Trouble Won't Wait

You might think that the first month of marriage would be filled with nothing but greatness and happy thoughts. Of memories of the times you shared at the wedding ceremony and reception. Of looking at pictures and wishing the day would have lasted a lifetime. Of talking about what your future as husband and wife might hold. That’s what most people think and I would say that for most people, that is what happens.

Andrew and I had another experience, however. An experience that I wish could be erased and never thought of again. Unfortunately, it has consumed the first month of our marriage and while the irritation and frustration of it all works me up just to think about it, I am also grateful.

I won’t go into detail about what exactly happened the morning after our wedding, the best night of our lives, but I will say that someone, who we once thought was a very special part in our lives, tarnished that day forever. Comments were made about me to my new husband that should have never been spoken the day after our wedding, or ever really. The whole day, which should have been filled with laughter and smiles, was instead filled with anger and tears. It doesn’t matter what was said, or why it was said (actually it does matter but for this story it is irrelevant), all that matters is that it happened. I am really not sure what thought process or conversation was had to determine the morning after our wedding was the best time to confront the groom about accusations concerning his bride. Never in a million years would I do something of the sort, even to someone I couldn’t stand. What would have to be said to convince someone that ruining the day after a friend’s wedding was a good idea? Is there no such thing as human decency anymore? Is there no such thing as keeping your mouth shut to protect the feelings of others?

To this day I still get angry over what happened and even writing this I have anxiety over the whole situation. There are, however, many positive things that have come out of such a dark moment in the beginning of our marriage.

For starters, trusting my instincts and “gut” feelings is extremely important. The funny thing about all this is that the week before our wedding, I cried to Andrew because I knew something was going to happen involving the people who felt the need to ruin our special weekend. I didn’t know what would happen, but I just had a feeling that I couldn’t shake. I was upset by the feeling and hated that I was feeling that at all. This person/people were supposed to be a special part of the weekend, why do I feel like this about them? I didn’t want to believe that they would do something to take attention away from what should have been a weekend of joy, especially seeing as to how they would soon be having a wedding themselves and would not want anything bad happening on their weekend. Andrew calmed me down, as he always does, and assured me that nothing would happen because there just isn’t any way someone would do that, especially this person who meant so much to him. My instinct turned out to be right on target and from this moment on, I will never second guess myself or take my guard down when I have a feeling like I did. True colors were shown that weekend and they were colors that I had seen from the very beginning. It’s sad really. I so badly wanted to be proved wrong, I so badly wanted my first impressions to be wrong, I so badly wanted everything to run smoothly and not have a care in the world the entire weekend.

Second, God will always protect me. For those of you who know me well, you may know that I have a tendency to “react” to put it nicely. When I feel threatened or confronted in some way, I don’t really think twice about what I say or do, I just say and do. Luckily, I have married a man that is, for the most part the complete opposite and has managed to “tame the wild beast”…….SLIGHTLY! There was a strange pull for me to stay in our hotel room when Andrew was going to say goodbye to these people and I now know that “pull” was God. None of these comments were said to me directly and I won’t dismiss the power that made me stay in the room. Had I heard those words directly, which were said in a crowded lobby of our family and friends, I would have lost it. I would have blown a fuse on more levels than one. For someone to stoop so low as to think that the day after someone’s wedding was the appropriate time to accuse the bride of wrongdoing, when there was in fact none, is outrageous to me. I can promise you here and now, had I been in that area when this happened, I might have very well needed to be restrained. There is a reason I didn’t go to the lobby and God was looking out for me that morning. While I was angry and upset when Andrew told me what was said, I can only imagine how things would have been had I heard it directly. To replay the look on Andrew’s face when he walked through the door and told me what happened is heartbreaking. He is such a good man and never steps his foot out of line. He is possibly the sweetest person I know and to see that hurt, rage and anxiety in his face and know the person who caused him to feel that way sets me on fire. I take a deep breath and move past that feeling, but he didn’t deserve that, I didn’t deserve that, WE didn’t deserve that.

Third, Andrew and I have incredible true friends who will be there for us in our time of need. The amount of support and love we got from the friends who wanted to be a special part of our weekend was overwhelming. I will never forget the feeling of having people come to our aide in such a low moment in time for us. To have friends talk us through all the different emotions we have felt over the last 6 weeks has been a blessing. Every time I begin to get upset again, I know that the people close to my heart will always be there.

Fourth, I acquired an amazing family by marrying a McDowell. Once I heard of what happened, I went to go find my mom to talk to her. When I went to the lobby to find her, my new mother in law immediately saw me and ran to me. She gently pulled me into the corner so I could cry on her shoulder with no one watching. The fact that she knew, with one glance, that something was wrong says more than the word “family.” She calmed me down and talked me through the tears until my mom showed up. I could not ask for anything more than that. To have married into a family that sees me as their own is something that can’t be described in words. I have always known I was a part of the McDowell family, but at that moment, I knew that it wasn’t by marriage that I was a family member, it was by love.

Last, I married an incredible person. To see Andrew stick up for me and fight for me was something that also can’t be easily described with words. Over the last month, we have had more discussion about the incident, but even more, conversations about our own relationship that wouldn’t have happened otherwise. After seeing the way this worked out, we both realize how strong of a relationship we have. I respect Andrew with everything that I am, and he loves me enough to defend me against a good friend that was in the wrong. For those of you that know Andrew, you know that he is not one for confrontation. For him to confront and defend me the way he did was incredible and made me even more confident (if that was possible) in our marriage.

We love and have loved each other for who we are through and through. We have never tried to change the other. Does change happen, of course, it is only natural to change when you are committed to another person, but the question remains is the change for the better? If you can look deep into yourself and know that the changes you have made in your life are the best for you then everything is ok. I know I have changed in my three and a half years with Andrew and so has he. I am a better person now that I am with him and I think he would say the same.

There are a few lessons that have been learned throughout all of this, the first of which is some things are better left unsaid. This all started with a decision to confront Andrew the day after our wedding. It is one thing to be upset and want to say something, it is a completely different thing to make that leap and say it. Sometimes people think they will “feel better” by getting something of their chest or feel the need to correct or accuse someone of “bad” behavior, but I have to ask, does that often work out in the end? There are times in life when it is better to keep something locked up for the sake of someone else’s feelings. That is a lesson I, unfortunately, have learned the hard way and have lost many friends because of. To those people who have been a victim on me speaking before I think, I apologize whole heartedly. What I learned is to stop and take a mere few seconds to put yourself and the others shoes and ask yourself “how would I feel if this was said to me?” If you do make the decision to take that leap and make comments that are hurtful and inappropriate, both in content and timing, then make sure you are prepared for the consequences. A single word can have a massive ripple effect. I can’t help but wonder had nothing been said where we would all be. My initial character judgment on this person would have been proven wrong and I would have had no choice but to give them another chance. We would have one more special person still in our lives. We all would have gone along minding our own business and allowing the other to live a happy life. That’s not what is happening, however. The ripples that have come from the words that were spoken will never stop. They have ruined relationships and weekends and will continue on forever.

