The Ghost of Halloweens Past

One of these days I will write my memoirs. When I do, the story of my childhood Halloweens can not be excluded. Those memories have shaped who I am today.

The story must begin with a bit of background information on our geographical location and my mother. First of all, if you've never been to the small town of my youth, the booming metropolis of Kinston, AL, I will need to paint a picture.

There is no stop light. There is no grocery store. There is no hospital. There is a school, and it's AWE.SOME. (Plus there's a Big/Little that has Tater Logs which are just as awesome)

Because of our secluded lifestyle, we didn't have typical neighborhoods. Our nearest neighbors were my grandparents, and they were about a 1/2 mile up the dirt road.

My mom, who is fabulous in so many ways, is NOT exactly what you would call crafty. She isn't the type of woman who says, "We don't need to buy that-I can make it myself!" She says, "Why would I want to make that when it would take me 12 hours and I can buy it right now!?!" She also went with this mindset when it came to cooking, too.

Sorry Mom, you know it's true.

God love her. She passed that trait down to me, too. We just aren't the type of gals who scrapbook or have a craft room. We aren't sentimental. I like to think we "live in the moment" rather than spend our moments trying to preserve them in a book with adhesive covers.

I like to joke with herabout my Halloweens growing up because, well...they were kind of pitiful. It started out pretty good actually. My first Halloween on record I was a bunny. I should mention that this was around the age of 4 because apparently my parents didn't believe I could appreciate the real meaning of Halloween before that age.

Sometime after that it started going downhill. It was like she could never remember that Halloween fell on October 31st every year. It's not like Easter-the date does not fluctuate! Although I was really too young to remember exactly what went down in the weeks leading up to Halloween, this is how it goes in my mind...

Mom: "La-la-la-la-la-la....Oh crap! Is Halloween tonight!?!?! Where did the month go? Nothing is open at this point, so I guess I will just have to put some sort of costume together for my beautiful child to wear tonight! I know! She can be a black kitty cat."

Sigh. The Black Kitty Cat that will live in infamy in my mind. And I'm sure many therapy sessions when I hit my mid-life crisis.

You see, I took dance lessons and therefore we were never lacking in pink tights, black leotards, and black ballet flats. Somewhere along the road my mother acquired some black cat ears and a tail (I don't even want to know where they came from now that I think about it). Simply add a nose and some whiskers drawn on with black eyeliner...and voila! Black Kitty Cat!

The first time it was cute. The next year I just chalked it up to my mom being a busy working mom with too many irons in the fire. The third year I was starting to question her creativity a bit. The fourth year I was starting to wonder why all my friends had new costumes each year and I got stuck with the dang homemade cat costume. AGAIN. By the fifth year, I was thinking of calling DHR on my parents for lack of Halloween spirit and total negligence of holiday fun.

Needless to say I have not recovered from this childhood trauma.

Halloween in the country just isn't as big of a deal. If you think the kitty cat costume is sad, one year she put me in that 'ol black leotard outfit and made my dad and me walk to my grandparents house to trick-or-treat. I'm sure I was the only trick-or-treater they had that night so I probably got the entire bag of cheap candy.

I can't give my mom too much hell about my early years as a cat. As I got older, Halloween got WAY better. My parents used to do hayrides for my friends and me, complete with family and friends along the route to scare the beejeezus out of us on dark country roads. They would also take us to haunted houses and the less-organized (but even scarier) local cemetery haunts. My dad could tell a mean ghost story, too. Even though we heard the same ones day in and day out--they never got old or less frightening.

So maybe the problem lies not in the fact that my mom had no creativity or foresight to plan a costume....it was just that she was harnessing all of her Halloween spirit to scare the crap out of me as a preteen.

Which I'm sure was way more fun for her anyway!

Typical Monday

Disclaimer: You know it's going to be a doozy when the disclaimer comes at the beginning of a story! But I want to warn you, this post is pretty gross so please go back to Facebook now if you have a weak stomach.


That night was rough. And oddly enough, it had nothing to do with having a new baby at home. She was completely innocent and blessedly immune to the trials and tribulations at our house on Monday, September 19th, 2011. The day that will live in infamy.

It all started when I walked in the door after a long day at work...

As I walked in the door, H said "Don't freak out! I know he smells like shit and I'm about to bathe him right now. He rolled in doodoo on his roam and now he smells terrible!"

The "he" H was referring to was our Chocolate Lab, Charlie. Aka Chuck. He likes to go for an afternoon roam around our neighborhood, but he usually comes back unscathed. And he had indeed rolled in some serious doodoo pile somewhere along our street. The whole house smelled like a bucket of crap. It smelled SO terrible it made my eyes water. And I'm used to smelling some pretty stinky stuff!

