow, let's get to updating!

I did have a second interview last Friday with the "dream job". I didn't have any major disasters like the last time (score!) and was told, "you'll probably hear from us next week". So naturally, by Monday at noon when I hadn't heard from them, I was convinced I didn't have it. Unfortunately, as of this writing, nothing has happened to contradict that feeling. I'm grasping for hope, but... but... but... it's not looking too good, huh?
Despite begging, pleading and offers of sexy time, MB did indeed play in the rugby game last weekend. He even scored (only on the field, people). As we are about to spend a lot of time with his family, I wanted him feeling good (because I still have nightmares about the month of May when we were in hell with his post-op). He wasn't majorly hurt and I think that the black eye, bruising and shoulder soreness will be gone by the time his sweet daughters see him.
This is a pic of his "victory dance" which he has dubbed "fat guy in a little shirt".

I don't foresee this victory dance occurring after he says "I Do". Darn.
On Tuesday, we received our marriage license!! Legally able to be wed in the next 120 days!

I'll be doing some "sneak peeks" of the upcoming nuptials starting later today or tomorrow!!

Sticky situations... Brynn's a disaster story number 456,294

2011-10-26T12:52:00.000-07:00

Okay... confession time.

Have you have an interview and then walk out going, "that went FANTASTIC" only to find that you start this spiral of "what did I say?" "what did they mean about this?" "did they get the impression that such and such?" until you are left wanting to send a long email explaining that in case they thought this, you actually meant that but please know that you are not crazy and you'd really, really like to hear from them!

& if you haven't, well then you can still participate in today's fun activities because everyone has been there... you might have just been on a date instead.

Did I just blow your mind? Oh, yes the only things that can make us more neurotic than job interviews are first dates. Or second dates. Or possibly even third. Although in all honesty, by the time the third date happened for me either I had scared the guy off with my neurosis... or... or... well...

::cough, cough::

Or he stuck around and is going to marry me next month and we are going to live happily ever after.

Anyhow. Dating and interviewing. It's the same hellaciousness. For the sake of this post, when you read 'date' you may interchange that with interview.

& you know how when you are gearing up for a date, you buy new clothes.... you research them (forget daddies, you have to worry about google dudes)... you try new tips and advice that you heard about...

& that brings us to my predicament.

I was wearing one of my favorite white button-ups today that makes me feel like I am royalty and New York City fabulous. I adore this Talbots confection and am quite certain that it makes me look more put together than I truly am.

But I hate when make-up gets on the collar. & I had read that you should spray hair spray on your neck and that will prevent your Chanel ::cough, maybelline, cough:: from getting on your starched shirt.

& I'm not saying this doesn't work, but like all my disasters, I needed additional information.

Like "don't use TRESemme #4 (which is the porn-star rated level of hold XXX)". Like only use the blowdryer for a split second on the eyelash curler because after that, it will be too hot and it will burn you like a mofo when you put it by your eye and you will look like a mug shot gone wrong. True story.

So, anyhow, I spray my neck, throw on my silk scarf and go off to wow them.

I'm waiting in the most fabulous lobby ever and I'm looking at their promotional material, & y'all, I kid you not when I lifted my head I almost got whiplash because it was stuck. Of course, it wasn't permanent but I was doing that weird neck stretch thing to help with the stickiness when here comes one of the ladies I'm going to interview with. She looked a little startled, but being a fine southern lady, she just smiled and welcomed me.

When we were walking back, she graciously tried to fix my scarf that had crept up on the shirt collar and y'all it was stuck to my neck. It was like pulling a band-aid.

What on earth could I say?

I didn't even try. There wasn't enough creativity in my head to come up with a valid excuse and the truth was too bizarre.

I don't even know why I'm allowed out in public, people.

Dear Gussy, can you imagine what it will be like on my wedding day? This is like inviting the fates to do their worst and oh, yeah, please bring your cousins Chaos, Murphy's Law and Pyro.

Anyhow, somehow I thought it went well during but of course, by the time I got home, I'd reached the crazy level of "should I email them to let them know that x and y?".

& that I really, really, really like them.

& that I really, really, really hope they call me.

Thank God it's Wednesday and that means Modern Family is on tonight. & I'm cooking a good dinner tonight.

I should probably wash the hair spray off my neck, huh? I mean, knowing my luck I'll set myself on fire trying to grill chicken.

::runs to the bathroom to scrub neck::

I'm too authentic for Jamaican Nanners...

2011-10-25T06:29:00.000-07:00

So I have to say that church pretty much rocked my world this weekend.

It was a guest preacher and he spoke on discouragement. There was just so much good in it and it wasn't one of those "look, you think you got it bad look at so-and-so" or "look at your blessings and don't feel discouraged".

It was real. It was raw.

But it did get me thinking about the past year. We all know how hard this whole unemployed thing has been on me, on every level. But yesterday, I really started thinking about what I've learned throughout this and who I am today because of this experience.

First and foremost... I'm much more authentic these days (& I am not just referring to my natural hair color).

Getting axed made things get real, really fast. My confidence has always come from my work, and I turn all egotistical and balla' like when I'm in my element, so getting stripped of that left a very humble and vulnerable Brynn. The real me, the one that lacks confidence in every other area of my life, had to contend with the fact that I couldn't hide behind that work persona anymore. My writing got more personal, I (over)shared about everything from struggles with fear and worry to wanting to pull up dresses over back-fat on girls at church, and even my friendships got more authentic.

In certain jobs in the past, a lot of my personality was rather forced. I had to "turn on" work Brynn. I felt superficial in my dealings with people. I felt superficial about the image I had to project and felt to my core the divisiveness of who I am versus who I seemed to be. In addition, I let people in my life dictate who I should be and in what profession I should be in.

Tomorrow, I have an interview for a job that I would so love that allows me to be me, doing what I love and truly excel in without having to fake a personality to succeed. My job would be more 'behind the scenes' and focus on writing. I hope this is the job that God has in store for me, but if nothing else, I'm proud that I am at least on a more authentic career path.

& just to discuss my roots.... how many times do I have to attempt to color my hair and have orange roots in my striving to be the Stepford-wife blonde (okay, okay, it's less Stepford and more Girls Next Door) before I say, this is not the blonde I am supposed to be?

The answer is 5. Yesterday, I colored my hair back to my natural color which is a dark blonde/light brunette and surprisingly enough, MB did not call off the wedding although he is disappointed that I am not super-blonde anymore. But it looks so much better, y'all.

Me with a Jamaican Nanner with my Girls Next Door blonde

The look on MB's face is saying "I really don't know about this whole darker color but I'm trying to like it". My hair is actually a bit darker, but I tried to make it look lighter to ease MB into it!

Secondly, my friendships are deeper, stronger and have caused an insane amount of laugh lines to appear (I'm certain this as nothing to do with the fact that I'm now in my 30's).

In the sermon, it was discussed how in times of discouragement, God responds with friendships. & the people I count as my best friends today are not necessarily the people I feel were my besties last year. In fact, I didn't even know one of them! Not only were several of them in the same unemployed boat that I was, but they were in similar struggles in their lives. We bonded deeply, we cried together and we laughed together. Okay, and we got all riled up when about the people who got the jobs that we were up for.

& now I'm the only one who remains jobless (so surely this is the sign that I'll get the job tomorrow, right??). & as I've watched them go from being in the same place as me to having fabulous jobs that seem absolutely perfectly suited for them, I've genuinely been excited for each of them (which tells you that there are several people that I was bitter & jealous that they got jobs but let's not dwell on that, mmkay?).

In addition, I've learned how much grace is in friendships especially from one special friend who I actually worked for. Truth be told, I worked for her and left that job to take the one I lost. Never once has she been hateful or judgmental to me and has had compassion for me over the past nine months. She's given me great references and pointed me towards job leads. She's the epitome of grace and it humbles me so very much.

Lastly, I've learned more about my relationship and the man I'm going to marry next month (& let's not dwell on the fact that I still do not have a photographer or cake lined up yet because I've started getting heart palpitations).

I've been abundantly clear throughout the entire time of this blog that MB deserves much better than me and that I'm utterly afraid that he will wake up and realize that.

But.

After church, I realized that MB proposed to me on April 9th of this year just six weeks after I entered my unemployed and unfabulous state. This man wants to spend the rest of his life with me, even at my absolute worst. In fact, not only that but he's actually marrying me in that state as well. I will never have to worry about MB regretting marrying me because y'all, it can only get better from here. We have learned how to strip our budget and live within stringent means, how to prioritize, how to deal with death and sickness and surgeries, and how to stay a team through this rough patch. I have absolutely no doubts that our marriage is built on a strong foundation that can withstand anything.

I've learned a lot about the man I'm blessed to be marrying through this. I also had a chance to see more of what he does at work and his character because of my free time. I never would have gotten to spend that much time at hospice and with Sage. I never would have gotten to meet so many of the amazing people that MB works with. I never would have fully understood what kind of impact MB makes every single day.

So, I'm thankful. I'm so very grateful for this time that I've had, and while I do still fervently hope that it's coming to an end, never will I regret or diminish the vast amount of good this has done for me.

Come on over....

2011-10-20T06:34:00.000-07:00

& say "hi"!

I'm over at Nain's today discussing what I've learned so far in my 30's or as I call it, "why the hell are boobs not as perky"!

http://viewfromdownhere-viewfromdownhere.blogspot.com/2011/10/guest-post-lessons-from-my-thirties.html

Thank you....

2011-10-17T06:06:00.000-07:00

On the last post, someone (who is stunningly beautiful and incredibly wise) commented that I wasn't getting to enjoy this special time in my life.

& they are absolutely right.

I've been mulling on this since that comment, and trying to focus on how I can quit being an anxiety-ridden bride back to the grateful bride. Because I believe strongly in living a life of gratitude.

As I don't have to worry about MB reading the blog these days, I'm going to share with you how I am actually doing that. I started a journal that is entitled "Letters to My Future Husband". They are just short letters that allow me to capture fun memories or live in the moment of this crazy wedding planning time of my life. It also helps to keep me centered and focused on what is really important: in just a few short weeks, I'm blessed to be marrying the man of my dreams. I don't know where I would be without him and I know that I never want to face a day when I don't have him.

The latest journal entry includes a moment from yesterday. MB and I are trying to find a song for us to dance to, but also a mother/son song. We already have the song he will dance with his daughters picked out but we are struggling with these other two.

We received a "suggested list of the greatest mother/son wedding songs" and were listening to them.

& then we heard the lyrics, "mama, even though you were a crack fiend, you were always a black queen" in which hilarity ensued and we literally laughed until we cried. The thought of MB's sweet and proper momma hearing this song then resulted in even more gasping for air while holding our bellies from laughing too much.

I want us to always remember the laughs that we share, especially when I tend to cry more than I laugh with wedding planning. I have never laughed more with anyone in my entire life than I have with MB and it's something I treasure with him.

So, thank you to the sweet friend who commented that I needed to savor this time. I needed a change in perspective and attitude.

& thank you to everyone who reads this, comments, prays, and encourages. I'm blown away with every comment, every sweet and thoughtful comment and the kindness of all of you.

You humble me, you inspire me and more than anything, you impact my day every single day.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Updates....

2011-10-13T12:32:00.000-07:00

I'm a sucky blogger these days, there's no getting around that.

I could be all "but it's for your own good because surely you don't want to listen to me whine about wedding stuff and that whole theme of the past year "unemployed" but really there are fun things I could write about.

I just don't because I know the mopeyness would sink in somewhere in it.

So... let's hit some random bullet points to see what's happening in the WST household these days.

I will preface this by saying that we are absolutely getting married (good relief for those amazingly sweet & generous readers who surprised the dickens out of me by sending presents which delighted me and make my day). The thing is.... I'm having a hard time with it because I know that MB deserves better than me. I've always felt like this but now that we are going to say "I Do", it really hits me hard that he deserves so much better than me. I would never call off the wedding though because the crazy man is determined to marry me, and although I hate knowing he should have someone better than me, I hate the idea of hurting him more than that. I would never, ever intentionally hurt him or his family, so this wedding is going to happen.
We did get a venue and it is a church. We are so very excited about this. Invitations are ordered and should be ready tomorrow. I'm going to address them in calligraphy if I can find a decent pen... if not, well folks, look on the bright side-- you are getting restrooms with this venue so we can look the other way with the calligraphy thing.
I feel more at peace with my faith and church. It is not due to us marrying in a church at all-- in fact, this happened before I got the news that we had the church. Sunday, our church did a massive baptism and invited anyone to join. They were going to do it in the lake, but it was raining. I started thinking about how God would never use the rain to send a message to those wanting to be baptized that they should do it later or that God didn't want them baptized. Baptism, like marriage, is something that pleases God. I don't think that God is on this whole "Brynn shouldn't be married" kick.
The budget. I literally make myself sick with how much we are spending although I know we are not being extravagant in the least. I have stripped our budget to as low as it can go without making MB crazy. Our budget is double what we had hoped to spend initially.
This completely kills my confidence. Not working and knowing we are going into debt just for this wedding is making me feel like the biggest loser in the world. & it reinforces that whole "MB really, really shouldn't marry me" thinking.
& then to top all of this off.... remember that whole car situation I was in? So now I need a car. So that hopefully I can get a job. So while going into debt for a wedding, we are also going to buy a car. Again, this all reinforces that whole "MB really, really, really shouldn't marry me" thinking.
MB really, really, really, really shouldn't marry me.
This would be an excellent time to win the lottery. Just saying, God. :)

This is where you thank me for not posting daily now that you've seen what a disaster I am these days. I need miracles, people.

But I swear I will get back to decent writing about stuff other than the stuff that makes me feel bad and I cry writing it.

Pinky swear.

A crisis of faith or something....

2011-10-06T17:35:00.000-07:00

I know I promised wedding details, but that will have to be the next post.

Wedding planning has brought a crisis of faith for me. Maybe that's not even the right phrase. It's making question churches.

Over the past year, I'm been inundated by people telling me that God was punishing me (or "not fully blessing") because MB and I live together. I have also been told that I'm not going to get a job until I'm married to MB or not living together.

The church we've been going to will not allow us to join with our current living situation, and therefore we cannot be married within or by the church. We've known that. I completely respect the church's stance.

But now I'm really questioning it. If I'm trying to rectify the situation, why would the church not support that?

MB and I are both really involved in the church. We also tithe and then give above that to support global missions. Even in my unemployed state, we have tithed to a church that we are not allowed to join due to our living circumstance yet will not assist us in making the situation right.

This isn't making sense to me.

We contacted another church to which we had an affiliation and they graciously allowed us to use the facilities to marry if the person we had planned on marrying us performed the ceremony. Unfortunately, he is not available to marry us (he was not affiliated with this church).

Our best friends' mother has graciously offered to marry us.

Well, I think she's graciously considering it. We are going to visit with her more. I completely understand and respect this 100% as she doesn't "personally" know us, it's understandable to need to sort out details and information.

I still don't know if we get to use the church. I'm not upset about this, as this church is being incredibly gracious about the whole deal considering the circumstances.

I don't know if we should just abandon the idea of being married in the church or by someone affiliated with the church.

My faith has always been so very important to me. I want my marriage to bring glory to God and I want its foundation to be rooted in our faith.

I hate that while planning one of the most holy experiences of my life, I am questioning my faith and church(es).

Are we at the wrong church? Should we still tithe, and if so, to which church? Is God against my marriage? Or is God punishing me by not allowing a church wedding?

I mean, it certainly will dramatically increase the cost of our wedding which is already on a tight budget considering this whole "unemployed" thing (but if I have to marry MB to get right with God and then I'll get the job, then this doesn't make sense).

Or is God just punishing me?

I certainly deserve punishing, but I hate the idea of MB being punished on my account.

After spending the last year getting told how much God hates my situation and how much fellow Christians hate my situation, you'd think everyone would be jumping for joy and doing everything in their power to get us hitched now that we have set a date.

I'm just confused.

Just a shortie!

2011-10-05T11:57:00.000-07:00

I will be back tomorrow with wedding details and pictures!!!!

I have the wedding site now officially up! If you would like to see it, you are more than welcome to, just tell me so in a comment, tweet or email and I'll shoot you the link!

People, it's coming together!

I'm gonna be a bride!

Special, special thank you to everyone who gave advice last week-- I treasure it and I'm so very appreciative!

Bathroom Humor...

2011-09-29T18:38:00.000-07:00

In regards to my last post, I must tell you the best comment from my saintly friend, Sarah Cate.

While laughing at the idea of doing my bridal hair in the port-o-potty, she came up with the idea that I could wear a pair of Depends and we could bedazzle "Bride" on the booty of them.

Thank God for amazing friends who can make you laugh when you feel like crying.

Doing my bridal hair in a port-o-potty?

2011-09-29T16:29:00.000-07:00

Here's a little tidbit for you...

I hate wedding planning. I abhor it.

The **only** part I like is that I get to hang out or talk (whine, cry... whatever, it's quality time) to my girlfriends, although I'd much prefer if we could just get a bottle of wine and discuss anything other than wedding stuff.

Elope. Elope. Elope. Elope, all ye single people who won't crush the spirits of two tween girls and your future mother-in-law.

I hope I look back on this after the wedding and I say it was all worth it. Well, maybe in a wine-induced happy place I will.

So, this pretty much sums up the current status of where we are.

Source: despair.com via Shirlene on Pinterest

We can't use the venue we wanted (although on a last ditch effort I've emailed him tonight pleading). When looking for other venues, one place didn't have restrooms.

::blank face:: Beautiful chapel, no restrooms. I have to get ready in a port-o-potty that I rent?

whisky.tango.foxtrot

I can't afford a lot of the venues and the venues I can, I can't make it work with the other stuff.

Unemployment and wedding planning doesn't mix well, folks.

So, tonight I'm going to make comfort food. This.

Source: marthastewart.com via Hannah on Pinterest

Love y'all.

& thank you for all the wonderful advice and encouragement you gave me.

Unleash your inner bridezilla....

2011-09-28T07:46:00.000-07:00

We have officially locked in the wedding date and the wedding planning craziness has taken over.

Proof:

Yesterday, according to a very nice policeman, I ran through something that said "Stop" because I was trying to leave a message for a potential venue thereby resulting in me exclaiming the "s" word in the middle of the message and requiring a second message apologizing for the first message.

I also thought I was about to be shanked by meth addicts at a place yesterday.

I also started crying when a very nice man agreed to let us use a particular venue (if a particular person will marry us) which thereby resulted in him asking if "I was in the family way" and him not believing me when I said "no".

Okay... here's the deal folks. MB has asked me not to put the wedding date on the blog until wedding date has passed for safety reasons (lest we forget there's a Stalkerella out there). SOOOOOO, for those that don't know the wedding date and wish to, please email me, DM on twitter or leave a comment on the post and I will get back to you with the date and the wedding website's password.

But I will tell you that it is taking place before the end of this year.

Boom.

So... let's do some bullet points.

Amazingly enough I found the dress without any drama or fuss. & even more amazingly, it was on sale so I paid ::wait for it:: $100 for it. It was originally over 1k! Now I have to do the slip and accessories, but still I was amazed I found the dress of my dreams. & y'all, I picked it up yesterday. I won't confirm nor deny whether I am currently wearing it. I will say, however, that tomorrow the dress will be residing at one of my saintly friend's houses to prevent MB from seeing it (read: me wearing it every day).
The dress is so me. The only way it could be any more me if is if it was made of cupcakes.
I do not have veil, shoes or jewelry picked out. Suggestions please.
The wedding is going to be simple but elegant. Also, budget friendly seeing as how that whole "don't have a job" is still ever-present.
Right now, we are leaning towards a gray/blue scheme with yellow flowers/accents. Not definite though.

