I fell in love with Florida the very first time I went. It was February of 1978. Growing up in NY all I ever knew was that summer was warm and winter was cold. To have gotten off the train in Miami Beach (contrary to popular belief, there is no such place as “south beach”. That’s just a pet-name for Miami Beach that has evolved over the years) in the middle of February and have it be warm was all it took. I was almost 7 years old and it didn’t take much to make me happy. From that point on, it was my goal to live in Florida.
In 1989 when I was 17, my dream came true and I moved to Palm Beach County with my parents. Eventually I moved away for my job in the military. But I have always enjoyed going back. Flying into PBI always made me giggle like I was a kid. Seeing that coast and those palm trees come into view was the best feeling ever. Every single time. And I made that flight countless times over the years. As wonderful as all of that was, the best part about being in Florida was seeing my mom and dad. Even after mom died, I still loved going to Florida. After all, dad was still there.
When dad died I made a trip to Florida for the funeral. I remember that flight into PBI like it was yesterday. My amazing coastline and beautiful palm trees came into view and my immediate thought was “I hate this fucking place. I am never coming back here again.”
I know that my emotions were raw. It didn’t help that I had just flown 15 hours from South Korea and barely knew my own name by that point. But it didn’t matter. For me south Florida had lost its allure.
About a year later, my sister Michele, who still lives in Palm Beach County, was getting married. It was going to be my first trip back since dad had passed away. I was with Eric by then and I was looking forward to showing him the area I had grown to know, love, and adopt as my own. So the trip turned out to be a good one. Happy. Lots of fun memories. Subsequently I have made several more trips to visit my sister as well as my Aunt who also lives in the area.
With each trip back, however, I have become more and more unhappy. I don’t know what it is, but when I go back to visit, and drive around, I see memories of mom and dad. All other times that I have gone home those memories had made me smile, and over the last 3 or 4 visits instead of making me smile, it makes me sad. I don’t get it. I would have thought that the memories would continue to make me smile and become progressively easier. Instead, they have become progressively more sad.
Florida used to be my “happy place”. Now it feels like I have not only lost my folks, but that I have lost my “happy place” as well. My “you-CAN-go-home-again” place.
Don’t get me wrong, I am THRILLED with the life I have created for myself and the people who are in it. I am VERY happy. I just feel, sort of an additional loss if you will, when it comes to Florida. I am not quite sure what to do with it yet. I still love palm trees, though.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Goldsboro Comes Through!
Ah, food. I love food. And I have the hips to prove it.
Last Friday night though, was an exceptional night for food. For one of my favorite foods too, no less! That night I had a steak worthy of the highest praise from none other than…me.
On the recommendation of a co-worker, Eric and I visited a brand new restaurant in Goldsboro, NC called Carl & ‘Chelle’s (which I am guessing is short for MI-chelle). If am not mistaken they have only been open since September. Now, living here in Goldsboro I have received recommendations-a-plenty from people regarding where to eat. Some places have even been pretty good. The majority of the time however, the places left me wondering what the hell these people were smoking before they came out with their recommendations. So suffice it to say, expectations were a little bit reserved. Still, being a bit of a food/steak snob, I simply MUST go to a place that came this highly recommended. We were not disappointed.
The restaurant is small, with only about 8 tables total. We arrived just before 6pm and waited about 20 minutes for a seat. While we were waiting, a couple who had just finished eating saw us waiting and asked us if we had ever eaten there before. We told them no, and they told us that it would be well worth the wait. Expectations and hope went even higher. It must be good when people leaving are raving to complete strangers about the quality of the fare, right? When we sat down, the first thing that we noticed was that there were no menus. I have been to such an establishment before and believe you me, it takes a huge ego and exceptional quality to get away with that. After the waiter took our drink orders, the chef himself rolled up to our table with a butcher block and two whole cuts of beef. Tonight they were serving Ribeye and Filet Mignon. I began to drool. I knew we were in for a treat. I picked the 8oz Filet while Eric went with the Ribeye. Both ordered medium-rare. Always a pleasure going to a restaurant where the quality of the beef is good enough to be ordered at the temperature you desire. Your choice for a side was either a baked potato or a twice-baked potato. There was also a salad bar which was basic, but plenty of traditional options.
