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I’d like to take a moment to declare Steve Spurrier my homeboy.  I really like him, not just as a coach, but also as a person.  Say what you want about the man, but I had the opportunity to work with him as a “Gator Guide” aka football recruit hostess while I was a a student and I always enjoyed my interactions with him.  He likes to be the best and who doesn’t like that about someone? 

As I watched him the other night coaching the Gamecocks I couldn’t help but remember how much I like him.  Now, don’t take this as me saying I don’t like Urban Meyer.  I really enjoy him as well, however I don’t know him other than what’s in the newspaper and tv.  He’s a great coach who demands results and knows how to coach a team to get them to be better.  Who doesn’t like that about a man who is in charge of my favorite football team EVER?

The title of this entry is from a song we used to sing before we’d open the doors on gamedays to let the recruits in to eat and tour the stadium.  Steve’s middle name is Orr.  Those times are some of my favorite memories from college gamedays.  While my friends were off getting “prepared” for the games aka filling their binocular flask with the liqour of choice, which by the way was the most ingenious invention and why didn’t I think of it?  And my sorority sisters were at fraternity bbq’s and sitting in the block wearing their best Gator dress I was wearing a hideous uniform and standing at the entrance to the tunnel where the team comes and goes from the locker room.  Gamedays for me never has been about how drunk I could get, it was always about what recruits we could bring onto next years team.  It was something I was and still am proud of.  And sometimes something I miss.  It was nice to volunteer in the football offices and organize the junior recruits before anyone knows their name and have Steve stop by to throw out a witty remark.   It was nice to stand in the tunnel during every game with a special view of the field that not many are privy to.  It was not nice to put on my tight, long, polyester shorts and tennis shoes and have to leave my parent’s tailgate to arrive at the Gator Room 3 hours before the game and tell those unlucky Guides that they would be working in the SkyBox during the first half of the game instead of enjoying it on the sideline.  Why was the SkyBox so dreaded?  It was also not nice to have to be nice to those recruits that would come to the Room in another teams attire and expect for us to let them in on Florida tickets to cheer on our opponent.  Or those girlfriends who would come up there with their undersized, overrated boyfriend who is the best thing to hit their high school in a century and think he was going to be the next Wuerffel and own UF.  Instead they got to see a game, eat a meal, and never hear from a recruiter again because he just isn’t UF football material.  Kind of like sorority Rush, this whole recruiting thing.

Anyway, now I attend the games as just another fan and look down at that tunnel where I stood for four years.  Mixed emotions.  Loving my seats because they belong to my Dad, seats where I sat as a little girl and wanted to be one of those girls in the orange cowboy hats (Gator Guides known as Gator Getters at the time) and sad because the Gator Guides are not longer in existance.  Kind of like Spurrier’s reign as the Good Ol’ Boy of Florida Football.  Some of the best memories.

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Life has been so busy.  It’s really crazy how quickly days go by.  Let’s see.  I couple weeks ago my best friends took me to the beach for the weekend and then we had a shower to celebrate our wedding.  I cannot tell you how excellent it was to be with my friends for a bit and felt so loved after that little refresher weekend.  I have the most amazing friends in the world.  However, not only do I have great friends, but when we got back from the beach Phil had recleaned the house for us, so we walked into a scrubbed and shining oasis.  He’s so wonderful.  It just reminds me how much we do enjoy entertaining, though we don’t have the opportunity very often.  Hopefully, once we move into a more conducive space for having people over we can do that more often.  Then there’s our family.  They are so wonderful.  We received beautiful presents from the and they were so concerned that I have a great shower it was very touching.  What a great support system. 

I am so blessed to have this time in my life and be surrounded by such wonderful people.  I just wanted to take a moment to reflect on that and share it with all of you.  We are tying up the loose ends getting ready for the wedding.  At times I feel like there is so much left to do and other times I feel like we have a light at the end of the tunnel. 