Okay, this is where I beg and plead for your help. I would love to hear about your weddings or wedding ideas especially for the following:

What you loved about yours and what you hated about yours
Ideas on how to incorporate the girls (my future stepdaughters not my boobs) into the wedding beyond flower girl/junior bridesmaid
How to make my future MIL feel a part of the wedding planning (despite the several thousand miles that separate us) and wedding
Traditions, ceremony readings, ideas, and such
reception decor/ food
cake
wedding favors and programs
how to make the wedding more "us" and personal to our families, guests, etc
how to honor the immediate family members that are no longer with us
and anything else you'd like to say!

I will be posting pictures and more info! ::pinkie swears::

Tomorrow, tomorrow.. I'll love ya tomorrow...

2011-09-22T14:42:00.000-07:00

Anything can happen.

Scratch that. Because if you are like my calamity, murphy's law student extraordinaire self, you will immediately think the worst and go into some Scarlett sighs pronto.

Anything WONDERFUL can happen.

& more importantly, it can happen in the blink of an eye (or in southern terms, "lickety split").

& that's what I love to know because we all know I'm an instant gratification kind of gal so the idea of "BOOOM! You just got blessed & it's happening NOW" is pretty darn more appealing than the "this is the start of something wonderful you just have to wait for it to happen over the next month, year, decade."

I know there's a certain reward to that and a deep satisfaction to that. Whatever.

A certain wonderful friend found out that BOOM she is going to bring home a sweet baby and grow her family.

BUT SHE'S BRINGING THE BABY HOME TOMORROW.

She literally has 24 hours to prepare to have a baby in the house. She had no idea last week, or even Tuesday that by Friday, she'd be a momma again.

Can we say, Wow?!?

In a time of my life where I'm struggling to find something to hang some hope to, this is a wonderful reminder that I already have something to hope in.

Tomorrow.

Because you have no idea what it's going to bring. & it's entirely possible that something just so wonderful can happen in the blink of an eye.

Because you have no idea that the seeds you've been planting and waiting to see if they are finally going to bloom, finally are going to come to fruition tomorrow.

Because you have no idea that everything you are stressed about today simply won't matter tomorrow. Problems fix themselves, perspectives change, compromises happen.

Because tomorrow is enough to hope in.

& I wouldn't be me if I didn't say this... because tomorrow there might even be a shoe sale. Or cupcakes.

& that's pretty darn awesome.

From Scratch....

2011-09-21T07:11:00.000-07:00

I'm starting over from scratch.

Yesterday, I found out that I didn't get either of the two positions I've been working so hard to attain the past six weeks.

& I have nothing on the horizon. No other strong leads or prospects. No idea as to where to even start again.

I felt devoid of all hope and was desperately looking for a glimmer of hope to grab ahold. & I just kept saying, "I can't believe I'm having to start from scratch".

& then I wanted comfort food. Which meant a trip to the store to look for ingredients which they didn't have. (Seriously, Food Lion how in the southern belle world do you not have canned pumpkin? Not out, just not ordered yet. Fail.)

& I saw all these pre-made pies and goodies. Or pre-boxed and prepped and ready for you to add an egg and bake.

But I wanted to make something from scratch. We all know the best stuff in the world has "from scratch" included in it.

& that was my lightbulb. I don't want the easy way. I don't want to have to just add one ingredient to make my life work (which is the job. I need the job to get married, to live, to have purpose, to do good in the world and to buy shoes again. All vital).

I want to make it from scratch. I want it to be beautiful, wholesome and unique. I want my love, hard work and attention to detail to be written all over this creation.

So today, I'm starting from scratch. I'm working with what I have and not what I'm hoping for (the job and can of pumpkin). My life is not a pre-made box sitting on the shelf with a pretty picture on the outside just missing one key ingredient.

We set the wedding date. We told his momma the locked in date. (& I will tell you the date as soon as we have discussed it with the girls.)

I'm exploring new job paths and more importantly, exploring the dream job which seemed so comical and unfathomable a mere few months ago.

I'm going to connect with the people I've hid from because I was sucking at life so badly and didn't want to be Bad News Betty (err-- Brynn).

Starting from scratch. Maybe it's not such a bad thing after all.

Judged....

2011-09-13T18:38:00.000-07:00

I'm 30 years old.

So that means I have 30 years filled with some wonderful ways that I have contributed in positive ways in the world, made my grandmother proud and made a difference in the lives of many people.

Except for all those things I've done in the past 30 years that are best deemed as mistakes, regrets and "oh, dear God, what have I done??"s.

Oh, dear Gussy, there's a lot of those. I know that's part of life. I know we all have things we wish we could go back in time and not do/say/whatever. The philosopher will even say it made you who you are today. The theologian will say that all things happen for a reason.

Social media will just give you a big eff-you.

My grandmother used to say that it was forgiveness was a lot easier when she was younger. I completely believe that is because things like twitter, blogging and facebook didn't exist. These days, you get friend requests from kids you deemed social misfits or such.

Which is the ironic part... the people who want to connect with you after 5, 10, 15 years want to do so to show you how much they have changed.

Roar, look at how awesome I am with my ::insert totally awesome life:: or something.

Yet, they never want to accept that you quite possibly have changed as well.

I'm not the same person I was 10, 5, 3, or 1 year ago. I'm not even the same person I was two months ago.

I'm tired of being haunted by my past. I'm tired of explaining my past. I had about 250 pages (I kid you not, that is not an exaggeration) of paperwork I had to fill out for a job application. I know it is pertinent about why I left one job or why I moved from DC to Savannah. But cheese and rice, people, I'm tired of explaining every decision I've made for the past 30 years. I'm tired of questioning where exactly did I go wrong, or was leaving a certain job a mistake. I'm tired of people I don't know judging me, right wrong or otherwise, and I'm tired of caring about their opinions.

& most of all, I'm tired of feeling like I don't measure up.

I can honestly tell you that every single mistake I made in my 20's, there's a direct correlation with that feeling of not being good enough. Thankfully, I finally stopped letting other people set my worth and the last couple of years of my 20's were marked with much less mistakes.

I left one job because it was deemed "not impressive" enough for the people I cared about and sought approval from. I lived a lie, a thousand lies actually. For one relationship, I changed my political affiliation (I was so very young). I didn't eat for a year for the most part because I was desperate to get to the size that everyone thought I should be and then developed a guilt/punishment bizarre relationship with food and over-exercise. For one job, I got rid of the car I loved to have a more appropriate one that my boss thought was better suited for appearances of my position. I cut my hair short for one job and kept my hair long for one guy.

The problem with living like this is that you always going to let someone down.

& you are always, always going to be judged.

Every day, people will always judge you. Right now, I'm besieged by questions and judgments of why have I never been married, why do I not have kids, do I not like kids, why am I 15 pounds overweight, why are we doing anti-inflammatory/organic/crunchy lifestyle, why don't I have a job, why did I quit one job and why did I get let go from another, why am I living with MB, why don't we have a wedding date, why are we not doing the big formal wedding, why do I drive a certain car, etc.

& when it's not one of those things, people will judge on whatever takes it place. Whether I breastfeed or cloth diaper a kid. Whether I work full-time or stay at home with kids. Why we choose one school over another. Why I let MB continue to play rugby (like I could stop him). Why I may not be able to even have a child of my own and why I'm okay with that because I will have two beautiful stepdaughters.

You get the gist.

So the hard part is knowing that you will let people down and facing a million judgements a day that can make you feel inadequate, question your decisions and suck your soul out.

But the really hard part is not letting it shake you, your worth or value system. The hard part is recognizing that you have made mistakes or possibly making them now, but by God you are doing what you think is best at the moment for you and your family.

& that is a decision that you have to make. It's not a magical feeling, it's not a gift from the Gods of Confidence and Popularity. It is a decision you have to make every day, but more importantly every moment you get that warm feeling in your face and tightening of your stomach when you realized you are in that moment of judgement.

So... here it is, folks. I don't measure up to many expectations made of me. I don't pass the approval mark for certain popular clubs, groups and cliques. I may not be good enough of a christian, blogger, house-hunny, fiance, future step-mother, employee, or whatever role I'm being judged in.

& I'm okay with that. I'm doing the best that I can.

I want a Skankopotomus to Get Shanked....

2011-09-12T13:31:00.000-07:00

I wish it was acceptable behavior to just announce to people that "I'll shank you". It just gets the point across so simply, right?

But part of being an adult, or well a fine southern-bred lady, is that you can't just tell someone that they are being a skankopotomus.

Even if they really, really are.

However. I can totally write a little something about skankopotomuses. & y'all it's totally set to the Christmas tune "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas".

I Want a Skankopotomus to Get Shanked

I want a skanopotomus to get shanked

only a shanking will do

Don't want no talkin' to, no confrontation

Just the skankopotomus to get what's due

I want a Skankopotomus to Get Shanked

Already unfriended her on facebook

already prayed for her soul

Ignorance is bliss, manners are classy

She's a blissful skankopotumus for life

I want a Shankopotomus to Get Shanked

Her voice is fingernails on a chalkboard

Her photoshopped profile pic isn't foolin'

you don't lose 150 pounds since yesterday

Unless the Skankopotomus done got shanked

I want a Skankopotomus to Get Shanked

Don't cut me off, don't flip me off

Just drive your skank-o-mobile in the left lane

Just because I don't have rims or a booming sounds system

doesn't mean this white girl can't shank

I want a Skankopotomus to Get Shanked

Quit emailing hate letters and comments

it's a blog, it's not a pulitzer prize novel

Cheese and rice, Skankopotomus,

I write about skankopotumuses needing shanking

I want a Skankopotomus to Get Shanked

only a shanking will do
Don't want no talkin' to, no confrontation
Just the skankopotomus to get what's due

*Each verse references a different (type) skankopotumus
**I don't want physical harm to come to any of the skankopotomuses, shanking for me references some sort of karma-suiting punishment that will not result in physical harm or in any way hold me liable for criminal or punitive damages.
*** It's for fun, lighten up.

No Skankopotomuses were harmed in the process of this being written.

Opening doors... and closing doors...

2011-09-06T06:27:00.000-07:00

Friday morning, while getting ready for the final interview with a company that would require both MB and I to be jointly interviewed, I prayed that 'if this was not the job for me, for the interview to just get cancelled'. This position is out of my comfort zone and frankly, I'm just not as confident about my discerning skills these days when it comes to where I should work.

With it apparent that the interview was indeed going to occur, MB and I made our way to the office. An hour later, I was laden with a contingent job offer, 250 pages of information to complete and five pounds of materials to help me get ready. (Before you get too excited here, I don't know if I'll be able to get the contract and quite frankly, today I feel hopeless about it and don't think I will).

MB and I decided just to go on to hospice in our corporate attire to the delight of Sage's family and the hospice staff. Well, the delight was for my handsome man who was smartly donned in one of his beautiful suits. None of them had seen him all dolled up before.

I had the feeling that I should stay with some of Sage's family instead of going in to see Sage right then with MB. Sage, his wife and his momma all were teasing MB about his attire. Sage's aunt actually has a wee bit of a crush on MB (naturally, I have yet to meet a lady who doesn't adore him), so his momma was making jokes and taking pics to send the aunt.

The room was filled with so much happiness and laughter. Sage, along with everyone else in the room, was laughing.

& a moment later, they realized Sage had passed on. Just like that. No struggle, no warning, no dramatic moment. Just laughter and then gone.

I'm so very thankful that Sage didn't suffer at the end, and I'm especially thankful that his wife, momma and MB were able to be there with him. I'm so very thankful so much that day.

I'm thankful for the interview that MB had to attend with me.... because that suit he wore brought laughter and happiness in Sage's last moment.

I'm thankful for the job offer (even if I don't get it)... because I knew the moment it was extended that Sage was going to die that day. I knew God wanted me with Sage the past few weeks, and with that offer especially after my prayer, I knew that meant it was time.

I'm thankful I was at hospice... because I was able to take the young children to the play area and outside and let them be oblivious to what was going on which allowed the adults to be able to handle and grieve. It made me have to hold it together, but more importantly, it allowed me to see the legacy Sage is leaving with them. I pray that they will always hear what a brave, wonderful man he was and strive to be like him in every way.

I'm thankful that the family was all in town... for all obvious reasons.

I'm thankful for MB, who is having such a hard time with this, but is helping to make everything easier, simpler and smoother for the family. He'll be involved with the funeral and the military memorial service. I'm thankful he is a source of comfort for the family.

I'm thankful for the volunteers who are grieving and missing Sage so much. They are amazing people who have such a special calling.

Most of all, I'm thankful for Sage for all the joy, happiness and friendship he brought into MB's life as well as mine. I'm thankful for the invaluable lessons he taught me, the bravery he inspired in me and for every moment I was blessed to spend with him.

Rest in Peace, my beloved Sage. Oh, how we love and oh, how we miss you terribly.

The Pup's Visit....

2011-08-30T13:17:00.000-07:00

My greatest hope in writing this post is that I can, in some humble way, share a glimpse of today and when you finish reading this, you will feel as moved as I do.

Many of you know that Sage has been battling cancer and in July, entered hospice. As of this writing, he is still battling although today has marked a significant downward change. Yesterday, just yesterday, he felt strong and he was alert. Determined. We even made a game plan we had planned on implementing today, dubbed Operation Get Strong. When I got to hospice this morning just after 8, I realized that operation would need to be shelved.

Sage is actually an active duty member of the military. He's 36 and has seen places of the world most of us will never see, he's been in situations that we will (God willing) never have to be in and he's doing something that we all will do someday, he's dying although few will argue that he is dying far too young.

Cancer is a thief. It robs you dignity, vibrance and life. It steals the real "you" away from yourself. It steals you away from your family and friends. At times, it can even steal you away from your faith.

It isolates you and makes you feel even more abandoned and alone.

But not today.

Before I even got to hospice this morning, a wonderful man from our church had already been by to visit with the most appropriate scripture not only for Sage but for all of us. Hebrews 12:1-3 ¹ Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, ² fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. ³ Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

& then more visitors. People who have been touched by this man's life.

Which leads me to this amazing encounter. Sage had wanted to see a dog. It was something he had mentioned last week and when pressed for details, he wanted to see a dog that didn't look like a rat.

& today, we had that visit. Paisley, a sweet 10 month old pup, is a dog in training for the P.A.W.S. for Vets program. Paisley is actually being trained by a serviceman through the Warrior Transition Battalion, a unit designated for soldiers who are not physically able to serve their normal unit typically due to serious injury/wound or illness. As such, Sage is a member of WTB. The WTB has designated Sage as their most noble and valiant soldier in bestowing him upon the honor and title of Guidon Bearer and in the pictures below, you will see that they have placed the flags of the unit in his care in his hospice room.

Paisley immensely cheered Sage up. She plopped up on the bed and snuggled close. I believe that she knew he was hurting, in every way possible. One of the amazing volunteers at hospice (who's been a volunteer for 12 years) joined us.

Paisley, of course, had to show us her tricks. She understands hand and voice commands. Paisley will go to live with a soldier who is in need of not only her assistance, but her companionship. She is training to be able to of service to wounded warriors, so her latest trick is learning how to open and close doors.

This visit was so much more than a gifted dog coming to visit.

The role of every one in the room was telling a much bigger and better story. Sage, the brave and valiant soldier in the fight of, and for, his life. The amazing volunteer who lends her time to helping make the last days of someone's life brighter and filled with love and happiness. The soldier who knows what it is like to be in the WTB who is lending his time to learn how to train this sweet pup to be of service to those who's in desperate need of her. MB, who works with the WTB, who has become best friends with Sage and a strong shoulder for his family.

& me. The one who never seems to have a defined role in life. For this moment, I will be the storyteller. I will share with the family how incredible this was to witness and how much it meant to Sage.

This last picture moves me to tears. Look at the joy and the love on everyone's faces. Look at the compassion. Look at the amazement on Sage's face that Paisley is there, loving on him, and demanding to be in his bed with him.

Cancer wasn't able to rob Sage today. He isn't alone. He isn't abandoned. God is there in all of it, from the moment the special man from church entered the room with the Word to the strangers, volunteers, friends and family and EVEN ANIMALS. God, and his love and grace, know no bounds.

Love, compassion, mercy and strength. This is a story worth telling.

Random Tidbits...

2011-08-29T05:58:00.000-07:00

A couple of random tidbits for your amusement and pondering....

This weekend MB flat-out refused to watch a movie I've been dying to see, Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Go ahead and let the irony soak in.
Last night, I told MB that Beyonce is pregnant. He heard "your fiance" instead of Beyonce. ::insert awkward, yet hilarious, moment here::
My car got struck by lightning last week. Seeing as how you have a better chance of that happening than winning the lottery, I feel this is a direct sign from the Good Lord that I should buy lottery tickets because MY TIME IS COMING, BABY!
I have a 5th, and final, interview for a position this week that requires the company to meet MB. This is also the first week of rugby practice for MB. Odds that he'll be sporting black eyes to this interview? Screw the odds, it's a guarantee. He ALWAYS has black eyes from rugby on major moments for me. A huge political event I organized, a fundraiser event, meeting the preacher at our church the first time, meeting the President of the Board at my old job, etc. Seeing as how we are discussing a small, quickie wedding in the next couple of months, you can also guarantee if we do, he'll have black eyes and face gashes at our wedding.
MB's beloved Patriots got beat by the Lions. As I'm trying really hard to support his team even though for all of my life I've been an "Anybody but the Patriots" fan, I tried not to take too much enjoyment in that. I failed miserably.

& on a final note, THANK YOU SWEET BABY JESUS THAT COLLEGE FOOTBALL STARTS THIS WEEKEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now bring on my game day dresses and pumpkin spice lattes, and I'll be one happy girl!

Things at which I suck... balance and compromise

2011-08-29T05:47:00.000-07:00

I'm not a great person with the whole concept of balance. Or I suppose compromise.

I feel bad for what I'm about to say because I know so many wonderful women who have so much more going on yet still have time to accomplish all they have on their plate. Many are moms, and whether they stay at home or work, I give huge kudos and props to them because frankly? I don't know how they do it.

I have a theory with MB... I can only successfully manage 4 of the 6 items on any given day:

Exercise, Home, Work (or applying for work or volunteering), Blogging, Social Life/Relationships, and Couponing/meal planning/dinner.

Doesn't that sound really stupid?

I realize it does, but it's the truth. & even truer, I'd rather do the 4 (on a good day) successfully than slapstick all six items. Because when I try to accomplish it all, it always falls short of my expectations and I feel like a failure. I think this is where the compromise should come in, but I'd rather feel good about what I did than feel like a failure because it's slapstick.

I think.

& while it may come to a surprise to ~~all~~ many of you, when I hit "Publish Post" I feel like I'm giving you the best I have that day.

& this is also why I haven't been posting.

The past couple of weeks have been a blur of insanity. Multiple job interviews that require "homework". Early morning meetings almost every day that require me to be in full make-up and hair, then spending my days at hospice with Sage. He's had a roller coaster ride the past few weeks and every spare (and not so spare) minute I've had as been with him or his family. Blogging, exercise and most everything else has been put on the backburner.

