Frustration redirected...My House Part 1

So, I'm a little frustrated with situations that I can't discuss on a publicly open forum such as this, so I'm going to redirect my frustration by talking about something else that I absolutely love to talk about....my house.  It's a really cool story (or at least I think so), and I know it will get my mind off of other "things."  So, here we go:

When hubby & I got married, we purchased our first house.  It was brand new, and was literally everything I thought I wanted...wrap-around porch, painted in exactly the colors I wanted, etc.  All except for one thing...I was seriously house poor.  We lived there for 2 1/2 years before deciding that we had to get out from under it before we were financially ruined.  Before even putting it on the market, a friend of ours decided that he wanted to buy it.  It was sold in less than a month. 

For the following year, we lived in an apartment with my then two-year old son and my brand new baby.  The idiots that lived above us were significantly younger and partied....literally 24 hours a day.  I think I called the cops at least once a month the entire time I lived there.  When my son came in from the patio one day with a marijuana roach stuck to his sock, I went to the apartment office.  They graciously told me that we could move--not the horrible neighbors--US.  Not really an option with two little babies.  So, I endured it, and continued calling the cops. 

During that miserable year, hubby & I started looking at other housing options.  We really didn't know what we wanted except for two things:  it had to be within our budget and it had to be OUT of the apartment.  One day, while driving around with no real purpose, we came across the house that is now ours.  It was for sale by owner, it was empty, and the owners happened to be in the yard.  It also was a block from where a horrible train wreck had happened six months earlier, causing a huge chlorine explosion and contamination.  None of the houses in that area were selling--banks wouldn't finance because they weren't sure what collateral damage to the houses was going to exist due to the train wreck. 

We stopped, got out of the car, and asked if we could look at the house.  They happily let us look around, but also let us know that it was under contract that expired that upcoming weekend--the couple that was trying to get it was having a hard time with the financing part. 

The house is OLD--built in the 1850s and some point and a part of what was then a mill community.  It had belonged to the treasurer of the mill when the mill was built.  It had the quaint charm of a dollhouse--huge front porch, big back porch, huge open rooms, fireplaces (albeit closed-off ones) in the living room and both bedrooms, a gorgeous staircase.  To say that I fell in love would be an understatement.  With that being said, it also needed a LOT of work (but that's a story for another post). 

The other couple's contract fell through, and we made an offer--a ridiculously low offer for such a huge house.  And then we tried to get financing.  Like some miracle, it all came through with no problems.  You know how sometimes there's these signs that you just know something is right?  Well, in addition to being the first people financed for a house in this area after the train wreck, here's my "sign" from God that this house is meant for us....

The previous owner (like I am now) was enamored with the story of the house.  It had been first occupied by (we'll call them this, although it's not real because I don't want to give away where I really live) the "Strong" family, and the street had been named after them--"Strong" street.  The treasurer father had two grown sons, who both fought in the civil war.  While they were at war, they would write letters to their sister.  All of the letters had been typed up, along with a picture of the brother who was killed in battle.  Both of the brothers are buried in the local cemetery.  The packet of letters were given to me the day we closed on the house. 

The day we closed, I was so excited to get the letters.  Already, I felt some wierd connection to these two fascinating brothers and their family.  (I know, wierd.)  On the ride home from the closing, I started flipping through the letters, so excited to read all of them and hear the actual words of a Civil War soldier talking to his sister.  While flipping, I came across a page that had some of the typed lines underlined, so I stopped out of curiosity.  In this particular letter, the brother was telling his sister about this lady--I don't know if he actually knew her or knew of her or what.  He was describing her physically, as well as denoting characteristics of her personality.  When I read the name of the woman he was describing, Belle Boyd, I knew I recognized the name.  I told hubby that, and he looked at me like I was crazy.  I kept reading, and then got to the part where he told his sister where she was from...my hometown in WV.  My jaw dropped to my lap.  I DID know who the woman was!!  I had been in her father's house on the House & Garden Tour in my hometown growing up several times. 