My parents and I went to get my dress bustled on Sunday and also looked for a beautiful dress for my Mom while we were there.  Once I put my dress on they practically had to pry it off me because I just want to wear it all the time.  You will likely see me in it at Publix or Target.  Maybe even Friday night dinner.  Just because I love it.  Dress shopping for my Mom was a blast!  The only tidbit I’ll share is this:  we must have picked out 20 dresses to try on.  I liked this one in particular and when I was strapping her into it, as you have to do with anything bridal related–strap yourself in–I hooked the top bra like hook and when I went to go zip it up I wouldn’t accept the fact that it was a bit small.  By this time the tension on the bra like hook was too much and it shot off the dress with a ‘ping’ and went flying by her head.  I then began ripping the dress off her so that I didn’t break anything else, when she lost her balance and the dress went one way and she went the other.  By the time we got her out of it we were both hysterically laughing and the dress was nearly destroyed.  I won’t post the other gory details because there’s some things you just have to keep a Mommy/Daughter secret, but the bottom line is we are still looking for the perfect dress and I can’t wait to go again.

I did make a flower mock up of how I am picturing the centerpieces and just as with everything else related to this wedding it looked nothing like I expected but I loved it.  So my vision for the centerpieces has now morphed into something else and I can’t wait to see the finished product on the tables at the reception while we celebrate with our friends and family.  This has been a very fast, busy, stressful 8 months, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.  I have gained so much respect and appreciation for my family and friends over these past months and once again I’m reveling in the fact that I am so blessed.  I can only hope Phil and I have this much love surrounding us forever.

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Me:  I got the information from the DJ today.  He sent me the play list.  We can add songs too if he doesn’t have them listed.  It’s a good list, not a lot of rap stuff.

Mom:  That’s good!  Is he the one that will play at the church?  Does he have the Wedding March?  I love the Wedding March.  They played it at your Dad and my wedding.  Wait, aren’t you having an organist?  You need to make sure they can play the Wedding March for the walk down the aisle.

Me:  Yes I have an organist that I need to call to schedule the music for the church.  The DJ is for the reception.  I’m not having the Wedding March.  I don’t like it as much as some other stuff that’s out there.  Plus, they usually don’t allow that song at the Lutheran Church because it’s secular music, but the Pastor said I could use it if I wanted to. 

Mom:  Not having the Wedding March?!  What the hell are you going to walk into the church to?  Everyone uses the Wedding March and it’s so beautiful.  I’ve never been to a wedding that doesn’t use the Wedding March for the bride to enter.

Me:  Well I’ve never been to a wedding that USES the Wedding March.  I could use “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desire” or something from the hymnal that is beautiful.  I don’t really love the March when I could use something that’s just as nice.

Mom:  Well the world has gone to shit, hasn’t it.  Not using the Wedding March…you’re going to walk in to some goofy music aren’t you?

So ladies and gentlemen, it is not the other things in the world like the murderers, rapists, war, drugs, etc. that is causing the problems with humanity, it is in fact the resistance of brides and grooms of today to use the traditional Wedding March at their weddings.  You’ve heard it here first.

What will I do when I can’t have these discussions with my Mom after wedding planning is over!  Don’t worry, I’ll continue to provide the commentary.  Our conversations are good enough for publishing.  And I just love her to pieces!

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I have been up to so much lately it’s been hard to find time to write about it.  Here’s a recap, we went to Chattanooga last week and renovated Phil’s Mom’s bathroom among the visiting and eating we did while there, then my Dad had a procedure to open the arteries in his legs so that he could walk again and there were some complications with that but he’s home a doing a bit better now, I attempted to sign the contract for the wedding reception but that will have to wait till next week, and our invitations came in! 

Yesterday Phil and I went to pick out our wedding bands.  After everyone weighed in on the wedding band question a few months ago I realized that it really didn’t matter what color his band is or whether it matched mine or not so I was prepared for him to get his white gold band and me to keep my mouth shut for eternity.  Then he picked a yellow gold band that I think is beautiful!  I can’t wait for him to wear it just because I think it is so great.  And it’s YELLOW gold, so any twinge of apprehension I had for us having significantly different bands I don’t have to worry about.  Phil is moderately excited about the ring because he never wears “jewelry” but I keep reminding him it’s not JEWELRY, it’s a necessary part of your being until you die or I kill you, but either way, it’s not optional so get used to it.