In short order, out came our meals. Holy cannoli. This steak was utterly amazing. It cut like butter. It was seasoned to perfection. It was cooked perfectly. I have been to some of the best steakhouses in countries all over the world, and this steak was without a doubt in the top three. Maybe even the top two. It brought a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. In Goldsboro. A mere 25 minutes from home. I will be recommending Carl and ‘Chelle’s to anyone who will listen to me. Anyone with taste, that is.
Last Friday night though, was an exceptional night for food. For one of my favorite foods too, no less! That night I had a steak worthy of the highest praise from none other than…me.
On the recommendation of a co-worker, Eric and I visited a brand new restaurant in Goldsboro, NC called Carl & ‘Chelle’s (which I am guessing is short for MI-chelle). If am not mistaken they have only been open since September. Now, living here in Goldsboro I have received recommendations-a-plenty from people regarding where to eat. Some places have even been pretty good. The majority of the time however, the places left me wondering what the hell these people were smoking before they came out with their recommendations. So suffice it to say, expectations were a little bit reserved. Still, being a bit of a food/steak snob, I simply MUST go to a place that came this highly recommended. We were not disappointed.
The restaurant is small, with only about 8 tables total. We arrived just before 6pm and waited about 20 minutes for a seat. While we were waiting, a couple who had just finished eating saw us waiting and asked us if we had ever eaten there before. We told them no, and they told us that it would be well worth the wait. Expectations and hope went even higher. It must be good when people leaving are raving to complete strangers about the quality of the fare, right? When we sat down, the first thing that we noticed was that there were no menus. I have been to such an establishment before and believe you me, it takes a huge ego and exceptional quality to get away with that. After the waiter took our drink orders, the chef himself rolled up to our table with a butcher block and two whole cuts of beef. Tonight they were serving Ribeye and Filet Mignon. I began to drool. I knew we were in for a treat. I picked the 8oz Filet while Eric went with the Ribeye. Both ordered medium-rare. Always a pleasure going to a restaurant where the quality of the beef is good enough to be ordered at the temperature you desire. Your choice for a side was either a baked potato or a twice-baked potato. There was also a salad bar which was basic, but plenty of traditional options.
In short order, out came our meals. Holy cannoli. This steak was utterly amazing. It cut like butter. It was seasoned to perfection. It was cooked perfectly. I have been to some of the best steakhouses in countries all over the world, and this steak was without a doubt in the top three. Maybe even the top two. It brought a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. In Goldsboro. A mere 25 minutes from home. I will be recommending Carl and ‘Chelle’s to anyone who will listen to me. Anyone with taste, that is.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
You knew that...right?
I love my dog, Macy. She is the biggest boo-bear, with the sweetest disposition ever and I am so lucky to have her.
She had a cancer scare last year right before I deployed and *knock wood* she has been happy, healthy and cancer free since having surgery to remove the small tumor. Life is good. That said, she's an older dog already. At 11 years old, she has her little grey chin coming in, it's a little tougher for her to wake up in the mornings, and she isn't quite as sprightly as she used to be. She's getting kinda deaf too. All part of the cycle of life.
Last week she was lying in her bed, and she yelped. It was without a doubt a yelp of sudden pain. But she seemed to get over it quickly and we moved on. A couple hours later while she was just walking from the living room to the kitchen, she yelped again. After the 3rd yelp, I did a cursory check with my non-vet eyes and decided that, given her age and history, I should just take her in to the vet and have them take a look in case I am missing something. Don't want my moose in pain if she doesn't need to be.