When I'm with Sage and/or his family, I love it and there is nowhere else I want to be. Especially when I am the only one visiting during the day due to his family having commitments and such. He's been hit with the depression of his surroundings pretty hard. Listening to people die every day is overwhelming.

When I leave Sage, I feel guilty. I feel torn. I'm not good with balance.

But I'm trying really hard to have more of a sense of balance this week. Which is why I was prepping dinner at 7 am this morning by cooking the chili part of Tamale Pie. It's why I'm cleaning the bathroom at 10 in the evening. It's why I'm carving out an hour each day (mainly while Sage sleeps) to return emails, text friends, or read blogs (I read blogs on my phone reader which doesn't allow me to comment. I promise I will catch up on commenting when I'm on the computer).

So what I'm basically asking is for your patience while I try to get a grip on life. I hate how easily I feel overwhelmed-- although it's not the feeling of 'too much to do' that causes that, it's not doing it good enough that causes that.

Blogging is my favorite, favorite thing to do (which is why you are getting this post and I'm putting the 3 mile run on hold!).

This post isn't whining, I promise. I'm just trying to explain why y'all are getting shafted (HA!).

So how do y'all find balance? Where do you compromise?

An Epic Disney Tale of What Not Playing Looks Like...

2011-08-16T13:41:00.000-07:00

Y'all, this is surely going to be an epic Disney movie shortly so you will want to read it before you watch it.

Once upon a time, there was a handsome man who had knee surgery after rugby season who had to sit out of rugby practice for the summer for some crazy excuse called "healing" that he was certain the surgeons and hospitals had cooked up to conspire with his extremely loving fiance.

Then the big rugby tournament came. & he knew he couldn't play yet. But he wanted to support ~~the other crazy men~~ his teammates. So he awoke his loving fiance at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning which caused her to whine and fuss at him and remember what kind of zesty energy the man has at ungodly hours on Saturday mornings if the word "rugby" is involved.

So he got to the field ready to cheer on his teammates (like the one who retorted that "Brynn won if you aren't playing") and lend his support to running touch. (I have no idea what this actually is still today, but he has flags and runs up and down the side line. He was not amused when I called him a majorette.)

But 2.5 minutes after the first game started.... so did this.

"Woe is me... I want to play but I am not playing. Just wearing my team shirt to cheer on my boys".

"I should be out there."

"Crazy bastards with stupid things like stupid medical licenses who think they are all smart and all knowing because they have actually seen the inside of my knee. THEY DON'T KNOW ME!"

"I'm just going to put on a jersey and my cleats JUST in case my team needs me. But I'm NOT playing."

This is MB not on the field.

This is MB NOT tackling a guy. Don't be fooled by that infamous booty of his that we all ~~lust~~ adore.

Pay NO attention to the man behind the curtain. This is MB not wearing his game face mask.

This is MB NOT catching the ball.

"What knee surgery? I'm NOT running like wind, bishes!"

This is NOT a whole bunch of men making an MB Sandwich.

& since every good Disney story must have a bad guy ~~and I refuse to be the bad guy in this story~~ I give you the enemy, Moob Man!

Sorry.

So, yeah. This is what NOT playing looks like.

You can thank your lucky stars this is not a scratch & sniff photo because 8 hours of rugby in the 900 degree Savannah weather with a healthy 89% level of humidity? It's more terrible than Moob Man.

The World is Just a Little More Beautiful Today...

2011-08-15T06:37:00.000-07:00

We are so excited to announce the arrival of MB's first niece! She's a beautiful and healthy 6 pounds and 11 ounces! Mom and Baby Girl are doing great! We can't wait to get up there and love on her!

While getting ready for church, we got the text that his sister was headed to the hospital. This promptly sent my ovaries into hyper mode and I shouted to MB, "To get your junk here and impregnate me!". He actually hid from me until it was time for us to go from church. I had an MIA MB.

By the time, we got out of church the baby had arrived! That's right-- in less than two hours after arriving at the hospital! I later learned that there wasn't time for an epidural so his sister had an unmedicated birth (which was not the plan).

I'm sending that brave woman a case of wine!

& yes, after knowing that she had to push a 6+ pound baby out without any of the conveniences of modern science, my baby fever was dampened to say the least.

Long live the epidural.

The Return of the Whore-r....

2011-08-12T08:32:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow marks the return of rugby season for us.... For all my new followers, the only flaw with my Mr. Perfect Prince Charming is that he loves to engage his Saturdays in getting battered and bruised in playing this ~~stupid~~ brutal sport.

Please go read this for a humorous understanding of the hell for me that is rugby season and why I refer to rugby as MB's "mistress".

Fortunately, MB is not playing this weekend during the tournament but will be going to practice/playing in the games in two weeks. While I confess, that I don't have any idea how this is appealing or fun:

I know that it puts a smile on MB's face (that may or may not be concussion induced). & I'm going to try really, really, really hard ~~to not go batshitcrazy~~ to be supportive of his hobby. Because I like him to smile like this.

Anyhow, yesterday I made a list in my wonderful Life Organizer called "Rugby Checklist" to see if we were properly prepared for the start of the season. I kid you not, this is the exact list.

Rugby Checklist

A.K.A. MB's Mistress's Demands

Spray Sunscreen Sport
Sunscreen rub
Bug spray
Sports Tape
Mouthguard
Ibuprofen
Emergen-C
Bandages (liquid, gauze, regular)
Ice pack
Heat pack
Epson Salt
Massage Lotion
Ben-Gay
Narcotics
knee brace
other knee brace
ankle brace

The sad thing is that I can guarantee we will use all of these items within the first week of rugby.

Here's to the return of weekly black eyes, aches and pains, OH MY! Bruises, and bandages, IT HURTS, IT HURTS, sweat and stench and testosterone overload.

God help me. & please send wine.

So do any of your menfolk have "mistresses", bizarre hobbies, thirst for hurt? & if so, how do you cope?

A Feel Good Post about Saving your Sanity...

2011-08-11T11:56:00.000-07:00

It's been a busy couple of days, hence the whole no blogging thing, but last night I was mulling around a blog post that basically was a "hey, y'all, I'm thinking there was a huge shift and I think things are getting really positive".

This is also where we should recognize two things: (1) isn't it cool to be a blogger because you are constantly "blogging" in your head? (2) Murphy's Law always strikes me down.

So all the good news.... One I have a second interview next week (YAYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ::insert angel chorus::). Granted it's a 5 interview-to-get-hired-process, but I'm so thankful to have had a decent interview and invited for a second one.

Y'all, I really needed the good news. Or a smidgeon of hope.

Secondly, I have yet to break anything, burn anything, destroy, embarrass or maim myself in any way during the past few weeks. I've never gone this long without some type of calamity.

Thirdly, I had quite an impressive moment the other night. While in the car with MB, I realized I was thinking before speaking. Now I know this doesn't seem like a huge deal, but I'm pretty much a 'say anything that pops into my head the minute it pops up' and especially with MB. There is no filter with him. However, I was about to comment on something and then realized it was unintentionally putting down someone and I decided not to say it. ::lightbulb:: I wonder how drastically my life could change if I could continue this bizarre phenomenon of thinking before I speak.

& lastly, I have been a pretty good fiance of late. It's been a week and a half since I'd been worthy of the Worst Fiance in the World Award.

Then... well, Murphy's Law struck bright and early this morning.

I had royally screwed-up MB's day by 7 a.m. because of something I had forgotten to take care of that related to his job.

& I felt horrid. Then I noticed all the other things that I was screwing up in.

All morning, I felt just worthless. Scared of the future (which is natural, I have a lot to be scared of right now because that 8/22 deadline is coming more quickly than it seems the answers are). Felt like a total failure.

Instead of focusing on that, I decided to focus on how yesterday I felt so good and tried to figure out what I had been doing "right" that prevented all the calamities as well as making me pretty darn chipper these days. I've dubbed these as "Brynn's Sanity Saving Techniques" because I like dramatic headings and because it felt oddly not all that exaggerated.

Brynn's Sanity Saving Techniques

Life Organizer. A few weeks ago, I started a Life Organizer based on a post by inspirational and pure genius Blue Eyed Bride . & it's been wonderful. MB even noticed how much happier, more organized and smoother the house/our life was running. The only problem was that I ran out of my print-outs this week. I finally printed some more out yesterday, but didn't actually utilize them until today. Had I been using this all week, the mishap with MB would never have happened this morning.

Chill and quit acting like the "Panic NOW" button has been activated. The reason my job interview went so great earlier this week, thus getting a second one, was because I wasn't reeking of desperation and panic. All the interviews I've had before this one, I had that "ohmygosh I have got to be perfect and land this job because my life as I know it is coming to an end and MB is really stressing out and losing faith in my and I feel worthless and like no one should ever hire me but I've really got to convince these people to hire me come hell or high water".

Nix the negativity around you. I decided to end a friendship even though I'm pretty certain this makes me a bad christian, but I have a friend who consistently makes me feel bad. I can't tell you the last time I had a conversation with this friend that I felt good afterwards. The last time we talked, I got off the phone in tears (again). This person is a lovely christian lady whom I am sure has good intentions, but right now in my life, I can't have people in my life who make me feel ~~bad~~ worse. & even though I'd love to have more friends and hate the thought of losing one, I feel this is the right thing to do. When you feel like you are struggling every single day and fighting so hard to get through what you are going through, you have to protect whatever part of you is still functional.

Focus on what matters. With spending so much time at hospice with Sage and his family, I have to tell you that I don't give a rat's behind about the hate mail I get from the blog, the fact that I am not going to get more Chanel foundation this weekend instead getting something from Target, Stalkerella or when Kim Kardashian's wedding is. My energy is focused on the love of my life, his daughters, our family and friends, God, church, and doing good in the world. Okay, I fibbed. I do care when Kim's wedding is, but I don't want to care. So that counts for something right? I'm chalking this up to the bride in me.

Wine, cupcakes, twitter and bloggy friends are some of the best things in life. I'd love nothing more than to combine all four and go to see The Help. How freaking awesome would that be?

So what are your sanity saving tips and techniques?? Don't hold out on me!

Open Letters from the Desk of Brynn...

2011-08-08T07:58:00.000-07:00

Dear World,

I'm 30 years old and unemployed. While I will take ANY job at this point, I must confess that I have no idea what I want to be anymore when I grow up. I love writing this blog and I love writing in general, but there is an abundant lack of people wanting to pay me to do that. & truth be told, I don't even know if I'm good at it.

Is there like an American Idol for writers?

In spellcheck I trust,
Brynn the Blogger

Dear Summer,

I am so over you. I'm ready for fall with it's football Saturdays, crisp weather, monogrammed pumpkins, skirts with tights, scarves and pumpkin spice lattes.

Sincerely,
Sweltering in Savannah

Dear Shark Week,

I'm so glad to see you go. While I actually like learning about sharks, Shark Week is actually about shark bites. That's what you should call it instead, Shark Bites. I have absolutely no interest in watching that. & that guy who stood in a vat of sharks to prove they aren't dangerous to humans? Was it really shocking that he got bit? Really? I can't stand stupidity and doing what he did pretty much tops the list of Stupid in my book.

All my limbs intact,
Team Dolphins and Seals Forever

Dear Facebook,

I desperately need some new friends as I'm pretty lonely in Savannah. Can you please find me people who don't get offended easily, understand my plight to be someone Jesus would be proud of? Someone who might be willing to supervise me attempting to do a crafty project? A sense of humor and forgiveness would be essential.

Friend me,
Brynn

Dear Majority of Drivers in Savannah,

Where in the world did you learn how to drive? I'm betting Mario Cart because I refuse to believe that drivers ed failed you so badly. Driving down Abercorn is not a difficult task, why do you make it so?

I've never had a ticket or an accident. You could learn something from me.

Just get out of my way before you wreck us both and the road rage your causing explodes,
Buckled-In Brynn

Dear Heartburn,

I've never met you before last week yet you stayed the entire week and are still around today. What gives? I'm certain my heart is happy... My blood pressure is good, my love life is good, Jesus is in my heart and that's good. You have no reason to be here or this darn cranky.

Seriously, all last week I was certain I was getting sick because I would wake up with a sore throat and then I realized that it is from the heartburn.

Simmer down, yo,
Burnt Esophagus

Dear All You People that went to Blogher,

I'm so incredibly jealous and I missed you terribly. Please get out of the Blogher bubble and start talking to us lame-os that couldn't attend. My twitter feed made me feel like the uncool kid at school who never gets invited to go to the mall or the NKOTB concert.

B-List,
Brynn

Dear Fashion World,

I'm in lust with the fall lines. The lace? Perfection. All the greeen? To die for. The plaids? Madly in love. The boots? Boot-iful. As I've mentioned I'm in a spending freeze that would make Tea Partiers proud, so can you please send me some samples to wear and promote? Puh-leeze. I've always been loyal to you, American Express will vouch for that.

Hobo-chic is not a good look for me.

My closet has the blues,
Brynn

The Cure for Baby Fever... well, a temporary one at least

2011-08-04T07:46:00.000-07:00

I am going to let you know a humorous, temporary cure for the evil that is baby fever.

It's absolutely no secret at all that I have a raging case of it.

Especially if you spend five minutes in my company.

Especially if you are MB who hears about five million times a week "I want one, please" after I see a cute baby, baby product, hear a baby story, think about a baby, after MB does his boyish face, when I dream, when I go to church and see all the families.

(However, this is where I throw in my disclaimer of yes-I-want-a-baby-right-now, but not really because I want to plan it with MB and do it in the right time for us and in God's timing. Which Jesus is going to have to really work on MB's plans, because he doesn't seem to be filled with the same rabid fever to procreate that I have... Maybe it's because he's already a daddy to two beautiful girls or perhaps it's a man thing... Anyhow, if we have a little one (or please God, twin boys to wrestle and play with and because we already have our baby names picked out and I'm more of a fan of our #2 boy name so this way, we both win and all the relatives we want to honor are included) it will only be because MB wants this as much as I do. So if that doesn't happen, then I'll trust God has bigger plans for us and I'll become your #1 babysitter and beg to be godmother.)

ANYHOW.

MB is just a little bit over the whole baby fever thing. Okay, maybe a lot over.

So I've been trying not to mention anything baby related. I haven't even brought up anything about our upcoming wedding (that is still unplanned due to all reasons I bemoan about on the blog).

However.... it's hard. Because his older sister is about to have a sweet baby girl in a couple weeks! So shopping for the baby has been so fun and kicked all hormones into overdrive (as if that was even possible). & then a *few* of my favorite people in the whole world are expecting, and I love gushing over it with them.

But let me tell you what absolutely doesn't help AT ALL. The man you ~~want to knock you up~~ love and adore holding a baby...

There is nothing sexier than the man you love holding a baby. TRUTH, y'all.

Disclaimer: If you read Tuesday's post, then you know who Sage is. This is a family member of Sage's. As this is not my baby and I don't post pictures of other people's children on my blog-o without permission you will have pixelated baby face. Sorry!

Anyhow, yesterday I ended up driving Little Miss Babyface to hospice. I could not have been more excited to have a car seat and two little baby feet in the backseat. I immediately sent out a text to several friends with the news that I had a baby in my car!

Every response was, "Omgosh, did you steal it?" or along those lines. Every. Single. One.

(My baby fever will never reach the level of baby-natching though & I promise they were all said in humor.)

When MB got off work, he came to visit Sage. No one told me that Little Miss Babyface was in love with my man.

Seriously, this sweetheart literally sprung out of my arms to get to him. & she didn't want anybody else. He fed her, played with her, made her giggle and smile. She nawed on him with her gummy, "toofless" mouth, loved on him, made him giggle and smile.

It was the MB and Baby show.

& my ovaries exploded.

MB then decided it was time for her to get some sleep so he grabbed a rocker.

My gosh, can you even stand this? I couldn't. He obviously is an awesome daddy and spent many a time rocking his sweet babies.

Once she was asleep--- wait, she was asleep in 2.5 seconds after being rocked--- scratch that. After MB had rocked her to sleep and ~~gotten his fill of rocking a sleeping baby~~ made sure she was deep sleeping, he started to slowly up and down the halls holding her.

& lest you think I forgot and am all caught up in baby bliss here... here comes the temporary cure to baby fever.

While walking her (and getting flocked to by every female in a 20 mile radius), an elderly lady walked out to see Little Babyface. Now, apparently she is rather cantankerous and feels no need to not say whatever she thinks (I can't wait until I get to that age... let's hope I'm not on twitter then).

"Oh, look at that sweet baby and her fat legs."

Then looks at me, five paces behind MB and clearly in love with the man because my face is more goo-goo than Little Miss Babyface ever was....

"Oh, look. She's fat like her momma."

OH. MAH. GOSH. I died. (& for the record, I've lost now 40 pounds this year and am rocking a size 12 comfortably. Meg Cabot says Size 12 Isn't Fat so by gosh, I'm sticking with that).

(and she then talked about how we must have adopted a black baby because we obviously are as caucasian as Elmer's Glue. Well, I am. MB always has a nice tan... rat bastard.)

So, cranky lady, I thank you for putting a temporary fix on my baby fever. I have no desire to procreate until I'm a size 8.

(I like rhymes, sue me.)

Doesn't everybody take pills they find in old purses?

2011-08-03T10:45:00.000-07:00

So yesterday morning, while cleaning out a purse I haven't used since about a year ago I came across something I had forgotten.

Actually, no my credit I had forgotten everything in this purse and I'm still baffled by why I need three Tide stain pens in it. I did think the Sharpie to Tide pen ratio was interesting (1:3). & I'm ashamed to know how much I spent at Nordstrom (on stuff that I don't use now) during the days of gainful employment and I'm fairly certain that I told MB it all came from Target so I ditched that receipt like it was on fire, baby!

Anyhow, I came across one of my old prescription bottles that had in it the answer to the Chronicles of I'm Too Tired of 2010.

(Let's just pause a moment to appreciate the ironic nature of that sentence given my current unemployed state. Mmkay, now that it has sunk in, let's progress shall we?)

I vaguely remember promising MB that I would never, ever take these pills again.

But for the death of me, I can't remember why. Not a shocker, I can't remember anything these days. I went to the gym not long ago and despite using the gym entrance code (of only four digits) multiple times a week, I completely blanked. I never did remember it and had to call like a loser who never comes to the gym to ask for the code again.

I decide I need a little energy, but erring on the side of caution (read: MB being seriously upset with me and leaving me) I only took 1/2 of a pill.

Within minutes, I was feeling glorious.

The only way to describe it is as "OMGosh, I WILL NEVER BE SAD AGAIN BECAUSE HOW CAN YOU BE SAD WHEN YOU FEEL THIS GOOD AND THIS ALIVE AND I CAN CONQUER THE WORLD MOFOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Please note that yes, absolutely all those exclamation points were completely needed.

I have never gotten so much done in my life in such a short amount of time (expect maybe the last time I was on this wonderful elixir of life energy force). I dominated P90X and I'm fairly certain I had Tony the Psycho whimpering with my awesomeness. House? More immaculate that the sacred virgin. Went to hospice all afternoon, cooked a gourmet meal (read: tasted like crap but had fancy ingredients!), did laundry, even gave MB a massage....

All the while wondering why MB had wanted to withhold this wonderfulness from me. Didn't he like me being so peppy? Didn't he like getting a massage? Why would he ever deny me this wonderful state I'm in?