The next lesson is that no matter how dark a cloud may be, there will always be a silver lining. It has taken me 6 weeks to come to this conclusion and I can’t tell you how many times I started and stopped this blog because I was ready to admit that some good has come from what happened. As I am writing, I am healing. I will never forget what happened or what was said or what followed after. Every anniversary will be spent with the “next” day looming over it. Writing this blog has allowed me to take something so negative and find the silver lining. It has allowed me to look forward to the day after our anniversary and have more than just our wedding to celebrate. I don’t think thank you would be the appropriate thing to say to the people who made these comments, but without this incident, it would have taken me much longer to be grateful for what I have in my life. I have been forced to look deep into myself, my marriage, my friends, my family and I have come to realize that I have an amazing life.

“Those who matter don’t mind and those who mind don’t matter.”

I am not sure who said this quote, but it makes me think of what people might think about this blog post. This is more for me to heal and accept what has happened and move on. Some people may think it is too much or the “wrong” thing to do, but I just don’t care. The people who know and understand me will know why I wrote this blog and they just won’t care.

What happened to the swing set?

Well, it’s been quite some time sense I last graced my “Confused” blog with a new post, so why not go for one now?!?!

Some of you may or may not know (depending on your daily facebooking habits) that Andrew and I recently bought a home! It is the most exciting and overwhelming event that has taken place in my life and even after only being there a week…I am in love!! Below is a picture of the new love of my life….our home!

I have been looking for houses, well, all the time, but Andrew and I finally decided that it was the right time to start the process on October 26th (this date is important…remember it). I saw a house that looked too good to be true, based on the price, and sure enough it was a piece of $&*^ (and that is an understatement). So on the 26th we met with a realtor and set up some parameters of what we liked, how much we wanted to spend, etc.
Based on the information and stories some of our friends had told us about buying a house we were a little concerned that buying a house was going to create more stress than joy in our lives. So we took a deep breath and just told each other that we were going to start looking and hope that we could find something around the January timeframe.

Once we got an email from our realtor with the listings that met our criteria, we started to look at the houses and made a list of those that we wanted to see. Andrew and I really loved this one house that seemed to be pretty perfect for us….based on the pictures. You really can’t tell what a house looks like from the pictures, but we figured we would give it a shot and go look at it on the following Monday (November 1st). I went to the bank on Friday (October 29th) to get us Pre-Approved so we could have a nice cash offer (FYI cash offers pull a lot of weight if you are in the market).

I noticed that there was an open house for the home we loved so I convinced Andrew just to go and check it out with me so we could see it again, in more detail, with our realtor on Monday. Honestly, we just wanted to get a feel for the house, nothing more.

Well, we walked in, looked at each other and I uttered the words, “Do we really even need to see anything else?” We feel in love! It was exactly what we wanted and had so much potential. Move in ready with great neutral paint. Vaulted ceilings in the living and bed room and all in all, just perfect!

I called our realtor and told her we liked it and would want to draw up an offer on Monday when we met with her. She told us to meet her there at 4 pm that same night, we did, and we bought the house on October 31st. Yes, that is a about 4.5 days of looking, and we bought a house!! When you know, you just know!

Closing was pretty smooth outside of our idiot loan officer who just didn’t seem to know an apple from an orange. I felt like I was signing over my first born child part of the time with everything they need to get a mortgage approved.

When our closing date arrived we were both beyond excited. Everything there went smooth as well. Here is where our story gets a little…….interesting. The previous owners had a swing set in the backyard that we were going to get rid of in the spring. They asked us about it and said they have some people who are interested in it. We gave them Andrew’s number and told them to call or text us about the person interested and we can set up something for them to come and get. Let me repeat…..we told them to CALL or TEXT us.

We started moving things in gradually throughout the week with the big “haul” being on Saturday. I was making a run over there on Thursday evening and this is what I saw in my backyard.

Yes, it looks as if it is being...I don't know....taken apart!!

I immediately begin to panic and text Andrew to see if he knew what was going on. In the back of my mind part of me know that it had to be the previous owners, but here I am in this new house, alone, and my swing set looks to be falling apart.

Andrew and I are both rather pissed off and I am thinking of ways to hide the main components of the swing set (slide, swings, wall) to prevent the people who vandalized by property from having fun on their play set when three men walk into my back yard…..my FENCED IN back yard. Yes, they just walked in.

I reached for the closest thing I could find, a Phillips head screwdriver and ran outside to my back deck. “EXCUSE MEEEEEEEE (with a head bob), CAN I HELP YOU?!?!?” As a side note, apparently strange men in my back yard raises my adrenaline because it wasn’t until I calmed down that I realized a screw driver probably wouldn’t have protected me for too long.

All three men look up at me like they just saw a ghost as one of them reaches for their phone and proclaims, “Ahh, oh, ummmm I am calling Brad (previous owner) right now, he said no one was here.” I simply reply, “Well we are here.”

They finish taking the swing set out, which was not my issue, but we have yet to hear from the previous own letting us know that he told someone to break and enter into OUR house….it’s OUR HOUSE now buddy!!!!!!!!!

Other than that, everything is glorious and I am happy to report that my Puerto Rican attitude finally paid off by scaring the crap out of three men who pranced into my back yard.

Andrew and I are going with tradition and not living together until the wedding, but the deal was whoever moved in the house gets Skeeter. I was a little concerned at first, but they seem to be getting along just fine!! In fact, I fear that in a few more months I won’t be able to separate these two!!

Skeeter and Andrew relaxing on the couch while watching Sunday football.

Skeeter relaxing on his plush cat bed while Andrew plays his video game.

Accent Vlog!

Hello all! My friend, Sara, wanted me to do the accent vlog, so here it goes. I also made my fiance, Andrew do one as well! Enjoy!

Nicole's Accent Vlog

The instructions are to say these words:
Aunt, Route, Wash, Oil, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, Sure, Data, Ruin, Crayon, Toilet, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Spitting image, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Syrup, Pajamas, Caught

And answer these questions:
What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
What is the bug that when you touch it, it curls into a ball?
What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
What do you call gym shoes?
What do you say to address a group of people?
What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
What do you call your grandparents?
What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
What is the thing you use to change the TV channel?

Andrew's Accent Vlog

Spanish Heritage

Some of you may be surprised to find out that I have a Hispanic heritage. My mother was born and raised in San Juan, Puerto Rico until the age of 17, when her family moved to Winter Haven, FL. Looks can be deceiving and having a father of Norwegian background, I didn’t get many Hispanic features! One thing that was never in short supply in my house was delicious Puerto Rican Food. Once of my favorite meals (and rather unhealthy I have to admit), is Mofongo (Mo-phon-go).

The ingredients for this dish are very simple; plantains, broth, garlic, olive oil and pork (my mother used the shredded kind). Plantains are often confused with bananas (picture below). You do NOT want to eat a raw plantain. The taste is, let’s just say, unpleasant. Unfortunately, it is very difficult to find plantains in the Midwest, so I haven’t been able to indulge in this meal unless I am back home in North Carolina.

