Champagne Taste, Beer Budget

I'm currently in mid-renovation, and I've lost a little bit of my giddy-up-n-go. I was prepared for this so I've managed to fend off my desire to go play and do fun things. So this weekend...I will be painting!!! Or at least priming!

Since I've fallen off my wagon a bit I have at least dedicated some time to researching different design ideas. The Carrigan Casa is an Arts & Crafts Bungalow/Craftsman style. It was built in 1902 during a time when folks were becoming less rural and more focused on downtown business, which in Mobile was a lot of banking, shipping, and building. A Craftsman-style bungalow like ours was at one point meant to show great pride in the small details. They were smaller homes with less Victorian granduer. It was really about having a home that was functional and beautiful. A lot of the money saved on building a bungalow was put back into the materials and craftsmanship. It's neat to think that I can track some of the original fixtures and elements in my home back to other Mobile landmarks and businesses. Pretty cool!

Here are a few different designs that I've stumbled across that I really like. I guess my personal design aesthetic is funky transitional. I like simple, classic lines with a little bit of funkiness thrown in unexpectedly. I would soften a few of the items, but I really love the black, white and red against the cottage-y ceiling and drop window.

If I were a single woman, living it up in NYC--this would be my bedroom. Minus the ottomans at the foot of the bed. They can either be used for two things: 1. Catching a wad of comforter at the foot or 2. A shelf for laundy, coats, purses, etc. It also could be used to watch the goings-on in the bed, but that freaks me out even more. So, no ottomans in MY NYC bachelorette pad!

I just love this room. It's romantic. It's light and airy. I could do without the drapes around the bed, but overall I love it. I never really understood drapes around a bed. We aren't in Africa fighting malaria. And we certainly aren't waiting on an Arabian Nights-esque love story to unfold. No flying carpets for me...I'm terrifed of heights!

I have a nook in my kitchen. Right now it has a pub table that never gets used for cozy breakfasts or perusing the Sunday paper. Unless I'm using it to pile loads of laundry that need to be folded, it's kind of just wasted space. If I had my way, this would be in that nook. No changes, just absolutely perfect in its nook-ness. And we would use it all the time.

Whew! That is a lot of HGTV for one night! Unfortunately I now have the tough task of trying to create a design that rings true to the craftsman style, but with my budget and my personal touches. Everything I like tends to be out of my price range! (Story of my life, thanks mom!) I still haven't decided on a paint color. Or even an overall purpose of my room remodel. But I'm just trusting it will come to me! Until then...I'm just looking for inspiration all around me!

A Colossal Can of Worms...

Sometimes I have to try really, really hard to censure my opinions. Sometimes I am successful, sometimes I am not. I have had to learn some very valuable lessons about speaking my mind, but I am proud to say that at least I am a person that stands up for my convictions. There are very few things in life that make me fuming mad-most of the time I am a pretty laid-back type of person. Well...not today ladies and gentlemen! Not today....

I have said it on here before, but I loved growing up in Kinston, AL. I loved the small town atmosphere and the security I felt there. Kinston High School was not only my alma mater, but my father's and grandfather's as well. My grandmother and her best friend STILL go to volleyball games even though none of their immediate family members play anymore. My mother even got to teach Kindergarten there for a while.

Today, however, I was let down immensely. Some of you might say it's none of my business cause I don't live there anymore, but my blood runs orange and blue (but the navy blue, not that God-awful, tacky royal crap they changed it to). I am not perfect, and I have never once claimed to be. I enjoy a good time just as much as the next guy, but I also believe that there is a time and a place for everything.

Let me preface this by saying I don't know the whole story. I am pretty far removed from the gossip mill around those parts, but thanks to Facebook I get the general idea of what's been going on-the football coach allegedly gets a DUI with some underage minors in his car during Bama Jam. I don't have a problem with the football coach drinking a beer and having a good time--beer is NOT illegal and even teachers deserve to let their hair down sometimes. But, with that being said, teachers are held to a higher standard than most other professionals. Their main job is to mold the minds of children and inspire them to do great things. In a rural town like Kinston the students look up to their teachers even more, so I believe the teachers there have to be even more exceptional than normal. In my experience, most of them were.