(I decided I was fairly certain he must have been getting back at me for taking the batteries out of the remote in protest of Shark Week. Speaking of, I'm over it. Speaking even more of, if I was a beach resort I would sue Shark Week because why would you have Shark Week play in the middle of the time when all of the country is either vacationing at the beach, saving up to vacation at the beach or daydreaming about vacationing at the beach?? Because I am never going to get in the ocean again because I like my limbs, thankyouverymuch and because I am firmly planted on Team Dolphins/Seals.)

Anyhow, it came time for bed which was NEWS to me. I could go forever.

::foreboding sense::

I got into bed and sure, it took me an hour to go to sleep. But it was worth it! Hello, did you see that To Do List that I made my b*tch?

I awoke feeling wonderful. Rested. Fully awake and ready to tackle the day.

Rolled over to find that I had only slept for 2.5 hours. It was 2:30 A.M., y'all, and there wasn't a chance that I was going back to sleep.

You know that foreboding sense from earlier? It all came back to me full force. I could never sleep. I would get up in the middle of the night to make to-do lists, laundry and once I even worked out (which let me tell you as much as MB supports my fitness desire, that was NOT the case at 3 a.m.).

I never did go back to sleep. When the alarm went off at 5:30, I was in the middle of my 101st game of rummy on my iphone (card games on the phone make me sleepy... but apparently not enough to actually yanno... get me to go the eff back to sleep).

MB, bless his heart, just assumed I had nightmares about sharks (why, oh why did I not jump on that so I could put an end to this Shark Week madness?).

I couldn't tell him why I couldn't sleep because I ~~was afraid I was going to have to take another one to get through the day on 2.5 hours of sleep~~ had promised I wouldn't take them anymore and now that I remember why, I won't.

Until I forget again.

Then I will be awesome for ONE day, again.

The Greatest Man and his greatest lessons....

2011-08-02T09:13:00.000-07:00

I'm going to tell you about a wonderful man that I didn't want to meet.

A very good friend of MB's was diagnosed with cancer and despite all brave efforts, he is out of options when it comes to treatment.

MB has talked a great deal about his friend, whom I'll refer to as Sage for the sake of this post, over the past year and I've never had the opportunity to meet him. To say that MB adores this man is an understatement. I don't think there is a man alive that MB respects or loves more than Sage.

The Friday before last, Sage was moved into hospice. MB wanted to be there for him when he was admitted, so we waited that afternoon for about an hour before we were told that he wasn't going to come until very late that evening.

I'm ashamed to say that I was relieved to go. You see, that very day I'd been debating a blog post I wanted to write which was in essence, the case for vapidity. I have a huge heart and I'm tired of it hurting. I'm tired of hearing/seeing/knowing things that scar my mind and heart leaving traces of hurt and fear in my soul. If by being vapid, I can limit my exposure to "realness"... well then, maybe it isn't a bad thing.

Not to give you a play by play narrative, I'm going to move forward a bit by getting to what I've learned the past two weeks and our dozen or so visits to see Sage.

Sage is teaching us how to love...

Sage is very close to MB's age, meaning he's also just a few years older than me. He has a family. His wife is a vibrant, devoted lady with a great sense of humor and a fierce spirit to fight for her husband. She doesn't cower in the face of this illness. She's the rock that she needs to be for him and their family. I believe she can be the rock because Sage has empowered her though unconditional love and strength through the course of their marriage.
Sage has an unselfish love for his wife and family. He made the decision to enter hospice and he did to lessen the burden on his wife and family. He would much rather be home with them.
Sage has two adult stepsons and one son who is not much older than MB's eldest daughter... in fact, if they dated it wouldn't be upsetting because they are that close in age. Sage loves all three boys with the same abundance and if I didn't know better, I would have thought that all three were his natural kids. He has an individual relationship, affection and proudness for each of the boys. I've always thought that women were the only ones really capable of loving so generously and without favor in the case of blended families. I will never believe that again...

Sage is teaching all of us how to live....

Sage misses his career. Not a single visit goes by that he doesn't talk about it and he comes alive discussing it or when friends from work come to visit. He absolutely loved what he was doing. He would give anything to be able to have just a little more time at work. It's so rare to find someone who passionately loves what they do. I've never had a job that I absolutely loved, much less that fulfilled me anywhere near what Sage's did for him. Sage could provide for his family with his career, but it was never going to be considered lucrative. I can't imagine what it must be like to be one of his children. Can you imagine growing up with a parent who absolutely loved what they did? What kind of inspiration that must be? What kind of dreams a child would foster in that environment? Can you imagine being married to someone like that? Someone who loved what they did, greeted each work day not as a funeral but with eagerness? Someone who came home in the evening happy because they loved what they did?
MB recently had to make a decision about his career that he's had for the past decade plus. It's rare to for someone to work for the same place that long in this day and age, and he's been planning on staying with it until retirement. He turned down a huge promotion a few weeks ago because he's decided to make a career change in 19 months. Everyone, but Sage and myself, seems to be telling him that he's making a huge mistake. Giving up a great retirement in a few years? That's crazy. MB told his bosses, "I don't want to live for retirement. I don't want to slave through work hating what I do so I can retire in a few years. I want a career that I never want to retire from because I love what I'm doing." I don't think we need to look very far for where that wisdom came from.
Sage had hobbies he loved outside of work. Although one of his favorite hobbies is one I will never relate to, he loved all things fitness. Sage, to hear both Sage and MB tell it, was completely ripped before cancer ravaged his body leaving him to skin and bones. Sage knows that while work and family are the cornerstones of life, everyone needs something completely unto their own that can serve as an outlet. Despite his great love and affection for both his career and his family, there has to be a place that you can vent when trials and tribulations occur. Instead of letting his career troubles affect his family or his family trials affect his work, he had a place that he could work it out through something of his very own that he enjoyed doing. (I'm going to try really, really hard to let rugby be that outlet for MB.)
Joy. For most of last week, I didn't feel like blogging because it wouldn't be humorous. After all, hospice isn't funny, right? Cancer isn't funny. Spending time in hospice with someone who is far too young to be a patient there isn't funny. While this is all true, I've learned something even more true. Sometimes it is funny. I have never laughed so hard as I have while being there. Sage is hilarious despite everything. His family? Even more so. While cancer is robbing all of them of something so precious, they all refuse to let it steal their joy and laughter.
Grace. Sage, his wife and his youngest son are teaching me about grace. It isn't easy for many of their friends and family to be there for them, much less actually spending time with them. Maybe like me, they are scared at how much it will hurt. Maybe they don't know what to say. Maybe it's easier to disassociate than to face disappointing them. Sage, his wife and his youngest son know this and they forgive, they understand and they accept this. They know that while it may be easier for certain people to have a 'head in the sand' attitude, they are really only depriving themselves of a great joy and a great opportunity.

Sage is teaching us how to die...

Sage is all too aware of his illness and his limited time. You could say, however, that he is redefining dying. He doesn't dwell on the death sentence he's been issued. In fact, they have said that he was within days of dying and proved them wrong. Sage isn't trying to change the fact that he's dying, he's trying to change the amount of time it takes to do so. Instead of focusing on each day, he lives for months and years out. He is not dying today. He is living today. He's not asking for miracles and cures, although he is of course open to them, he's asking for strength to extend his days. Sage didn't come to hospice to die... he came to live.
Perseverance. Despite hearing, almost daily, other patients pass away and the sobbing of their families and friends, Sage has not accepted a spirit of passivity. In fact, he challenges himself daily to reach new milestones. His body has only been able to tolerate essentially broth and he is determined to get back to solid foods. Seems so minor, yet the amount of pain and suffering he must withstand to introduce food into his system is tremendous. He is determined to walk, sit and stand. He refuses to stay in the bed. Every time I see him, he looks stronger and more vibrant making all of us truly believe that miraculous curing could occur. The faith, strength, and spirit of this man is a testimony to the greatest attributes of life that any of us could hope for ourselves and our loved ones.

For the Menfolk, here's the script you've been begging for....

2011-08-01T06:05:00.000-07:00

I am going to do a good deed today.

I'm going to help our fellas out. Email this link to all your men, ladies. Bookmark this for future reference, guys.

You see, I realized the other day that men just need a script sometimes. & when it comes to avoiding a tussle or getting out of one with with the fairer sex, men definitely need some help.

But before I lay out a script, guys, I have to give you two pillars of truth.

The first one is mind-blowing. Seriously, take notes. You need to remember this.

Most arguments begin innocently enough yet there is a moment within it that completely changes the entire argument and men fail to realize that you are no longer fighting over the original issue.

Guys, I'm going to tell you something that changes your life right now.

The minute that a bickering session changes is when your lovely lady has her first flash of anger. You know what I'm talking about... you notice that look in her eyes or you hear "the tone".

You see, in that minute you are no longer going back and forth over the issue.... for her it is now about you.

You have been deemed inconsiderate, unappreciative and/or stubborn (while I don't know exactly which one you have been deemed and the first word of the phrase, I DO know that the last word is "jerk").

& at this point, you are on the original issue and she is on ALL THE OTHER TIMES YOU'VE BEEN AN __________________ jerk.

At any point you realize that the shift has occurred, and you need to get yourself out of this situation, here is the magic phrase you need to utter.

"You know, I think I'm seeming like I'm an inconsiderate jerk."

(When in doubt, always go with "inconsiderate".)

That phrase can change the whole tone and you can ascertain if you are on the same wavelengths. If you want bonus points, throw in this next ditty...

"I want you to know how much I care about you and this situation. I don't want you to think I'm inconsiderate. Let's go back to the original issue and you tell me what your thoughts are about it."

Now this leads us to the second pillar of truth, men. It's not so much of a shocker yet it something that you don't seem to grasp. Perhaps you aren't reading those books we keep conveniently placing on your nightstand?

Rarely is a fight about what or who is right and what or who is wrong.

It's about understanding. We don't even care half of the time if we are wrong, we just want you to understand our position.

Knowing this and acting on this can prevent many, many an argument.

Here's the following script that is pretty accurate for 90% of arguments that seem like your lady is just griping ~~and acting like it's that special time of the month.~~

Here's the most wonderful part of this script.... it's completely applicable for things as minor as not being able to find the right pair of shoes for a particular outfit and for things as serious about marriage, babies, work issues, family issues and not being able to find the right pair of shoes for a particular outfit (because as minor as that seems to you, it's major to us).

Lady: I'm so frustrated. It seems like I/we are never going to insert crux of frustration .

Now this is where you typically say something that appears that you are being helpful BUT YOU ARE NOT. REFRAIN FROM ACTING ON YOUR INSTINCT. WE DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT YOUR MOM/FRIEND/FACEBOOK SAID.

You: I know... I know how important this is to you so it has to be really frustrating. Especially because you always do SO much for everyone else, you'd think you wouldn't have to worry about this. It seems unfair.

Now I know you are wanting to object, Man-Reader. I know, I can hear your argument about the 'do everything' doesn't seem applicable to shoes or some of the issues. But you are wrong. Trust me. Do it my way. Because honestly, you're way never works... because by now? You would have already been deemed some type of jerk.

Here's the beauty of this... even if SHE doesn't think that phrase seems applicable, she will tell you but she will APPRECIATE you for noticing and feel like you are on her side. & that is all that matters.

Lady: insert her "griping" and note for your reference that this is where you have typically tuned out and all you hear is "blah blah blah" because you are mad that she didn't listen to your infinite words of wisdom so you are putting together what you are going to say next in this argument

You: I understand and I know how much this is bothering you. You have every reason to be upset. I want you to know that I will do everything I can to help, just let me know what I can do. I'm committed to you. You are all that matters and I want you happy.

Viola. Argument avoided, you are the greatest man in the world and you didn't have to listen to her repeat herself over and over and over because she is trying to get you to understand her side.

It's a win-win.

You're welcome.

Dear God, the debt ceiling has been reached....

2011-07-31T14:40:00.000-07:00

Before you start thinking that this is a political post, read on....

Because as we all know, this blog is my universe and I? Am queen of it. It revolves around me.

So while I'm concerned about the country's economic state.... I'm more concerned about mine.

You see, I've been dreading this month. Since February, I've been unemployed. I've managed to pay my bills but I knew that once August hit, I couldn't. This is why I've been so manic on the blog and trying desperately to get a job. I'm blessed that I was able to take care of everything up until now.

But now? You could say that my debt ceiling has been reached.

This is the month that I won't be able to make my car payment. This is the month I look at surrendering my car towards the end of the month if I have not secured a job.

Now I know realistically that many things can happen between now and the end of the month. I know that God can do huge, wonderful, miraculous things. & I hope for that. I hope for the job that will enable me to avert said crisis. I hope that if I surrender my car, I'm able to borrow or buy a clunker.

It's ironic that while I'm scared to death and anxious as all get out, I fixate on anything other than stressing about this.

I dream of weddings and babies. Completely illogical. But it's my happy place. (When you have spent the majority of your first year in your 30's unmarried, unemployed and uncertain about the future, you better have a happy place you can retreat to otherwise you will go batshitcrazy).

Please know though that neither of those things are in the works. A job needs to happen. A wedding needs to happen.

I just feel stuck. Like in a vat of molasses.

I get frustrated because people (good-natured people) tell me that I'm not getting a job because God won't bless me because I'm living in sin.

& while that is not the type of God I believe in, after almost seven months of unemployment, doubt creeps in.

But then I get mad. Because how can I have a wedding without a job? MB is not open to eloping or a quickie deal, and he has good reason. His grandmother. His family. His daughters. & to get married where they are will require us to get to where they are and MB's workplace is not giving him any time off right now until they figure out if they are transferring him.

I wonder what God's plan is in all of this. I feel like we are going to have a great story come out of this (because really, who wants to hear a story about a 30 year old who loses everything to gain nothing?).

This is the month I've been terrified about. This is the month that my story reaches it's pinnacle moment. This is the month that my story will be one of great happiness, relief and miracles.... or the month that everything crashes down.

I'm sorry this post isn't humorous. I'll probably delete it shortly after posting it. I am going to turn off comments because this post isn't about "pity me and say nice things" (which I know so many of you would do and I so love you for it).

There are times when I don't know what to say to someone when they are going through something. The thing is that most of the time, they just needed to say it and needed you to listen.

& that's what I'm doing. & I thank you for listening.

But the point of this post, more than anything, is to let you know where I am right now so that when my story comes together at some point, or miracles happen, or rebuilding starts... you'll know why it is so important to me. You'll know God's glory and mercy in my life, if for nothing else in how I have gotten through everything to this point.

Bombs away, y'all, I got a new plan...

2011-07-29T19:16:00.000-07:00

How did my interview go today? Well....

I bombed so badly I expected to walk out afterwards and run into S.W.A.T and firetrucks.

I apparently quit breathing during the demo. & it was apparently noticed because one of the hiring panel kept instructing me to breathe.

Please send all wine, cupcakes and some pretty, sparkly shoes my way.

As soon as possible.

Oh, I think I've fully entered that mid-life crisis phase (or quarter-life? I mean I plan to live until I'm 120). Because the cure to my unemployment state?

Eloping and babymaking.

Someone is not on board though. ::side-eyes MB::

::Then gives the stink-eye to MB::

Since apparently those things aren't happening, I've decided to start enjoying my unemployment state. If you need me on Monday, don't need me before noon.

& ten minutes after noon, you can reach me at the pool.

I'll be the one sipping on a fruity cocktail, one umbrella and extra rum please..

& lusting for pretty shoes.

Everyone should have a plan, y'all.

Hello, y'all... I'm Professor Faceplant

2011-07-29T06:18:00.000-07:00

So, remember yesterday when I was all lamenting over how much I hurt with P90X and stuff?

There wasn't a bit of that exaggerated.

When I got out of the shower yesterday, my legs revolted causing me to faceplant into the bathroom rug. I kind of cut my face but more than that, I got rug burn on it. I seriously look like someone punched me.

Not a real problem because let's face it.... my unemployed self doesn't get out much.

Oh, wait... remember that job interview I have today?

The one where I have to do a teaching demo as part of my interview for professor at a college?

But now? Now I'm obsessed with trying to figure out how to cover up the burn/cut on my face. & y'all there isn't enough concealer in the world.

The ironic part of all of this is that I am having to do the teaching demo on patient confidentiality as relating to HIPAA, and had specifically planned to discuss the exemption of suspected abuse of a child, elderly adult or a mentally incompetent adult.

& clearly I could be confused as belonging in that last category.

So now, I'm having to pick a different aspect to do the teaching demo. & the interview is in just a few short hours. I don't have the power point ready. Or the hand-outs. In fact, the printer is broken so I have to print that out elsewhere AND I have yet to find any of the 4 million flash drives we own.

Okay, y'all, all together with me...

"Please let the interview be rescheduled, please let the interview be rescheduled, please let the interview be rescheduled."

I need a job in the most desperate way, but I swear it's like the fates are out to get me.

At least we can all laugh about this.... and at least while I may not have much of my dignity left, my sense of humor is still intact.

Firecrotch-- Bengay edition.....

2011-07-28T08:01:00.000-07:00

I swear this will be the only post about the current hell I'm being subjected to.

& y'all, it was brought on by the man who swears he loves and adores me and wants to spend the rest of his life with me.

He is a LIAR.

No one who loves you will finally convince you to do P90X (truth, y'all) after a year and use the magic words that sucker me into doing anything (like the current extremely light blonde).... "Brynn, I have faith in you." Knowing that I hate to disappoint anyone, and most especially the man I love, I reasoned since I've lost 40 pounds (BOOM) and I have done so much running that I now feel I can deem myself a "real runner", surely I'm in a good position to finally try P90X.

I quickly realized we had a serious problem on the first day (chest and back). I, ahem, cannot do a push-up. AT ALL. Not a single one. This is extremely problematic as Tony the Psycho has you doing 247 different kinds of them. I attempted to modify them, but some I really couldn't.

The big problem came on the reverse push-ups where you have your feet elevated on a chair and then lower your upper body up and down. Y'all, you are supposed to keep your back straight. My muffin top and science deemed this to be impossible causing me to faceplant TWICE (why I thought I'd attempt to do it after faceplanting the first time, I'll never know) after my bellybutton decided to go all anchor like.

I'm fairly certain this is what caused me to awake in the middle of the night when attempting to rollover and I heard a huge "popping" sound in my left shoulder and then felt like I'd been stabbed and was completely immobile. This happened at 3 in the morning and when MB's alarm went off at 5:30, I was still wide awake and immobile. I couldn't sit, stand, breathe or lay down without whimpering. In fact, if MB had come home while I was getting dressed in the bathroom after the longest and hottest shower known to mankind, he would have thought I was having an affair with all the whimpering and moaning going on.

However, due to MB's insistence to continue onto day two of Tony the Psycho, I attempted plyometrics. For those who are unfamiliar with the term, it's basically jumping. Jumping into squats, jumping over stuff, jumping with everything.

Did you know that muffin tops can't do knee jumps? I now know this. It is impossible for my body to jump with my knees brought in front of me. Did you also know that my downstairs neighbor wishes a fate worse than death upon me?

Dear neighbor, I'm already there.

This resulted in me attempting to get out of bed yesterday and immediately falling to the ground. My thighs and the muscles right below my booty are in agony. Sitting and standing? Owwwwwww. In fact, God's honest truth, for me to go to the restroom, I have to grab ahold of the sink and lower myself down because after I attempt to go into a sitting position I immediately collapse.