Plantain
To cook mofongo, you start by deep frying a plantain that has been peeled (just like a banana) and cut into pieces.

Cut plantains
You want to fry the plantains until they get a rich golden brown color in the center and a little crisp on the outside.

Coloring of well cooked Plantains
Once the plantains are taken out of the oil and placed on a paper towel to absorb the extra oil, you place all the ingredients into a molcajete (mole-chi-yet-ay), which is basically a Spanish version of a mortar and pestle that is made out of stone.

Molcajete
One all the ingredients are mashed to perfection; you mound the mixture onto a plate, salt and pepper to taste, and enjoy!

Delicious!
This is a very traditional Puerto Rican recipe and something that brings me back to my Spanish roots. Even after years of study and living with a mother who can speak Spanish, my ability to speak the language is a little shaky. However, being around it all the time, I am very good at understanding what is being said to be, it’s the responding that is difficult!

Whose idea was this anyway?!?!

There are several things that I have seen in my lifetime that makes me ask the question, whose idea was this anyway? For instance, Bull Riding. I want to know what cowboy was sitting around a camp fire one night and “bing,” like a light bulb, he decided to tie a Bull’s balls to one end of the rope, hold the other end of the rope in his hand and see how long he can stay on the Bull’s back. How does that happen? No, I mean really, someone please explain that to me. Then out of nowhere the sport takes off like wild fire and you are considered “brave” for doing it. Now I won’t talk bad about the cowboys that partake in this sport, but there has to be a little bit of crazy in their brain….well, maybe more than a little bit.

With that said I, too, am a victim of a crazy idea that has taken off like wild fire. I have a new addiction that I love and hate at the same time. It’s the best thing in the world, and yet, somehow, it’s the worst thing in the world. I have no idea who thought this would be a good idea, but man oh man, do I love it! What is this strange event that I partake in, you ask? Well, it’s Hot Yoga.

For those of you who have not experienced Hot Yoga, it is essentially Yoga done in a room that is heated, typically to a temperature between 106 and 110 degrees Fahrenheit with about 95% humidity. It’s freaking Hot! I know what you skeptics are thinking, how bad can it be… its just yoga? Ummm, no! This is by far, one of the most difficult workouts I have ever done. Not only are you forced to hold positions that your body just wants to fight, but you are quite literally dripping sweat. I move into my down dog (let me give a minute for those of you whose mind is now in the gutter) and all of the sudden my vision is blurred from the salty sweat that has run from my chin into my eye socket. As I move through to my warrior II there is a steady stream of sweat dripping from my elbow.

Down Dog


Warrior II

For those of you who are still skeptical, let me tell you about the macho man who thought the same thing (and no, I am not referring to Andrew, he did quite well in his first hot yoga experience).

As I was sitting in the hell room, as I will refer to it, I was trying to center myself and adjust to the room to get a better workout. About 10 minute before class a young lad walks in wearing sweat pants, a sweat shirt, and a toboggan (aka stocking cap, hat, etc.). Several of the ladies in the class just looked at him and smirked to themselves because we all knew what was about to happen….homie was about to get schooled by a bunch of ladies.

He had a very cocky attitude and several times made comments to his companion about what a joke this would be and how he couldn’t believe he was there. Ha….. my friend….. Ha!

It didn’t take long for his innocence to be taken by the yoga Gods. Within 10 minutes the hat was off. Five after that, there goes the sweatshirt. His was absolutely drenched by the time we started to crocodile, or chaturanga for the yogis (lower a push up to about 2 inches off the ground and hold), which he was unable to hold for longer than 2 seconds. The ladies of the class kept looking at him as he would fall and sigh because he just couldn’t quite get it. I think he lasted a total of 45 minutes and he left. Yes, he left! Just couldn’t hang in there with the big dogs.

Crocodile/Chaturanga


The best feeling in the world is all of us looking at each other and knowing exactly what the other thought “serves him right for thinking this was easy!” Let this serve as a lesson to all you who think Hot Yoga is for the weak! There is one thing that yoga doesn’t tolerate…..and that is an ego!

Feed the LIZARD!!!!

For all of you blog readers that have met my papa bear aka Terry, you know that the White house is where the party is at. Growing up, there was never a short supply of cook outs, hang outs, parties, and cocktails.

My dad likes to throw parties. In my opinion, this is because he can drink a lot more when all he has to do is go upstairs and go to bed (even that can become a challenge after a good old fashion party at the White house).

For a quick clarification, my last name is White therefore all references to “White” are due to that fact. I made this mistake once in middle school assuming that everyone knew my last name was White and created the “White party” for my Government class. Let’s just say going to a ghetto school…..I got some looks (oh to be innocent and naïve again)! OK, that’s out of the way…moving on…

On a typical weekend growing up, there would be cars lined up all the way down Huntington Run Lane and our neighbors would just walk on over saying, “Well, the Whites are at it again, might as well join them.” My dad makes enough food that even the Royal Wedding wouldn’t be able to finish it. From pulled pork, smoked salmon, beer can chicken, steak, brats…you name it….papa bear is cooking it. But it doesn’t stop at the grilling, nooooo, there is macaroni salad, salsa, dips, desserts, anything and everything you would ever want at a party, we have it.

Recently, Andrew and I went back home for my parents 30th wedding anniversary. They decided to renew their vows and, of course, have a party to celebrate. Being in the construction business, my dad just doesn’t know when to stop adding to our back yard “deck.” It has become a massive piece of art. The picture below doesn’t even show half of the magnitude of this bad boy!!

This has to be some sort of World record...this thing is huge!

For this one such event, my Uncle Phil was in town and when the White brothers get together….there is no telling what the outcome will be.

Upon waking up the morning of the party, Uncle Phil and my dad had something they just HAD to show us. We walked out to the $10,000 “tiki hut” that my dad built around a $500 dollar pool (yes, those numbers are right….cripes) and with much excitement and jubilation, they showed us the “beer chute.”

Here is the "Tiki Hut" in the background....Papa Bear will sit out and smoke his cigar admiring all his work!

Beer Chute is the white pipe on top of the bar on the right.....there is a beer can hanging from it and a Lizard on top.....

Every time someone would finish a beer you would hear yelling from all areas of the party “feed the lizard!!” Feed the lizard they would say, apparently Lizards eat aluminum cans. When a party patron would put a can into the chute it would move its way down the pipe and into the recycle bin.

This is my family, good, bad and ugly….what can I say? Something is never lacking at the White house and that is fun and laughter. Sometimes I wonder why I am just a little bit crazy, but one trip back home brings it all into perspective. How fun can life be if there isn’t a little crazy in there somewhere?

The Whole family after the renewing of the vows!

Chin Down....Lean this way...Now, put your arm around him....

For anyone who has read my blog, it’s no surprise that I will be getting married (in less than 11 months)! To say that I am excited is quite the understatement. I essentially have the entire wedding planned already…..yay for having a Type A personality! Call it whatever you will, anal retentive…I’ll buy that…obsessive compulsive..sure, why not! Regardless, I am having the time of my life planning our wedding and fortunately have an amazing fiancé who simply smiles and nods when I ask him if he likes something.