My mom was greater than normal. She was energetic and creative. She was compassionate, understanding, and committed to the students in her class. She was usually the last one or one of the last ones to leave the school each day. She had pool parties at our house and would spend hours preparing for it. My dad would grill food and she would sing and play games with the kids. She didn't get paid extra for those things, and she didn't really want anything in return. She was fulfilling her dreams and giving back to a community that had given so much to us. She even spent her own money (not your tax dollars) to make sure each child felt special on his or her birthday-complete with a cake or cupcakes and a little gift. Her last year there she had a little girl who didn't even know it was her birthday. Five years on this planet and her piece of crap parents had never even acknowledged her birthday. THAT was why my mom was a great teacher! She did everything in her power to make her students love school and feel important and loved while there. She never once had a parent complain about her. She got along with other teachers (and I remember some of them personally--especially some of the raging idiots in the elementary school that said stuff like "why come?"--but I'm not naming names) By this time, she had even graduated with honors and earned her masters degree. Which, by the way, she achieved while holding down a full-time job.

But, in the end, the administration at Kinston and the Coffee County Board of Education made a huge error in judgement. On the last full day of school in 2009, Principal Weeks walked in and unceremoniously handed her a pink slip. ON THE LAST FULL DAY OF SCHOOL! Most schools do their hiring and interviewing in the Spring, but the BOE made sure she was good and screwed there. She was so upset--especially when she knew about some of the other things that other unnamed teachers and staff were participating in. (Apparently you see a LOT of, ahem....interesting things when you work late in your classroom) To say her heart was broken was an understatement. Mr. Weeks wouldn't give her any reasons as to why she was let go and neither would the BOE. Even Dr. Ingram was too busy, although she was probably too busy giving some more money to Zion Chapel so they could build a basket-weaving warehouse or something equally as stupid.

In my opinion, the Coffee County Board of Education is the biggest joke I've heard lately. And that is saying a lot consider I live in Mobile where we have judges spanking inmates and a County Commissioner who is awaiting trial for murder. I am a pretty smart gal, but even I can't understand their most current actions. Why in the world would they reinstate a teacher who got a DUI while driving around drunk, underage kids!?!?! Please remember this is not some immature, still wet-behind-the-ears graduate just learning the ropes in our public school system. This man is in his thirties and has no business being drunk with some 19 year old girls, no matter how much fun Bama Jam was! What kind of example is he going to set for his students? If my friends and I were in his bobo class (cause that's pretty much the only thing a coach can teach anyway) we would have laughed in his face if he tried to lecture us on drinking and driving! That is just what kids do--in order to be effective, you have to practice what you preach or be prepared to face the ridicule.

Maybe I'm a little bitter because of what they put my mom through. Maybe I'm just so shocked and appalled that this man isn't on the next bus to Slocomb. Maybe I'm pissed off because the town will rally around a dude that so blatantly disregarded the rules and codes of conduct befitting a teacher. I'm even upset that the church my parents have grown to love so much would be in support of this movement to rehire him. I too believe we should "love the sinner, hate the sin" but I also believe God wants us to learn from our mistakes. And the church is no place to hold a support rally of this nature--it leads nonbelievers to think the church is hypocritical and self righteous. If some members wish to support him personally, that is wonderful, and I hope I would be so lucky as to have friends stand by me like that should I ever find myself in a similar situation. But honestly, how can he learn from this when he isn't having to deal with any consequences?!

He isn't perfect and I don't expect him to be. Everyone makes mistakes and everyone deserves to be forgiven. But how far is too far? Apparently THIS isn't too far for them. I worry about the type of example they are setting for other teachers within Coffee County. In my opinion, this Dr. Ingram character doesn't know her butt from a hole in the ground if she is letting this type of behavior go on in her schools. She is only looking at the big picture: Who can help bring in revenue to Kinston? Who is revitalizing the football program? Who will drive the bus if I fire him?