I drop her off for her appointment today, and headed into work. A couple hours later I get a call from the vet. She has some degenerative joint disease in her knees and that is likely what was causing her the pain. Nothing a few days without walks and some rimadil won't fix up. Awesome. "And by the way", the vet goes on to say, "where she was shot might be giving her some problems too." Me: Um...excuse me? The Vet: "You knew that she'd been shot, right"? Me: Um...NO!? Like, today?!" The Vet: "No, no, it's an old injury but there are a lot of little bullet fragments around the area of her left hip."
My first reaction is just a pain in my heart. I knew that Macy had likely been abused as a younger dog. I rescued her from a shelter when she was around 3 or 4. About a month after I had her, I was getting a little tired of her going into the trash can and knocking it over for scraps. When I finally caught her in the act, I had rolled up a newspaper and whacked it on the counter and shouted "Macy, NO"! Never touched her. Never intened to touch her, either. But whacking the newpaper on the counter caused her to curl up into a ball, skulk over to the door trying to get outside and she peed on herself. This was OBVIOUSLY a dog who had been beaten into submission. Broke my heart in two. I ran over to her and gave her kisses and loving and apologized for hitting the counter (really?). But I didn't care what impression I may have been giving. I called my sister in law for advice on what to do now (since Macy is my first dog in LIFE). She told me, Liss, she's a dog. Get a trash can that goes under your sink. Problem solved.
My second reaction today was anger. Anyone who knows my dog, knows how sweet and sorta helpless she is under pressure. Who would do that to a dog? Any dog? But especailly MY dog. A dog that I have grown to love an insane amount. Who loves me and loves Eric unconditionally. All she needs in return is pats and food.
As the vet was showing me the x-rays today of her hip and the bullet and all it's fragments were still there lodged in her body, the reaction of heartbreak and anger came together. But in the end, anger won.
If the chicken-shit ass hole who shot my Macy all those years ago is still alive, I hope that someone shoots you in both of your knees, rendering you unable to run from the pack of angry pitbulls who can smell your blood as it pools on the ground around you while you scream in agony and they show you what being a carnivore is truly about.
She had a cancer scare last year right before I deployed and *knock wood* she has been happy, healthy and cancer free since having surgery to remove the small tumor. Life is good. That said, she's an older dog already. At 11 years old, she has her little grey chin coming in, it's a little tougher for her to wake up in the mornings, and she isn't quite as sprightly as she used to be. She's getting kinda deaf too. All part of the cycle of life.
Last week she was lying in her bed, and she yelped. It was without a doubt a yelp of sudden pain. But she seemed to get over it quickly and we moved on. A couple hours later while she was just walking from the living room to the kitchen, she yelped again. After the 3rd yelp, I did a cursory check with my non-vet eyes and decided that, given her age and history, I should just take her in to the vet and have them take a look in case I am missing something. Don't want my moose in pain if she doesn't need to be.
I drop her off for her appointment today, and headed into work. A couple hours later I get a call from the vet. She has some degenerative joint disease in her knees and that is likely what was causing her the pain. Nothing a few days without walks and some rimadil won't fix up. Awesome. "And by the way", the vet goes on to say, "where she was shot might be giving her some problems too." Me: Um...excuse me? The Vet: "You knew that she'd been shot, right"? Me: Um...NO!? Like, today?!" The Vet: "No, no, it's an old injury but there are a lot of little bullet fragments around the area of her left hip."
My first reaction is just a pain in my heart. I knew that Macy had likely been abused as a younger dog. I rescued her from a shelter when she was around 3 or 4. About a month after I had her, I was getting a little tired of her going into the trash can and knocking it over for scraps. When I finally caught her in the act, I had rolled up a newspaper and whacked it on the counter and shouted "Macy, NO"! Never touched her. Never intened to touch her, either. But whacking the newpaper on the counter caused her to curl up into a ball, skulk over to the door trying to get outside and she peed on herself. This was OBVIOUSLY a dog who had been beaten into submission. Broke my heart in two. I ran over to her and gave her kisses and loving and apologized for hitting the counter (really?). But I didn't care what impression I may have been giving. I called my sister in law for advice on what to do now (since Macy is my first dog in LIFE). She told me, Liss, she's a dog. Get a trash can that goes under your sink. Problem solved.