What are the chances of that?!?!  It's not like I'm from Charleston, WV--a big town where it's possible lots of people came from.  I'm from a relatively small town.  I absolutely could not believe it. 

May not seem that crazy to you, but to this day, six years later, it still blows my mind.  I know that this house was meant for us, despite all of the stuff we've gone through with it over the years.  ..........But I'll save that for another post.  :)

Learning to Blog

So, as I sit here pondering what to blog about, I did what every great thinker does when they're stuck---I Google'd.  Yup, I admit it.  I am such a pathetic blogger that I Google'd "things to blog about."  Ironically, I came up with a site that some expert has listed 50 things to blog about.  So, instead of using an idea from his list, so to speak, I'm going to comment about his list.  (Here's the original site:  How to Start a Blog )  For the nonexistent reader's information, I did not use all of his 50 suggestions, but only a few of them....

1.  "Take a photo--share pictures instead of words." -- Well, okay.....

 This picture simply cracks me up, and so must be shared. 

2.  "Share a relevant YouTube video..."  Relevant?  Relevant to what?  Well, alright....

Grandson with a dog collar 

If you haven't seen this commercial, o.m.g.  Absolutely freaking hysterical.  I just hope the stupid link works.....If not, go to YouTube, search "grandson with a dog collar," and watch the DirecTv commercial.  Now.  And then come back, because I know by now you are obviously bored out of your mind and have nothing better to do than read this blog intrigued....

3.  "Comment on another blog on your blog."  Duh...isn't that what I'm doing?!

4.  "Comment on news events and how it relates to your field."  Clearly, the author of these suggestions missed my previous post about what I won't blog about--sports and politics.  Isn't that really all the news is about?  And, really, how does the restaurant business have anything to do with news?  *Ahem* THIS JUST IN....THE SERVERS AT XYZ RESTAURANT ARE NOW WEARING JEANS AS A PART OF THEIR UNIFORM.....  I mean, really?  I think my blog is boring enough, thank you....

5.  "Write a How To Post."  Oh, this one is so laughable.  What if I don't know how to "how to"?  I'm not in any way, shape, or form, crafty, artsy, or chef-y.  Trust me when I say you don't really want to know "how to" do much of anything that I've tried to create on my own.  I am the reader of "how to's", NOT the author.  My How To list would go something like this:

      a.  How To pretend like you're paying attention on a conference call

      b.  How To de-shed a 105 lb St. Bernard

      c.  How to return a dead pet rat to the store & replace it without your kid finding out that said dead rat ever died.....

      d.  How to completely screw up the making of new porch steps

      e.  How to ensure that every tape line will show when dry-walling

      f.  How to start a painting job and never finish it

Yeah....I'm not really sure anyone's interested. 

In case you're curious, there are 45 other suggestions, as well.  The only one I found that really applied to something I'd want to blog about was, well, random babbling.  (Could be why I have no followers.....) 

So, on I go to randomness.  And, just for good measure, I'll throw in another picture.  (If you need another YouTube video, search "Don't Wake Up in a Roadside Ditch"--also a very funny DirecTv commercial.)

Really?!?!

I've lost my keys.  Actually, my kids lost my keys.  They took my keys to get their bookbags out of my car last night, and now the keys are missing in action.  I was supposed to be at work....25 minutes ago.  I'm not there.  I'm at home...blogging...waiting on a ride.....because I cannot find my keys.  As if that isn't bad enough, I was evil to my husband on the phone (like it's his fault).  Grrrrr........how do keys just disappear?  So not cool.......  I hope this isn't any indication of how the rest of my day is going to go. 

Earwings

So, funny story....yesterday I tortured took my two little boys with me shopping at my fave store.  I had gotten a gift card for my birthday that I wanted to spend.  While looking at the accessories, my oldest kept convincing me that I needed to buy the earring with the big dangling feathers.  There were various feather earrings to choose from, in multiple colors.  Anyway, I didn't buy the feather earring because they were hideous  not my style.  Upon leaving, my oldest again reinforced his opinion that I should have bought the earwings (Yes, that is how he said it, but by accident).  I started giggling and mocked repeated him:  "Earwings?!"  Without skipping a beat, he shrugged and said, "Well, they were made of feathers!!" 

