When People Used to Shove Kids for Beanie Babies

My friend Anne worked in a store that sold Beanie Babies back in their heyday. Then she recruited me to do it as well. Oddly enough our third friend Schultz also sold Beanie Babies at a place. Which makes me think that either we all just had a penchant for retail or that there were a shitload of places that sold Beanie Babies in Indiana. Probably both.

At the time, Beanie Babies were the shit. When shipments would come in, there would be hysteria. People would literally wait on the UPS man to arrive and see if he had any boxes that looked like they came from Ty (the company behind said bean-stuffed animals). If so, minutes later there would mysteriously be a line forming or a lot of women just browsing randomly. This was back before right when cell phones were taking off but before texting so imagine an old-fashioned call tree but instead of the purpose being to prep for an emergency, it was to alert the masses of the arrival of the Christ child. . .aka the Princess Diana Beanie Bear.

The mob was so damn unruly sometimes that Anne had to put the smack down and institute a "Shove a kid,

no Beanie" policy. Yes, it was that bad.

And to cap off the Beanie-related craziness, there was the time that I locked up at one of the stores and then Anne opened the next morning. She got there and discovered that the back door was open, the cash register and night deposit were gone and so were one of each of the Beanie Babies we carried. They took cash and Beanie Babies and then ran out the back of the store, leaving the back door open and a trail of stuffed pink flamingos and tigers in their wake.

The best part of the story, at least in me opinion, was the the burglar came in through a hole they had dug from the Christian Bookstore next store, called "1st Commandment". There was no sign of forced entry so they assumed it was a disgruntled employee...from the Christian bookstore. (For the record, "Thou Shall Not Steal" is the eighth commandment.)

Why am I bringing all this up? Because Buzzfeed just did a recap that all those Beanie Babies that were going to be worth so damn much that you should multiple and make sure you have a plastic hanger tag cover are in fact worth jack shit. Surprise!

Check it out here. How many Beanie Babies do you own?

A Week Ago. . . .

Naughty Auda and Me

In continuing with my shortened recount of where I was on my trip last week, I'll continue with last Monday. I got up at 6:36 EST. I only mention this because that equates to 3:36 PST. Which is kind of how my entire week went in some way or another. I ended up sleeping about 3 hours each night. Kind of explains why I started sneezing and being stuffed up last week and have spent all weekend sleeping and draining.

I got to Oakland City to visit my dad, took a tour of his campus and then headed off to see my grandma Wrye, aka Naughty Auda (which rhymes and is perhaps the most awesome nickname of all time, which makes sense because she's the most awesome lady of all time). We had a nice long visit. The only bummer of this trip was not getting to see my aunts and uncles on my dad's side. Since it was wedding on the Mom's side and I hadn't seen them in a LONG time, they got the visit. But it sucks having to miss people.

After seeing grandma, I met my dad at the Barnes and Noble, which used to be favorite jaunt of mine, and The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian."

checked out the bargain books. Sadly because of suitcase space and the "it's cheaper on Kindle" rationale, I only really check out local authors and discount books at the chain bookstores. Independent bookstores are a whole different matter. Apparently Evansville doesn't read enough because I got three bargain books for less than $16 and was a happy camper. What didn't make me so happy was the FIVE bookshelves dedicated to "Teen Paranormal Romance" and "NEW Teen Paranormal Romance." I totally blame Stephenie Meyer. Damn, Twilight books have made all teen girls think that true love is only available with a vampire, zombie or werewolf. I might end up writing something in YA just to go against the grain. Although I'm not sure I can do it as well as Sherman Alexie's "

I totally want Hermione's wand.

But they did redeem themselves with this little beauty from Hermione. :)

Dad and I went to a movie ("Now You See Me"--not too shabby) and dinner (for Father's Day) and just had a nice night. ... so I could get up again the next morning for more visiting.

They Call them "Lifelong friends" for a Reason

The view from my rental car

 

In the next installment of my trip, I woke up early and trekked up to Indianapolis. While my family lives in Southern Indiana, my friends (aka family you choose) primarily live up north. I can't go to the state of Indiana, or really any where near it, without making an effort to see my girls. They have been my sanity when shit goes down, my humor when I need to laugh, my humility when I need to laugh at myself, and some of the only people who have seen my overly-dyed blonde hair shine under black light.

So yeah, they're fucking awesome.

Anne and Amanda, College Roommates/ Lifelong Friends

I drove many two-lane highways and in all my driving over the trip (ended up at 1,054 miles in 5 days), and the thing I remember most was "Wow! This is what it's like to drive somewhere and actually motor". My drive from Nashville to Evansville the first night was so dark and deserted at 9 p.m. that I freaked out a little bit.