My second reaction today was anger. Anyone who knows my dog, knows how sweet and sorta helpless she is under pressure. Who would do that to a dog? Any dog? But especailly MY dog. A dog that I have grown to love an insane amount. Who loves me and loves Eric unconditionally. All she needs in return is pats and food.
As the vet was showing me the x-rays today of her hip and the bullet and all it's fragments were still there lodged in her body, the reaction of heartbreak and anger came together. But in the end, anger won.
If the chicken-shit ass hole who shot my Macy all those years ago is still alive, I hope that someone shoots you in both of your knees, rendering you unable to run from the pack of angry pitbulls who can smell your blood as it pools on the ground around you while you scream in agony and they show you what being a carnivore is truly about.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Being an introvert
The other day I posted a status update on Facebook making mention of the fact that Facebook was great for us introverts. Because it allows us to interact with people without actually having to speak to them or be in the general vicinity of them. I don't quote this because it wasn't verbatim what I wrote, but close enough. The comments that were generated are what really surprised me, though.
I thought that most people who knew me realized that I was an introvert. I think that most people mistakenly assume that being an introvert was another way of saying "shy" or perhaps even as extreme as "anti-social". Neither of which are even remotely true. About me, or about anyone who is truly an introvert.
I stole these from Wikipedia: "Introverts are people whose energy tends to expand through reflection and dwindle during interaction". Oh yeah. All me. This one too: "...social networking sites have been a thriving home for introverts in the 21st century, where introverts are free from the formalities of social conduct and may become more comfortable blogging about personal feelings they would not otherwise disclose." Like, holy shit! I never read that prior to posting my status update. I just knew enough about myself to know it to be true. This one really brings it home: "Introversion is not the same as being shy or being a social outcast. Introverts prefer solitary activities over social ones, whereas shy people (who may be extraverts at heart) avoid social encounters out of fear, and the social outcast has little choice in the matter of his or her solitude." So there!
Introverts such as myself tend to not be people persons. I actually had a resume with that statement on it. "I am not a people person." I think it is pretty darn important that a potential employer knows that going in, because if they decide to put you in a customer service type of role, then they will find out pretty quickly anyhow and have no one to blame but themselves when things turn sour.
As an introvert, the time I spend with ME is truly wonderful. The time I spend with Eric is also wonderful, but I, as well as most introverts I imagine, do not require the presence of others to feel comfortable, secure, fulfilled or otherwise. Another advantage to being an introvert is that I can say with certainty that I have never felt lonely a day in my life. Ever. My mind is constantly engaged in thought. I theorize about everything. I am constantly working out things in my mind, coming up with answers to questions that I create. I am all about "why" and "how".
I will admit that although it has been several years now, that I didn't realize that I was an introvert until well into adulthood. It was during college when I took one of those Myers-Briggs tests for the first time when I realized that my personality-type actually fell into a 'category' at all. Most of my life I would just assume that everyone felt as I did and just faked it because that is what was socially acceptable. Ok, that wasn't the clearest sentence, so here is an example of what I mean.
Growing up friends would always want to go out to...wherever. A party, a club, a hockey game, other people's houses, wherever. I would go with when invited, because that's just what you did. But I would always be the one sitting, looking at the clock, wondering when an acceptable time to leave without appearing rude was going to be.
So back to my Myers-Briggs test...and forgive me as I think I have actually written about this before...but it tells you what your best professional fit might be to your personality category, and mine pretty much said that I needed to be a research scientist who worked alone on top of a remote mountain in Nepal. With the monkeys and whatnot. I distinctly remember being insulted at that answer but over the years, I realized that it was EXACTLY who I am. I would be willing to bet money that the majority of your scientists, researchers, philosophers, entrepreneurs, artists, and the like are introverts as well.