I'm obssessive.....

So, I've decided at 35 years of age that I'm a bit on the obssessive side.  Not like crazy-psycho-ex-girlfriend obssessive, more like, I-absolutely-love-this-and-now-am-a-little-addicted obssessive.  Here are a few of my obssessions:

1.  My kids.  Without a doubt, I am psycho over my kids.  I'm that mom that will stare at my children in absolute wonder and try to imagine why in the world God chose me to be their Mother.  I am in love with every little detail of their physical, emotional, and social beings.  On the flip side, it is not unusual for me to get myself into an absolute panic over nothing.  I will daydream about something horrible happening and let it get out of control until I am crying and must see them and touch them to know they're okay.  I'm crazy psycho mom.  I admit it.  But, how could I not be?  These are the two most perfect (and crazy and loud and rambunctious and frustrating) children in the world!! 

2.  Jon Bon Jovi--On the night that I discovered the internet hoax "Jon Bon Jovi is dead" (but before I knew it was an internet hoax), I made a complete jack-ass of myself in front of three of my employees.  I was a hysterical mess.  I have literally loved Bon Jovi since I was in the 2nd grade and vividly remember riding the school bus with the radio on and singing "Living on a Prayer."  (We had motions for the little dance we did, and I also thought the one line said, "We're making our square.")  Don't ask me how I remember this, but I do.  I remember in the 7th grade when "I'll Be There for You" came out and it was my new song of the moment.  I was a die hard Young Guns fan because he did the soundtrack for the 2nd movie.  I've seen them in concert four times.  My Superman tattoo was halfway inspired by Jon's.  I'm psycho.  I know this.  I am okay with it.  I love this man. 

3.  I cannot start a video game and just play for an hour.  If I start it, I will be there for seven or eight hours....seriously.  I will stay up until all hours of the night to play it.  It drives my husband crazy.  Now, with this being said, I don't often play video games, so this isn't really an all-the-time problem.  However, the Lego Harry Potter games are a definite issue.  Any of the time management games on the computer or the iPhone are a problem.  I killed my iPhone battery four times in a row playing Angry Birds when I first downloaded it.  I even sunk so low as to play the game while the phone was plugged into the wall.  It is really, really sad. 

4.  Books & their associated movies:  Harry Potter, Twilight, Lord of the Rings....yeah, I'm an addict.  I will go to the store in the middle of the night if I've finished a book and there's a sequel.  I will go to the midnight premiere of the movies when they come out.  I would consider dressing up as the characters for the premieres if I had the money and the resources to do so.  I am that fan.  I was late to all three of the trends (and usually am), so I have to play "catch up."  I always swear I am not a bandwagon girl (and I'm usually not), so I won't jump on the first book right away.  I usually become a victim because I have nothing else to read, and the first book is staring me in the face at the bookstore, so I'll just give in and buy it.  I'm usually caught up in a week or less.  I read the entire Twilight series in less than two weeks......I know, it's pathetic.  And I must share my passion for these books and movies with my kids, because I'm psycho about them, too....  This is us at one of the premieres for Harry Potter....

5.  Maurice's---  Let me preface this by saying that I am not your typical girl, or at least I didn't used to be.  I have never liked shopping for clothes, and I don't have a closet full of shoes.  I am a "functional wardrobe" kind of girl.  Until I found Maurice's....it will be the death of my bank account.  I swear, the person who founded this store did so specifically with me in mind.  There are very, very few things in this store that I would NOT wear.  In other words, if I only had to wear their clothes for the rest of my life, I would be just fine.  Want to know what to get me for my birthday?  Maurice's gift card.  Want to know what to get me for Christmas?  Maurice's gift card.  It is physically not possible for me to go into this store and come out empty handed.  I am obssessed.  For ANY occasion, I go here.  Dresses, work clothes, cute going out clothes, every day wear, shoes, accessories, purses, jewelry, etc.--Maurice's.  It is from this store that I paid the most I've ever paid for a pair of jeans (it was still under $50, people, I'm not stupid....) and they are my absolute favorite pair of jeans EVER.  Their clothes have a crack power that make me still feel young and sexy and pretty and professional all at the same time.  I go back again and again and again.  When I am sad or depressed, my husband sends me here.  It works every time--I will instantly be cheered.  In almost any given picture of me from the last three years, I will almost inevitably be wearing something from this store.  It's the ONLY place I shop now. 