The shame, y'all. The shame.

I raided the medicine cabinet, which fortunately for MB's insane rugby hobby is always full of pain relief, and started applying Bengay.

Did you know that Bengay smells like candy cigarettes?

Anyhow, MB saw me starting to rub massive amounts on my thighs and asked, "Where all are you going to put that?"

"Everywhere. I hurt everywhere."

& here is my last factoid for you. Okay, less of a factoid and more of a tip. If you apply Bengay to your thighs, make sure you are already dressed for bed. Otherwise when you go to change clothes, the Bengay will spread to other regions and it will not be pleasant. In fact, I think we can all agree that if your nether regions are burning, it's never a good thing.

Pinteresting Party Ideas....

2011-07-27T09:46:00.000-07:00

Okay... I need a volunteer.

I've fallen in love with these popcorn party ideas and inspiration hit.

The hokey kind. The BEST kind.

So, MB and I haven't had an engagement party yet. But I'm thinking we should do one really soon (because the wedding will be here lickity split!). I would say we could do this for a shower idea but I don't think we are going to have one. (It kind of goes with the whole 'not registering' craziness that I'm being deprived of).

Anyhow, I thought our engagement party could be themed of "He popped the question" that way I have a good reason to use these popcorn party ideas.

I just need ~~one sucker~~ kind friend to volunteer to host (because us hosting is uber tacky, no?). Kind friend wouldn't even have to do anything but agree to have their name on the invitation as the host(ess) and RSVP contact.

I mean, c'mon who wouldn't want to take credit for all of this glorious hokeyness?

Source: happythings.tumblr.com via Wicked on Pinterest

(Just to get this going with a chuckle) Now, these are brownie pops!

Source: dawnypoo.blogspot.com via Wicked on Pinterest

The classic popcorn ball!

Source: sweetpaul.typepad.com via Wicked on Pinterest

The party favors!

Source: jacolynmurphy.blogspot.com via Wicked on Pinterest

and my absolute favorite part! These are actually CUPCAKES! (mini-marshmellows on top, how freaking cute!)

Source: familyfun.go.com via Wicked on Pinterest

So maybe I should just have a movie party or something instead...

I also want to do an ice cream party after these two pins....

Source: thecraftsdept.marthastewart.com via Wicked on Pinterest

and isn't the cake adorable?

Source: blissfulfetes.blogspot.com via Wicked on Pinterest

As always, huge thanks to Michelle for her brilliant idea of Pin-teresting Wednesdays!

One day and one book that changed my life forever....

2011-07-27T07:49:00.000-07:00

Linking up with Daphne at Flip Flops and Pearls to do a Semi-Wordless Wednesday!!

There are days in one's life that forever change the course of history for said individual.

The thing is, that they seem like just regular days. Nothing huge and catalytic happens seems to occur. Instead, it's the whisper of an idea that takes root that starts a huge shift.

February 11th, 2010 was one of those days for me. This is the day that while walking around a deserted Washington, DC due to another recent blizzard, I decided to explore moving to Savannah.

Within a few days of that, a friend recommended the book "Crazy Love" to me. I already had a strong faith, but this book did something to me. This is the book that I swear got me to Savannah. To say that it changed my life is overly simplifying it. It changed me. It changed my relationship with God. It changed everything.

And it helped pull everything in my life together to enable me to do what seemed like an absolutely crazy idea.

Source: google.com via Kristen on Pinterest

Exactly one month later, I arrived in Savannah without a job and a home. I checked into the Westin and called it home. These pictures were taken on March 15th, 2010, just days after arriving here.

The move to Savannah was one of the bravest, craziest and strangest things I've ever done. It could have been one of the stupidest things I ever did, but instead.... it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

I never doubted my decision to move to Savannah and I've never regretted the move here. Savannah is my home. It's where I finally found "me". It's where I said "yes" to the most amazing man in the world who asked for my hand in marriage 13 months after I moved to this beautiful city. I've never been happier in my entire life than now, here in Savannah. I forget that sometimes when I focus on the scariness of being recently unemployed and unsure what the next step is for me. But then a casual question on twitter brings it all back to me and I remember that even though things are kind of tough right now, never ever in my entire life have I been as happy as I am now. & never once have I ever had a smidgeon of doubt or regret about my decision to move here.

I knew from the first day I arrived here that it was the right decision. I knew in my heart but it was also reflected so much in pictures.

Look at what a difference one month and one city made in how I looked.

That second picture shows so much (beyond showing what I looked like 30+ pounds heavier than today). There's hope in it. There's peace in it. There's love in it.

& what more could I ask for?

When the eff are we gonna get married???

2011-07-22T06:57:00.000-07:00

So by now, everyone has read the great parody children's book "Go the f*ck to Sleep".... and now with that, I present my own parody of the parody entitled "When the eff are we gonna get married?" and also apologize for my sincere lack of drawing skills. Or rhyming skills.

Oh, and this isn't based on MB at all. It came to me because I'm tired of everyone asking us when we are gonna get married.

Boy, we've been together for two years...
long enough to overcome your commitment fears.
We are in love and it's not really all that scary...
When the eff are we gonna marry?

Boy, almost all my friends and sorority sisters have tied the knot
I can't be the very last one of the lot
A bridesmaid again, I've been too many
It's time for you to put on my finger a ring from Tiffany
so I can stop getting asked at girls day at the spa
"When the eff are y'all gonna get married, doll?"

We've been living together for a year now,
my grandmother keeps talking about milk for free, the hell am I a cow?
My daddy can barely pretend that I still have my v-card
and thinks daddy's little princess might be marred
My momma's dreams of wedding planning are dying
as evidenced by all her "why me, I was a good mother" and crying
I think even Jesus has cried.
When the eff are you gonna make me your bride?

You said you'd pull out...

Instead 9 months later my va-jay-jay is blown out.

You wanted to wait until Jr. was born for a test of paternity

so now when the eff are we going to be wed in holy matrimony?

Maybe you did it to get me off your back
Maybe you did it in a heated moment in the sack
Maybe you did it to please your mom and dad
But you put an engagement ring on my hand
Why do you continue to hesitate
when the wedding planner tries to lock in a date?
Do you think an engagement is something I'm going to forget?
When the eff are we going to make this legit?

Maybe I'm trying to trap you and maybe that's not so,
regardless you'll never know.
As my auntie says, you made your bed
So when the eff are we going to be wed?

You said if I went just 3 months of not being psycho,
and throwing fits like a wacko
we'd get engaged
and since you've lied, I'm rather enraged
so before I shank you, are there any last words from you?
OH, SO NOW is a good time for an "I do"?

Well, then why didn't you say so... so when the eff are we going to get married?

Karma and the Job-Seeker...

2011-07-21T10:30:00.000-07:00

So a couple of weeks ago, I reached the boiling point of my frustration in trying to find a job. This was truly one of my finest meltdowns. I sobbed while driving (in rush hour traffic) MB to his physical therapy appointment which not only terrified the man (as I am a self-proclaimed bad driver as it is) but freaked him out beyond words.

Literally. He was only capable of making noises. At first they sounded like soothing sounds then they just turned into random grunts that I knew meant "I have no idea what to say to you but I hope that you don't kill us trying to merge onto 516".

That was the night I clenched the "Worst Fiance in the World" title for the third consecutive month... which is really sad because we've only been engaged for three months.

Anyhow, the next morning in my online job searching I decided to pretty much just apply for everything. I figured one of the following things would happen:

Best case: They decide I'm right for the position
Next best case: They considered me for another position or create one for me because they see that I'm fabulous
Worst case: They laugh and wonder "what the hell?" (I imagine I got a lot of those responses when applying for nursing positions. I'm a little envious at the over-abundance of nursing jobs, in fact declaring loudly to MB that "them beeyotches get all the jobs". (Talked to MB about going to nursing school which he thought was ludicrous because I vomit a little in my mouth at just watching someone get blood drawn.)

Oh, also I think my subconscious objects to me working in the healthcare provider field. Last night, I dreamt that I was pregnant and went into labor. However, they had to suddenly transfer me to another hospital because I had developed Articular Difibulation, putting me and the baby in severe danger.

There's no such thing as Articular Difibulation (but I'm sure after putting this term on the web, WebMD will immediately add it to their database and soon all of you will be dying of it). Isn't it nice to know that my subconscious thinks it's amusing to make up it's own diseases and medical conditions?

& for those of you, like me, who want to know how things end... the baby lived but unfortunately was kidnapped by Stalkerella but ended up in the hands of one of the tour guides who drives a carriage around downtown Savannah and the sweet baby was returned to me and MB.

Of course, I woke up freaked out looking for my baby. & then freaking out about wondering where MB was. & then realizing I don't have a baby and MB is out of town. (I probably shouldn't mention that I was sorely disappointed to realize I didn't have a baby and soothed myself with knowing that MB was headed home today.)

So, in short? my subconscious is whacked. I'm afraid to do any type of dream interpretation on that one.

Anyhow, back to the "apply for everything" technique. My thinking was it wasn't for ME to decide if I wasn't the right person for a position, it was HR's job. So, um, I'm making them work for their moolah. (This is were I apologize to all HR people out there but really I hope you laughed. & I'm not saying I wouldn't be opposed to being a web designer even though I can only turn ON my mac and that's the limit of my capabilities. But I'm willing to learn.)

Well, yesterday... I guess karma decided to get a good chuckle.

I answered a phone call yesterday thinking it was my pharmacy and instead it was a company wanting to do a phone interview. Right then. I stumbled and agreed and wracked my brain trying to figure out what job I had applied for.

Miss Brynn, tell me about your {area of work} background...

Okay, I guess this is for the job I'm actually trying to get. So I start in with accomplishments yada yada yada.

Brynn, are you willing to relocate for this position?

Considering I have no idea who you are much less where you are, I feel I can only say, "Absolutely, in the right circumstances". (read: It's going to cost you. Well, maybe not. I need a job. As I have told pretty much everyone (including MB's momma to his chagrin) if my life was a movie this is the part where I either become a stripper or I develop a raging alcohol problem from all the constant rejection and subsequent depression).

Okay, sounds great. Quick question, have you ever taught before?

uhhhhhhhhh, what does THIS have to do with it? "Well, I was a Sunday School teacher. Ohhh, yeah and I substitute taught for a semester at a private school while I was in school myself."

Okay, would you come in for an interview and do a teaching demo for a panel? Please bring hand-outs and your own media to use for teaching. You'll be instructing on the subject of medical ethics and we will have some of our college students sit in as well to make it more real for you as well. If the chair likes you, we will discuss potential class schedules for you to instruct in during the fall if we decide to hire you.

Y'all, I applied for a college professorship (when? where? I don't know). & they want to interview me. I mumbled some type of incoherent response that basically said I would be there next week, hung up the phone and then promptly lost my lunch.

In theory, being a professor sounds great. In fact, I had mulled on this for a while a few years ago thinking it would be great to have a flexible/part-time schedule if I ever had a baby.

But the problem is I have a huge fear of speaking in front of people. In fact, MB swears this is why I'm freaking out about the wedding--- having to stand in front of all those people. Let's not forget that during my last interview, I actually made my hands bleed from all the wringing and fidgeting I was doing.

You know that scene in the Princess Diaries where Maya pukes while trying to give a speech in debate? Totally me.

How in the world am I going to do this interview without throwing up? How am I going to come up with a lesson plan? Dear gosh, y'all, what if I actually got it? Can you imagine the first day of class? "I'm Professor Bry---- raaaalllllllllllllllpppppppphhhhhhh. "

Totally not cool.

But totally intrigued by the opportunity.

But totally going to lose my lunch again.

Thank GOD I had the good sense to draw the line at applying for the cardiologist position. Could you imagine if they had asked for a demo?

Also, due to the lack of awareness surrounding Articular Difibulation, I'm starting a foundation to raise awareness of this horrid disease which affects one unconscious person every year. To see how you can help, or to send donations, please email me at wickedsweettea (at) gmail (dot) com.

Brynn's Day Off....

2011-07-20T07:56:00.000-07:00

MB is out of town today which means that I officially have the day off.

I do not make the bed when he is out of town. I know, total rebellion right? But it is so nice to not have to make the bed once a month whenever his work demands his time away from home.

Chances are the clothes in the dryer will stay in the dryer. Chances are I may not unload the dishwasher either.

I most definitely will not be attempting to be a culinary goddess tonight which is probably a really great thing based upon my facebook status on Monday evening....

I really don't know what's happened, but all my cooking is just *off* these days.

I will be at the pool today if I feel up to dealing with Stalkerella. (I really need to do a whole post on her but I'm slightly terrified she might come across this blog and then it will push her off the teeny tiny ledge of sanity she's barely grasping and then I might be in severe danger of whatever crazy she's rumored to be capable of.)

I will most definitely be going for a run at the gym because it's 900 degrees in Savannah and I refuse to be the pudgy person who dies of exercise and because coincidently enough, I can be guaranteed that Stalkerella will not be at the gym. (Have you ever noticed that psychos don't exercise? I feel this goes directly to the wisdom of Elle Woods-- endorphins make people happy and happy people don't kill people. I think that if Casey Anthony had hit a zumba or spinning class sometime, we'd never have heard of her.)

I will be watching reality tv. & chick flicks. & everything else that drives MB up the wall. It's ESPN, Fox News or CNBC in the Wicked Sweet Tea household when the mister is home. Speaking of, last night I realized that I'm marrying Alex P. Keaton (yes, I realize that a few of you won't realize who I am talking about. Google it and then comment on how you didn't know yada yada yada and make me feel old). Anyhow, last night we came across a rerun of Family Ties and it only took 5 minutes for me to realize MB is Alex P. Keaton all grown up. In fact, just earlier that day we had been in a huge discussion (well, he was mainly talking and I'd throw in some random info just to ensure I don't come across as totally vapid) about speculative attacks and which countries' economies wouldn't withstand one more than likely and how he'd hedge on particular fixed rate exchanges. (If you are confused, I understand. My standard response will be one of three things: 1. That was evident within the Thailand crisis 2. Mention something about the euro. 3. initiate nooky to distract him until I can google that crap.)

There's also a good chance I will be g-chatting with some girlfriends and living vicariously through their shopping adventures. (I'm in such a spending freeze being the unemployed professional who is trying to plan a wedding, no less. This spending freeze is so strong that I suspect Tea Party members everywhere will start sending me letters commending my efforts.) I need to go back to work (for all obvious reasons) but also because I miss shopping. I want something pretty. I want a present. I'm ::thisclose:: to starting a petition to beg for people to send me presents. We (read this as: MB decided and I reluctantly agreed) have decided not to register for wedding presents (something crazy about being in our 30's and such). I expect Williams-Sonoma will be sending me a sympathy card and tragically enough, it will probably include a 10% off coupon that Tea Party members will yank out of my pretty (home) manicured hands and remind me of the debt ceiling crisis.

No one seems to understand that I'm fairly certain my failing culinary goddess attempts could be rectified with a reversible meat tenderizer. (No, I don't know what exactly that is but the sweet sales girl at WS and I agreed that no kitchen can be complete without one.)

Anyhow, that's Brynn's Day Off. Throw in a little pinterest, Jen Lancaster's latest masterpiece and texting into the mix and this day? Is set.

Mini Queen Bees....

2011-07-15T07:43:00.000-07:00

So, the fabulousness that is Blair (BA) has been doing this fun thing on Fridays where she does a "flashback" with pictures, which totally inspired this post. Of course, in her pictures she is the perfection of beauty, fun and charm. Ohhhh, you aren't getting that with me.

There aren't a lot of pictures of me growing up which based on the 12 that I have (yes, only 12), that may be a fortunate thing. However, I do have a class picture taken in the 3rd grade which was a pivotal moment for me. I was in an epic battle to be the reigning Mini Queen Bee of the 3rd grade playground. I had clearly knocked out all the competition except for one worthy opponent.

Y'all, I was born to be the Mini Queen Bee. I present Exhibit A for your consideration:

Please note the sassy blonde pigtails (signature toddler queen bee hairstyle), the hands on the hips (work that camera, girl!) and the t-shirt which is what truly makes me a scary toddler queen bee. Because that shirt says A.) I'm so cool and hip with all the trends (B) it has a cute heart on it making it girly and adorable and (C) it's threatening with its message because it clearly says I will destroy you like a blip on a screen if you get in my way. Also, I was Little Miss "State I was Born In" the following year so you can believe that by the time I had that tiara on my head, I had almost perfected the art of queen bee behavior.

So, anyhow by the time we took our class picture in the fall of 1989, like I said, I had pretty much cinched the role of Mini Queen Bee. All other contenders had fallen to the role of my minions except one. It had truly turned into battle of blondes and just when I thought that I had won, it was class picture time. I was ALWAYS the front and center blonde as my role of Mini Queen Bee and we all know that with the class picture, that is evidence of who the Mini Queen Bee is.

But the other blonde had the ultimate Ace of Spades up her sleeve.... she was the teacher's pet and not only that, she was the pet of the teacher who hated me because I refused to not talk in class. So when the photographer placed us, he clearly recognized my title and had me dead freaking center. & then the teacher had the gall to rearrange us. & then to add insult to injury, the heinous woman made me take off my the turtleneck I had tied around my shoulders. I had perfected the late 80's prep look which a bright turtleneck worn with another coordinating color turtleneck tied around the shoulders.

#1: This kid was so cool as you can gather from his radiant smile and not to toot my own horn (which I'm going to), the reason I had won over the competing queen bees was because I had stood up for this kid when some upper elementary students were picking on him. I'm fiercely loyal to my friends and I hate to see people picked on unfairly.

#2: The competing blonde which still to this day baffles me because my sleek blonde hair should have immediately beat out that mop of frizz she has. Don't be fooled by her sweet smile, this girl once said I'd make out with ALF (because alien puppets were all the rage?).

#3: I'm pretty sure this kid had an eerily similar picture when he was arrested a few years later.

As you can tell, I was quite upset and refused to smile the bedazzling smile the cameraman had commented on just moments earlier. I was ::gasp:: moved to the outer corner. No one puts baby in a corner!

I plotted my comeback the whole time this picture was being taken. That afternoon on the school bus ride home, I solicited the help of the high school queen bee. The next day, I returned to school for the individual pictures looking like this...

I was immediately the envy and awe of all the girls in the class because I had learned how to do the ridiculous megabangs that were all the rage that most of the other girls' mothers had the common sense to not let their daughters out of the house looking like that.

But what sealed the deal (in addition to the amazing sweater dress I'm wearing with black leggings with lace at the bottom) was the pearls. Annabelle, the reigning Homecoming Queen and high school queen bee, had bequeathed unto me her (fake) pearl necklace that she had worn ever since junior high until her father had blessed her with a real strand of pearls to wear during the Homecoming Parade.

It's amazing how a strand of pearls can change your life... or just the politics of the 3rd grade.

Let's hope I can publish this before WebMD pulls the plug on me...

2011-07-14T07:27:00.000-07:00

I have some terrible news for you.

Well, I guess it's only terrible if you like me. If you don't, then prepare to feel like all is right with the world.

WebMD has confirmed that I'm not long for this world. Apparently, you can actually die from the constant depression brought on by the continued rejection of hiring managers across the city of Savannah.