That, however, took some training.

After visiting my DREAM reception venue I was ready to book and Andrew asks me, “Shouldn’t we look at other places?” EXCUSE ME?? What? I don’t understand, what do you mean other places? There are no other places! Shortly after that “mini” episode he quickly recanted and agreed that it was the best place out there and the perfect choice for us! Good boy, you get a treat now ;)

I received some great advice, from my boss as odd as it may be, about wedding planning. He said “Nicole, you are only as stressed as you want to be. Don’t waste your time worrying, just enjoy it.” Thank you boss!! I have done just that! I think stressing over a wedding mostly comes in the form of caring about everyone but the two most important people, the bride and the groom. I don’t apologize for my next statement, but I really just don’t care about anyone else. There I said it! I don’t care about anyone other than myself and Andrew! We are having the wedding of OUR dreams, no one else’s :) . That said, we are both pretty fortunate to have great parents that believe that very thing, this is about us, not them. So I really couldn’t ask for a better beginning to what will be a wonderful future.

Andrew and I had a great experience with our photographer at Giraffe Photography. The day we were taking out engagement pictures started off with a crazy Midwest spring storm…figures. My hair does not, I repeat…DOES NOT do well in a wet atmosphere. It begins to frizz and curl and before you know it, I have my own personal atmosphere around my head…annoying. Regardless, I was going to cancel and then, as if Jesus himself were looking down on me, the clouds parted and “out came the sun and dried up all the rain."

I raced home to prepare for the pictures! I broke out the liquid eyeliner (yes ladies, I mean business) and began the process of becoming beautiful. As a side note, I love being a girl. It is the most amazing feeling to look in the mirror and borderline scare yourself with a reflection and then BOOM 20 minutes later a Goddess is looking back at you….oh make up…my one true love…besides Andrew that is! Ok, make up done. Now on to my hair!

I have discovered the wonders of the curling wand. It’s a little tricky to get used to, but oh. My. Gosh it is amazing. I recommend it to anyone and everyone because it just gives the most natural looking perfectly placed curls every!

Once my hair was done, it was onto my outfit selection. Naturally, I went with a dark jean that looks great on pretty much everyone! Then for the top…what to do? I want to look cute and modern, but I don’t want to look back at these pictures in 20 years and be like “Cripes, Nicole! What were you thinking?” I went with a basic green (because I love green and look awesome in it! Yes I am that vain) button up shirt and a pale yellow cami underneath. There was however, a secret weapon involved that I will share with everyone loud and clear…SPANX! OK, I am by no means “large”, at least I don’t think I am, but I will admit that my mid section could use some…let’s say “toning.” Well ladies, Spanx will do the trick. I wanted to make sure that I didn’t have a miscellaneous roll hanging out in any picture, so Spanx to the rescue!

I was done in only 75 short minutes. Andrew got ready in 5…..

We headed down to a beautiful area to take pictures and had an interesting 20 minutes of photo taking. I always watched America’s Next Top Model and thought to myself “please, I can do that.” Ummmm, NO! It was extremely awkward and fast paced. “Move your chin to the side.. no the other side. Put your arm around him…don’t squint…look at Andrew….don’t look at Andrew….. turn this way… put your foot under there.” Geeez the whole “look natural but I am posing you” thing was a lot to grasp. Sure enough however, 20 minutes came and went and we left thinking “well those are going to look weird.” While Andrew and I clearly looked amazing that day (just stroking my ego a little) we weren’t quite sure how all the pictures were going to turn out.

Two weeks later, we went to view our pictures. WOW!! A-Freaking-MAZING!! This guy knows what he is going! I pretty much loved every single picture and could not have asked for a better photographer. Everyone who has seen the pictures loves them and I just love everything about them!! I have attached a few for everyone to take a look!

Wait.....What?!?!

Hello, blog readers!! It’s been a while since I have graced you with a post, so I figured I would fill you in on one BIG update!!

So, Andrew and I have been dating for two years now and let’s just say I was ready to make a certain commitment that involves a ring. It was a topic of conversation that quite often ended up with me upset because he wasn’t ready and made it pretty clear that he wasn’t going to be ready for some time.

One such conversation happened Monday February 7, 2011.

It started off as a normal day chatting on our work communicator with no major topics being brought up. For some reason or another, the “proposal” conversation reared its ugly head…..again! The convo began pretty casual but soon turned into an emotional disturbance for me. In asking my typical questions to pick his brain about what he was thinking, I was getting answers that were really throwing me for a loop. “So, Andrew, people are asking me when we are getting engaged and are telling me it’s going to happen soon….thoughts?” Andrew’s response “Who is saying that, cripes, I don’t even know when I am going to be ready to do that, we have only been dating two years, Nicole.” Wrong answer, my friend……wrong answer. “What do you mean we have only been dating two year, how long do you think we have to date before we get engaged?” I asked….enthusiastically. “I don’t know, I am just not ready for that right now.” As usual, the conversation fizzled with me accepting the fact that we were probably going to be middle aged before he was “ready.”

The topic didn’t come much the rest of the week and into the next, but our planned trip to Galena, IL (where we, for the most part, met and began dating) was fast approaching and I became more and more excited for the romantic weekend that I planned for our two year anniversary. Yes…..that I planned! I pride myself in knowing Andrew very well, and this was just too cliché for him. Although everyone I knew was telling me it would happen that weekend, I knew better. I convinced myself that there was no way he would propose, so much so, that I didn’t wear my waterproof mascara, which I had been wearing (despite its inability to lengthen and volumize my lashes) for the last two months “just in case” I had a reason to cry out of pure joy.

Shortly after we arrived in Galena, we were off to dinner at a delicious and reasonably priced Italian restaurant, Vinny Vennuchi’s (strongly recommended)! They had one of my favorite wines, Lambrusco, so naturally I had to get a glass!! After dinner we walked to a cute bar in downtown Galena. It was so nice outside, slightly chilly, but not too cold. I clutched onto Andrew’s arm and he awkwardly began to hold it out. “What are you doing?” I asked. “Oh, nothing thought you wanted to grab my arm.” I just kind of laughed and said “Well I can clutch onto your arm without you holding it out!” He kind of laughed it off and opened the door of the bar for me.

A few drinks later, Andrew was ready to go, so we paid our tab and were on our way. By this point in the night I has consumed three alcoholic beverages, so to say I was chatty was an understatement. I was just talking about whatever my little heart desired and only taking breaks to get more breath to continue my talking! Andrew was pretty quiet, but that’s not unusual when I drink because like I said…. I like to talk!

When Andrew finally got a word in a started talking, I piped down and kept walking, giving him a chance to participate in the conversation. To be honest, I can’t remember much of what he said, but I know that it was sweet and romantic. As the words began to sink into my brain and I figured out what might be happening, I stopped DEAD in my tracks turned around and pretty sure I said “What?!?!”

This is the bridge we were on!!