I feel like my introversion is a gift, quite honestly. It sure came in handy when I was deployed. When there was no TV, internet, or even power at times, my mind was a constant source of entertainment.
Seriously, though. I wish that more of my family had come to my defense when I wrote that status update. I think most felt I was being negative, but that wasn't the case at all. I was merely stating a fact. A fact about myself. One that I have learned to love and embrace! Lucky for me, Eric is a bit of an introvert as well. Not nearly as much as me, but enough so that he understands and loves me because of, and in spite of, it.
I thought that most people who knew me realized that I was an introvert. I think that most people mistakenly assume that being an introvert was another way of saying "shy" or perhaps even as extreme as "anti-social". Neither of which are even remotely true. About me, or about anyone who is truly an introvert.
I stole these from Wikipedia: "Introverts are people whose energy tends to expand through reflection and dwindle during interaction". Oh yeah. All me. This one too: "...social networking sites have been a thriving home for introverts in the 21st century, where introverts are free from the formalities of social conduct and may become more comfortable blogging about personal feelings they would not otherwise disclose." Like, holy shit! I never read that prior to posting my status update. I just knew enough about myself to know it to be true. This one really brings it home: "Introversion is not the same as being shy or being a social outcast. Introverts prefer solitary activities over social ones, whereas shy people (who may be extraverts at heart) avoid social encounters out of fear, and the social outcast has little choice in the matter of his or her solitude." So there!
Introverts such as myself tend to not be people persons. I actually had a resume with that statement on it. "I am not a people person." I think it is pretty darn important that a potential employer knows that going in, because if they decide to put you in a customer service type of role, then they will find out pretty quickly anyhow and have no one to blame but themselves when things turn sour.
As an introvert, the time I spend with ME is truly wonderful. The time I spend with Eric is also wonderful, but I, as well as most introverts I imagine, do not require the presence of others to feel comfortable, secure, fulfilled or otherwise. Another advantage to being an introvert is that I can say with certainty that I have never felt lonely a day in my life. Ever. My mind is constantly engaged in thought. I theorize about everything. I am constantly working out things in my mind, coming up with answers to questions that I create. I am all about "why" and "how".
I will admit that although it has been several years now, that I didn't realize that I was an introvert until well into adulthood. It was during college when I took one of those Myers-Briggs tests for the first time when I realized that my personality-type actually fell into a 'category' at all. Most of my life I would just assume that everyone felt as I did and just faked it because that is what was socially acceptable. Ok, that wasn't the clearest sentence, so here is an example of what I mean.
Growing up friends would always want to go out to...wherever. A party, a club, a hockey game, other people's houses, wherever. I would go with when invited, because that's just what you did. But I would always be the one sitting, looking at the clock, wondering when an acceptable time to leave without appearing rude was going to be.
So back to my Myers-Briggs test...and forgive me as I think I have actually written about this before...but it tells you what your best professional fit might be to your personality category, and mine pretty much said that I needed to be a research scientist who worked alone on top of a remote mountain in Nepal. With the monkeys and whatnot. I distinctly remember being insulted at that answer but over the years, I realized that it was EXACTLY who I am. I would be willing to bet money that the majority of your scientists, researchers, philosophers, entrepreneurs, artists, and the like are introverts as well.
I feel like my introversion is a gift, quite honestly. It sure came in handy when I was deployed. When there was no TV, internet, or even power at times, my mind was a constant source of entertainment.
Seriously, though. I wish that more of my family had come to my defense when I wrote that status update. I think most felt I was being negative, but that wasn't the case at all. I was merely stating a fact. A fact about myself. One that I have learned to love and embrace! Lucky for me, Eric is a bit of an introvert as well. Not nearly as much as me, but enough so that he understands and loves me because of, and in spite of, it.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Too Much of a Good Thing
Those who know me understand that I do a lot of picking at this small town for it's lack of, well, everything. Shopping, culture, food, you name it. I talk about how I would love to live somewhere that had, at the very least, a Macy's. Maybe an Olive Garden, too.