So H grabbed Chuck's leash and some shampoo and hauled his dirty butt outside for a bath. The poor dog was COVERED in dried, caked-on doodoo. It was all over him, including his previously red collar. Charlotte, Lois (the little dog) and I walked outside with them to watch the rather amusing spectacle. Then we took a nice leisurely stroll around the 'hood so Chuck would dry off somewhat. Ahhh...peace and sanity still ruled at this point in the evening.

When we walked back inside after our walk, the ENTIRE house smelled like poo. I thought "What is the deal?!?! He just had a bath, he doesn't stink now, why does the house smell like the toilet at a fraternity house!?!?!?" We searched and searched and eventually found the culprit.

It was underneath the bed.

Apparently not only had he rolled in some other dog's "surprise", he'd also eaten it. Yep. I said eaten it. And then he threw it up in a nice, neat little pile underneath our bed. And it smelled about the way you would expect it to smell.

Now is the time to mention H has a very weak stomach. That means Super Mom here was left to clean up that pile of disgustingness. He lifted the bed while I cleaned.

And all was right with the world again.

Until Chuck got on the couch and puked up the rest of his afternoon snack. At this point, I'm wondering exactly what kind of boots I want to make with dog hide, but I grab some paper towels and start cleaning. H grabs a garbage bag and attempts to help me dispose of the mess.

And then H vomits on the floor, too!

Heaven help me! I'm about to have a purse to go with those boots now!

So I cleaned up THREE piles of vomit last night. Count 'em: THREE! Like I said, it was a rough night in the Hysterical District. Thankfully sweet little innocent Charlotte slept right on through this debacle or I would have had to have been committed. But it's nothing a BIG glass of wine on my doodoo-free porch couldn't wash away!

Thank you Lord for dogs and husbands. My life would be awfully boring without them! But I'm warning you, think long and hard before you complain about another shitty Monday. It could always be worse!

Back to School

I keep seeing all of these Facebook status updates about kids and teachers heading back to school, and it really brought back some memories for me. There was nothing more exciting than the first day of school!

The first day of school , whether it was kindergarten, seventh grade, or senior year, was such a fresh start. The entire year was up ahead and there were endless possibilities for fun--field trips, dances, football games, spend-the-night parties, etc. I was an only child so by the time August rolled around I was usually O-V-E-R summer. It was too hot and too lonely for my taste, and I actually enjoyed school.

First of all, there was nothing better than getting a whole new wardrobe for the fall. My mom always took me for a big, long day of "Back to School Shopping". Granted, I hated that day of shopping, but I sure loved having new clothes and shoes to sport! I literally would have rather gone to the dentist than gone school shopping, just ask my mom.

For me, the ABSOLUTE best of the best was going to shop for supplies. Even now, there is nothing that blows my dress up quite like a fresh notebook and a new pack of pens. I remember I would sit down in the living room the night I got my supplies (because honestly, who could wait until the night before schoo!?!?) and organize all of my notebooks with paper, dividers and other accessories.

And Heaven help us all if there was a planner involved! Planners were (and still are) some of my favorite things in the world.

I just re-read that sentence to myself. Yes, I do realize I sound like a nerd. And I'm perfectly okay with that.

With each new year came a new teacher. And thankfully most of my teachers were completely awesome. I remember one that really wasn't, but the rest were great. I was a good student. I liked to learn and I picked things up easily. However, even though my report card was always straight A's, I would always get the same comment "Tiffany is a great student, but she talks too much and can be disruptive to others."

To which I would say...ummmm, duh? There is WAY too much going on in my head to sit quietly and listen for any long period of time. I'm not good at "quiet" or "still".

Now that I am getting on up there in age and my (many) years of school are more than likely over, it makes me a little nostalgic for those first-day jitters. For the excitement of opening up my new notebook and writing my name and the date in the top right-hand corner. For walking into the auditorium during that first assembly. For learning the ins and outs of that new teacher's personality.

Maybe it was just that my elementary and high school was just that awesome that they have each left such a lasting impression on my life. Or maybe it was that my teachers were so amazing that they managed to somehow make school not just a place to learn, but a place to experience new and exciting things every day. Learning was fun, just as it should be.

And if any of my old teachers ever read my blog, I would like to formally apologize for talking too much. If it makes it any better, I have somehow managed to get a B.S. and make a career out of Talking and Shooting the S#&t.

Okay, okay, it's really called Marketing and PR, but it's basically the same thing if you've ever met anyone in sales.

Happy First Day of School, lil chickens! Enjoy that new Lisa Frank notebook!

TDC

Happy Valentine's Day!