& if that wasn't going to kill me, the white spot on my nail is a sign that I'm in liver failure (which I must email Lady T of the Seersucker to let her know that Dr. WebMD changed my affliction from 'testicular cancer' to its current diagnosis). While I admit that I do talk a great deal about alcohol on twitter, the fact is that I have a max of 2 drinks a week so I really don't think that this failure is brought on by alcohol.

It is, however, possible that it is because I had 3 brownies for breakfast yesterday and one slice of strawberry cake for breakfast this morning (darn it, it has fruit!). Mornings are the roughest part of my day because MB leaves for work and I'm all, "Let's see, what can I do to seem like I was productive today". Ergo the horrid breakfast choices. Granted, I do go for runs afterwards and fortunately haven't gained any weight from the bad choices.

But that's probably because my liver is in failure.

So, since I'm not long for this world, I'll give you a few last thoughts.

The WST household has been stressed for a number of reasons but a biggie? MB's job is talking about transferring him (to where, we don't know) and has been saying this since January. However, yesterday it was thrown out that he might go to one of the international locations for up to a year and it wouldn't be possible for me to go with him.
Let's face it people, we all know that I love MB more than anything in this world but more than that, he keeps me accountable and generally makes me a better person. Had it not been for the sheer fact of him coming home each day, there are several depressing unemployed days where I would have failed to take a shower and quite possibly, even brush my teeth. Not to mention, I'm guaranteed one nutritious meal a day because I take my responsibility of cooking dinner seriously.
He's also very concerned about leaving me to my own devices for a year. With all the damage from my disasters in trying to provide a beautiful home for him (the fire from the Christmas decorating, the broken bookcase, the shattered framing, etc), God only knows what would happen in the span of the year.
Also, he's concerned about my television programming choices. He flat out had a fit about me trying to watch The Secret Life of the American Teenager nor does he understand my desire to watch the last season of Wizards of Waverly Place. & when I turn on Drop Dead Diva, something inside him dies a sad little death. Last night (during a MOVIE), he hid all 3 remotes so I couldn't touch them.
When he's stressed or sick, he talks in his sleep. & baby's had some conversation going this week.
Last night, I awoke to the sound of him heavily pushing buttons on his work blackberry only to roll over to find that he was actually just grinding his teeth. That's a first, y'all. When he then growled, "you come here", I did have the common sense (even at 2 a.m.) to know that he was not talking to me about a desire to cuddle so I promptly scooted myself to the safety of the edge of the bed.
When MB is truly happy and content, he gets this boyish look about it that absolutely slays me and makes me want to immediately produce a little boy replica of him that I can squeeze and squish without a fight ensuing because MB thinks I'm trying to grab a remote control. His daughters, sadly, are past the age that I can appropriately squish but I do it any way because I squish the ones I love.

Source: juicylucydesigns.com via Wicked on Pinterest

(& special thanks to Michelle at Vintage Apple for the image!)

Delightfully Disastrous...

2011-07-13T10:57:00.000-07:00

You know, contrary to belief, I really don't wake up with the sole intention of being a screw-up.

Or a brat during church. Or well, at any other time.

The thing is (& my blog is plenty testimony to this) I want so desperately to be a good person. A nice person. A sweeter than iced tea and pecan pie southern belle.

In fact, I have someone I so want to be like and she has a blog called Blue Eyed Bride . In my mind, she is the epitome of grace, beauty, and all things wonderful; in short, everything I'd like to be. She's gorgeous, gracious, SAHM to two beautiful boys that are always dressed to the nines in monogrammed glory, spiritual, kind, beautiful home, organized home, wonderful marriage, soft spoken and just everything sugar.

She never post pictures on twitter of cars she's feeling justified to ram... ::sighs:: nor does she probably say "eff".

This lady in the old person car saw me and another car pull in right behind her WHILE SHE WAS STILL IN HER CAR. She parked her car without pulling up to the first pump which was clear AND THEN WENT INSIDE THE STORE TO SHOP. Due to the angling of this gas station, neither the humongous truck behind me or myself could back out. So we sat there for 10 minutes until she got her slurpee on and never even pumped gas. I'm fairly certain any jury would call this "justifiable" when I ram her car all the way to the first pump.

The Blue Eyed Bride wouldn't do anything like that. & as a good friend of mine says, neither would any normal person.

Every single day, I try so very hard to be the epitome of class, beauty and graciousness that is the Blue Eyed Bride. I try because I truly want to be those things. I try because the love of my life deserves a girl like that, my friends deserve a friend like that and the world needs more people like that.

But then... there are those days (like Sunday) where I feel overwhelmed and like those are impossible achievements I'll never be able to accomplish. & I get this warped sense of 'well... maybe I should just resign myself to being the snarky, smart-mouthed, delightfully disastrous, not-nice girl I try to repress with all my might'.

So I indulge in internet stalking the girl that got one of the jobs I applied for who is an INFANT with a stupid INFANT name who lists her hobbies on facebook as "beer pong, tanning, future VS model" and you have to resist with every fiber in your being to not send her an email explaining in simple, infantile terms that 'future VS model' is not a hobby. Of which, I've been assured none of this is appropriate behavior.

& apparently, downloading her picture and drawing on it to make her look like Betty White is not appropriate behavior either (well, if Betty White had fake DDDs , a mustache and a deranged look about her like Helena Bonham whatever ).

I'm sure she is a very lovely person and I wish her the best of luck in her endeavors of tanning and beer pong while working in the job ~~that should have been MINE! MINE! MINE!~~ that is very blessed to have her as an asset to their legal department ~~because really what office doesn't need a fourth for their beer pong team~~.

& then, of course, while watching Jeopardy I send out tweets like "Dude, this girl on here looks like she's a prison mate" (which she totally did. No make-up, no hair product and a pale gray button up short sleeve baggy shirt) and then last night, MB refused to let me have my phone because he knew I was about to tweet about this other lady on the show who looked like a parody of a Viking/Prison Warden/Opera Singer with a unibrow with no make-up (seriously, Trebek, do you guys have a rule about no make-up? Because isn't that one of the best perks about going on national tv, the make-up chair? Why would you deprive someone of that moment? Jeopardy needs to have a friendly makeover edition.)

See, this is what I repress people. The not-nice girl. I ask myself, "What would the BEB do?" and then put my pearls back on, slap a serene smile on my face and beg for Jesus to help me be as kind, gracious, and wonderful as the Blue Eyed Bride.

I cannot even begin to tell you how many meltdowns I've had over the past year about my failure to be as graceful and wonderful as the Blue Eyed Bride. (In fact, most recently, I was sobbing and blubbering on and exclaimed to MB that "I'll never be able to be like Blue Eyed Bride" to his utter bewilderment and he asked if I wanted to get colored contacts for the wedding. God bless his heart, do you see why he deserves a better Brynn?)

Yesterday, in my attempt to make a more beautiful home for MB by hanging up two new pictures that have been sitting against the wall for 2 weeks, this happened....

Yes, that is a very expensive framed picture of MB's family that is shattered. & yes, those are my cute toes and my favorite madras skirt, which completely ties this "delightfully disastrous" theme together.

Or debate on whether to make her man happy by not wearing the uber expensive Chanel make-up thereby saving money (which thrills him) or make him happy by wearing the uber expensive Chanel make-up (because she doesn't look like a hobo).

But I can try to be a nicer Brynn. Maybe a Brynn that doesn't do extensive damage to her house when trying to clean it, arrange it and make it pretty. Maybe a Brynn that doesn't end up on the news for road rage.

We can all hope, right?

Have a super great day!!!! (courtesy of the infant's facebook page)

Disclaimer: I truly adore the Blue Eyed Bride and absolutely none of this is facetious. I don't know her in real life nor have I ever conversed with her. I just enjoy her blog and think she is a wonderful person that serves as inspiration in many, many ways.

I'm not saying I don't deserve this punishment...

2011-07-11T09:27:00.000-07:00

The original post title was "Jesus's little brat..." but I thought that could be even more offensive than what I'm actually going to write.

& unfortunately, I have to do disclaimers on this particular entry. 1. I love Jesus and my faith is very important to me so this post is not intended to offend any of my Christian readers. 2. If we go to church together, please don't read this post because you will hate me. 3. Major TMI warning. 4. If you are an extreme couponer or extreme couponer wannabe, you should probably not read this post either unless you like getting offended.

So, I'm sick today. & because I'm never 'pukey' sick, I'm very dramatic about it and am convinced I am dying of which MB didn't take seriously apparently because he left for work this morning without any sentimental last words nor has he (as of yet) texted to see if I am still with this world. At least I did a good thing for him and saw Transformers 3 last night (instead of my movie, The Help) so his last memory of me will be one of loving sacrifice and almost three hours of silence from the moaning and groaning I did all day yesterday.

& the reason I'm sick is mainly Buddha's and Extreme Couponers fault.

Just so you don't think I'm all 'it's never my fault and I never take the blame', I take full credit for my stupidity and for being such a brat during church yesterday that Jesus had no choice but to let nature take its course and have me wretchedly sick today.

I love my church. I do. I love getting my Jesus on every week and I am convinced my church is the awesomesauce of churches.

But yesterday morning, I really didn't want to go. I knew we were going to have a guest speaker and well.... I don't like guest speakers. My preacher is amazing, funny and jabs me right in the heart to make me a better christian. Guest speakers are the substitute teachers of high school. You aren't getting anything but a handout to do in hopes that you don't cause a ruckus. (& in case I forget, I really loved our guest speaker yesterday so I apparently have no idea what I'm talking about but I promise the next time I know there is a guest speaker at church, I will want to play hookey.)

Fortunately (or "un"), MB is a saint among men and makes sure we go to church every week. So I was getting ready for church and I had morphed into a total brat. Not towards MB or anything, just general brattish behavior. & then I realized that we needed to get to church 5 minutes early at which I bellowed that sentiment to MB while he was showering so he didn't question it.

When we get in the car to go to church, MB suddenly wondered why we needed to get to there early. At which I told him that apparently my body is as stubborn as I was and refused to participate this month with the "taking birth control continuously to not have any monthly visitors". At his perplexed view, I further explained to him that as I am not supposed to have any reason to buy feminine products, I had none other than my lone spare product, and I knew we didn't have time to go to the store so we needed to get to church so I could grab a tampon out of the basket of convenience products the church provides (tampons, hair spray, tissue packets, lotion).

He was incredulous at two points: 1. that women's bathrooms are stocked like that and 2. that I was only going to church without griping for the tampon.

(I concur on the first point and not so much on the second one. I mean, I knew we were going anyway and it's certainly not like I was looking forward to that particular aspect)

So anyhow we go on our merry little way to church (we ended up having time to stop to get feminine products although that started another dispute because I bought the trial size** pack of fudge covered oreos when I bought the other things while MB was in the car, and MB doesn't agree with me that chocolate should be handed out for free when you buy feminine products and I told him that any logical person would agree with me, and by "logical" I of course mean people without man bits.)

**trial size: a term I use for when I buy something that MB will only get one or two of and thus not question why he isn't getting more. He hasn't realized trial size really just means I get to try most of the pack and give him enough to ensure that I am not a total heifer. This argument would be so much better if I didn't hide them in the veggie bin.

But when we got to church and sat down, I got all Judgy McJudgy because I was in a freaking nudist church.

Okay, well not really but there were so many people in front of me wearing strapless dresses that when you are seated, it totally looks like you are stark nekkid in front of me. When I shared this with MB, he got that pained "don't say anything else you are thinking for the love of all that is good" look which I promptly ignored. Unfortunately, there was a very sweet lady right in front of me that was wearing such a dress but it was not entirely appropriate for her size, and I can't believe I'm actually going to say this, but the top border of her dress in the back was wedged between two rolls of ~~fat~~ plumpness. The entire service (well, when we were standing to sing or pray), I was transfixed by this because she desperately needed her dress to be pulled up over the top plumpness layer and I was wondering if Jesus would be proud of me for doing the right thing by yanking it up myself or if he would get trigger happy on that 'go to hell' button I'm certain I'm bound for.

Also, you know how when cute little babies have that pudgeness that you want to pinch? I kind of wanted to pinch her two pudge bubbles that were escaping from the dress a la muffin top style.

I know, I know, I'm horrid. I was apologizing all through prayer and communion for God and Jesus to forgive me for being a total brat that day. & also, for whatever punishment I get, for MB not to be afflicted by it for the whole "lying with dogs" thing.

I truly want to be a good person, I do. I just fail so darn superbly at it and with such plumb and flair that I really should have a great "what not to do" poster with my face plastered right in the center.

Okay, so remember that punishment thing for this next part.

One of the "extreme couponing" tips is to buy meat that is marked down for immediate sale. So when I was looking for lamb for my indian dish I intended to make for dinner last night, I saw that veal was marked for quick sale so I got that instead of lamb chops.

When I got back into the car, the following conversation took place (two disclaimers: 1. MB should have learned by now to not let me go into a grocery store by myself and 2. I really am a dumb blonde).

"So I got veal for the indian dish I'm making tonight which is perfect because it's already chopped into small pieces so I don't have to cut it off the bone and you know how much I hate doing that AND it was on sale! Do you think baby lamb will work for this dish?"

::insert confused look on MB's face followed by that same look I got at church::

"Brynn, you do realize that veal isn't lamb, right?"

& I didn't y'all. I always thought veal was baby lamb because it was always with the lamb at the grocery store and because I never had veal until I was living in DC in my late 20's.

"Brynn, I'm sure it will still work but you do realize how offensive this is to the indian culture where the cow is sacred? I mean, Jesus won't mind but Buddha's going to be pissed."

& even in all my brattiness, I couldn't bring myself to make veal in the indian dish. So I improvised and made some type of penne-little pieces of veal-parmisany dish.

That has apparently made me sick all freaking night and morning.

MB, who is not afflicted by this at all which proves that my prayer worked and is proof indeed that Jesus is allowing the natural course of action to take place to punish me for my brattiness yesterday, only had one parting word of advice and warning to me when he left this morning...

"Never buy marked for sale meat again and quit watching Extreme Couponing."

I would add "Never be all Judgy McJudgy with church guest speakers and members again" but I think that probably goes without saying.

Proof Beyond a Reasonable Doubt...

2011-07-09T01:11:00.000-07:00

So, MB has this ridiculously heavy and convoluted roll-top desk that he loves and adores. Unfortunately, we needed to move it about 2 feet to the right.

& y'all, it wasn't happening. Both MB and I were struggling with it and finally gave up.

The next day, MB came home from work to find the desk moved two feet over and completely baffled, asked how in the world I had done it without breaking the desk (like I did the bookcase back in February--- ooops!).

Fortunately, I had left my "tools" out so he could see how I had done it.

Why, yes that is indeed one of our Williams-Sonoma cookie sheets.

Oh, and a few tupperware lids.

So, this is solid proof of:

A. My self-reliance from living on my own for years

B. My love for all things Williams-Sonoma

C. Why MB gets a headache from living with me

D. I am a blonde genius!

Is it me you're searching for?

2011-07-08T09:24:00.000-07:00

I've learned that I'm not so good with vlogging. I do weird things with my eyes. I don't focus on the camera so I end up looking like I have serious ADD. I slouch in the chair which makes me look puffy. & I do this weird thing where I lean back my neck/head and then end up looking like I have 2 chins (I don't in real life. & BY golly if I do, no one needs to tell me.... just encourage me to keep running!)

I look washed out. & broken out.

But what the hay.... here is an unrehearsed, unscripted vlog.

I throw hissy fits so you know that I'm okay. See I'm doing you a favor...

2011-07-07T07:56:00.001-07:00

I'm a little dramatic.

Absolutely no one is surprised by this. The thing is I'm only dramatic about stuff that doesn't really matter to me or that I have found someway to make funny.

A couple of weeks ago, we headed to the pool and I had forgotten our towels. It wasn't a huge deal seeing as how it was 900 degrees and you would be dry the minute you step out of the lukewarm water. A couple of days later, we had decided to hit the pool again.

MB was sitting on the couch and I came out of the bathroom carrying our beach towels and started yelling.

"I can't believe you are upset that I forgot the towels last time. I NEVER forget the towels and I make one measly mistake and you never let me live it down. Fine, here's your towel ::throws one at him:: and here's another in case I screwed this up too ::chunks the other towel at him::."

Oh, how MB was laughing. He never once thought I was serious (it helps that he was never upset about the lack of towels nor had he said anything about it). I don't yell and throw stuff. MB laughed so hard he could barely breathe.

I just randomly throw some dramatic flair for him for his amusement.

The other day, we were at dinner sharing a dessert and MB took the lone cherry and ate it. I got quiet and my lip quivered. Just as the waiter walked up, I choked out "When did you stop loving me?". The waiter froze in his footsteps with a look of fright and MB just looked shocked before bursting out laughing.

Y'all know that MB is my little merman. He loves the ocean and it kills him that I won't go in unless the water is crystal clear which never happens here. So at the beach the other day, I started in with him. "You are going to leave me and find someone else who can get in the ocean, aren't you? You know why I am leery of it, there are JELLYFISH in there. I'm allergic to JELLYFISH. I could DIE. You're going to leave me because I don't want to risk DYING right in front of your eyes?"

To which he replied, "Look where the water is breaking right there with the waves? That's where the jellyfish typically are. It's only knee deep. If you go past there, there aren't jellyfish."

I believed him even though he might be lying. It's like that time that my family told me they put out little things that vibrate in the ground to keep snakes away from our yard.

So, I looked at him and said, "Carry me".

& y'all, he looked at me and then looked at my thighs.

& with keen insight that he just entered very dangerous territory, he hustled me out to the water before I utter a word.

All this to say.... I'm dramatic.

So, when I'm not dramatic about something, it kind of freaks MB out. He's walking on eggshells around me these days.

You see, my fuzzy headed birdies are gone. They have flown the coup. The nest is ::holds breath and composes myself:: EMPTY.

Y'all know that I am crazy about these birds and they filled a void. Their chirping delighted me. I dragged MB out to the balcony constantly to show him what they were doing. I was quite dramatic about the birds.

MB is just shocked at my reaction.... or lack thereof. He's walking around like at any minute I'm going to meltdown about the birds. He keeps trying to be soothing. He'll say things like, "I bet they come back at night when we are asleep" or "They will be back when it's time for them to have babies and we'll have more fuzzy-headed birdies".

& I'll nod my head in agreement when we both know my birdies aren't coming back.

& the truth is that, of course, I'm sad. But I'm hoping that this means my season of nesting is almost over as well. Time moves on, seasons change and life happens. Hopefully, this means our waiting season is almost done and we will get to move on from this.

But, I'm going to have to do something quite dramatic to let MB know that I'm okay or the sweet man is never going to stop being nervous around me.

I'm thinking of laying out on the floor saying, "they are gone. GONE. However will we go on?"

**bonus points for the rhyming**

Or saying I can't eat chicken or turkey for a while because it makes me sad and reminds me of the birds.

Or stand on the balcony looking at the nest and singing, "I'm allllll alooonnnnneee".

I don't know what, but my man needs some flair to know that I'm good.

File this post under the category of "MB deserves a medal for living with me".

Grab a cup of coffee & let's catch up....

2011-07-06T08:50:00.000-07:00

Time for another round of bullet points of randomosity!