Anyway, I made my way to Amanda's house, which is like another home away from home, and got to hang with her and Anne. Then we met up with Brooke and Lara at a great tapas placed in downtown Indy. It was kind of weird and kind of awesome to think that we hadn't been together in about 10 years. TEN YEARS!! I've seen most everyone individually during that time, but not together. When you see people every day growing up, it's hard to imagine a time when you won't see them everyday. Even harder to imagine a time when you don't see them every day and aren't dying from loneliness. But I guess that's what happens with adulthood.

Anyway, we had a four hour dinner and it was awesome catching up. It's moments like those when I remember my dad's saying "You only get so many lifelong friends in life." And he's right. There are only so many people who know you your whole life. While technically this group hasn't known me my whole life, they've known me for my whole adult life (aka from high school on), so I totally count it. They are my lifelong friends and I'm lucky to have them.

It was an awesome trip to Indy, even if it was short, but mostly I just appreciated everyone being able to come see me.

Anne, Me, Amanda, Lara and Brooke- 10 years is too long!

The REAL Reason for the Trip (One Week Ago)

The wedding grounds from the first floor

A week ago, I had my real reason for heading to Indiana-Nashville: my cousin Lauren's (and Adam's) wedding. Not that I wasn't going to see family, because I was and I did. But the event that prompted my visit away from my usual "late summer when the allergens have been all dried up"  time period to the more moist and allergy-laden period was the wedding.

My cousin got married at her family's beautiful house in the middle of a cornfield. It was beautiful, gorgeous, and quintessential Indiana. My uncle had strung lots of lights above their pool and in the large trees that surrounded us to make the place, which is picturesque by day, even more beautiful at night. It was fun, lively and had free booze. The highlight of the night was hijacking one of the golf carts used to transport guests from the parking lot to the house. My cousin Doug, his son Eli, my cousin Austin, and I went rolling around the country roads in pitch black. I hung on to 4 year-old Eli for dear life, as flashbacks of another day when my friend went tumbling off the back of a very similar golf cart flashed through my head.

All in all, a beautiful night where I got to catch up with family members that I hadn't seen in a while, and enjoyed a beautiful wedding.

My Uncle Jeff walking Lauren down the aisle

Doug Smith,  Michael Clark and Me. Cousins reunited for the purpose of party. 

The lights reflected beautifully off the pool and provided a beautiful environment for the fun.

Annual Midwest-South Tour

Me, my cousin Holly and my aunts Mio
and Patty from one of my trips back
to Indiana. I love this picture.

I'm heading back to Nashville. . .and Evansville. . .and Princeton. . . and Indianapolis. . .and back to Nashville this week. It's my vacation! Or at least one vacation that I'm using to take my annual pilgrimage back to the land where I came from. My cousin is getting married tomorrow and I want to be there--plus I get to see a few other cousins and an aunt that I haven't seen in a long time. BONUS!

What's tough about these trips is fitting it all in. I fly in and out of Nashville because it's typically cheaper and easier than Indianapolis. I rent a car and the real fun begins. It's a little more than two hours from Nashville to Henderson, KY/ Evansville to see my family there. Then it's about 35 more minutes north to see my dad and the wedding location in the Princeton area. After that, I get up on Sunday morning to roll up to Indy to see MY GIRLS!!! No trip to the Indiana vicinity is really complete until I see my girls and start some trouble.

From there I go back to Evansville to see more family that I neglected on my first pass and then to Nashville for a little more than 30 hours of trouble with my friends down there. Then back to work next Thursday unless I collapse from exhaustion.

A blur. A whirlwind. A marathon. Whatever you call it, it's quick, packed and a load of fun.

It's still hard not to refer to my annual trips as trips home, but Chef corrected me a few years back. I did the same thing when going just from Nashville to Indiana. "Home isn't somewhere else that you visit," he had said. "It's where you live. And you live here." And he's right. Home is where I live, and I live in Los Angeles.

I look forward to going back each year and catching up, but it obviously also brings up so many memories. I'm lucky because the good ones outnumber the bad by a landslide.

While I was raised in Indiana, I like to think that I actually grew up in Nashville. And when I left, I sobbed like a baby in the moving van all the way to Memphis. Completely inconsolable. Chef felt horrible and asked me why it was so hard. "Nothing bad ever happened to me there," I said. It was a possible exaggeration, because I don't live a completely charmed life, but on the whole, only great things happened in Nashville.It was home.