About an hour and a half/forty five minutes away we have Raleigh. We have been to several shows there (Jeff Dunham, Stomp, Shakespeare In The Park), and there is a Macaroni Grill that we enjoy. Even one of Eric's fast food favorites, Chipoltle. It is the perfect size city for my liking. Traffic isn't bad. There is also a GREAT spa called the Umstead (where I could EASILY spend the rest of my natural life). But as I said earlier, it is well over an hour away and not the kind of place you can go to during the week on a whim. Well, unless you are one of those people who can function regularly on 4 hours of sleep a night. Clearly I am not, nor have I ever been, one of those people.
This past week I was in Minnesota. I stayed in Saint Paul. I loved it there. One of the attractions in the Twin Cities area is the Mall of America in Minneapolis. I hopped the crosstown bus from downtown St Paul and went to the Mall of America with great excitement. Talk about everything I could ever want! A mall that had every store I could possibly want to shop in, restaurants that I love, and, get this...a ROLLER COASTER in the mall! I love roller coasters.
I walk into this mall and am quickly overwhelmed with everything that is happening around me. It was loud and hurried, and busy, and there wasn't just A roller coaster; there were 3. And a log flume. And a bunch of other stuff that made this place like an amusement park on crack.
I couldn't deal with it. 30 minutes. That was all I stayed for. I would have left sooner but I walked around for about 10 min, got lost immediately, and spent the next 20 minutes trying to find where the hell I came in. As I am beating feet for the next bus to downtown Saint Paul, I am asking myself over and over again, what the hell my problem is? I don't understand why this wasn't turning out to be a great thing. This was everything I asked for ten-fold!
That, I concluded, was the problem. I am all about small, controlled doses. This was complete retail/entertainment/roller coaster overload. *sigh*
So I am back in Goldsboro, NC. CLEARLY other extreme. But better for a person like me to be underwhelmed than overwhelmed. WAY better.
About an hour and a half/forty five minutes away we have Raleigh. We have been to several shows there (Jeff Dunham, Stomp, Shakespeare In The Park), and there is a Macaroni Grill that we enjoy. Even one of Eric's fast food favorites, Chipoltle. It is the perfect size city for my liking. Traffic isn't bad. There is also a GREAT spa called the Umstead (where I could EASILY spend the rest of my natural life). But as I said earlier, it is well over an hour away and not the kind of place you can go to during the week on a whim. Well, unless you are one of those people who can function regularly on 4 hours of sleep a night. Clearly I am not, nor have I ever been, one of those people.
This past week I was in Minnesota. I stayed in Saint Paul. I loved it there. One of the attractions in the Twin Cities area is the Mall of America in Minneapolis. I hopped the crosstown bus from downtown St Paul and went to the Mall of America with great excitement. Talk about everything I could ever want! A mall that had every store I could possibly want to shop in, restaurants that I love, and, get this...a ROLLER COASTER in the mall! I love roller coasters.
I walk into this mall and am quickly overwhelmed with everything that is happening around me. It was loud and hurried, and busy, and there wasn't just A roller coaster; there were 3. And a log flume. And a bunch of other stuff that made this place like an amusement park on crack.
I couldn't deal with it. 30 minutes. That was all I stayed for. I would have left sooner but I walked around for about 10 min, got lost immediately, and spent the next 20 minutes trying to find where the hell I came in. As I am beating feet for the next bus to downtown Saint Paul, I am asking myself over and over again, what the hell my problem is? I don't understand why this wasn't turning out to be a great thing. This was everything I asked for ten-fold!
That, I concluded, was the problem. I am all about small, controlled doses. This was complete retail/entertainment/roller coaster overload. *sigh*
So I am back in Goldsboro, NC. CLEARLY other extreme. But better for a person like me to be underwhelmed than overwhelmed. WAY better.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Time off
I have been off of work for a little over three weeks now. I don't think I have ever been off for this many days in a row. In my life. Not even after surgery.