So, the bottom line is that the first step to controlling an addiction is admitting that you have a problem.  I admit it.  I have multiple problems.  But, I'm okay with all of them.  Is that an even bigger problem?.....

The Great Grape War

So, the previous blog about my Pa Pa has got me reminiscing about my cousins and all of the absolutely wonderful memories I have of growing up.  Some, if not most, of my favorite memories occurred at my Grandma & Grandpa's house and inevitably include my cousins.  I'm not really sure why or how my grandparents put up with all of us, but they did.  While I know my brother and at least one of my cousins felt the wrath of my Grandpa and his ability to spank with one arm quite effectively, neither of my Grandparents have ever laid a hand on me...and they probably should have...several times.  Anyhoo, this particular blog is just to lay out some of my fave memories....

1.  My grandparents had a huge weeping willow tree in their back yard.  Unfortunately, once I reached adulthood, the roots of the weeping willow had reached the septic tank and had to be taken down.  Their yard looks so empty without the tree there.  This tree was the setting for many back yard antics, most of which I would like to take the credit for discovering (although I don't know if that part of the memory is entirely accurate).  I learned that you can swing like Tarzan on the branches.  I learned that approximately 50 Easter eggs can be hidden in the nooks & crannies of the huge limbs.  I learned that my Uncle Kevin, even as an adult, was a monkey who could climb to heights unknown in this huge tree.  And I learned that when losing a wrestling match with your brother and/or your male cousins, you can gain a serious upper hand by stripping the branches of a weeping willow and using it as a whip--extremely effective.  :)  It's funny how something like a tree can represent so much to you, but I really, really miss this tree.  Before it was taken down, when I would visit Grandma's house as an adult, I loved to walk under the tree.  It was almost like I could hear the five of us as kids, laughing and running and playing among the branches. 
2.  The "double dog dare" will almost ALWAYS end up with someone in trouble.  I believe the first time, it was when my cousin Dusty (who was probably 7 or 8 at the time) was double-dog dared to jump off of my Grandma's balcony.  He did, and for whatever reason it caused a huge commotion in the family.  He survived the jump with no broken bones, but was even more lucky to have survived the aftermath of my irate adult family members.  My brother survived his double dog dare to leap out of the paddle boat that he was riding in with my cousins Chris & Dusty.  He was also probably around 7 at the time.  Grandma & Grandpa had taken all six of the grandkids camping (I have no idea what they were thinking).  The boys were in one boat and the girls were in another, in the middle of the lake.  The boys double dog dared my brother, who was going through a severe chubby phase at the time, to jump into the lake.  He did.  Panic ensued.  The three girls were "racing" to the scene in our little paddle boat (we didn't quite make it), while the two boys were trying to pull my brother's chubby butt (unsuccessfully) back into the boat, while my Grandparents stood on the lake shore in a total panic.  Keep in mind, my brother was wearing a life jacket, and could swim fairly well.  The lifeguards had to come out in their boat and heave my brother into their boat to take him to shore.  Again, he survived both the dare and the aftermath. 
3.  Playing "runaways" is far better than playing "house" or "school."  For whatever reason, whenever we played pretend as kids, we didn't play the normal roles.  Instead, we played "runaways."  It was our favorite pretend game.  And we had very important roles in our runaway band of misfits.  Chris & I (who are four months apart in age) were always the "couple," and we were always in charge of the group.  Dusty was the "hunter."  Justin & Dennyl were always the pretend youngest of the group (which is ironic, since Dennyl is the oldest of the five of us).  (It should be prefaced that my oldest cousin Holly was usually too mature to play in our little games.)  We would build a huge fort in my Grandma's basement that was our tent.  (For other play games, the basement could also be transformed into a wrestling ring or just someplace where havoc could generally be wreaked.)  I honestly believe that in some way, this game represented us and our personalities and our bond in life.  Particularly with my brother, Dennyl, Chris, and I.  We've always known that as long as we had each other, we're fine.  When bad things have happened in life, I look for them.  I know that they understand what I'm going through, and I think they feel the same about my brother and I, for the most part.  The four of us have an indescribable bond, formed mostly of happiness and really fantastic memories and laughes, but forged and solidified by the turmoil and hurt that we've experienced together side by side. 