Of course, almost three years later (CRAZY!!) I can say the same thing about Los Angeles. Maybe my life is somewhat charmed? I dare say, a semi-charmed life?

But I digress. It's time to return to the land where highway driving means that miles and minutes are virtually interchangeable when estimating drive times.

Lock up yo husbands. Lock up yo wives. I'm heading your way TODAY.

Things I Take for Granted In LA

When you live or work in some place for a while, you start to become oblivious to some of the things surrounding you. And by "you", I mean "me" and just assume this happens to everyone else. Right? Anyway, while there are many things that I take for granted in LA, the one that I don't is the weather. I enjoy every last bit of sunshine while I can. I consider the increase in my daily expenses compared to any place else that I've ever lived to be the "weather tax." I must pay it to enjoy the lovely weather. I'm not sure what all the fools in New York pay it for. Ambiance?

Anyway, I wanted to share a short list of things that I take for granted in LA that I had started to overlook and have now tried to open my eyes to:

• Pithy homeless people: Of course LA has it's fair share of homeless--which by the way, I consider smart because while it sucks to be homeless, it has to suck less in LA than in say, Minneapolis--there seems to be a subset that is hellbent on having a pithy message. One guy I see on a regular basis changes it up, but typically has a sign that reads either "I'm too sexy to be this homeless" (as if there is a degree of homelessness that he's trying to rise to) or "Homeless And Sexy-- That deserves something, right?" Sometimes the signs make me smile, but honestly the pithy homeless tend to be the same people that are getting quite a few donations every day. I don't recall such creativity in the other cities that I've been to. 
• Transgenders everywhere: I'm a little sad or jaded or a combination thereof that I see transgenders every day and it barely registers. Clearly in Indiana and in Nashville to a certain extent, seeing a black man with beautiful skin and great high heeled shoes would have warranted a double take, but now their beauty is lost on me. I might notice the Adam's apple but honestly when I see someone on the way to work, I think "Man, that's a lot of work for a Wednesday."
• The next new dessert shop: The abundance of frozen yogurt places are slowly shutting down so it's only a matter of time for the cupcake places start getting picked off. Whoopies never quite took off to reach the status warranting a separate storefront, and the same can be said for cakepops. Lately, I've been seeing a lot of "Milk and cookies" places pop up, so that's where my money is for the nest new dessert: an oldie. However, I love the place around here that sells mini-pies (Shout out to Simple Things Sandwich and Pie Shop!)
• I'm never more than a few miles from a Sephora: Sure, with sephora.com I can order makeup any time, but honestly when you've sweat off some makeup and there's a Sephora only a few minutes away from your next meeting and just a touch up will make you feel so much better, well, that's a bonus. It wasn't until a co-worker that's moving to Eugene, OR said "The closest Sephora is 2 hours away" that I realized that my closest Sephora is two blocks away (from work) or 2 miles away from home and another a few miles from that. 
• There are Sizzlers everywhere: My dad always used to quote White Men Can't Jump  by saying "We
  
  goin' Sizzler". I thought that was odd even when the movie came out because all the Sizzlers in the Midwest that I knew of had closed. I guess we favored Ryan's or Sirloin Stockade or some other god awful buffet restaurant. But low and behold among the sophisticated LA atmosphere there are plenty of Sizzlers (and Shakey's Pizzas) to keep the masses fat and happy (?). 

I'm sure there are more and I will share them as I start to open my eyes again to the odd and wondrous things I've been overlooking lately. 

It was a Month since I Slept in A Bed

California Hot

This is a little embarrassing to admit, but last night was the first night in more than a month that I slept in a bed. You might ask why and the answer is simple: it's been hot as balls.

Or at least "California hot." I firmly believe that each state has it's own version of hot. In Indiana, hot meant that it felt like you were stepping into a bath tub when the front door opened and you were on things like "Ozone alerts" when it got really hot. For those of you not in the know, an "ozone alert" day meant that you should not go to the drive-thru or mow your lawn. I assume as to not contribute to more ozone-destroying behavior, but I can't be entirely too sure.

In Tennessee, hot was similar to that of Indiana but with a valley that just managed to recycle heat over and over. It also had a tendency to rain for a few hours which just made it hotter.

California hot is easily the most bearable of the hots I'm most accustomed to (I'm not even going to mention the week I was in New Orleans in June--that's just a swampland of crazy people). It's undeniably hot--lately it's been over 100 degrees each day, but it's not necessarily humid so it feels nicer. It's hard to explain that to people who've lived here their whole lives, but any transplant from the South knows what I'm talking about.