It is so sad that my fellow Kinstonians are putting football before education. Sports do play a very important role in a child's life, but I believe a good role model who stresses character and accountability is far more crucial. A true man would have resigned, pulled himself up by his boot straps, moved on to a different school, and learned something from his mistakes. Maybe he could have returned in later years, when he is more settled and not really interested in hanging out with teenagers. I'm not saying we should crucify the dude--but we should let him lick his wounds in private. Trust me, I made a pretty terrible mistake in my professional life, too. But I had to face the consequences of my actions, and I've thankfully learned a good hard lesson from it.

My mom learned a hard lesson last year. And she learned an even harder one today. Sometimes it doesn't matter how hard you work or how smart you are, sometimes the idiots in charge just screw you over. Apparently she should have just gotten her B.S. in something like Kinesiology and learned to drive a bus because it seems THOSE are really the only attributes the Coffee County BOE is looking for in a good teacher.

DISCLAIMER: This is only my opinion, not the opinion of anyone else I know or love. I'm not even sure how much of what I've heard is true and what is a rumor. But no matter the minute details, I know how I feel about this whole thing in general.

I Got This!

Now that the man of the house is working so much, things have been a little boring in my neck of the woods. Instead of sitting around watching Bravo reality shows all evening and literally hearing my IQ drop, I've decided to be productive and start on Phase II of our little renovation.

Now that you've regained your composure from the shear hilarity of that statement, let me explain. We have a room and bathroom upstairs. It used to be my brother-in-law's room back in the day (we bought the house from my mother-in-law) but has certainly not been used in many years. Like many tucked away spots in homes, this room became a storage unit for the childhood remnants of my husband. There might be a few other odds and ends up there, but you will hear more about that later. Overall, it's a great little spot that just doesn't quite know its purpose yet: a guest suite for out-of-town visitors, a man room for H, a craft room for me...haha, just kidding!

Honestly, I blame it on HGTV and Southern Homes and Gardens. If this all goes down in a blaze of glory, please include HGTV and Southern Progress in my suit against BP. Since I am now able to watch all kinds of HGTV and DIY shows I've DVR'd throughout the day, I have really been inspired to get back on track. Oddly enough, along with that renewed enthusiasm for renovation came its wingman, the inflated ego. I have managed to convince myself that I can do this pretty much by myself. In my opinion, most of our renovation money needs to go to the things that we can't do ourselves. And there are a lot of those things. But cleaning, spackling and painting are certainly things this able-bodied designer can do! By the way, I am using the term "designer" very loosely here! But in my defense, if some of those yahoos on Design Star can do it, I can too!

So tonight, I spackled. It actually didn't take as long as I had thought it would, which probably means I am a phenomenal, FIFAesque Spackler Prodigy. But I'm really too old to be a prodigy, so it could just mean I did it all wrong. I choose to believe the first option.

Tomorrow I will sand down the holes and blemishes I patched tonight. The next step will be to clean and prep the walls for paint. And since I don't want all three of you to see the chaos that I'm sure is on the horizon, I won't document the next few steps. I wouldn't make you literally watch paint dry--it's like golf, never the same unless you can smell the azaleas.

I'm really at a loss as to what to use this room for. H really wants a "He-Man Woman Haters Club" with a flat screen and a kegerator. I think it would be best as a guest bedroom/mini-theater. We have our main living on the first floor, which has our master and master bath, guest bedroom, guest bath and office (which is currently the Boudoir, aka my dressing room, and would probably be the future Carrigan Jr.'s nursery if anyone around here ever thought about those types of maternal things).

I'm pretty excited about my undertaking! It really is easier to just pay someone to come in and do it all, but I know I'm gonna be really proud of myself once it's complete. I will have not only saved my little family some money, I think I'm gonna surprise some folks when it's all done. And then, like any good wife, I will have something to hold over H's head for the rest of our lives! :) Something of this magnitude should definitely be rewarded with fabulous purses and/or a weekend trip to New Orleans. I'm just saying...