As I turned around, he was getting down on his knee and pulling out the most beautiful ring I have ever seen from his front jacket pocket (explaining the awkward arm holding).

Doesn't even do it justice!!!

My eyes got tears in their eyes instantly and I managed to push out an “Of course” when he asked me to marry him. A few seconds passed and as we hugged on the bridge over the Galena River my next question shocked him. “Is my mascara running?” “Is that what you are really worried about right now, Nicole?” He replied. I then explained to him my wearing of waterproof mascara so I could remain “beautiful” when this happened and how I just knew it wasn’t going to happen this weekend. He then explained to me how he blatantly lied to throw me off his scent and told me he purchased the ring a month ago!!

The next day we celebrated our engagement the best way we knew how…..eating a Flav’s Fried Chicken in Clinton, IA. Only in Iowa can you get an old, deadbeat rapper’s chicken that was surprisingly delicious!

Ahhhh Skeet, Skeet.

Ladies and gents, I want to formally introduce you to Skeeter. He is a five and a half year old orange tabby with a HUGE personality. When I say he is a character, I mean it. I objected at first, but he begged me to allow him the opportunity to create his own blog (I am a real softy when it comes to him)! So, without further ado I give you, SKEETER!!

As you can see, I can be a little shy from time to time, but I am so excited to write my first blog. It won’t be too long, because not having thumbs makes it pretty difficult to type. Mom says I have a pretty big personality, but it’s really because she doesn’t pay enough attention to me. I don’t think she realizes how important I am. I try to get her attention by weaving between her legs and constantly meowing, but it seems to piss her off when I do that. I don’t get it; it’s called love, MOM!!

I am a pretty curious guy; I like to know what’s going on around me.

This jack hole had his light blaring in our window when I was trying to sleep. What the heck is that about jerk! I stuck my head out and gave him quite the look. He quickly turned off his lights. I am the man of the house; I have to take care of all its occupants.

I can also be pretty goofy.

I found this ribbon in our apartment. I was having blast playing with it until I tangled myself up and couldn’t move. Mom was a real jerk that day. When she found me she just took pictures and laughed. I could have died! I could have strangled myself or something, I mean I didn’t, but I could have dang it. And all she did was laugh and take pictures. Real sweet lady!

There was this one day that mom and I were pretending we were on a roller coaster.

OK, she told me to say that. We weren’t on a roller coaster dang it. She was forcing me to take pictures and I objected. I have tried to let her know I don’t like these photo shoots, but she doesn’t get it. When I try and bite her to let her know I don’t want my picture taken I get popped in the head. You heard that right, I GET POPPED IN THE HEAD. How does that work? You are forcing me against my will to do something. I am just protecting myself. Pick on someone your own size!!

I would consider myself a real gentleman most days.

Mom passed out giving blood on this day. I crawled right into that nook and just stayed with her until she felt better. I will admit it’s nice to have her home during the day (but don’t tell her I said that). When mom isn’t feeling well, I am right there to make it all go away!

Even with all this fur, I tend to get a little chilly in the apartment.

I like to cuddle up in the blankets in the fall and winter. There’s nothing like a warm blanket and a nap on a cold winter day!

Well I guess that’s it for now. My life if pretty exciting, and I am sure there will be more to come soon! I am going to North Carolina to see my girlfriend Hermione over Christmas. She is one hot babe and our secret romance was almost exposed the last time we were together. I love when mom comes home from a visit to North Carolina. I can smell Hermione’s sweet pheromones all over her suitcase…..love, sweet love!!

Well there you have it folks, that’s Skeeter. One crazy guy!!

When I was young…

Most of you might be able to tell at this point, that I like to tell stories and I might exaggerate SLIGHTLY on some details. OK, OK, I exaggerate a lot, but that is what good story telling is!

Well my story telling and exaggerating days began when I was very young! At one point, I stole my Mom’s high school class ring, lost it, and convinced my sister that she somehow was to blame. Unfortunately for me, when she went to confess, my mom revealed that she already knew it was me that lost the ring, so I was caught red handed in my story! There is one story that I created that I am going to tell you all now. I will note a few things before I get started 1) for all those who know me as Nicole, I also go by Nikki 2) the below story did not harm anyone, other than egos… and 3) five year old girls in pig tails are too cute to not believe!

In kindergarten, I had the mom that would come to everything! She dropped me off at the classroom door in the morning; she was waiting outside that door to pick me up in the afternoon. If there was a field trip or volunteers needed, she was the first to sign up. She was actively involved and I was the baby of the family, so it was her last chance to go through the steps (well, at least until grandchildren came around). The day this story began, my mom was out of down (I think some sort of retreat, but that’s pretty irrelevant). This meant that my sweet daddy would be in charge for the week.

Now, I am and have always been the stereotypical “daddy’s girl.” One bat of my eyes and he turns into butter right in front of me! I look, walk, talk, write, joke, everything like my papa bear! BUT, at five years old and prissy as they come, daddy was not the ideal candidate to get me ready in the morning. Perhaps this story was revenge for my mother leaving for the week and letting dad pick out my outfits and do my hair. Needless to say, I was the definition of a hot mess that week. My ponytail had bumps in it, my clothes didn’t match (newsflash daddy, neon orange and baby pink just don’t work together), and my lunch never had a note on the napkin with a heart saying I love you. It was just a disaster! He wouldn’t even walk me to class, just dropped me off and let the safety patrol escort me.

The week started on a good note. I had a good friend in the class and one day, in typical kindergarten fashion, he had an accident. Well, he didn’t have any spare clothes, so I gave him my pink pants with bows (I was a giving kid, what can I say). He really liked them, so I told him he could keep them. I told my teacher “the story” and all the wheels were set in motion!

Mom got back on Thursday night and took over her duties Friday morning, thank gosh!! As we went to school (pink dress, white tights, mary-janes, neatly pulled pack pig tails with pink and white ribbons), I felt whole again! I matched and look as cute as a button! As we pull into the parking lot, mom parks and walks me to my class room. As she peaks her head in the door all is revealed.

My teacher turns white as a ghost and runs over to the door to give my mom a hug. Naturally mom was a little taken back but hugged her anyway. My teacher (we’ll call her Mrs. H) says, “Oh Norma, I am so glad you guys are alright, we are going to help however we can!” At this point my mom is a little confused, “Mrs. H, what are you talking about, of course we are alright.”

Now I am getting nervous. When I told the story, I never realized that mom would find out! I try to give Mrs. H that “cut it out” look, but she didn’t pay much attention to me. Mom sees my friend that I gave my pink pants to (he is wearing them again) and she asks “Nikki, what is he doing with your pants?” Phew, she is changing the topic, all is good. “Oh I just let him have them, mom. He really likes them” I replied. I run to go play, grateful that the crisis was averted; I just figured they would go on and not continue to talk. I was wrong.