4.  My favorite:  the Great Grape War.  When we would get together at Grandma's house for the holidays, it was not unusual for there to be 25 or more people in the house for the weekend....spending the night.....in a three bedroom house.....  We had to get "creative" about sleeping arrangements.  On this particular weekend, the five of us grandkids (the oldest again somewhere else, I think....I don't remember Holly participating in our craziness, but she may have...) were camped out on the living room/dining room floor.  The living room/dining room was one big room that was basically separated by one of the living room couches.  The three boys were in the living room floor and Dennyl & I were on the dining room floor on the other side of the couch.  As usual when this many kids are sleeping in a room together, we did not just "go to sleep."  It started with the usual....the guys would fart or moon us.  We would giggle incessantly until some adult inevitable shouted down the hall for us to be quiet and go to sleep.  But, somehow, on this particular night, things got a little out of hand.  My grandma had little plastic grape vines on all of her end tables and china hutches.  She probably had about twelve or so different sets of decorative plastic grape vines, in varying shades of purple and green.  They had been part of her decorum for as long as I can remember.  Somehow, someone discovered that each individual grape could be pulled from the vine, and became a fantastic item to throw at an opposing cousin.  Needless to say, someone discovered it, we all followed in suit, and the Great Grape Ware ensued.  I'm not really sure how it ended, except that we all fell asleep, fat on laughing fits and exhausted with goofiness.  You can imagine the scene, however, the next morning when the adults began to arise and come out to the room where the five of us beautiful children were still slumbering, surrounded by hundreds of green and purple plastic grapes....everywhere.  Needless to say, I think this is the angriest I have ever seen my Grandma.  We spent the entire morning putting each individual grape back onto the vines.  In the end, some grapes were never found, and her previously beautiful purple and green vines were now a combination of colors, some with bare parts of plastic stems.  I'm not sure who won the Great Grape War, but I'm pretty convinced that it wasn't any of the kids who participated.  And now (25 years later), Grandma only has about two or three grape vines that she uses as decoration.  But every time I am "home" to visit, I have to just feel them and remember that night.  I laugh every single time.  It is one of my favorite memories ever. 
5.  While there are a lot of things in my Grandma's house that arouse great memories, the cookie jar is my favorite.  As kids, we would always gather around the kitchen table with the various cookie selection from the jar and watch the little 12" black and white TV on the counter when we were bored.  We always knew where to go for snacks.  It was at Grandma's house that I developed my love of Dr. Pepper.  It was Grandpa's very soda when he could still drink it, and so it was always in stock.  I started drinking it, I think, to be like him.  To this day, I cannot go 24 hours without a Dr. Pepper.  It will always make me think of him.  It was also out of the cookie jar that I developed my passion for Nutter Butter wafers--not the peanut shaped cookies--the wafers.  Grandma always had them, and they were always in stock in the cookie jar.  I could eat a whole sheet of wafers completely by myself in one sitting (and still can).  It was in the cookie jar that I discovered the Tasty Kakes that were covered in a layer of mold.  Gross story, but funny memory.  It is for this reason that I've asked Grandma for the cookie jar when, God forbid, something happens to them.  I know this is kinda morbid, but I have also witnessed first hand the chaos that comes with grandparents passing and everyone wants something in the house.  While there are a lot of things in my Grandma's house that I would love to have, just for the sake of preserving a memory, the cookie jar is, for me, the most important one.  And I realize that I have a HUGE family to share with, who all have their own personal wants and associated memories.  I just want the cookie jar.  There's nothing special about it.  It's just a glass jar with a tin lid.  But I open it and am flooded with memories of that kitchen and my Grandma and my cousins.  I want the cookie jar so that, for the rest of my life, I can open it and remember. 