Deep Thoughts

Sometimes my thoughts are very scattered and random. I really haven't had any thoughts lately that might inspire an entire blog post, so here is my random stream of consciousness on a Friday afternoon.

My sinuses are killing me today for some reason. It feels like my eyes are gonna explode out of the front of my forehead. I've taken some meds for sinus headaches, but this dull ache just laughs in the face of modern medicine. Take that Sudafed!

There was a Pottery Barn catalog in the kitchen at our office. It has the most beautiful things that are pretty much all out of my price range. And then I remember the Friends episode where Phoebe is totally anti-Pottery Barn because they mass produce replicas of what would normally be charming antique cottage furniture and quadruple the price. Pottery Barn, you are dead to me now.

Which brings me other mass-produced items and chain stores. I hate chain stores and restaurants. I hate them because they ensure that everyone will inevitably have the same crap in their houses and stomachs. The chains put the little mom and pop shops out of business. I hate them because I don't really like things are always brand new--I love the story behind old objects, which is why I own a house that is almost a 100 years old. Sometimes I lay in bed at night and try to conjure up stories about the Winchells, the family that built our house back in 1902. I love the fact that there have been other wonderful memories made in this house. In my mind they were a pretty happening family. He was a banker, she was a stay-at-home mother of three with a love of crocheting and martinis in the afternoon....

My hair needs layers. It's far too blunt for somewhere with wild curls like mine.

I hope my future children don't have my crazy hair. I pray their hair is straight like their daddy's. But blue/gray eyes like mine would be okay!

I refuse to believe that I can't go to the FREE Jimmy Buffett concert. I am a good person. I do nice things for other people. I give homeless people cheeseburgers. WHERE ARE MY 4 JIMMY BUFFETT TICKETS!?!?!?! Somebody call BP--I'm making a claim due to emotional distress and loneliness. And lack of inspiration. I think a few hundred thousand ought to cover it!

Lord, why does the clock stop at this exact time on a Friday afternoon? I need my weekend to get here as soon as possible. Obviously I have been working WAY too hard today!

The Age-Old Questions

Since my birthday was last Saturday and I reached an undisclosed age that is awfully close to 30, I've really been thinking and pondering over this whole "getting older" thing. I'm on the downhill slide of my late twenties, and I can honestly say thus far I've had a pretty good life. If any publishing house is ever looking for a young writer to pen a novel titled "How to Get the Most Out of Your College Experience and Young Adult Life", I would say I'm the gal for the job! Sign me up--where's my check?!?! Now that I am creeping on up to a different age bracket, I'm starting to question whether some of my usual habits are appropriate for people my age. Emily Post was gracious enough to write an instruction manual on proper place settings at an elegant dinner, the importance of a well-written thank you note, and when to wear white and linen. As handy as this can be from time to time (especially in the South where manners and such things are very important) I'm left wondering why Emily Post left out the answers to MY types of questions.

Question #1: What is the appropriate age for a woman to have short hair?
My hair has always been mid-length and blonde. I'm certainly not into the Crystal Gayle look (Google it for a good laugh today) but I realize that there will come a day when I'm supposed to have a short bouffant that needs to be washed and set at the beauty shop once a week by a woman named Lenore. I need to know the exact age this will occur so I can prepare myself for this inevitable event.

Question #2: Are we too old to sleep on a blow-up mattress?
At this stage in my life friends are getting married (and some remarried), having babies, buying homes, etc and a lot of my friends live in far away lands like Birmingham, Montgomery, and Atlanta. I'm afraid I've reached the age when it is no longer appropriate to assume I've got a prime spot on a blow-up mattress, guest bed, or couch when visiting. When my parents go out-of-town they book a hotel room. When I go out-of-town I look through my rolodex (aka Facebook) and look for the person who lives closest to my intended destination so I can crash at their house! Maybe it's because I'm cheap (thanks for THAT gene daddy!) or maybe because I like to kill two birds with one stone and visit with my friends while I'm traveling.