On Friday I had another job interview that I was so nervous about that I actually made my finger bleed from wringing my hands. I prayed hard for a sign as to whether this would be the position for me. While I was waiting to interview, I looked across the hall to an office to see a dog walking back and forth on a desk. I'm not so good with sign deciphering-- is this a sign that this place is quirky as anything and I'll fit right in or is this a sign that I should run? I guess I don't have to ponder that too much seeing as how I haven't heard back from them.

That evening, MB went to play poker at our saintly friend's house. I watched Disney all night long. When MB got home, he jokingly asked if I had rented any adult movies to which I retorted that I had watched the girl version of it--- Disney! I now have unrealistic expectations of romance from him and warned him that he was due to burst into song about how much he loved me at any point. I also had unrealistic expectations of my hair.

"I want to talk about something more important, my hair." Since my hair has lost most of the tangerineness, I've been trying my best to get it looking good. On Saturday, I got all prettied up to go meet MB's Maryland family for the first time. Y'all, I finally got my hair to look like Carrie Underwood's slightly-wave style. It looked absolutely fabulous and I wish I would have taken a pic before we left because by the time we got to the restaurant, I looked trashtastic. Seriously, I looked like one of the guys from KISS after the concert. My hair even frightened MB. It took forever to detangle it later that night and I don't care what Johnson & Johnson says, there were tears! So Sunday (while running late for church), I attempted Pink Lou-Lou's trademarked 'messy side bun thingy' and it turned out cute. I got compliments on it. I even did this on the 4th to go to the beach. It survived the ocean, sun, and even going downtown to watch fireworks.

We had fun at the beach, it was the first time we have gone since before MB's surgery. MB was so proud because I actually got in past my knees. Of course, that is because he pretty much carried me past the rocks that I was convinced were crabs and the jellyfish breaker area. 894 people were treated for jellyfish stings this weekend at the local beach, but I was not one of them!

By the time we got to River St. to watch the fireworks, we were pretty worn out. Me, from the sun and MB from having to carry me in and out of the ocean as well as me clinging on for dear life while in the ocean. My Boston man got all kinds of attention from the ladies that evening... who could blame them? He's got that devilishly handsome thing going on.

Yesterday, I was amazed at what a foul mood THE VERDICT put me in. I really expected a guilty verdict. I think that part of human nature feels redeemed & validated when we feel like someone has gotten a punishment that they deserve & when we feel like someone doesn't get punished, it signifies something really wrong with the world. It shakes our core belief system and unfortunately we have to remember that even though someone 'may not get what they deserve' here on earth, they will have to answer to their maker. It doesn't seem fair. I know that I may not ever have kids of my own and it feels unfair that the wrong kind of people get to become parents. I know of a couple of my friends who are battling infertility who felt the same way. I'm trying to have compassion for her, but at the end of the day, a precious toddler is dead. & that's all that matters to me.

I also started wondering about what would happen if Casey Anthony relocated to Savannah and started going to my church (this was a fb status). I know that my church is full of people who have done horrid things (myself included) & I embrace anyone in my church. I really don't think I could handle her in my church (mainly because I don't think that she has one ounce of any sincerity in her) and I know that is a sign of my weakness in my faith walk that I need to work on.

Finally, how about some things that are amusing me?

Source: peace-love-run.tumblr.com via Wicked on Pinterest

Source: penguinsaysfeedme.com via Wicked on Pinterest

I've got to make those! So cute!

Source: tabletonic.blogspot.com via Wicked on Pinterest

I'm obsessed with this chalkboard! I've got to make one pronto!

Source: studio-sweet-studio.com via Wicked on Pinterest

How the Crazy Spend their days...

2011-06-30T06:03:00.000-07:00

Not working has brought out the neurotic in me just a little bit more. I now find I have all these self-imposed rules on myself.

Like no going back to sleep when MB leaves for work. Doesn't matter that he sometimes leaves at 5:45 a.m. Granted, I will go back to bed but just not to sleep. & I only go back to bed because it's frigid in the apartment and I stay there until I can survive being wrapped up in a blanket sitting at the computer.

The other day, a friend commented on how I have no tan. Seriously, I'm pastier than Elmer's Glue. She was telling me about how if she wasn't working, she'd be at the pool every day. I don't go to the pool when MB is at work.

My job is to find a job. & honestly, MB is pretty gracious about this whole "not working" thing most of the time. I would imagine he would be a little aggravated to text me during the day to tell me about what a rough one he's having and I'm all like, "Poor baby, I'm sorry. I slept until 10 and am at the pool. My gosh, it's a hot one".

(For the record, if you are a stay-at-home wife/mother/whatever and go back to bed or hang out at the pool, absolutely no judgement. I'm only like this because this is not a decision we made and we both realize I've got to get back to work as soon as possible.)

Anyhow, the thing is... I'm really busy. I have no idea why or how but time typically flies by for me. This became apparent the other day when MB walked into our home and I was completely caught off-guard. I had worked out later in the day (working out is fine because MB knows I hate doing it and the least I can do is work on being a better looking girl for him. Which is funny because I'm looking like Clark Kent's ugly little sister again because I'm having to wear glasses to get over the eye infection.) and after running a few miles, I was dying. I walked into the door, immediately got out of the extremely sweat soaked clothes and was walking from the laundry room to go shower when MB walked in. We were both startled because I was stark raving nekkid but even more so for me, because I thought I had another 1.5 hours before he got home.

That led to an experiment. Seeing as how I can set a bajillion alarms on my iphone, I randomly set 12 alarms for the next day. I wanted to see exactly what was filling my time. & seeing as how MB doesn't read the blog too much anymore, I'm going to be candid about what I was doing.

6:13 a.m. Making a smoothie for MB, pulling out his orange and water bottle and setting all three items with his daily vitamins.
6:49 a.m. Back in bed under the covers with frostbite reading ~~twitter~~ the news on my iphone.
7:43 a.m. Wrapped up in two blankets with the balcony door open to warm up the room, sitting on computer going through job listings. Applying when appropriate. Don't be surprised when I'm the next travel agent/smoothie store owner because I can make $100,000 a month!
7:51 a.m. ::sighs:: my birdies were chirping and I went outside to try to take pictures of them. & I talked about the housing market and recession so they would know they got a good thing going on here so they should NEVER ever leave. But then I went right back to job applying. ::pinky swears::
9:02 a.m. Honestly, I've begun the procrastination to working out process. I'm making the bed, folding laundry and trying to find menial chores to do to justify putting off the run.
10:14 a.m. Still procrastinating that run. Gotten online to see what couponing I need to do.
11:00 a.m. Dying. Seriously. I'm halfway into my run and I'm begging for death.
11:50 a.m. Sitting in the shower trying to recover from the run.
12:25 p.m. Currently driving to the store to get my couponing on. I have wet hair and no make-up on. Feel ironic when I read on facebook about the "Be the Only Girlfriend He'll Ever Have Marriage Challenge" where you pledge to look as cute as you can every day for your man. Make myself feel slightly better when I realize that MB loves saving money. So my couponing is sexy for him.
2:27 p.m. I've gone to three stores and bought the following items spending only 69 cents! ($.69 people!!) My rule with couponing {{now}} is I only buy what I was going to anyway. I'm currently telling people about this on facebook and twitter.

3:40 p.m. Driving MB to his physical therapy appointment. Mildly cranky that he doesn't seem to appreciate my couponing or mega savings much less find it sexy. He had a bad day at work.
4:13 p.m. Sitting in the waiting room while MB does his PT thing, reading twitter and facebook streams, and mentally trying to decide a starch side dish to serve with dinner that goes with the sockeye salmon and broccoli I had planned to cook. Typically, I'd do brown rice but I've served rice for the previous two nights. (End up making red beans and rice which totally didn't go with dinner)

So apparently, I need to get off of twitter and facebook a bit more. It'd be helpful if I'd get going earlier in the mornings. & if I could take the effort to blow dry my hair. Or put on make-up.

I'm amazed that I worked full-time and managed to get all this crap done all within a day. I must have been on drugs.

Pinteresting... New England Style

2011-06-29T08:10:00.000-07:00

Oh, it's time for another round of....

This week, I had at first decided to do a theme of what makes me happy. & y'all, one of the things I love most is a beautiful, organized laundry room. I have no idea why it makes me so happy but it does. In fact, our laundry room is the favorite room in our place and I can assure you it has absolutely nothing to do with doing laundry. In fact, I hate doing laundry. But, I don't know... maybe I would love it more if I had a truly beautiful laundry room like this one?

Source: msimondesign.blogspot.com via Wicked on Pinterest

But then I started thinking about how excited MB and I are to go to Hilton Head this weekend to see some of his family that's visiting. & that got me thinking about family and summer and how I love my new New England family. I'd love for us to go to the beach for the weekend and sit around here laughing, telling stories and having fun...

Source: potterybarn.com via Wicked on Pinterest

We'd play games... like bocci ball. Truly, it was one of the highlights last summer when we were in New England to visit his family. The laughs, my terrible throws, the stories. So fun...

Source: theweddingac.com via Wicked on Pinterest

Then, in true New England style, we'd have a clam bake!

Source: google.com via Wicked on Pinterest

I'd, of course, have to wear this little Essie gem of a color (Clambake) on my toes...

Source: essie.com via Wicked on Pinterest

and what a perfect New England family gathering that would be! & in honor of that, and my little fuzzy-headed birdies, this would sum it all up...

Source: foodwineandmodpodge.blogspot.com via Wicked on Pinterest

Not suicidal, just stalking...

2011-06-29T07:23:00.000-07:00

MB and I have started a little tradition of having a glass of wine or a drink on the balcony in the evenings occasionally.

The other night when we were out there, MB pointed to a nest of spanish moss that was in a nook in the outer corner of the balcony.

& y'all, I fell in love. I also fell into obsession as you know if you are a facebook friend. During the storm that evening, I kept going to check on them and I might of even asked MB to take drastic measures to protect my ~~babies~~ birdies.

The next morning, right after MB left for work, instead of jumping in on my million item To-Do List, I was outside in my pajamas trying to get pics of the birds.

Who were utterly terrified by me and would cower in the nest.

So I waited a few hours and then went back out there with a plan.

My calamity jane self decided I would take a barstool out to the corner of the balcony and climb up on it to attempt to get close enough to get a decent picture.

Within minutes, I had an audience downstairs that was grasping their hearts because it looked like I was suicidal and about to jump. I guess they assumed that I knew a 3rd floor jump probably wouldn't kill me so I brought a bar stool out to get more height.

True story, y'all.

& the worst part is that I couldn't get the pics. I also realized the best case scenario was I break the camera and the worst case was that I break the camera and me in a fall. This has nothing to do with the rant that was unleashed on me when MB saw that I had a barstool and was trying to climb on the balcony railing to get close enough and the right angle for the picture.

Since then, I've been sneaking out quietly to attempt to get a picture of my little fuzzy-headed birdies. The problem is with the Savannah humidity of like 900% the lens fogs up almost immediately and it takes forever to clear up.

I've terrorized these birds so much that they don't cower quite as much but enough that I can't get a picture.

The thing is... that I love them. I love their little fuzzy heads. I love hearing them chirp. I want to build a giant home for them. I've already told MB that we are getting a bird feeder for them and a bird bath.

I've been anxious because I know they are going to leave and I don't want them to. I'm not ready to be an empty-nester.

I've been talking to them. (People, it worked for all the Disney princesses!) MB keeps reminding me that I can't bring them inside. Under no circumstances. At all.

They've been my little happiness factor. The past couple of weeks haven't been easy. On the days when I feel alone and worthless, and I'm counting down the minutes until MB gets home and I have a purpose again, I hear them chirping and it makes me blissful. I don't feel so bad. I have a little hope that this is just my season in my little nest and God is preparing me to fly to great heights soon.

So, I've been terrorizing them. Stalking them. I've been their own little paparazzi.

& today, I was rewarded.

You can clearly see both of my little fuzzy-headed birdies! Not only that, but one is so brave and didn't cower at all!

Now we need names, people. I'm completely open to suggestions. In fact, I will do something special for the person(s) who come up with the best names. I don't know what yet but rest assured, it will be awesome.

No surprise, I'm a failure at extreme couponing...

2011-06-24T06:48:00.000-07:00

So as you all read, last Saturday I was in the doghouse. MB was not home that evening and I was absorbed into some sort of numbness and I got sucked into Extreme Couponing. Like four hours of it.

I've never watched it before, but I can see why people do. It's like a menagerie of emotion. First, suspicion. No way they walk out of the store paying nothing. Then, awestruck. Holy moly, they are! Then inspiration. Well, if they can do it, so can I.

Here's my disclaimer before the rant. I applaud their efforts and love that they can donate extra food to charities. I know it is an incredible amount of dedication, time and effort to do this. Also, TLC? Instead of a show about Extreme Couponers who are all pretty much buying the same thing, how about a show where the Extreme Couponers come to households like mine and show us how to do it with our lifestyle/inexperience?

My first issue with this concept is that it appears that the majority of the food that is bought is unhealthy. (One lady bought 163 bags/boxes of candy. I don't care if it's free, it's 163 packages of candy.) This also brought up my second issue-- the majority of the stuff they were buying, I never buy.

However, I did recognize that beyond the fresh fruit, veggies and meat that we buy (which averages about $40-$60 per week) there are things we purchase that couponing would be applicable. Like almond milk, olive oil, cleaning supplies, laundry supplies, paper products and such.

Yesterday, I headed out to the store to pick up some staples. I spent $42 dollars after saving $8 in coupons/discounts. I normally would have spent $22. This is a big fat failure on my part.

& here is the crux of my problem:

Extreme Couponers gave me unrealistic expectations of myself and when I failed, it made me feel even worse.

This is a common problem in my life. Case in point: I have orange hair. Less orange but still orange. Believing everyone who told me I could do it myself and save $200, I believed them.

DIY projects have the same effect on me as well. I burn myself every 4th time I cook, why on God's green earth would anyone want to give me a glue gun? I swear I'm missing fingerprints on two fingers from the last time I took on a DIY project.

The problem is I see how "easy" it's supposed to be and I want to do it. My pillows turn out to look like they have been attacked by rabid dogs instead of ruffly. My coffee filter flower lamp shade looks like a fire hazard. & dear gussy, don't even let me get started on how my wreaths end up looking like one of rings of hell of Dante's Inferno.

& then I'm left looking as sad and pathetic as whatever "easy" project I attempted.

& swear to never do something like that again.

Until someone else has some brilliant idea and I'm all on board with wanting to try it like an over-eager puppy.

Case in point: Lady T of the Seersucker has started a garden. Knowing that if anyone ever thinks I have a green thumb it will be because of some unfortunate accident with dye, I know better. My plants commit suicide.

However, the other night I broached the subject with MB. "You know, I could maybe grow a few things in some pots. Herbs, small produce. I could try it."

MB: This is a disaster waiting to happen. Don't do it.
Me: But just some herbs?
MB: You will have a run-in with a snake and we all know the horrible accidents caused by your fear of snakes. ::Looks pointedly at his swollen knee he had surgery on::
Me: But it'd be on our 3rd floor balcony.
MB: You came across a snake outside the door two months ago and are convinced we need to put rope outside of our door because you saw that trick in True Grit.
Me: I could put rope on our balcony.
MB: No. You will accidentally hurt yourself tripping on it. You broke your foot running at night when you tripped on nothing! Plus you cry when the plants die.
Me: ::shuffles foot:: Nuh-uh.
MB: ::pointed stare::
Me: ::mumbles and changes the subject::

Also, Saint Sarah has inspired me to refinish/paint our coffee table (I love the furniture projects she's taken on--turned out beautifully!). MB has absolutely put his foot down about it unless someone (other than him) supervises me. & wouldn't you know it? Not one single person I know is willing to take that task on.

People, friends, and TLC: Please stop setting me up for disappointment and disaster in setting unrealistic expectations of "easy" projects. I'm an unmarried, unemployed 30 year old woman. I can't take the feeling of failure right now.

When droopy boobs won't fix the problem...

2011-06-23T09:49:00.000-07:00

I'm going to tell you about the doghouse.

Kind of.

But first I'm going to taint the jury, so to speak, and tell you about MB's Father's Day present which he got on Friday because (1) we all know how I can't keep a surprise and (2) MB was seriously concerned I would spontaneously combust if I had to keep the secret one more day. He's such a good man.

So, he opened his small box that was wrapped in a white, black and gray stripe. & within it, he found a small envelope. In the envelope was a small notecard. On the outside of the notecard, I'd written a quote about being a dad. On the inside was a clue for him to decipher to find his next clue.

That's right, a treasure hunt! All eleven clues were like that, quotes I wrote on the outside (some serious, some funny like "having one child makes you a parent; having two makes you a referee") with clues on the inside. The clues ultimately led to a large wrapped present under the bed that was a framed print he's been wanting for a long time. It's Bobby Orr's Flying Dive when the Bruins won the Stanley Cup back in the 70's. MB, as we all know, is from New England and loves all things Boston including his Bruins. & what made this so awesome is that the Bruins locked in the Stanley Cup last week. If you notice, the wrapping paper and notecards were the Bruins colors. Y'all know how I love a theme.

I'm really excited how well this prezzie came off. MB is the hardest man to shop for. He absolutely loved the gift.

Saturday, we had a great morning and then went to play a round of putt-putt at which I only lost by 20 strokes or so. Vast improvement for me.

Things took a turn for the worse a little later that afternoon. MB came out of the bathroom to see me sobbing. You can imagine he was quite confused as I'd been fine when he went into the bathroom.

While he was in the restroom, I had opened a piece of mail that had caused me to meltdown because I knew I was going to have to confess something pretty huge to MB and I knew it was not going to be pretty. & it wasn't. At all.

I'm not going into details but I will say that this was relating to something that was affecting my credit report/score that he was unaware of and as we all know, this is something that is uber-important to him. This is something that I'm going to have to take care of and something that isn't easily taken care of. Instead of hiding it (which in all honesty I would have much preferred to do), I told MB. Because I knew that this might be a marriage deal breaker. & I want to be as honest as I can with him. & because I've learned the hard way that transparency and honesty is always, always best.

Ultimately, he's not leaving me over it. However, it is something that I have to handle.

MB and I occasionally butt heads. It happens, because we are both strong-willed.

However, this is the first time that I had to confess something to him that I knew was going to be a humongous deal. (We all know I had to confess something earlier this year, but I knew it wasn't such a deal breaker).

& I don't know how to get past this. I sent this question out on twitter the other night "What do you do with the white elephant in the room after a relationship issue".

I've never had to confess something in a relationship like this before and I somewhat expect when I do have to confess something, people leave me. They choose not to have me in their life after I disappoint them. This has been my thinking all of my life so a lot of the time, if I've ever done anything disappointing, I try to hide it as long as possible. I try my hardest to be perfect and to never disappoint.

In all honesty, I'm not the type of person you have to punish. I do such a superb job on my own of doing that. I've mentioned before how I'm a guilt-ridden and guilt-motivated person. & I've been doing feeling like scum ever since confessing.

I keep waiting for some punishment to be doled out (from God or MB or both). I'm truly sorry and I keep telling MB that (he's tired of hearing it). He's not punishing me, taunting me or being mean. It just feels like it's still there.

Sunday, we went to dinner to celebrate Father's Day and I pulled a Rachel a la Friends. I sported the cleavage which I never do. & Murphy's Law got me again. Our waiter? A very nice man from our church. So my boobs are all gaping out (& let's be honest, while MB was not hating that fact, my boobs are 30+ years old and aren't as pretty anymore. No one needs to be subjected to those droopy things!) and this poor fellow from church is so uncomfortable.