Grandma, me, Pa Pa, Dennyl, (2nd row), Joey, Chris, my Mom, (3rd row), Uncle Kevin & Aunt Tammy (A very, very small portion of my very large family in the living room/dining room where the Great Grape War ensued.)

Twice the Man

My Grandpa (Pa Pa) will turn 80 at the end of this month.  At this very moment, he is nine hours away from me in a hospital following a heart attack he had this past Friday.  He had a heart catheterization today, after which they thought he was going to be able to go home.  Turns out, he's got more blockages than they anticipated, and he's been transferred to a bigger hospital for evaluation to see if he's a candidate for open heart surgery.  Obviously, this has made his mortality very real to me. 

My Pa Pa's story is one of my favorites to tell.  I can't promise I'll get all of the details correct, because it's a bit of a family legend at this point, but here's the nuts & bolts of it:  When he was very young (late teens/early 20s), he had a stroke, resulting in the paralysis of the right side of his body.  At the time that he had his stroke, he was dating my Grandma.  He told her at that point that he didn't think that they should get married, because he didn't want her to marry "half a man."  She refused to take this as an answer and she married him anyway.  They are working on 58 years together this year.  They have raised four children and have been blessed with thirteen grandchildren (geez, I hope I got us all.....) and twelve great-grandchildren. 

To say that my Pa Pa is talented would be the understatement of the century.  Looking back on my childhood, I know that I never once viewed him as handi-capped.  I knew vividly what he was capable of.  He was an artist--he could make the most beautiful pictures from paint or chalk or whatever medium he had.  He could sing.  He could preach--a devout and amazing Christian, he could never be called a hypocrit.  He is now - and has been my entire life - a man of God.  He was a carpenter--I have a multitude of different items he's made, from jewelery boxes to toy boxes to book shelves. 

One of my favorite talents that Pa Pa has, though, is his ability to tell a story.  Now, you have to have some time to hear a Pa Pa story, because being long-winded is something that runs in my blood for a reason.  But he can paint a picture with words and have you hanging on every sentence.  He tells the absolute best stories.  And I absolutely adore his laugh.  Pa Pa has always known how to laugh, especially at himself. 

The thing that I admire about him the most is his strength.  As I said earlier, I have never viewed him as handicapped.  He never wanted to be treated that way.  If there was ever anyone in my life that literally taught me that when you fall, you have to pick yourself back up, it was this man.  It used to hurt me so bad when I'd watch him fall growing up.  He'd skin up his arms, his knees, and sometimes his forehead, nose, and chin.  After we made sure he was okay, we'd tease him about his road rash.  He's one of the most amazing men I have ever and will ever know, and I am beyond blessed that he is mine. 

So, as I sit here at the computer tonight, nine hours away from my Grandpa, I am reassured with a couple of facts.  I saw him this July, and he was happy.  The only thing that bothers him is that his hearing aids are horrible, so he has a really hard time participating in conversations.  This bothers him a lot.  But it was so awesome to see him sitting in his recliner laughing and smiling, just at peace with the presence of the family around him.  He told me during this visit what I've known for a long time--that he's had a great life and when the good Lord is ready to take him home, he's ready to go.  It was admittedly hard to hear, because I don't want to lose him for so many obvious reasons, but I find peace in knowing that he means it.  I know that he's not afraid.  He knows where he's going, and he knows we'll see each other again one day. 