Of course, I’m the pain in the ass that cannot pick a band I like.  I know what I want, but because of the setting of my ring, nothing sits flush to it.  Which would be fine, except I know it’s not flush and it’s one of those things that would annoy me.   So, I keep looking.

We went to buy our flooring and purchased it!  I can’t wait now it just needs to be installed so that our house can get back to a semblance of normal.  I can’t wait and the flooring ended up being a medium colored laminate that has the premium backing attached, so it should look great and be quieter than regular laminate.  YAY!  If I can figure out how to post pics here, I’ll share when it’s done.

Anyway, life seems to be coming together.  Finally.  It’s been a long road for us, but things have been great lately.  I’m a little afraid of puting that out there since I’m sure it will jinx it, but I know there is a much higher power at work out there, so I’m ok with that.  He’s watching out for us.

Flooring and a wedding band.  Life can’t get much sweeter.

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Ok, so for those of you who were wondering how my life revelation came out after vacation, it took me a bit to find my balls, but ladies and gentlemen I FOUND THEM!  I’ve given up being Ms. Sweetie Pie to everyone in all situations, and decided to just go with who I am.  Sometimes I’m sweet, sometimes I’m not.  And that’s ok.  And even after I decided that’s its ok if I’m not sweet all the time, I still struggled to use my balls.  That’s when I realized they were missing.  Nobody stole them, I just misplaced them, but no fear!  I have them now and am fully equipped to use them!  Watch out.

Something I accomplished this week was ordering the bridesmaid dresses!  Both of them are officially ordered and the perfect color, though it looks a little too cranberry by itself, the dress matched my swatch perfectly!  Perfect.  I have the invitations ordered (hopefully) but that’s a different story and I’ll be talking with the reception man hopefully this week and that will be taken care of.  I have an email in to the photographer and now I need to focus on the flowers and music man.  I can’t believe it’s getting so close!  Oh, and super important, we need to order our rings.  Everything is coming together! 

On Tuesday we are going to Chattanooga to visit Phil’s family.  I’m excited since I haven’t been up there since Christmas!  I think there is some work we are going to do, see Nana, visit with his Mom, Dad, and the rest of the family.  It should be a nice trip!

Ok, ya’ll I’m off to slumber, carrying around balls this size is tiring!

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I’m currently enjoying the last few moments of my vacation before all hell breaks loose packing all of the shit we have scattered about the cottage over the last week and trying to stuff it into the EXPEDITION.  Seriously, how two people can need an entire Expedition to go on vacation is beyond me.  If we ever have children, they will have to ride in a side car or something because there’s simply no room for them or their vacation things.  But we have a while to worry about that.

I absolutely hate going home day of vacation.  I’m sure everyone does, but I can remember as a child (something I still do to this day) waking up on the last day and not wanting to get out of bed because as soon as someone notices I’m awake they have to remind me that we’re going home and that I need to get my things packed so we can go.  I tend to lay in bed as long as possible on the last day just to avoid the sentence that breaks my soul.  “Vacation is over.”  Like nails on a chalkboard.  Now I have to get back into gear of going to work, planning a wedding, planning a class reunion, and the everyday details that I didn’t think about for the last week.  That and when I open the door of the cottage in the morning I am smacked in the face by warm, salty air here at the beach.  At home I’m smacked in the face by the smell of dog manure and surrounded by condos, college students, and a fence that doesn’t allow me to see outside my little 15×10 area of half dead, half 3 feet tall grass.  If that wouldn’t stark contrast to life wouldn’t piss you off they you’re just not breathing. 