The first two weeks were filled with the wedding and honeymoon and the third week was just, well, time off. Going into this current week it has been more of the same.
I decided to use this week to drive down to Florida and visit with my sister and my aunt (who had some unexpected surgery and was unable to make it to the wedding) and it has been great. South Florida rules. Always has.
The things that I have enjoyed about these past two weeks are sort of surprising to me. Never much of a girly-girl, things like accessorizing have never held much appeal to me. Well, about two days before our honeymoon I bought a new purse. One of those "The Sak" purses in a neutral color to take with me on the honeymoon. It seems to have started there.
Next thing I know, I am wearing skirts, heels, necklaces, rings, sun hats, and LOVING it. The idea of going back to work and going back to that boring-ass black purse that I am forced to carry in the military actually makes me pout a little bit. I have really gotten used to my new purse and my palm tree necklace. And my pretty double Swarovski crystal rings in pink and white that match one of my new tops and skirts perfectly. See that? Who the hell just wrote that last sentence??
I knew that I didn't take enough time off after my deployment. I did that because I knew that I was going to be taking close to a month off for my wedding/honeymoon. I think perhaps that the deployment changed me. Some good ways, some not so good. But I like this new side of me.
I also know that once I go back to reality that not only am I not allowed to keep this up, but I won't have any desire to keep it up. It isn't worth coming home from a 10+ hour day to put on accessories and change purses for what amounts to an hour or two of free time in the evening before I have to go to bed.
I only hope that when I retire, perhaps I will remember this short time frame where I was able to discover a new side of me that I really like and feel comfortable being, and will still have the desire to try.
The first two weeks were filled with the wedding and honeymoon and the third week was just, well, time off. Going into this current week it has been more of the same.
I decided to use this week to drive down to Florida and visit with my sister and my aunt (who had some unexpected surgery and was unable to make it to the wedding) and it has been great. South Florida rules. Always has.
The things that I have enjoyed about these past two weeks are sort of surprising to me. Never much of a girly-girl, things like accessorizing have never held much appeal to me. Well, about two days before our honeymoon I bought a new purse. One of those "The Sak" purses in a neutral color to take with me on the honeymoon. It seems to have started there.
Next thing I know, I am wearing skirts, heels, necklaces, rings, sun hats, and LOVING it. The idea of going back to work and going back to that boring-ass black purse that I am forced to carry in the military actually makes me pout a little bit. I have really gotten used to my new purse and my palm tree necklace. And my pretty double Swarovski crystal rings in pink and white that match one of my new tops and skirts perfectly. See that? Who the hell just wrote that last sentence??
I knew that I didn't take enough time off after my deployment. I did that because I knew that I was going to be taking close to a month off for my wedding/honeymoon. I think perhaps that the deployment changed me. Some good ways, some not so good. But I like this new side of me.
I also know that once I go back to reality that not only am I not allowed to keep this up, but I won't have any desire to keep it up. It isn't worth coming home from a 10+ hour day to put on accessories and change purses for what amounts to an hour or two of free time in the evening before I have to go to bed.
I only hope that when I retire, perhaps I will remember this short time frame where I was able to discover a new side of me that I really like and feel comfortable being, and will still have the desire to try.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Bridal pictures
Psyche!!!! No pictures for you! Well, not yet at least.
However, this past Tuesday we did my bridal pictures. Doing pictures of just the bride serves a couple of useful purposes. First, it reduces the total amount of time spent taking pictures on the day of the wedding. This is important because it means Eric and I will get to the reception, and by default, the food, faster. Second, it gives the bride an opportunity to do a full-dress dry run. Taking the pictures helped me get used to putting on and taking off the dress. I got to know how the dress worked, how the crinoline and bustier worked, and most importantly, how the dress worked on my body. I was actually afraid of the dress until this past Tuesday. Handling it with kid gloves, etc. However, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that as a heavy silk/satin gown, it can really take a beating!