Anyway, it's been hot here and part of being in California where it's only normally hot like 5 days a year means that there aren't a lot of apartments or condos or houses with central heat and air. It's just not a necessity which means that they don't invest in it. So, our apartment has a window AC unit in the living room which doesn't get the bedroom cool AT ALL. Usually we just turn the AC off and open the bedroom windows. But after two days of tossing and turning because I was roasting in my sleep, I decided to take matters into my own hands and move my bedding into the living room where I could sleep in direct air-shot of the air conditioning.

At first it felt like camping out to have our stuff strewn in our living room. And I LOVED snuggling down at night and watching TV with Chef and not worrying about when he was coming to bed. Plus we trained the cats to sleep together instead of alternating some to leave out of the bedroom. It felt like a pallet of loveliness. So much so that I just kept it out. Who needs a living room floor anyway? We don't have kids so it's not hurting anyone. It's kind of like having cereal for dinner for a week straight. As an adult, it's my prerogative.

I was getting ready to pick it up last week and then a huge heatwave came in and it was back to 100-plus degree temperatures, so that wasn't happening. Last night, I finally threw in the comforter and picked it up. Our living room has never looked so big. And you'd like that I would've missed my bed more than I have, but I have to say, it was nice to change things up for a while. A new scene. Plus if I ever had to get rid of my bed, I know that I could handle it just fine.

Playing Catch Up

I've been lazy lately. Well, lazy with a side of busy, which makes for a bad blogger. So in an effort not to feel this overwhelming nag that I hadn't updated in a while combined with the dread of having so much to update, I've decided to tell the story in pictures (and skim a lot of it).

I went to Chicago for business meetings. This was my view from the gym's treadmill. I love big cities.

Chicago on the morning of my meetings. It was a perfect day and despite about 24 hours in the city, I was reminded how beautiful it is. Now if it had been January, the love might have been a little less enthusiastic. This picture was taken a few moments before I saw a group of NATO protesters. I was able to scoot out of town before the mobs hit.

I couldn't be that close to Indiana without having a visit. I went to Indianapolis and Bloomington to see friends that I hadn't seen in 20 months. That's way to long to go without my girls. I had to chuckle when I went to Kroger (not Ralph's) with Amanda and saw these gallon jugs of nacho cheese on sale for $6. Who needs this much fake cheese?

Not Really Like Paula Abdul's "Rush, Rush" Video

The Griffith Observatory

This weekend Chef and I went to the Griffith Observatory. I had wanted to go since I was teenager and used to stay up every night during the summer to watch the Top 10 video countdown on MTV. I stayed up to watch Paula Abdul's "Rush, Rush" video that reenacted Rebel Without a Cause and starred her and Keanu Reeves. It even had spoken word intermixed with the song. It was awesome.

While the observatory was pretty good, there was no Keanu Reeves. There was a statue of James Dean, which made me wonder if Keanu Reeves had died shortly after making the "Rush, Rush" video if there would've been a statue of him, too. Do you get a statue if you copy not only the film but also the length of life of an icon? Not quite sure the rules on that (by the way, the Hoosier in me needs to remind you that James Dean was born in Indiana).

The observatory was free to visit which translates into "Busy as hell at all moments". Chef wants to go back at night and I'm totally down for it. Anyway, here are some pics from our adventure:

Looking into  Downtown

Looking into Downtown again

The James Dean statue (squint and you can see the Hollywood sign in the distance)

Dear Santa. . .

P.S. It's nice to see that you're
an IU fan again. :)

I have to admit that you've always been pretty good to me. Even when I was just pretending to believe because my brother asked me to string the "Santa thing" along for another year. If I am being a completely honest (and therefore "nice") girl I have to say that I was eager to suspend disbelief until I got my loot.

To me, Santa, you are more than just someone who brought me stuff. You were my first link to magic. The first character that made me think that things that aren't supposed to happen actually could. Flying reindeer? Sure-so much more environmentally safe than jets. Visiting all children on one night? Perhaps you are the first cloned person and therefore can be in multiple places at once. All the cookies you can eat once a year? I totally get that.

To be honest, Santa, I could use a little "you" in my life. Who doesn't want to believe in magic? That good things can happen for no reason and no need for logic. Who doesn't want to be genuinely surprised? Or to go to bed dreaming of things that you know you'll touch in a few hours? When was the last time your biggest wishes got granted by sleeping? I think that's an adult's dream for sure or at least part of mine.

Even to create some magic seems fun enough. I remember trying to help my aunts and uncles convince my younger cousins that you existed just to be a part of the action. And now, I still want to help make your magic happen. I played "Santa" for some kids, donated to food drives and pet food drives. I even have small items ready to stuff some stockings (mine included) and surprise some cats. Yes, Santa. I so miss your presence that I'm willing to recreate it with pets that can't comprehend or appreciate it.