“Well, Norma, we are starting a clothes and food drive next week, it will be in the news letter going out Monday.” says Mrs. H. Again, my mom was always the one to help so she replies “Great, I would love to help just let me know what I can do, who is the drive for?” At this point, I think Mrs. H knows something is up “well, it’s for you and your family. Nikki told us all about it.” Crap!!!! I am done for! Mom looks over at me and I hear it “Nikki told you about what?” This isn’t good; I can feel both of them gazing at me. Mrs. H tells mom “she told us about the fire. She says your house burnt down.” Those of you that know me well, know, not only the next words that came out of my mother’s mouth, but also the tone in which they came out. “Niiiiicoooooolllee Luuuuuuuuuuzzzz White!” Uh oh…….

I come over, tail between my legs, and just look up. My mom then explains “Mrs. H, first, we live in an apartment, so our house did not burn down. Second, Terry (that’s my papa bear) caught the stove on fire but he put it out with no damage. I am not sure where she got all this from, but I can assure you, we and our apartment are fine.” Mrs. H just looks down at me, but what can she do “well don’t I feel stupid now, but no one dropped her off or picked her up in the morning and she was just a mess every day, so I just assumed something happened.” I am pretty worried at this point; I think a whipping is going to be in order for this one. To my surprise, they started laughing. Yeah, Laughing. Like I mentioned before, no one was hurt, and the “drive” didn’t start, so nothing really came of this, except this story. Well that and for the rest of the year Mrs. H didn’t believe a word I said. So much for trying to convince her mom was pregnant so I could get an elephant sticker…DANG!!

I am SO Proud… No, listen to me! Listen to me! I am SO PROUD……

I am going to take it back again to the weekend Andrew met my parents for the first time.

I currently reside in the State of Iowa to work for that big old green and yellow tractor company. Andrew was born and raised in the great corn state and attended Iowa State University. For all of you that have never met anyone that attended Iowa State, let me give you a peek into their lives, they are all OBSESSED with Iowa State Athletics. I am not sure if my judgment is skewed by the company that my wonderful boyfriend keeps, but I am no longer shocked by their extreme loyalty and fan hood.

Anyhow, the weekend we scheduled to visit the wonderful North Carolina was strategically planned around Iowa State football. The Cyclones (ISU) were playing the Nebraska Cornhuskers at Nebraska. This is a pretty big game apparently in the “former” big 12, so fortunately for Andrew, it was televised in NC. To give you a little history about this rivalry, ISU has not beaten Nebraska at Nebraska in like 30 something years (Andrew is probably cringing right now that I don’t know the exact date and time of the last time this occurred, but let’s be honest, you get the point…. It’s been a while).

So we didn’t realize the game was televised in NC until the 4th quarter, and once we turned the game on, there was no turning back. (Correction: I didn’t realize the game was on, apparently Andrew knew the whole time, but wanted to be polite and not unleash the football freak too early in his relationship with my parents). I would like to add that at this moment, my parents have known Andrew for about one hour! The game is a real nail biter. It’s late in the 4th quarter, less than 3 minutes left in the game. Zac Lee (quarterback for Nebraska) goes for the pass, INTERCEPTION!!! Holy crap! “ Did Iowa State just do something good?” That was my initial reaction.

Now there is less than 2 minutes left in the game of a lifetime. One minute, 30 seconds, 10, 9, 8, ok you get it. Iowa State WINS! I am immediately shocked by this and don’t know what to think. I look over at Andrew to see how I should react and I see a ghost. I don’t think he has realized what just happened. Then I see what looks like a single tear followed by an uproar of “Oh my God!” and jumping around like a 5 year old school girl. My one year old nephew looks at him and back at me, him, then me, one more time, him then me. “Yes, little man, this is what you have to look forward to one day!” I tell him. My niece, who is almost four, thinks Andrew is dancing and joins the celebration that doesn’t seem to stop. My mom looks at me, and asks “Is he always like this?” I simply respond with one word, “yep!”

About 5 minutes later, the squealing stops and the phone calls begin. Andrew was completely unavailable for the next 45 minutes as he had to talk to everyone he knew about the victory that just took place. It was essentially the exact same conversation with every person and each time the excitement somehow continued to increase. Eventually, he calmed down and we were able to enjoy the weekend with an Iowa State Victory on our side.

This event, however, is not what the story is about. It is what happened later, in the Iowa State locker room that now haunts my everyday life. In case some of you have not heard of the famous speech given by coach Paul Rhoads himself, I have attached the link to share.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAcKiMy0Gp4&feature=related

To give you a summary, Rhoads is proud, and he expresses this thoroughly! Yes, this was enough to make ESPN Sports Center.

Ever since that mild October day in North Carolina, I can no longer say the word proud. Even if I catch myself saying it, if the first hint of the word “prou” comes out of my mouth the avalanche starts. “I am so proud, no, I am so proud, listen to me, listen to me, I am so proud to be your football coach!” Says Andrew “proudly.” Every freaking time! Every time! As if that isn’t enough, if I happen to say the word in his apartment, not only to I get to hear him recite the speech, but it gets pulled up on youtube so I can hear the actual Paul Rhoads say it!

I want to end this by thanking Paul Rhoades for creating a monster that I am “proud” to date.

On the prowl….

In Iowa it gets cold. REALLY cold! Wait, really FREAKING cold!! I am from North Carolina and cold to me used to be 27 degree Fahrenheit, well friends, cold to me is now -15 degrees Fahrenheit. You read that right!! Don’t fool yourself, its freezing!

When winter hits in Iowa (usually around mid October), everything goes into hibernation. The sun doesn’t come up until 8:30 or 9 in the morning and it starts to go down at 4 in the afternoon. Fortunately for me, I am working during that time, so I don’t get to see the sun until March (Jealous? You should be, I am so lucky! Hope you are starting to pick up on the sarcasm here)! The birds leave, the bugs leave, the bunnies stick around, which is a nice sighting every so often, but you get the point, EVERYTHING leaves. Except Spartacus…..

I call the creature you are about to hear about Spartacus because he is a true warrior, a fierce competitor and came to an unfortunate, yet deserving demise. You might be asking yourself “what creature could she be referring too? A lion, a tiger, a bear??” NO! This creature has no fur; he is nimble, quick, and as spirited as they come. He is determined to outlast the brutal Iowan winter in my apartment. He is but a small cricket, also referred to as the nightmare off 2009.

It was snowy night in December and I am cuddled up in a blanket with my beloved feline, Skeeter. We are warm and toasty, fresh cup of hot chocolate in hand. There is something very peaceful about the snow in Iowa, so pure and quiet; you could hear a pin drop if you tried. But that’s not what I heard that night. It was an unmistakable sound. One that usually only comes at night in the summer. I strained my ear to ensure I wasn’t dreaming. There it was again. Crick Crick. Crick Crick. Crick Crick. That is my best attempt at the incredible annoying sound of a cricket.

I stand up and move around the apartment to try and identify the source of the sound. It’s as if the cricket is playing a game with me. I get close and he stops. Then moments later, he is across the apartment. I chase after him. Once I have lapped the apartment 4 times, I decide to rest and hope that he is only a visitor for the evening and will soon leave.