So while I am in the doghouse, it's more because I've kept myself there. Part of me thinks I need to stay in it until I've resolved the actual issue I think.

I hope I'm not the only guilt-ridden, self-punishing person out there that doesn't quite know how to redeem herself or get moved past an issue.

& I hope if you are like me, well... I hope you have better boobs than I do.

Pining and Pinning from the Doghouse

2011-06-22T06:34:00.000-07:00

It goes without saying that this hasn't been my finest week. Between the blues and just life, I'm not feeling very brynntastic. I don't really know what that means, but it makes sense. I'm not me. Blah.

However.

This morning, right after MB left, I quickly hurried to the computer because I've been promising to do Pin-Interesting Wednesday with the beautiful Vintage Apple for the past few weeks.

& because I ~~procrastinate, am confused how it works, generally just suck~~ have been a little preoccupied in thinking about how my world is ::thisclose:: to collapsing on my pretty little orange head, I had my very first pinning experience.

& it made my heart happy, y'all. I wish I had done this sooner.

I started by looking for a few of my favorite things like peonies, Tiffany Blue, yellow and quotes. Then it all came together in a wonderful way.

I've decided to paint our place. The fact that MB is so not on board with this and I'm already in the doghouse (which is even that much more tragic because we don't even have a dog and I so desperately want one) doesn't seem to overly matter.

Because, he's missing the logic in it. We are in the perpetual waiting room. If we paint something in this place, it will definitely spur action. Not because of feng shui but because of Murphy's Law. Since we are waiting to hear if we are moving, painting and doing something permanent will make it happen if we are.

Makes total sense, right? So without further ado, here is a few of my favorites from pinning today.

Source: thatkindofwoman.tumblr.com via Wicked on Pinterest

Source: keep-calm-and.tumblr.com via Wicked on Pinterest

Source: pretty-zoo.com via Wicked on Pinterest

This quote so sums up what I'm feeling:

Source: fashioninmyeyes.com via Wicked on Pinterest

And this is what I hope the door looks like when I get there... Isn't is gorgeous? It looks like a door of opportunity that has beautiful, wonderful and fabulous things within!

Source: beautiful-portals.tumblr.com via Wicked on Pinterest

If I was single, this is the bedroom I would have. How could you ever wake up with the blues in this room?

Source: rowhousenest.com via Wicked on Pinterest

But, this bedroom is a great compromise for MB and me. It's got the steel gray that MB likes plus just hints of yellow. I love the pillows as they even look like my favorite beloved flower, peony!

Source: pinterest.com via Wicked on Pinterest

& I need this little office nook for myself. This is my inspiration place. My serenity. My pretty. I need.

Source: simplykellyblog.com via Wicked on Pinterest

& this is where things get harmonious again. Yellow, Tiffany Blue and a cupcake. Hello, trifecta of Brynn.

Source: etsy.com via Wicked on Pinterest

This made me hopeful and excited. I *so* hope so.

Source: pretty-zoo.com via Wicked on Pinterest

& finally, where I'm doing my dreaming these days.

Source: plasticdoghouses.org via Wicked on Pinterest

Don't knock it. It's at least a doghouse with a view.

Memos from God

2011-06-21T09:13:00.000-07:00

My life would be so much easier if God sent memos out.

I respond well with memos. I don't know if it is the organizer, the corporate personality or just a love of all things paper, but memos rock my world. Many times in the workplace I wish I could just get a memo/status update instead of having to sit through all the meetings. Send the memo. If someone reads it and needs to discuss something with you, then meet.

I really hate meetings. I hate meetings as much as I love memos.

I joked with a friend that I wish God sent memos. I trust God, I do. I just sometimes feel like I'm missing something-- I'm not seeing something or I'm not doing something-- and it's prohibiting God's plan for my life.

& right now, I need God a whole lot. I am in desperate need of a few miracles for some situations that are looming and some that are exploding in my face.

It's not that I feel like God has to answer to me at all, it's just that I feel like I'm not answering him. The memo could resolve this. This is what I would love. This is what I imagine it should look like and I'll take the "gimme" issue of the job situation.

Official Memo from the Desk of God

To: Brynn

From: God

Date: June 21, 2011

RE: Unemployment

_______________________________________________________________________________

This issue is on track to be resolved by the deadline of ::insert date here::. I've opened up doors at ::insert appropriate response here:: and made contact with ::insert appropriate person here::. This deadline was set to allow ample time for you to provide care for MB during and after his medical crisis, and for you to be able to :: do this and this and this:: and learn how to trust me with all of you.

In order for this issue to be resolved in the appropriate timeline, I will need the following from you:

Apply at such and such place
Meet with this person
Learn humility and get your pride in check
Stop sinning in this situation
Talk to this person who will coincidentally know a person at the place you are going to apply
Prayer
Etc, etc, etc

Timely completion of the before-mentioned items will result in a positive resolution to this issue and will occur before ::this crisis:: and ::this crisis:: blow up next.

That would be awesome. I would know what I am supposed to do and what I'm doing wrong. I love memos.

You know, tomorrow is my half-birthday. & this isn't how I expected the first six months of my 30's to go. I've had some blessings (engaged!) and some cursings (fired!). But I never expected that I would spend the entire time in a perpetual waiting room. Waiting to hear about moving. Waiting for a job. Waiting for miracles. Waiting for prayers to be answered. Waiting to hear about health results for MB.

I have a raging eye infection. I feel it is only appropriate though. I can't see clearly. I can only see what is immediately in front of me clearly. The symbolism isn't lost on me. Literally and figuratively, I can only see what is right before me. I can't see the solution. I can't see down the road. I don't know what's there or how smoothly it will be for me to get from here to there. I don't know how long I'm going to be in this situation. I don't know if it, the infection and the situation, will get worse before it gets better. I don't know when the issues will be cleared up. I don't know if the current plan to fix the situation is the right one. I don't know if the medicine (or prayer) is working.

So maybe instead of a memo, I need a prescription from God. Actually, I'm really greedy and impatient. I'd like both please.

A Lady of Observations

2011-06-15T09:57:00.000-07:00

I'm a lady of observation.

::sits up straight and perches one eyebrow up::

This is, of course, what I say when I'm trying to make whatever I'm doing sound classier than "I'm stalking Pink Lou Lou's blog to see how to get pretty", "I'm stalking twitter to see what Princess Amber is doing", or when I'm just being a judgmental horrid being and saying that Lake Bell looks atrocious on old episodes of Boston Legal.

Whatevs. I'm a lady of observation, y'all.

But, occasionally, I really do have legitimate observations or at least, observations worth discussing. Doesn't happen much, so I need to take advantage of this.

Recent Observations:

Apparently, running and all the training I have been doing has shaved some serious inches off of my waist/hip/booty/thigh area. This was rather obvious when I was wearing a cute madras skirt (which hit lower than normal) going down the stairs, and my cheeky VS underroos dropped to my ankles like I was in a bad rap song. (I've switched them all out to a size smaller, rest assured).
I'm embarrassed to admit this (apparently my spontaneous moment of going commando didn't shame face me as much as this) but MB put his foot down about my closet. Granted, I have the teeniest closet, but the shoe situation was out of control. He promptly took me to get an organizer. But then he had the gall to get all huffy about how many shoes I have (it doesn't look so bad when they are just piled in the floor in a heap, but start putting them in a rack and I start looking like a shoe dept). He is of the belief I should only have enough shoes to fill the rack. I distracted him with an argument of 'no way, you have more shoes than I do' and while he went off to count his shoes, I hid a lot of the shoes in a suitcase in the bottom of my closet. His next argument was that I don't wear half the shoes in my closet because they are uncomfy or stilettos (please note they don't necessarily belong in the same category). Of course, being jobless, I have no reason to wear anything besides flip flops or running shoes 90% of the time. I'm going to start cooking in stilettos to make sure he sees me wearing them.
While my hair is no longer orange, thanks to a new color treatment given by a color specialist, it's not back to normal yet. It still has two tones to it, but much less orange. By the time I get the next treatment, it will be all fixed. However, I ruined a towel, a shirt and stained the shower in several places attempting to do this treatment myself. It may be time to let the professionals handle it henceforth.
When I run at the gym, it overlooks the community pool. I hate saying this, but there are several women sporting itty-bitty bikinis who should be in the gym with me instead of oiling up at the pool if they want to wear that particular swimsuit. If you are not pregnant, nor given birth in the past year, get a more modest two piece or one piece please. There are kids around and they are in severe danger of the explosion that is about to occur from your string bikini that is clenching onto dear life to your body. Note: if there isn't any "string" to hang down after you tie it, it's too small for you.
I told this via twitter to one of my fave bloggers who had the audacity to look cute in a picture that was taken towards the end of a half marathon, that it was highly unfair. I look like an italian sausage that is about to burst when I run more than three miles.
I'm not pretty these days. Fortunately, I have a wonderful man who ~~lies with a straight face~~ tells me daily how pretty he thinks I am. I don't get all girly-cute anymore (like my beloved Pink Lou Lou). I'm trying to get back in the habit of it.
That I am a horrible friend. I consider Princess Amber to be one of my bestest friends, but I had no idea the depth of what she went through with her second child. Read this and be humbled, awed and angry.
Some of my most favorite people in the world are ones that I've never even met in real life (Lady T of the Seersucker and Sara). Lady T of the Seersucker is one of my top five favorite people in the world, right up there with God and MB so that's saying something. This is something that MB absolutely doesn't get and it drives him mad when I say "Oh, I had the best email from my friend Sara" or such. He always asks, "is this a real life friend?", which makes me feel like I'm a crazy person that has imaginary friends.
Just to prove I'm not crazy, I do have some 'real life friends' that are some of my most favorite people in the world. Princess Amber and Saint SarahCate, even if their titles do make it seem like I'm back in la-la-loony land. They are REAL, I swear.
& my favorite observation? MB and I are thisclose to locking in the wedding date and y'all, it's going to be very soon (not like next week soon, but soon in the wedding sense, which means in the late summer, very early fall.)

Hope your week is going well! Next week, I'll start doing "Pintresting Wednesday" brought to you by another favorite person, Michelle at The Vintage Apple!

Kissing in Elevators

2011-06-08T08:16:00.000-07:00

"You know there's a tradition about kissing in elevators, right?"

Sometimes random stuff just flies right out of my mouth before I even realize what I'm saying which leaves not only whom I am speaking to looking bewildered, but myself as well, at whatever I said. However, this is one of the best random things I've ever said in my entire life.

On our first date, MB gave me the sweetest and most perfect kiss that was so respectable he would have earned points from my grandmother and that's really saying something because one of her greatest fears was that I would fall for a yankee.

I'll never forget our first kiss. The anticipation. The softness. The nervous look in his eye right before he embraced me. He wowed me.

After a couple of really fantastic dates, I was falling hard for this guy. Witty, handsome, sweet, hilarious, smart-- he had it all. I was starting to get extremely apprehensive.

Because he had yet to really "kiss" me. Everything had been closed mouth and respectable. Here's where we give my respectable man all kinds of props... in a world where men pretty much expect *everything* to happen on a first date, here's a man who's being a kiss pecker and not asking me to kiss his pec---,well you get the point.

Anyhow, his noble and honorable behavior was really start drive me crazy. My theory was he knew he was a horrid kisser and so he was trying to make sure I was head over heels in love with him before I discovered that disappointment.

& ladies, we all have our bad kisser stories. & I didn't think I could I handle another blender... you know, the man who thinks he's whipping up a smoothie in your mouth so there's so much rapid swirling that you think your tongue should look like a corkscrew by the time he's done.

Anyhow, back to the story. MB called me and asked if I had plans that next Saturday. When I stated that I wasn't sure, he said "Well, now you do. We are going to spend the day in Baltimore and go to a Red Sox game."

At which, I swooned. Because honestly, I love a man who sweeps me off my feet to take me to see his favorite baseball team.

I kid. I swooned because I love a man who surprises me by making plans for something fun. & I knew that if he was taking me to see his beloved Red Sox, it meant he must like me as much as I was liking him.

When we got to Baltimore that Saturday, we parked in a parking garage. As soon as we got into the elevator, I uttered those infamous words.

"You know there's a tradition about kissing in the elevator, right?"

He looked startled. & y'all, I will never forget the look on his face 2.5 seconds later when his eyebrows raised and he got a boyish smile. I think he may have uttered the words "Well, I do want the Red Sox to win" but if he did I ~~blocked it out~~ romantically censored it.

& y'all. Wow. Big huge wow. Best kiss ever. I was seriously dazed afterwards and then delighted to the tips of my toes that he was so not a bad kisser, he was a fabulous one. Between that dark smolder in his eyes and his kisses that knocked me off my feet, this man was dangerous.

The best part is that when we got to the bottom floor, he realized that he'd forgotten the tickets in his car so we had another elevator ride back upstairs to get them and another elevator ride down.

& I was smooching the daylights out of him. While we played tourist that day in the Bay area, I longed for that mouth of his.

By the time we got to the game, he was worn out from kissing me.

& his kisses still leave me breathless, gooey and lovey-dovey-eyed today.

This tradition though of kissing in elevators has been the best idea ever. Every time we are in an elevator, MB gets a grin and then comes in for a kiss. There are times that the elevator is packed or due to whomever is in the elevator, it's not appropriate for us to kiss... but we give each other a knowing look and a secretive grin.

& whenever MB is in an elevator without me, he thinks of me and of kissing me without fail. Knowing that handsome guy is somewhere thinking about kissing me thrills me to my soul. & if I'm in an elevator without him, he always knows because whenever I see him, I yell "incoming" and come in for a really steamy smooch because I've been thinking of his kisses since the minute I was in the elevator.

& the best part? I get to kiss this man in elevators for the rest of our lives.

Back on the Market

2011-06-06T11:27:00.000-07:00

I wrote a particularly rage-tastic post last week that I promptly deleted, but not before some of you read it. I promise things are better and I can honestly say that since the day of that post, I haven't been nearly as upset. It was a combination of sleep-deprivation, frustration with MB's medical situation and selfishness. I'm sorry for any of you that was subjected to that negative spewing post.

So, today I had an interview. I'm not a fan of job interviews, which I feel most people feel the same way. But since I equate job interviews with first dates and detest them both, I've realized some people actually like crazy things like first dates and job interviews. Just know that I kind of think you are a wacko if you are in that group.

Dear MB, thank you for saving me from the torture of first dates for the rest of my life.

Anyhow, it doesn't matter how confident I am (fairly so), how much I think I'd be an asset to the team (most definitely) or how capable I am (darn so), by about five minutes before the interview I'm a complete mess that feels utterly worthless and I should just be lucky for someone to hire me for any ol' job and not the one I'm applying for because clearly you'd be better off with someone else.

God knows I've had enough practice at interviews between jobs/schools/meeting the families, you'd think I'd be a champ at this.

The problem is my internal dialogue. I mean, I get asked a question and my head throws in something completely random that makes me falter. Here are some examples from today:

"Do you feel that you are competent enough to handle these types of cases?"
Well, my hair is currently got shades of orange so I don't think I'm really competent to do much, do you? Are you looking at it? Do you think I'm trying to start a new trend here? But I ran 14.3 miles, biked 64 miles and walked 4 last week, so I'm pretty capable of handling stuff. But you can't tell that I'm getting mad muscle tone in my legs, maybe I should ask him if he wants to feel my calf. That's creepy. Ewww, do you think he's the type to go feeling people's calf muscles?

"Do you feel like your upcoming wedding will prevent you from managing the case load?"
No, but the delayed European honeymoon I'm having in the spring might especially because I'd like to get knocked up on it. Of course, I haven't mentioned this to MB. Mental note: ask MB if I get preggers on our honeymoon. We are going to be in Europe for nine days, surely I'll have some window open during it. I bet we have twin boys. Which is handy since we have our names picked out. Holy Monday, what did he ask me again?

"What experience do you have for dealing with extremely stressful clients/working environment?"
Enough that was able to purchase my therapist's new car and condo in Aspen.

"What are your goals for the next five years?"
Marry MB, convince him to produce little replications of himself, win the lottery so I can stay at home with them without feeling guilty, and get paid to write. Write a book. Get my hair back to blonde. Not get fired. Run a marathon. Get back to a size 2, before and after the twin boys I'm going to have.

"Why should we hire you?"
You shouldn't. Let's face it, I'm a disaster. I start fires when decorating for Christmas, mispronounce everything, burn myself every 4th time I cook, turn my hair orange, fall off bar stools cleaning ceiling fans, break furniture randomly. Actually, maybe you should just hire me for amusement's sake.

"Do you have political aspirations?"
I'd like to be Mrs. America. That's the only service I'd like to extend to my country. Well, and vote. I'm such a letdown to my family who had dreams of me going into politics.

"Why would you like to work here?"
Because I don't have a job. & truth be told, I'll be thankful for this opportunity but I'm really hoping any one of the 3,490,388 places I sent a resume to hire me instead.

"Tell me about yourself"
I'm a loser who doesn't have a job. I'm an unemployed 30 year old who is finally realizing that my old job isn't going to call me and tell me that they realized they made a huge mistake in letting me go and offer the me the stars and moon to come back.

It's amazing how job interviews can make me feel so bad. I leave them thinking I'm the most stupid, worthless loser in the world and that they hate me. I've never had a job interview that I walked out of feeling good. When I get calls saying I got the job, I'm always completely stunned because the perception I have of interviews are so skewered.

Anyhow, here's a recent pic and you can see the sunkistness of my hair. I have to wait one more week before it can be fixed without all of my hair falling out. I've toned the orange down with blonde dry shampoo, but yeah.

Things that will piss me off if the rapture happens....

2011-05-20T13:50:00.000-07:00

Obviously, the past three weeks of hellaciousness with MB. Duh. We'd much preferred to be at the beach.
That I didn't get to leave a very nasty, hateful message for the secretary at the neurosurgeon's office who repeatedly ignored my VERY URGENT CALL. Even knowing that I'm very certain she's being left behind is not enough to pacify me. I hope that I can get cell reception on the lift to heaven because SHE WILL BE MY LAST CALL.
That I didn't see the second part of Harry Potter 7 or Hangover 2. Jesus better have a movie night planned for tomorrow night.
That I never had the strawberry cupcake I've been craving for the past month.
That I didn't get to find "The One". & by "The One", I mean my wedding dress.
Ironically enough, I will not be upset to not have my wedding although I will be sad that I won't get to call MB my husband in heaven.
That I didn't finish the four books I'm currently reading. I plan to have a major read-fest tonight.
That I haven't had wine in three weeks because I feel it's mean to drink in front of MB who can't partake due to medication.
That I never got to reach a size 2 in my 30's. Granted, I know that probably wasn't going to happen anyway but I don't want to go to heaven as a chunky dunky. I don't know how gravity works with the rapture but I might just freak out thinking I didn't get raptured only to realize God hadn't gotten to my size yet.
That I'm going to heaven with sunkist roots. That's right SUNKIST. It's not a typo, it's not sun-kissed. It's SUNKIST orange.

I really hope the rapture doesn't happen now because I'm fairly certain, this blog post might get me in trouble. I love Jesus. I just don't like crazies who say that the world is ending. Jesus said we won't know when the hour comes, and I'm comfortable saying that one man today isn't smarter or more knowing than Jesus.