I had a fabulous break from regular life.  One I very much needed.  Yesterday, Phil took me out for pizza and putt putt golf (because those are two things I love here in Daytona) for my birthday.  Then he told me I could mine for jewels as well which was like telling me we were staying an extra week paid for by the city of Daytona, all inclusive.  I realize that mining for jewels at the putt putt golf in Daytona is silly.  But I love it.  My parents introduced me to the mining process during a vacation to North Carolina when I was a child, so if you hand me a bag of dirt, tell me there’s hidden treasures in it, and point me to the water wheel, I could sit there all day.  Oh, and I call it “pining for jewels” instead of mining.  But, I digress, he bought me my bag and I grabbed it with both hands carefully walking to the water trough to uncover my gems with him in tow remarking about what a little kid I am.  We get over to the trough and he tells me to just dump the whole bag in the sifter and lets get this over with to which I yelled NO! so loud and whiny that the people around us all turned around to look.  You wouldn’ve thought he just told me he drowned Lila P. Cat.  Anyway, he helped me pick out my little treasures and instead of only taking home the pretty ones he suggested we just take all of it home and I go through it later, sneaky bastard that he is.  We nearly filled the little plastic bag and when I told him to go ask the cashier for another bag for my treasures, he somehow fit two more sifters full of “gravel” as he called it in there and swiftly sent me to the car with my very own ziploc bag of gems, and some gravel too.  Anyway, we played golf and then went home.  And while I hate winding down vacation, it was the perfect end to the week.   Relaxed.  Fun.  And that’s how I’m hoping to stay for a few days.  Relaxed.  Fun.

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Mom:  “What are you drinking?  Is that beer?  You shouldn’t drink it makes you fat and then you get all hung over.  It’s not worth it.”

Phil:  “It’s wine.” 

Mom:  “Wine’s good for you.  Is it red or white?”

Phil:  “White.  Do you want some?”

Mom:  “No.  I don’t drink.  I don’t want to have a bigger belly.  Like yours it’s like a buddha.”

Me:  “Do you want to touch his belly?  You can rub it for good luck.”

Mom:  “No.  I don’t.”

Phil:  “It’s not a belly, its the gas tank for this sex machine.  And this is not just wine it’s fuel for the sex machine.  I have a whole bottle of fuel in there and I fully intend on drinking it all.  Maybe tonight.”

Mom was speechless and I was laughing.  And so the vacation continues.

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I love vacation!  Who doesn’t right?  It’s been such a stressful year that I’m so happy my family could be together to relax for a bit.  The beach is great with clear ocean water, nice pool, and it’s warm and fabulous.  Today Phil is fishing and hopes to go again this week with my Dad.  He’s in heaven as long as he gets to spend a little fishing time.  We’re headed out to the pool here in a few minutes.  Couldn’t get better.  Next year we’re hoping Phil’s mom will be able to come down and we’ll get her a cottage as well.  Then the whole clan will be together and it should be great. 

Just before we left for vacation we were moving things around in preparation for the flooring change.  That’s when I came across the box.  After my parents fire in 2005 there ended up being a few boxes of things we salvaged from the rubbish.  It’s difficult for me to go through these things because they smell like a forrest fire and most of them have ash/smoke and water damage so I usually only look at a few things at a time because quite honestly it’s painful to see these things in their new, virtually destroyed state.  At any rate, I was moving some pictures into a closet and I saw it.  My 8th grade yearbook.  The only yearbook I have left of all my years going to elementary, middle, and high school.  Why 8th grade?  Of all the fabulous years of yearbooks I had before the fire, the 8th grade one is the only one that survives?  How ironic.  Eighth grade was a pretty difficult year for me.  Nothing notably great happened that year for me.  In fact all I can remember is mundane, difficult.  I hated my classes because they were boring to me, I had a terribly short haircut and round, wire framed glasses in some of the pictures, and I got into a friendship ending fight with my then best friend at the end of that year.  And those are the better highlights of that year.  As I was reading the things people wrote in the yearbook, I couldn’t help but laugh.  Apparently people’s perception of me (including my teachers) was one of shallowness, rudeness, and “practical jokes” which from my memory was really me just being a bitch to my classmates basically making fun of them while myself and others laughed at their expense.  And this is the only yearbook I ended up with.  Great.  Why is all of this relevant you’re probably asking at this point?  Here’s why.  A couple of months ago I decided I was going to be nice.  No more bitchy antics.  Fewer f-bombs.  More compassion and friendliness.  And here’s the kicker.  While I realize this is more of the person I’d rather be, it’s so friggin hard.  It’s unfortunately frustrating for me because I’ve found when you are a sweet, nice person other people take advantage of you and see you as weak.  So I’m trying to find a balance between my real self and the sweet, weak individual I’d like others to see, well not weak, but you get what I mean.  A few months ago a man I work fairly closely with was involved in a likely vulgar banter I was having with one of my friends from work, and he was chiding me along to say all those things he’s used to me saying in a conversation of that nature, when I informed everyone involved that I was not going to take it to that level, I was trying to be a better and nicer person.  He then told me something along the lines of don’t do that, let the real you shine through.  And I had to stop and think, does he really think the real me is a total bitch that will tell you what I think of you in a split second just so that you don’t have the opportunity to roll over me?!  I guess he does.  And somehow that’s an endearing quality to some people.  SO, bottom line, I’m hoping to find the balance here.  I’m hoping that this vacation will allow me the time to relax and remember who I really am.  I have been so schizophrenic, manic, whatever you want to call it over the last many months with all the stress I just react to situations instead of think about my reaction options first.  I’m determined when I get back home, you’ll meet the real me.  New and improved.  At least for a little while. 