I was wrong. He doesn’t sleep. He doesn’t leave. I have no idea how he has survived so long, but it has been three weeks and Spartacus is still here! I am losing sleep and patience! One night I reach a breaking point. It’s close to 1:30 am, still wide awake from his cricking, Skeeter and I decide to declare war. I will not sleep until he has been defeated!

We start in the bedroom. Skeeter is there beside me, alert and ready to pounce on command. “All clear, Skeet. Let’s move to the living room” I command him as seems to nod in agreement. Once we have left the bedroom, I seal it off in hopes no one will enter.

The above process continues throughout the apartment until finally, we have him cornered in the bathroom. I lock the three of us in there; Myself, Skeeter, and Spartacus, an unforeseen trio. “You’re going down, you monster!” I yell in a Braveheart type battle cry.

Spartacus remains silent thinking that he will fool us. He doesn’t. We sit and we wait. Then it comes, “crick, crick!” It’s a challenge. Skeeter perks up and I let him take the lead. He looks behind the toilet. No luck. The bathtub. No luck. Then, he gets a scent. I see him crouch into position like Mufasa, the lion king, eyeing his prey. There’s a shuffle and I see Spartacus for the first time, no bigger than a Tylenol gel cap, he jumps into the air, and Skeeter swats him down. Then, as if he was begging for mercy, one final “crick” and he is gone. I pick him up and give him a royal burial at sea. “Goodbye, Spartacus. You put up a good fight, but you didn’t have a chance! Good boy, Skeeter” I say as I pick up the victor and give him a good pat on the head.

I lay back down, Skeeter gets in the perfect nook he forms in my arms, and we have our first peaceful night sleep in what feels like an eternity.

The Countdown.....

It all started the morning of June 30th, 2010. I get to work, excited that there are only three more days until the extended 4th of July weekend my gracious employer gives us, and my first thought is “I need to go shopping to get Andrew and I matching outfits for the cookout on Sunday!” Immediately after that, I thought “Good God, when did I become my mother?” It’s a scary thing to wake up one morning and realize that you are three steps away from making matching iron-on sweatshirts with glitter to make them “fancy.” Once I was able to come back to reality after that astonishing epiphany, I did the normal morning routine, checked email and looked at the calendar. NICE! I get to give blood today!

Apparently, I have a pretty rare blood type (and therefore get calls once a week from the blood drive place asking to donate). Anyway, we have blood drives here at work, and it’s just an easy convenient way to help out society. So I am about to head down to donate and Andrew (the boyfriend) Instant Messages me (yes, we have IM at work). The message reads “65 days.” I didn’t have time to ask “65 days until what?” So I went down stairs to give blood.

The first part of my donation was standard, answer questions, get my blood bag, and wait until they are ready to stick me. As I am waiting my mind begins to ponder, “65 days, 65 days, 65 days?” Hmmm, what could be in 65 days? I don’t have a calendar readily available, but maybe it is an anniversary of some sort, maybe he is going to surprise me with something special??

Now, it’s time for the stick. The sweet old lady asks me which arm I would like to give from “the Right and I will warn you, I am a fast bleeder! I have been known to fill the bag in lighting time!” I joke with her, but that is a fact! On a normal basis I can fill the bag in less than 5 minutes. I prepare for the stick and there it is. Ahhhh, that’s over. I look at the sweet old lady and she has a very concerned look on her face. I quickly check to make sure my arm is still attached. Phew, it is. The sweet old lady calls another nurse over “will you take a look at this, I think it happened again” she says. “What happened again?” I reply looking confused. The other nurse comes and examines “Yep, you clotted to fast.” Excuse me? You literally stuck me 30 seconds ago. I clotted too fast.

So the old lady (note I dropped sweet) begins to move the needle around “does that hurt at all?” She asks. “Nope, I am good” but really I am thinking “Cripes lady you are prodding a sharp object around in my arm, what do you think?” So they decide to take the needle out and start again on the other arm. Luckily the clotting drama allowed me to forget about the 65 days comment.

As she sticks the other needle, it’s a success, kind of. It takes me 30 minutes to fill the bag! Ridiculous. As I wait to fill the blood bag, I find out the old lady had this happen 5 times today. Clearly, she needs to be removed from the needle prick and stick to asking the questions!

At this point, it’s been almost an hour and half since the elusive “65 days” comment. I mean who does that? Why would you just dangle a carrot like that and not follow through? Ugh. I am finally done with the blood drive and head back upstairs to share my story with all who will listen, including Andrew. I was so intense in my storytelling about my blood giving adventure, that it wasn’t until 45 minutes later that I ask with intense excitement “so what is in 65 days?”

I want to take a moment for everyone to guess what it could be. It would just be too easy to tell you flat out and not allow you to experience the intense anxiety that I had as I prepared for his reply.

I see the words “Andrew is typing….” on the instant message dialog box. My eyes light up and my muscles tense. Then I get the answer “65 days until college football starts.” WOW! That’s what my anticipation was for, college football? “That’s literally over 2 months away!” I reply. “I know, I am getting so excited already, I can’t wait, it’s so close!” he says with excitement coming out of every part of him. As a side note, I can’t remember the last time I was excited for something 2 months prior to it happening.

Since that moment, I have gotten weekly, and now daily updates on the countdown to college football. Now, I like football just as much as the other above average females in the world, but dating a diagnosed sports addict has truly increased my awareness on the craziness that is college football.

For all of those interested, 17 days……

Grocery Store Madness!

When thinking about grocery stores, I become EXTREMELY bi-polar. It’s a true love/hate relationship. Let me invite you into my world of shopping for food.

Example 1 – Love, pure love!

There is nothing like walking into the friendly neighborhood grocery store (Hyvee for my fellow Iowans, pick at random for the non-Iowans) early on a Sunday morning and being one of maybe ten customers. Calm just comes over me as I grab my cart, the rolls perfectly over the freshly swept floors and through the fully stocked aisles. I place my oversized purse in the cart, pull out my perfectly organized list (produce, meat, dairy, aisle, and frozen), and begin my adventure.

I start in the aisles, as I don’t want the “cold” items to get too warm in the cart. I slowly browse through the selections, compare price and nutritional information, and make a choice that I am truly happy with. I usually take this time to think about how nice and quiet it is and how peaceful the feeling of carefree grocery shopping can be.

Once the aisles have all been browsed, I head to the dairy section. I compare the yogurt flavors and cross them off my list as I gentle place them in an orderly fashion in my cart, which once again rolls with no issue or hindrance. Next are the meat and freezer sections, which compare to the joys of aisle and diary.

Now, on to the produce! Oh how I love freshly stocked produce, which has a light dampness due to the mist that has sprayed 2 minutes prior. I carefully examine each pepper, apple, head of lettuce, and tomato that I carefully place in the produce bag and sit atop of my neatly organized grocery cart.

I am done, now on the checkout. Seeing as to how there are ten shoppers in the store, I immediately find an open aisle with a sweet female check-out clerk who greets me with a smile and a “Did you find everything OK today?” I simply reply, “Why, yes I did, thank you very much Sandra (arbitrary name, but it sounds pleasant).” She swiftly scans every item making sure to take special care of my eggs and bread. A young eager boy walks up and asks if I would like paper or plastic. I answer “Plastic, please!” Once all the groceries are scanned and in my cart, eggs and bread on top, I swipe my card, take my receipt (given with a smile) and head out the door.