Believe you me, it was tested on several levels. My photographer, Chad, is a very talented artist. He took us (and by "us" I mean Holly and myself. Holly did my hair for me and helped me in and out of the dress, in and out of different locations, and was a generally supportive human being!), all over the place for these pictures. We were in front of an old church, in a wheat field, at his studio, and on the street in the little town of LaGrange, NC.
While we were shooting in the wheat field, I was standing there in the middle of the wheat, actually enjoying myself and the breeze, as he took shot after shot. At the end of the shoot, Holly and I began the task of gathering up my dress to avoid having it drag on the ground. When we get the dress up, I look down and what do I see? A spider the size of Texas is running up my dress between the layers of tulle. Well...
Anyone who knows me, knows that one of my two fears on this planet is spiders (the other is water). Apparently neither Holly nor Chad (the photographer) liked spiders either because the next thing I know Holly drops her end of the dress and is a quarter mile down the road, I am in an absolute panic yelling at Chad who was the only one of the three of us with a penis to get the fucking spider off my dress while jumping up and down in heels in the middle of this wheat field.
I finally jump up and down enough for the spider to lose it's grip on the tulle and fall out onto the sheet I was standing on to protect the dress. Chad and I were trying to kill it as it is attempting to jump back up onto my dress. Chad finally shows this spider an untimely death and I am jumping through this wheat field with my dress practically over my head trying to make it back to the car.
I have since seen the pictures, and they are absolutely amazing. But make no mistake...I was about 1 more minute from dropping trou right there in the wheat field and turning my dress over to the spider. I would have had no problem just buying another dress if I had to.
However, this past Tuesday we did my bridal pictures. Doing pictures of just the bride serves a couple of useful purposes. First, it reduces the total amount of time spent taking pictures on the day of the wedding. This is important because it means Eric and I will get to the reception, and by default, the food, faster. Second, it gives the bride an opportunity to do a full-dress dry run. Taking the pictures helped me get used to putting on and taking off the dress. I got to know how the dress worked, how the crinoline and bustier worked, and most importantly, how the dress worked on my body. I was actually afraid of the dress until this past Tuesday. Handling it with kid gloves, etc. However, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that as a heavy silk/satin gown, it can really take a beating!
Believe you me, it was tested on several levels. My photographer, Chad, is a very talented artist. He took us (and by "us" I mean Holly and myself. Holly did my hair for me and helped me in and out of the dress, in and out of different locations, and was a generally supportive human being!), all over the place for these pictures. We were in front of an old church, in a wheat field, at his studio, and on the street in the little town of LaGrange, NC.
While we were shooting in the wheat field, I was standing there in the middle of the wheat, actually enjoying myself and the breeze, as he took shot after shot. At the end of the shoot, Holly and I began the task of gathering up my dress to avoid having it drag on the ground. When we get the dress up, I look down and what do I see? A spider the size of Texas is running up my dress between the layers of tulle. Well...
Anyone who knows me, knows that one of my two fears on this planet is spiders (the other is water). Apparently neither Holly nor Chad (the photographer) liked spiders either because the next thing I know Holly drops her end of the dress and is a quarter mile down the road, I am in an absolute panic yelling at Chad who was the only one of the three of us with a penis to get the fucking spider off my dress while jumping up and down in heels in the middle of this wheat field.
I finally jump up and down enough for the spider to lose it's grip on the tulle and fall out onto the sheet I was standing on to protect the dress. Chad and I were trying to kill it as it is attempting to jump back up onto my dress. Chad finally shows this spider an untimely death and I am jumping through this wheat field with my dress practically over my head trying to make it back to the car.
I have since seen the pictures, and they are absolutely amazing. But make no mistake...I was about 1 more minute from dropping trou right there in the wheat field and turning my dress over to the spider. I would have had no problem just buying another dress if I had to.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)