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First, I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve written anything.  I’ve just had so much going on that by the time I sat down at night I just wanted to sit there, and drool.  Anyway, I’ll catch you up with the quick recap and if you don’t like to get too personal then this would be your stop.  The train will come back around to pick you up another time.

Let’s begin.  The excruciating pain I’ve been having is likely the result of a ruptured cyst that I keep producing on my ovaries.  There is currently one larger one on my right ovary, so the chances I will have the “would you pleas stop stabbing me with that sword” pain will happen again are very likely.  Great.  Phil’s Nana passed out last week and it’s been a difficult transition for his mother to have Nana anywhere other than their home.  It’s therefore been difficult for Phil because he can’t be there to support anyone.  The company that he used to work for (until they fired him while on medical leave, but that’s a different story) got broken into 3 times in 5 days last week and on Monday his old boss was standing at our front door accusing Phil of being responsible for the break in and consequent stealing of about 200 gallons of gasoline.  The next day the boss showed back up at the door and apologized AND offered Phil his job back.  The world is crazy.  I did meet with the McLeod House last week.  That’s all I’ll say about that.  Oh, and the Aflac that was supposed to be denied last week so we were waiting for the claim denial letter in the mail instead turned out to be a check so we can pay our bills!  Not all things were bad!  Halleluiah!  The Aflac check was best termed by Phil’s mom–”an answer to prayers”.