Today is a a good day and a bad day. First of all, it's a lovely day because it's my parent's anniversary. They were married in a back yard in Destin way back in 1981 (I think. It might have been 1980, I'm not really good with math). Of all the great love stories I've heard, there's has to be the best. They were two previously-burned lovers whose eyes locked across a crowded room (okay, that room was a bar--The Four Sons for all you Opp, AL natives, but still!) He thought she was too young, she thought he was married...yet somehow they found each other and a few years later the greatest blessing of their life arrived--me! :) Happy Anniversary you two crazy kids!

Secondly, it's nice to be loved, wanted, and appreciated on Valentine's Day. I am thankful I have H, who makes me laugh and makes me breakfast on the weekends. I remember what it was like to be a card-carrying member of the Single's Club and I can say it's better to get a crappy gift from a gas station than no gift at all. Happy Valentine's Day to my Baby's Daddy!

It's also a sad day. My PawPaw Hoss died a year ago today. He wasn't a cuddly cute grandpa that would bounce me on his knee. He was crass and he told inappropriate jokes. He never spelled my name right, he usually smelled like a boat and old cigars, and he only made appearances when food was involved. But...he was MY Hoss and I loved him. He could tell a fishing story better than anyone I've ever heard, he loved politics, and he loved his grandkids. Especially the only granddaughter of his "Baby". I loved him and I miss him at the weirdest moments. The world is a little less bright without him.

But I digress. I read another blog today that inspired my Valentine's Day post, which is really just about love in general. Not sappy love, just love in its many various musical forms.

And now...without any further commentary....

Love Songs of My Life: The Anthology
(In Chronological Order)

1.) Every Rose Has Its Thorn-I once dated a boy named Joey and he was the best thing since sliced bread. I had a crush on him, and low and behold-he actually liked me, too. We used to call each other at night and listen to this song as we debated who was going to hang up first. Ahhh...young love. Eventually I learned that yes, every rose does have its thorn...but thankfully there are a lot of other roses in the garden.

2.) How Do You Talk To An Angel-The skating rink was a feeding ground for young love. I had my heart broken (and my glasses, but that's a WHOLE different story) there in the same place where I had many a birthday party and snowball skates. I even got my first bra at the skating rink. I went through an awkward phase at one point in my life, from about 7-13, and the skating rink was just NOT the place for a chubby gal with glasses and braces. I was always popular and had tons of friends, I just wasn't exactly raking in the offers to hold hands and skate around the rink to this song. But how I longed to.

3.)I'll Make Love to You-Okay, so this is totally inappropriate for any middle schooler to be grooving to, but seriously...how many people can hear Boys II Men and NOT be instantly transported to a 7th grade dance? The awkward phase was at it's peak during this point of my life, but even I could find another awkward soul to dance with. Picture it...swaying awkardly, hands on shoulders and hips, not daring to get too close. You know you loved it then, and now.

4.) Love You Down-Spring Break 1998-99? I'm not sure the exact year, but I KNOW we were in Panama City Beach, in one of my girlfriend's cars, singing this tune at the top of our lungs. Boys may come and boys may go...but love songs that you sing with your gals are always tops.

5.) Wonderful Tonight-Some people have terrible first experiences with their first love. My first love was wonderful. He was sweet, thoughtful, intelligent, and funny. Plus he was one of my best friends. Even though many years have passed and we are both happily married today, this song always brings a smile to my face because it reminds me of happy high school times. It's a constant reminder to be thankful for what you have, and to compliment those that you love--a nice word goes a long way, whether it's a love song or in real life.

5.5.) Your Body is a Wonderland-This song stinks and I am not, nor have I ever been, a John Mayer fan. This is simply a reminder that sometimes piece of crap guys will come along and tell you all sorts of things they don't mean. But nevertheless, it takes the bad to appreciate the good. Bottom line-never trust a dude who sings John Mayer to you!

6.) Romeo and Juliet-This little-known song is by one of my favorite bands, Dire Straits. I fell in love with this song when a cute guy named Ben played the guitar and sang this to a circle of girls at Governor's School. (Sidenote: This is the time I realized boys with guitars are infinitely cuter than boys without guitars) Many years later, H and I had stumbled across each other at Spring break in PCB when he asked me if I wanted to get away from the noise and go sit in his car for a few moments. What a line, huh? :) When we got in the car, he had a song I just HAD to hear...and it was this one. Here was a cute boy who liked one of my most favorite (and obscure) songs. This was when I knew he was the One. And mom, if you're reading this, he was a perfect gentleman!


7.) My Girl-This is the song my father and I danced to at my wedding. What love is stronger than the love between a father and daughter? Probably not much, if any. With my own lil gal's due date swiftly approaching, I can only imagine how much she is going to be a daddy's girl, just like me. And that makes me love them all even more.