I'm glad that others still have you to hold on to. (Although I do hate seeing you shill for companies in your off time, but understand that all those toys and elf labor don't come for free). I hope you have the best Christmas, Santa. Thank you so much for all those years of magic and the many more you give others.

Your Elf,
Ashley

From Christmas Past: Oregon Street

For years when I lived in or around Evansville, I would make an annual pilgrimage to the best, tackiest, most over the top display of Christmas decorations that I have ever seen in person anywhere.

Growing up in Big Vin City of Sin (aka Vincennes, IN) I was accustomed to large Christmas displays. A local doctor had life-size moving exhibits of Santa in his workshop, checking his list, etc on his front lawn. The year I learned to read, I figured out that my brother's name (Matthew) was on Santa's list on one of the exhibits but mine wasn't. I cried. My dad called the guy and two nights later my name was on the list. The decorations are long gone, but the memory remains.

After that, I didn't think Christmas decorations could be topped. Until my friends Brooke and Lara introduced me to Oregon Street. This was YEARS before people really knew. We used to drive by late at night and a couple of times got to talk to the guy who did this every year. He started out with one home with a free lot and then the display grew so much he had to buy the house across the street to house the decorations. Of course, that also gave him another yard to decorate. He mentioned that people would just leave that year's latest decorations on his doorstep with notes of goodwill.

The girls and I loved this place. We even exchanged Christmas presents outside the display. In years when we were apart for Christmas, I would take the gifts they had sent to Oregon Street and open them there on my own. It just made my holiday brighter.

So in an effort to make your holiday brighter, and to give you a baseline of the type of Christmas extravagance I've come to expect out of life, here's a video done a few years ago and posted by the Evansville Courier & Press.

You're welcome.

Holiday Spirit Quest: Almost Halfway Home

Shipping off the cards    

Last night I went to my company Holiday Party. It was fun. I sat with friends and ate good food and had a nice pomegranate cocktail. I was convinced I was going to win a door prize. I didn't but two of the people I met up with did. I got over the disappointment by reliving  the IU-UK game in my head. (You can do it for reals through this link.)

I also watched two Christmas movies this weekend (Love Actually and Four Christmases) AND the Lifetime Christmas movie (12 Men of Christmas starring Kristin Chenoweth). So this is what I've gotten marked off my list thus far:

Yes, that's tape holding it.

1. Listen to nothing but Christmas music on one commute home. (did it twice, actually)
2. Give a gift to a stranger. (bought Christmas dinner for a family at our local Ralph's)
3. Make a Gingerbread house. (pictures to prove it!)
4. Put out at least one holiday decoration. (IU Santa is now a lucky charm)
5. Buy something tacky just because its seasonal. (Snooki. That's all)
6. Watch a Christmas movie. (Love Actually --totally counts--and Four Christmases)
7. Send holiday cards. (In the mail)
8. Give a gift to someone without expecting one in return. (Donated a toy to our local CASA)
9. Read The Santaland Diaries by David Sedaris. (Technically listened to it on audiobook but I realized while listening that I had actually already read this.)
10. Attend a Holiday Party. (Last night's work party).
11. Watch a Lifetime or Hallmark Holiday movie (counts separately from one above). (12 Men of Christmas--it was. . .predictable)
12. Make puppy chow (and give most of it away). 
13. Buy something that smells like Christmas.  (Peppermint Holidays candle--not exactly peppermint but much better).

The infamous candle

No. A Child did not make this. It was a grown adult, but it was my first time,  so lay off. 

Chef and I are wondering how long the Gingerbread House will last with the cats around. At least I have photographic evidence that I did it. 

Ordeal for a license plate

Today I worked from home so that  I could go and get my license plate and register my car in California. I'm officially sad about this. I hated changing my Indiana plates for Tennessee ones when I moved, but the fact that Tennessee had an IU license plate buffered that transition. Now I'm losing my Tennessee and IU car connections. Bummer.

And to make matters worse, I go to the registration branch of the DMV and am told that my car needs to be inspected and to pull it along the side of the building and wait. If it weren't for a very nice security guard, I might've waited there all day. But he helped, got inspected and I was ushered inside. I get my number sit in my chair and only have to wait about 10 minutes. Holy crap! I thought. Today's my lucky day! But it wasn't until I got up the window that troubles began. I handed the lady my current Tennessee registration.

Lady at window #13: No, I need your registration card.