Questions #3: When will I start being ashamed that I know dirty rap songs?
This question is dear to my heart. I'm not a foul person--I don't curse a lot, I've never been arrested or gotten in trouble with the police, I've never stolen anything. I'm an educated person who enjoys reading classic novels and watching old movies. I like quiet evenings at home with my dogs, a nice bubble bath, and a good sermon at church. And...I know all of the words to every Tupac, Eazy E, and Notorious B.I.G song out there. As of a few weekends ago this was a skill I was still very proud to possess. But I have a feeling that no one is gonna be too impressed with a little 'ol blue-haired lady that's spitting out Juvenile lyrics under the dryer at the aforementioned beauty shop.

Question #4: When will my smell change?
Granted I have no idea what I smell like now, but for the most part I haven't heard too many complaints. I wear deodorant and shower regularly (except for No Shower Sundays but that's a whole different post!). But then again I'm sure the 90-year-old lady that hugs me at church does, too. But she doesn't exactly smell "fresh". It's almost like the musty smell that comes from my dress/coat closet--the one that I only open during Mardi Gras and the three days each year when it's below 40 degrees.

Question #5: At what age does bathroom humor become obsolete?
Just typing this question makes me giggle, so apparently I haven't reached that age yet! But seriously ya'll. There is nothing funnier to me than when someone lets out a squeeker my accident or cuts a silent-but-deadly poot in an elevator. I've seen the looks on the faces of other adults when these situations have come up and it ain't good. It is a mixture of disbelief and disgust--an awkward scrunching of the nose and watering of the eyes that obviously doesn't make them happy. I, on the other hand, am usually unsuccessfully trying to disguise my laughter. Then I talk about it for the rest of the day and laugh uncontrollably each time. I guess it will cease to be funny once I realize I just stunk up the elevator and blamed it on my husband.

Question #6: When will my biological clock start ticking?
I adore the children in my family and the children of my . They are adorable and entertaining and wonderful--especially when I get to go home and leave them at home with their parents. I know people my age or even younger who have 2-3 kids and it just blows my mind. I can't even imagine having ONE child right now! I'm still WAY too young to be a mom to anything other than Lois and Charlie (the pooches). I've been happily married for over 3 years, we are employed, we own a house....the list of reasons why we are ready to have kids goes on and on. But in the end I think we are too busy having fun and enjoying each other to want kids right now. I wonder when babies will stop being a far-off notion that makes me smile and become a deep need that keeps me up at night marking my ovulation chart on an Anne Geddes calendar?

I have many more questions about what to expect as I age gracefully (I figure if I go ahead and set my mind to "age gracefully" now it has to happen, right?) but the rest of them are probably better saved for someone with a degree in medicine. Or psychiatry. And those same questions will also be the ones that my mom would classify as "private" -- which, in Danita language, inevitably translates to "not to be aired on Facebook or that damn blog I lose sleep about at night!"

So don't worry mom! If you guys ever get anything other than dial-up internet in Kinston and you manage to read my blog posts....I'm keepin' it classy--bathroom humor and all!

My friend Lindsey said that she had been contemplating starting her own blog, but in her overly-articulated world she was afraid she would have "no more words." I laughed because I thought to myself, "There is NO WAY I could run out of words to say!"

And yet, I have found myself--only a few weeks in--with "no more words." Actually, I have plenty of words in my head (and voices, too, but that's for another post) but for some reason I just can't seem to get them down. I come up with all kinds of topics while I'm driving in my car, taking a shower, talking with friends, etc. But then once it's time to actually write them down, all of my witty comments have escaped me.

You see, this blog kinda frightens me. If you know me, you know I am rather opinionated and I certainly don't mind sharing my opinion. However, I am a firm believer in the 'ol saying "It's not what you say, it's how you say it." When I am voicing my opinion I tend to pepper my words with laughter and smiles (or at least I try to most of the time) and the other person can easily see that I am not combative or rude. You can certainly make your point, stand your grounds, and express an opinion without hurting or offending others. But when it comes to writing an opinion down and putting it out there for the world to see (like on Facebook or a blog) it can easily be taken the wrong way. Especially if the person reading it doesn't really know me or understand words like irony, sarcasm, and wit. Truth is, I can be kinda blunt sometimes and some folks just don't know quite how to take me. So that is my dilemna: Do I just wait until I have something interesting to post or do I post often with my thoughts and opinions? I surely don't want to alienate my followers (all 3 of you!) or piss anybody off, but what fun is a blog if I can unleash all of thoughts into the wild?