8.) What a Wonderful World-After we were engaged, we spent quite a bit of time trying to find the right song to dance to. Actually, both of us had forgotten about this detail until the DJ at our wedding asked us what song we wanted to have our first dance to. We looked through his collection of tunes and realized that he didn't have the aforementioned Dire Straits song, which kind of broke my heart a little. We decided on the classic "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong. It is a beautiful, beautiful song that still makes me a little misty. About a year later as we danced to this at the 'ol Pelican Pub on Dauphin Island, H's father mentioned that this song had always been special to him, too, because it was the song playing in their hospital room when he first held baby H. What a wonderful world, indeed, Louis.

Happy Valentine's Day to you and yours! Kiss someone special today--but don't let it go too far or you'll end up like me!

Papa Loved Mama

Somewhere waaaaay back in the deep hollows of my brain, I have compiled a list of titles for my future novels. One is called "Bootlegging the Virgin" and it's a fictional story based on a not-quite-believable story told by a fellow camp counselor when I was in college. The other is called "Memoirs of a Graceless Child" and it is a true-life account (unfortunately) of some of my childhood antics and mishaps. After a Facebook post from my bestie this morning that took me straight down memory lane, I thought I would write this one down to test the waters.


As a small-town country girl in a small-town country school, I had a love affair with education. I literally loved everything about school--the teachers, the work, the socializing, lunch, even P.E. (except for the Presidential Physical Fitness Test which is a whole different animal-why in the flip do I need to do a pull-up to get a crappy paper certificate from the President!?!?!) School was a comfortable, safe place where it was actually cool to read books and know lots of useless knowledge.

Back in elementary school there were some things that DID excite me even more than usual. An opportunity to go watch the super-cool high school cheerleaders at a pep rally was like Christmas. Field trips were treats that I looked forward to for months, even when we were just heading to the local post office to watch them sort mail. (And I'm not kidding-ask my 2nd grade teacher)

Now, many of you might not know this, but I've always been somewhat of a ham. Give me a microphone (or really anything that resembles a microphone or can be interpreted as a microphone when singing into it) and a crowd, and this gal is in her element. What can I say? I love an audience.

So....when my little elementary school announced they were holding their first annual talent show, I knew my time had finally come. This was MY opportunity to show the world what I could do. My years of singing along to every country, gospel, and show tune on the radio would finally reap the rewards I so justly deserved. And apparently some teachers agreed with me as they excitedly signed me up to sing "She's In Love With The Boy" by Trisha Yearwood. Trisha (pre-Garth Brooks extramarital affair) Yearwood was having a good year around that time, and I just knew I could do her proud.

The weeks rolled by and the day of the talent show finally arrived. I can remember being SO nervous. I desperately wanted the approval of my peers, not to mention the fact that I fully expected Broadway or Nashville to come calling after my debut so I needed to be on my game. As the day wore on, my nerves got worse. I wasn't that nervous about actually getting up in front of a crowd, because I mean....hello, that is what I was born to do! I was just worried that I would forget the words and be standing up there with an actual real-life microphone with no words coming out of my mouth.

Apparently the practice I had done in the backseat of my parent's car and on my "stage" (aka the hearth in my living room) hadn't fully prepared me for what was to come.

When the emcee called my name, I held my head high and proudly marched my 8 or 9 year old behind right up on our auditorium stage in front of MY ENTIRE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, not to mention teachers, administrators, family, and friends. And to this day, I still can't tell you why what happened next happened.

Instead of the completely appropriate song about a young girl professing her love for a boy she eventually wants to marry....I belt out every line of "Papa Loved Mama" by Garth Brooks. Now, if you aren't familiar with 'ol Garth circa the early 90's, "Papa Loved Mama" is about a truck driver who discovers his wife has been cheating on him while he's on the road. He finds out about her nocturnal transgressions and catches them...ahem, in the act...in a seedy motel. To make a long story short, Papa drives his big rig into the motel, killing Mama and her new lover.

Needless to say, when I finally put the microphone down and took my bow....all I heard was crickets.

And then the principal called my mom and had a talk about why kids don't need to listen to such trash. And I think the First Annual Talent Show became the last talent show. Nashville must have gotten wind of my fall from grace since I never did get that call. And while I'm sure Broadway would have enjoyed the theatricality of my song choice, I'm guessing they didn't need another scandal on their hands.

But just as they say, now that I am an adult I can look back on this embarrassing childhood memory and laugh. I am very thankful for that because if not I would have probably killed myself after hearing this story told and retold at countless family functions.

If you are wondering if this helped curb my thirst for stardom--it did not. I still crave the spotlight, and I still long for that EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony).

I've matured and grown up, I have realized one thing...

Drunk patrons at my local karaoke bar don't give a damn about the moral turpitude of my song choice--as long as I sing it like I mean it!