As I get home and open the door to my apartment (arms full of groceries that I can carry in one trip), I am greeted by my wonderful orange tabby cat, Skeeter, who is sitting quietly in the hallway waiting to be played with until my groceries are safely put away in their respective locations.

As I sit on my couch and reflect on what a wonderful experience I just had, I secretly think to myself, “I wish every experience in life could be as pleasant as my Sunday morning grocery store adventure!”

Example 2 – When did I walk into Hell?

Its 6:00 pm on a hot, muggy, humid, disgusting, Tuesday summer evening. I just had a long day of work and an intense workout in a gym with no air conditioning, that’s right, no AC. I have literally sweat more in 20 minutes than I have in my entire life, but at the time, it felt good, really good! I am on my way home trying to inventory my refrigerator a cupboards to come up with some unique concoction that only happens when I need to go to the grocery store, badly! CRAP! There is nothing!

I decide, against my better judgment, to head to the grocery store. I pull into the parking lot and realize that half of the world, yes, about 3 billion people, have decided to come to the grocery store this evening as well. After driving down each lane in the parking lot, almost getting hit by 3 carts, 2 old people , and one, what looked to be like a 12 year old, I came to the realization that the parking angels were not with me tonight, and settled on the “closest” spot possible (about half a mile away). As a side note, I believe that cell phones should be banned from the grocery store and parking lot between the hours of 5 and 7pm during the week.

As I walked to the grocery store, the sun is shining down and piercing me like razors. When I left the gym I thought there was no way I could possibly sweat any more. FALSE! I am once again drenched in my own nastiness. Perfect!
Finally, I am in! I feel the initial cool blast of AC and I think “this might not be so bad!” I grab my cart and start on my way. Cripes!! My cart has one wheel that doesn’t spin and one that is wildly out of control. As I start down the aisle, with no list, it sounds like a Boeing 747 is taking off. No!! It’s just Nicole and her obnoxious cart! I am in the rice aisle, trying to come up with some idea for dinner, and here comes the scooter. Not only does the lady driving the scooter look like she is capable of walking, just lazy, but she has 4 miscreant children that are running amuck and bumping into my cart. I give them a very distinct “don’t mess with me” look and they back off. Time for take off again! It takes all my strength to steer this darn cart and no matter how hard I try, every few minutes it veers right and almost knocks the pasta off the shelf!

OK, time to get serious! I decide on simple noodles and pasta sauce. I go to the canned vegetable aisle and, holy lord, I found all the people! I maneuver my way through the aisle with my bum cart and finally approach the tomato sauce. It’s at this moment that some fancy fashionista talking on her cell phone cuts me off with her basket and gives me this awful look. “I just got back from the gym lady!! Sorry I can’t be naturally beautiful like you,” I scream inside my head. I am about 95% sure she heard me and luckily for her, she went on her way. I try to compare my sauce choices to get the best buy, but I am getting glares for standing there too long, and make a rushed decision that I am sure to regret!
Why did I do this? Why did I HAVE to come to the grocery store? How did Subway seem like a worse idea than this? Anyway, I gather the rest of my ingredients in the same unsatisfying way and head to the check out with my rickety cart and groceries thrown around in no order at all!

There are four lanes open, four. Why do grocery stores have 20 available lanes, but only open 4? I will never understand this. I count my items quickly. 20! 20! And the express lane only takes 10. Why me? What did I do today to deserve this? I realize, however, that it doesn’t matter because those are two of the 16 lanes that are not open! I opt for what I think is the “shortest” line.

After 15 minutes of waiting it’s finally my turn! I get my groceries out and place them on the conveyor! I see a little light at the end of this long tunnel, and then it happens! The check-out clerks change shifts. I thought I was getting in line with a sweet lady who seemed pleasant. Now I have some snotty teenager who thinks he is the top dog! He scans my items while making random jokes with his bag boy buddy. I haven’t been acknowledged at this point, but I am fully engaged in their conversation and would like to meet this girl they are hoping to meet up with after work, she seems like a real character!

Once the bags are in my cart, I ask the bag boy “where’s my bread?” His reply is “in the cart.” Thank you, Captain Obvious! I decide to not press the issue and move on. As I reach the exit, I get my bags out of the cart (realizing that my bread is under the cans of tomato sauce and smashed, amazing you little punk), and offer the cart, with what little smile I can muster, to the person coming through the door. I have an evil laugh in my head and it makes me feel a little better knowing they will have to pilot that bad boy all around the store now!

Nothing exciting happens on the way to the car or apartment, I go in the heat, I sweat, and I swear, I put the groceries in the trunk, I drive home. When I get to the apartment, I can already hear it. The whining yelps from Skeeter. Whyyyyyyyy? Whyyyyyy? That’s what it sounds like. Whyyyyyy have you been gone so long? Whyyyyyy do you make me stay here alone? “For crying out loud cat, someone has to work” I yell as I wrestle for my keys in my purse, which have somehow made their way to the bottom in 30 seconds. I open the door and I am attacked by 12 pounds of fur. I try to avoid stepping on the annoyance that is weaving in and out of my legs. I get a piece of his tail and this ungodly scream comes out. “Then move out of my way Skeeter, I am trying to walk here, GAH” I respond as neighbors pass and glare like I have just committed murder.

Ahhhhh, I am finally home and once the groceries are put up I sit on the couch and pray. That’s right; I pray that I will never again be stupid enough to go to the groceries store on a Tuesday evening again!

And so it begins.....

Welcome to my life! And welcome to the confusion! I decided to start a blog, well, mostly because everyone is doing it, and I have always been one to succumb to peer pressure. I have been thinking about this for some time, but have never followed through because I could never come up with a “theme.” If you have noticed the title of my blog, Confused, that’s where I ended up. Interesting, isn’t it? Basically, I am going to keep my audience guessing and in the dark. Can’t wait!!

Confusion is an interesting place to be and I find myself there often. Since I can remember, I have always asked questions for clarity and even then, I don’t always get it. So, I just do the polite smile and nod like “ahhhhh YES, now I understand!” NOT! Most of the time I just don’t want to feel like a moron for being the only one in the group who is wondering what the heck is going on.

Most people think I am kind of funny, but honestly, I think that comes from the confusion! When you don’t know what to say, sometimes words just fly out of your mouth and form sentences before you even know you are talking. That happens a lot to me, and luckily, it’s usually pretty entertaining. The great part is, that I can entertain myself with only the thoughts in my head! Sounds a little goofy I know, but everyone does it. Walking through the grocery store, driving down the street, sitting at work, taking a shower, making dinner, the list really just goes on and on.

My plan for this blog is to share my thoughts with all of you! I am not really sure where this thing will end up, but hopefully there are some laughs, tears, times for deep thought, and overall happiness!

Let the blogging begin!