So, needless to say life has been busy and stressful.  That’s why I’m so happy to officially be on vacation.  We leave tomorrow for 7 days at the beach and I couldn’t be more excited.  We started on our flooring renovation two days ago which is going to happen in stages and I’m currently extremely antsy about it.  We broke down the downstairs bed and are moving all of the upstairs bedroom contents downstairs so that we can paint, remove the baseboards, and finally put the wood floors in.  I’m not sure how two people can accumulate so much stuff, but seeing as how we are both pack rats, it’s pretty easy to rationalize.  Anyway, I’ve learned that while my house is cluttered and “messy” it’s really an organized mess to me.  I know where most things are even though nobody else could find them.  So now that Phil has organized things in preparation for all this moving about, I can’t seem to find anything.  Very stressful.  On Wednesday, Phil and I went to Lowes to get the paint.  Going to Lowes is always a total fiasco when Phil and I go together.  You can imagine this time was no different.  I’m picking out washers and dryers, Phil’s looking at fans and lighting, we reconvene at the buggy, I pick out flooring, Phil’s rerouting me to the buggy, Phil’s picking out handles for the glass door, I’m chatting with the screaming baby via my shut up glare, I’m picking out beige paint, but not too beige, more brown and to him it’s all the same color, finally we get all the things into the cart and I’m starting to have a hot flash/panic attack because it’s total overload for me and then we get into a scuffle about why he desperately needs a $300 air gun/nail thing that I disagree with purchasing because we’ve made it 6 years without it and we don’t need it now but we ABSOLUTELY do.  Argh.  We agree to check out and make our way to the check out aisles.  Since they were full, I suggested we self check out because as most of you have heard I loved my job at Winn Dixie and as Phil says I like to relive my teenage years as a cashier.  But this time he took over my scanning duties and I think he did it just to screw with me but I held my shit together until the last few items when I declared “my turn” and simultaneously scanned an item and threw it in the bag.  It wasn’t until I was about to scan the second item in 3.2 seconds that Phil grabbed my hand and said “whoa”.  Apparently, the computer was slower than my scanning prowess and it didn’t register the last item I scanned so when I tossed it in the bag the computer had a seizure and shut down proclaiming loudly “please wait for assistance” and it wouldn’t go out of this locked down mode so now Phil’s pissed.  After probably 2 minutes of no assistance the computer finally allowed us to continue, and by us I mean Phil.  We get the bill paid and now we start the lecture about how I never follow instructions and I’m just so herky jerky doing my own thing that I always screw things up blah blah blah.  I’m now laughing so hard that I managed to get one gallon of paint into the cart and take off while Phil’s standing there with another gallow of paint and more bags continuing to lecture me.  He finally catches up and I offer him some space in my cart to put his things (since I only had one gallon of paint in it) and he tells me that when I do things like that he just wants to choke the life out of me.  More hysterical laughter from me.  More veins popping out of Phil’s head.  We both compose ourselves.

If you’ve made it this far then congratulations!  You’ve relived our Lowes experience.  But more importantly you perhaps have seen why we work so well together.  The things that infuriate Phil I can usually laugh about and the things that infuriate me he can talk me down from.  It’s when we are both infuriated about something that life goes down hill.  So I have to ask you, do you and your significant other balance eachother so well you don’t mention your quirks or do you (healthy) quarrel about your quirks? 

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Who designs underpants?  Some may call them panties, but I prefer underpants because it somehow seems less raunchy to me than “panties”, but regardless I would like to know who designs them because I cannot seem to find ANY, ANYWHERE that are acceptable to wear.  They are either nylon (and who thought that was a good idea), or old fashioned cotton, or resemble the string that I floss my teeth with and are embellished with lace and rhinestones and words like “flirt” across my ass.  Now, right about now most of you are probably thinking “but Tara, you love rhinestones” which is absolutely true, however I don’t need them underneath my clothes on a daily basis.  As if I go to the bathroom and have a little sparkly waiting for me underneath my clothes while I’m at work.  Truly not a necessity. 

So I’ve been searching for the perfect underpants forever now because of course as soon as I love something that’s a necessity for me (bras, underpants, etc.) it’s discontinued and I have to start all over again finding something that could be acceptable.  I would seriously like to speak to the underpants designers out there to catch a glimpse of what they think normal people would want out of underpants.  Do they sit in their cubicle or design studio and think that the normal people in the world feel a little more special as they go about their mundane routines if there is a little glitter underneath their cheap polyester suits while they work for just enough money to put gas in their car?  Is that what drives the underpants designers to create these monstrosities called underpants that seem to be on the market in every store? 

So if any of you have insight into this, please clue me in.  Or maybe please send a message to your underpants designing friends that the real women out there need maybe 2 types of underpants.  The kind that sparkle under the lights at the nudie bar and remind the nudie bar patrons that they are indeed a “flirt” as they exit stage left and the other kind of underpants that are comfortable, functional, and don’t indent your body creating lumps underneath your clothes.  I truly don’t think it’s that difficult.  Maybe I’ll start designing underpants.  It could me my next get rich quick scheme.  So when you see ”Underpants by Tara” out there, go ahead a buy a pair because I know I’m not the only one with this dilemma and I guarantee these specially designed underpants will be the most comfortable and functional pair you ever will own and they won’t have special messages on your ass.

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