Me: This is my registration card. It's from Tennessee.

#13: I see it's from Tennessee but it says "application" at the top. I need the little card that actually is your registration.

Me: This is my registration. I promise you.

#13: No, it's not.

Me: I lived there for 9 years. Every time I was given a registration-all 9 times--this was it. When I was pulled over by a cop, I handed him this.

She then heavy sighs and goes to find a thick book. She consults the book and says "this isn't your registration. I can start your papers today, but you'll have to bring back your registration." I wasn't going to take that so while she was typing away, I called the County Clerk in Nashville and got a very nice lady who when told of my predicament said "Ugh. California calls us about 5 times a week because they refuse to post our samples. The book they look in hasn't been updated in decades."

Me: So if I asked you for a registration card, what would that look like?

TN lady: Exactly what you're holding in your hand. That's your registration.  They do this all the TIME! I'm gonna fax your registration and a blank one. Put me on with your person.

Me to #13: She wants to talk to you. The TN registration person. . .

#13: I can't get on the phone.

Me: But she wants to fax the info to you and talk to you about updating your records.

#13: I can't talk on the phone.

Me to TN: She won't get on the phone.

TN: Of course, she won't Sorry, I'm not fussin' at you (which I LOVED by the way). I'll fax that right now.

I pay and go back to wait while they wait on my fax. Fax comes through, I go BACK up to the window to hear: Okay, all you have to do is bring in your smog test and we'll give you your plates.

Me: I called this office yesterday to ask if I needed a smog test and was told I wouldn't because my car was within the 6 year window.

#13: But you're new to the state, so you'd have to get one.

Me: SERIOUSLY??! I specifcially called to get this answered and what you're telling me is that they gave me wrong information.

#13: Yes. Get your smog check and then come back.

At this point, I'm about to go ape shit, but I just huff out, go get a smog check and then wait in line to get a number, and then wait in line to see a representative. Who then took my paperwork and says "This isn't the Tennessee registration card." Five more minutes of explanation and then I FINALLY get my license plates. Yes, plates, because California is one of those places that makes you have one on front and one on back.

Total time getting this stupid errand done: 2 hours, 54 minutes.

I miss Tennessee. And Indiana.

I Had A Dream...last night about my friends

Last night I went to sleep and in my dreams I had some visitors. All of them made me happy. One of them made me a little sad. Sad as in nostalgic sad, not as in depressed sad.

I had a dream about going on a weird job interview where the other competing candidate and I were at a picnic table and the interviewer was asking her tons of questions. When it was my turn to be asked, she kept spastically interjecting and I was getting pissed. Where were my friends? They were on the bench beside me. They weren't there for an interview or even as my life character references. They were just there.

And it was weird. I mean, the above is weird in its own right, but that's not super dream weird. It's weird enough to be odd, but not weird enough to be easily distinguished as a dream. At least when I was in the dream. So, anyway, the other interviewee was sitting next to me and mocking that I was wearing a suit (She was in a formal top, but jean cut-offs on the bottom--kind of how you imagine newscasters during the broadcasts). When the interviewer was turned away, the other candidate said to me "You can totally tell that you're not from California because you're way too overdressed." After a few times of cutting me off, I completely shifted to her direction and said "I was kind enough not to interrupt you during your interview and I expect the same courtesy or there will be consequences."

Anyway, she ended up throwing a fit and left, and the interviewer said "Sorry about that. She's clearly not a candidate of your caliber, Ashley, but she looked good on paper."

At this point, I left the picnic table interview in the park with my friends--Anne, Amanda, Schultz, Brooke and Lara. They all supported me and even let me blow off steam about how I wasn't sure if I wanted to work for a company that interviewed girls in cut off shorts in the park at a picnic table.

We went from the park to my old house in Evansville. What made me happy was that I know the type of conversation we were having was making me laugh in my dream and could and will probably be replicated in some form at some point in my life. Maybe not the conversation, but the feeling of being with my true friends having a fun, funny moment.

What made me sad was that I haven't seen or talked to one of these friends in years. There was no falling out, just a falling off. As in, she seemed to fall off the face of the earth. Not that I was all that much better, but I did make several calls and left messages with no return before I gave up. About 18 months after my last attempt, I got a birth announcement for her second baby. I felt horrible because I didn't know she was pregnant. It was then that I realized that we'd really drifted apart.

In the end, I woke up mostly happy because I have great friends who even in my dreams are right by my side supporting me. I think my dreams are telling me that I miss my friends and I'm tired of interviewing.