I'm not in any way saying that my Grandpa is at death's door--my uncle says that, for right now, everything is still okay.  I'm just waiting for updates.  I guess, like I said earlier, it just makes the mortality kinda front and center. 

So, I guess, what I'm trying to say in all of this is that I am really, really beyond thankful that God chose to give this man to me as my grandfather.  I sincerely feel from the very bottom of my heart that I have the best grandparents on the planet (I'll save my Grandma's Girl gushing for another post).  I truly hope that God intends to let me enjoy life with him for just a little bit longer.  I especially want my boys to get to spend just a little more time with him.  They adore my grandparents (as if anyone couldn't....).  But, I know that when the day comes, my grandpa's got a whole lot of rewards waiting for him on the other side.  He's never been half of a man--he's been twice the man that most men are.  I've always believed that when you go to heaven, you become "whole" again.  I wonder if my Pa Pa would be offended if I want "whole" for him to be exactly as he is now....but with better hearing.....

I love you, Pa Pa.  Words cannot express...

I really suck at this blogging thing...

So, I've realized that I really stink at this whole blogging thing.  Not that I don't have things to say--that is certainly not the problem.  I think it's more that I have a TON to say, but I don't really think anyone cares to read it.  I have moments where I feel like I'm having really deep thoughts...things I'd like to ponder on paper just to get the bajillion things running through my head out.  There are other days when I just want to giggle at anything and everything that happens.  God knows, I provide enough entertainment all on my own to be able to laugh out loud at my own expense on a regular basis.  There are times I want to write about my family and friends and the people that I love.  There are times I want to vent my frustrations and times when I want to go on and on and on about the wonders of motherhood and the immense love I have for these two hoodlums I've created. 

I do NOT however, ever think I will want to talk about politics.  I hate politics.  I vote in presidential elections because I feel it is my civic duty and I want to set a good example for my kids.  But I usually go less with an educated view on a candidate and more with a "gut feel" kind of thing.  Turns out my last gut feel about a presidential candidate wasn't so great.......

I do NOT think I will ever talk about sports.  I admit to enjoying some sporting events.  I like the occasional football or baseball game.  I really enjoy Nascar.  However, I cannot stand smack-talking.  In addition, it really grinds my nerves that when I say, "I'm a Gamecock fan, but I also love WVU" or "I love the Steelers and the Redskins," I get a couple of different responses.  The first is usually, "You can't like more than one team."  Really?  Who says?  Where is there some written rule that says I'm not a true fan if I like the team I grew up watching and the team I've learned to love with age?  The second response is, "Who's your favorite player?" or some other detail about the team or their stats.  Uh, I said I like the team....that does not in any way, shape, or form mean that I can randomly spout off facts about their stats, their ranking, their players, or their schedule.  I don't know who their coaches are, nor do I care.  I don't care how many games they've won in the last 50 years.  I don't care how long it's been since they've been to the playoffs, a bowl game, or the Superbowl.  I just like them.  Is that okay?  Finally, the last reason I will not usually talk about sports is that I don't like smack talking.  During football season especially, I try to avoid FB on Saturdays.  I cannot stand the "play-by-play" that occurs with EVERYONE about every game that's on TV.  If I wanted to know, I'd be watching the game.  Shut up already.  In addition, I don't like the dogging of each other's teams, the trashing of specific players for their plays, etc.  I have literally watched people get unfriended for smack-talking about opposing teams.  Is it really that serious, people.  It is a GAME, after all.  They almost make it unenjoyable.  Just shut up already and watch the game.                  On a side note, there is no more awesome feeling in the world than going to a Nascar race and listening to the announcer say "Gentleman, start your engines" right before they ignite the engines of 40 machines.  It makes your entire ensides rumble and your hair stand on end.  It is such an adrenaline rush.  Did I mention Joey got me a ride-along in a Nascar race for Christmas?  I am SO excited!!!!

Okay, so I'm going to make a second attempt to start this little blog thing up.  I feel inspired today...so we'll see what happens.  For now, I feel better getting this stuff off my chest. 

Play ball!!