I'm also afraid that no one will ever read the damn thing! Having a blog with 5 followers is like baking a beautiful cake and then no one shows up for the party--you've spent so much time creating this cake with no one to help eat it or share in its gloriousness.

Birthday Month Ramblings

My birthday was June 12th. For some reason I have always loved birthdays. Not just mine (which are pretty awesome) but other people's birthdays as well. There is something so great about picking out the perfect gift for a friend or loved one and knowing that they are going to LOVE it or use it for a long time! You always hear people say "it is better to give than to receive" and while I don't really know if "better" is the exact word I would use, it is still a pretty darn good feeling.



June is a big month for my family. My mom, dad, and I all have birthdays in June so it's a pretty big deal. My dad has always made sure my mom's birthday is a big deal--usually he whisks her off to some foreign land like Destin or Eufaula. A few years ago we even got some of my aunts and uncles together for a dinner cruise on the Lady Anderson in Panama City for her birthday. My mother does not let anyone forget her birthday is approaching and she certainly isn't too shy to go purchase her own birthday present!



So really, when you consider the antics of the lady who birthed me, it is no wonder I am the way I am. (And unfortunately this is not the only trait I got from her--my "mouthiness" as my dad says, my smile, my weininess as my husband says....the list goes on) When you couple my mother's genes with the fact that I am the youngest grandchild (on both sides) and the only little girl (on both sides) it is amazing that I'm not a walking poster child for "Spoiled Rotten Only Child." (But don't ask my dad cause he will say I coined that phrase!) I guess it is my parent's fault because they always made my birthday such a wonderful day. I always had a pool party, spend-the-night party, or skating party or some kind of party with all of my friends.



But today is the day to put aside my birthday and my mother's birthday. Because today is my dad's birthday--June 24, 1892. Haha--just kidding! It was actually 1902.

My daddy is hands down the greatest man that ever lived. He is kind, funny, sincere, honest, loving, handsome, unselfish, respected...he is every good adjective I can't think of at this exact moment. He is the most selfless provider and protector a family could hope for, and it is no stretch to say that he is the backbone, heart, and checkbook of our family. As far as I know, my dad has never been wrong. And he prides himself on this record. As a matter of fact, he is famous for telling me, "If I tell you the moon is made of cheese, you better bring crackers when you go!" He can beat me at anything. Even being 35 years older than me, he can beat me at running, climbing, push ups, checkers, Monopoly, washing dishes, jokes, etc. If there is any sort of competition he will not only beat me, but beat me happily. And then he will make fun of me at family outings and get-togethers for losing to an old man like himself. Needless to say, I never got to celebrate a Candyland or Old Maid victory in my childhood. And I'm still bitter. To be completely honest, the only thing I can beat my dad at is spelling. Which by the way, he thinks is hilarious. (Because apparently being a good speller does not a champion make) In the tournament bracket of life in my family, the rankings are as follows: 1. Dad 2. Me 3. Mom.

I truly wish that every person in the world (especially little girls) could have a father like mine. He was tough on me growing up because he expected the absolute best from me. My dad never gives less than his best, even if it means shaming his 3-year-old daughter at Candyland. Or his 26-year-old daughter at Spades. He is the type of man whose character is evident with every breath he takes or smile he gives.

Simply put, he is my hero.

Even though my parents don't even have the internets (I'm sorry-I can't help a good Dubya joke!) I wanted to put this out there. If you see him around town, give him a hug and tell him "Happy Birthday!" And tell him he's lucky to have a daughter that isn't in therapy after all those years of losing.

Happy Birthday Daddy!