Stromboli, Banana Fritters and the Dirt Diaper

All of the above items were available to eat this past weekend at the West Side Nut Club Fall Festival (aka the Fall Festival) in Evansville. I went home this weekend to see my best friends and we met up at the Fall Fest for old time's sake. I honestly hadn't been in more than a decade. It's a big deal in Evansville. Like a huge event with about 1/2 mile of trailers all offering disgustingly named, but deliciously tasting, items of food. It would probably be fair estimate that about 75% of the food items offered are fried.

We decided to divide and conquer for the most part so that we didn't end up getting sick like so many others. It's pretty easy to go from a good time to the vomiting with just one wrong calculation of fritters. I actually ate all or some of the following items: Chicken and Dumplings, corn fritters, Stromboli, fried macaroni & cheese, lemon shake-up, and banana fritters. It sounds like a lot, but that's actually not too bad. The only huge disappointment was the weak, microwaved Stromboli by the Young Democrats booth.

While those are some of the less weird items, there were a few items that were new (or oldies but goodies) that those not from Evansville find odd. Here's a few:

• Brain Sandwich (a LONG time festival favorite)
• Fried Oreos & Fried Twinkies
• Dirty Diaper (a pumpkin turnover)
• Pigeon Poop (I have no idea, but calling things something related to excrement tends to be a festival tradition)
• Gumbo, shrimp and other seafood (it's best to avoid as Indiana is a land locked state)
• Pronto Pups (similar to a corn dog, but not corn related at all)
• Orange Shake-ups
• Homemade potato chips
• Cheeseburgers
• Kuchen
• Fudge
• Yoohoo Shakes
• And more. . . .

While the food was pretty good--actually probably better than I remember--it was more awesome to spend time with my girls. We hung out all day and then headed back home on Sunday. I was also lucky enough to squeeze a quick visit in with my dad and my mom's side of the family.

The only think that sucks about the trip was the mold. There's a mold in southern Indiana that makes me miserable if I end up spending more than 24 hours in the area. I'm now still taking Claritin D and sounding like a congested crazy person. In fact, it's been three days now, so I'm beginning to wonder if I'm actually not only fighting allergies but also sickness. I have gone to bed at about 8:30 the last two nights.

No matter what if I had to do it again, I would gladly do it to see my friends and family.

"She Thought I Could Handle It THIS Time"

Chef called me over tonight so I could watch a video from my home state. It made me simultaneously laugh and cringe. Apparently a guy exactly my age was arrested in Indianapolis for child neglect---because while he was playing a video game, his two under 2 years old children wandered out into the apartment complex near a busy street.

I'm not enough of a snob to think that this scenario couldn't have easily been replicated in Tennessee--in fact, it probably has been. What immediately I thought of was a scene in the movie Idiocracy where it shows the fertility of a below average Joe compared to the very intelligent couple who wants to wait and then can't conceive. The basis of the "de-evolution" of the movie.

The second thing that came to mind was the man's reaction when he was arrested. He immediately admitted to not being good with watching children. And then when asked why his wife left him with the kids while she was out of state, he replied with "She thought I could handle it this time." Tihs was one of the last thing's the reporter says in his story, and frankly I think he's burying the lead. If you flip it around, you can come up with a great lead story for The Onion: "Man's Wife Thinks He Can Handle Their Care This Time, Kids End Up in Street".

Seriously, there are so many laughable, cryable things in this story that I think I'll just leave the rest of it up for your interpretation.

Back to Reality

Last week was somewhat less of a reality check as it was the third week in a row that I worked less than 5 days. This week. Not so much. Back to a full work week and all that that entails. I'm also back to missing my girls instead of being with them, but that is a constant for about 360 days a year.

Being up north did inspire me to start cooking more. I've let that slide and know that when I actually cook, I actually care what ends up in my body. Being busy was never an excuse when I was losing weight the first time and shouldn't be an excuse now. So I'm not gonna let it.

Wish me luck. . .

One Day To Indy

I'm having a really rough time writing anything that makes sense for the novel this morning so I'm writing for the blog. Because I rarely make sense here.

Tomorrow I leave for Indianapolis. Well, actually I leave for Bloomington first and then on to Indy the next day. Every year I like to travel up there to leave the oppression of Southern heat and humidity for the only slightly less oppressive Midwestern heat and humidity. However, after getting trapped on the Interstate during a torrential downpour that had everyone driving 4 miles an hour and standing water on the road, I'm ready to get the heck out of dodge before the next round of rain hits.

Aside from the metereological aspects of travel, I'm really looking forward to seeing my girls. There comes a time in your life when you can only have so many people who are lifelong friends. Any friends I make now, although perfectly lovely and a wonderful addition to my life, are not by definition lifelong as they missed some formative years. By formative years, I mean years in which I was prone to drinking excessively, vomiting afterwards, doing stupid stuff while driving, repeatedly making poor decisions, being overdramatic about EVERYTHING, and being a geek.

But these friends are special too because two of them I lived with. I mean, other than living with your husband/boyfriend/lover when do you get the opportunity to live with your best friends? Not too often. And I got to and it was awesome. And now when I see them, we easilly fall back into the rhythm of conversation and poking fun that made us friends in the first place.

So, working today, driving tomorrow and then I'm coming up north!!

Tradition Isn't Everything

There are some lucky people who get to celebrate Christmas the same way every year. For a long time, I was one of them. As a kid, I knew that Christmas Eve was spent at my Grandma Wrye's house with my aunts, uncles and cousins and the annual visit from Santa (who in reality was the town's podiatrist). Christmas was spent waking with my brother in the middle of the night, grabbing our flashlights and then scampering to the living room to see what Santa brought us (our Santa didn't wrap--Smart Santa). We would then crawl back into bed for a few hours before waking at the crack of dawn to actually play with our loot. Later we would pack up and head to my Grandma and Grandpa Clark's house to play with more aunts, uncles and cousins.

That was the constant schedule until my parent's divorced. The schedule stayed about the same except that we unwrapped gifts at Dad's house on Christmas Eve before going to my Grandma Wrye's and with my mom on Christmas before hitting that side of the family. Not too shabby a deal as our Christmas expanded by one.

And then Mom died. That pretty much threw a wrench into any type of Christmas plans that I would ever have again. My brother and other family members tried to keep it the same, but it almost seemed like a weird attempt to recapture a time that was clearly past us. Since then, my Christmas celebrations have varied almost every year. Naturally there was the addition of Chef into the mix, and of course the niece and nephew. Christmas morphed into a three day orgy of presents and shuttling between Indiana, Illinois and all lands in between.

This year and last, Christmas has been more low key in that I have toned down my expectations, travel time and grasp of tradition. I have tried to free myself from doing the things I thought I had to to capture the spirit. But in letting go, I have enjoyed myself more. Five years ago I drove through 23 inches of snow and ice, leaving Chef in our first holiday season together, to be with my family at Christmas. I don't love my family any less, but as I was driving home today from Indiana I realized that if the snow were to hit again, I would probably forgo the treacherous drive. I would probably not leave Chef at home willingly. I have learned that change isn't all that bad in the face of tradition. It can actually be quite freeing. And this holiday was definitely a relaxing one that I will never forget.

I run for myself, I walk for my breasticles

Last night I went for a run at 9 p.m. after a nice Greek dinner with my stepdad and his girlfriend. I realized at that time that I was running for myself. It felt good. I also realized that while it took several years for the message to sink in, I work at the American Heart Association for myself. It's my own health that I'm trying to inspire and support and that selfishly hearing so many people's stories are my own daily affirmations to keep going.

However, this morning I did something for my boobs. Well, not just my boobs, but everyone's boobs and mostly in memory of my mother. Some of you don't know that I lost my mother to breast cancer nine years ago when she was only 52. Every year my stepdad and I get together and walk the 5K in my hometown in Indiana in her honor. I pin on the neon pink "I Race in Memory Of" card where I've scrawled "My Mom- Terri Winternheimer."

The first year was awful. I couldn't even turn around without seeing someone I knew and I luckily had friends and family that helped me through it (Shout out to Manders and her family for helping me keep it together--also a pleasant memory of Jill Hoffman who sadly also passed away way too young from cancer).

This morning was better. Nine years and a little more hometown anonymity made things earier. While I listened with great intent, I couldn't let myself get too attached. I still have some anger that cancer got the best of my mom because few things did. I listened as the racers rejoiced with the 909 area survivors and thought "I wish there were 910." I don't know if I'll ever get over it. But what was also nice was that just before we crossed the finish line, a woman tapped me on my shoulder and said "I knew your mom. She was a great lady who's missed." It was a random act, but it touched me a lot.

It makes me wonder as I prepare for the Nashville Heart Walk next weekend how many of our walkers will reach out to each other and share a memory. While I'm deeply touched by the Komen Walk, there's nothing that has made my heart stop faster than seeing one and two year old child heart survivors. And so in the end, while I lace up my sneakers and run every day for my heart and for me, I'm glad that I took some time to walk for my breasticles. And I encourage everyone to find a cause they care for to experience a walk because if anything else, it lets you know that you aren't alone.