My Christmas Vacation

My parents are adding a room on to their house. My Mom calls it the great room. My Dad calls it his room. I call it a ball room. Seriously…they could film a period drama with Keira Knightley in this space. It’s HUGE!

Basically, the back end of the house has been cut off. The kitchen is gone and only one bathroom is working. Everything that was in the kitchen, dining room, the laundry room, the pantry, the master bathroom and my parents’ closets is now scattered around the rest of the house collecting dust from the renovation.

And when I say everything…I mean everything. Stuff is literally everywhere.

So you can imagine my surprise when Mom announces that my Dad will be catering Christmas for the family at our house. Huh. Really?

Really.

The Saturday before Christmas turns into a Ray family work day. The goal? Clean out my “Mom’s den” so that people can actually walk and have a place to sit and eat by the fire. Also, create a somewhat cozy atmosphere in the rather large dining hall (because it is that big) in my “Dad’s room.” Secret goal? To encourage my Mom that it’s okay to donate the dish towels she received at her wedding shower and that Jamie and I are no longer sentimentally attached to the Muppets and Holly Hobby lunch boxes from first grade. (Do we dare look inside?)

The whole day was a bit of a blur. Lots of picking up and moving. Casually throwing away old broken candles that Mom is convinced she can melt into something spectacular. Once it was all said and done, we carved out a nice place for the family to enjoy themselves on Christmas Eve.

The next morning, I head downstairs to put some gifts under the tree and hear a strange noise. Sounds like a beep. I look up to the smoke detector to see if the battery is running low. Nope. And then I hear the beep again. I follow the noise and listen hard. Ironically, the beep is now coming from a different direction…behind me way up high.

I look to see the most beautiful red bird…chirping at me.

I’m calm. Why am I calm? Because this is not the first time, or second, or even third that the Ray house has been invaded by a bird. They quite like it in our house. Don’t get me started on the woodpecker “situation” of 2005. I’m still angry.

Anyway…

I walk outside to where my Dad is lighting a long string of leaves (remember how he likes to burn things?) and ask for his help to rescue the bird. Again, this ain’t our first rodeo. He looks at me and says, “I’ve already shoo’d four out this morning. I guess I missed one.”

He walks into “his room” and searches the ceiling. I approach him and say, “It’s in Mom’s room.”

This is a different story people. Mom’s den is the height of our house. It does not have a second floor above it. There is a balcony that overlooks her den. Typically, our bird friends like to hang out up there because of the windows.

Again, Daddy and I are calm. He has his rake in hand and heads up the stairs. It is at this point where the mumbling begins. I heard something about “where crap goes to die” and I couldn’t make out the rest. We literally have to pick our way through the Occupied Japan statues, precious antiques and mounds and mounds of random china plates and cups. The bird is not happy.

The trick is to get the bird in my sister’s room. Smaller space equals easier catch. Daddy is swaying the rake while I man her door…ready to shut at a moment’s notice. Here it comes! And SLAM!

Five seconds later that bird is out again. It made the complete circle through Jamie’s room, into our bathroom and around to my room and back out again. The mumbling of profanity has turned into screaming obscenities. Think Ralph’s father in A Christmas Story. My Dad makes a swipe at the bird, it flies to me again and I shut Jamie’s door again. My Dad yells, “GO SHUT THE DOOR!”

It is at this point that the communication breaks down. For some reason, I think that my Dad wants me to shut the door to the house. I remember thinking as I’m racing down the stairs…the same stairs I’ve raced down for 25 years…”This is so dumb. Like there are really birds just out there waiting to fly inside our house?”

In my haste to shut the door as fast as I could, I slipped on a Wal-Mart sack that lined the staircase. And proceeded to tumble head-first down the last four stairs. I remember landing…hard…on the bottom wooden step. I also remember…why I don’t know…to hurry up and go shut the door. As I’m limping across the den, I think to myself, “You can’t cry. Don’t cry. There’s no crying in baseball and surely no crying when rescuing pretty red birds.” But then the shooting pain deepened and I thought…to hell with that. And I cried like a little girl.

It was only when I heard crashes and rumbling upstairs that I snapped out of my pity party to see my Dad descending the steps with the bird in his hand. He caresses the bird and softly assures that it is fine and nothing is going to happen. I’m sure he had to notice that I was clearly in significant pain as I rocked back and forth clutching my shin, tears streaming down my face.

He told me to shake it off and rub some dirt in it as he pats me on my head to go outside…eager to release his new pet and get back to his leaves

Flashback to sixth grade. I’m running to meet up my friend in front of school and accidentally shut my thumb in the truck door as Daddy starts to drive off. I have to beat on the window for him to stop. He opens the door, looks at my throbbing thumb, looks at my white face and tells me to go see the school nurse.

This is a man who fought in Viet Nam. He’s just sensitive when it comes to his own family. And birds.

Thirteen Thursday

Everyone who knows me, knows that I love Christmas! And one thing I love about Christmas is the music! So here's a list of the 13 most played songs in my Holiday folder from my I-Tunes.

1. Joy to the World - Aretha Franklin - Miracle on 34th Street

2. Good News - Avalon - Joy

3. Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker

4. Christmas Without You - Kenny and Dolly - Once Upon a Christmas

5. Blue Christmas - Elvis Presley - A Christmas Album

6. Harry Connick, Jr. - Both of his albums and the duet with Lee Ann Womack

7. Little Drummer Boy - Jars of Clay

8. Jim Brickman's Peace album

9. All I Want for Christmas is You - Mariah Carey - Merry Christmas

10. Point of Grace - A Christmas Story Album

11. Charlie Brown Christmas Album

12. Ave Maria - 98 Degrees - Do not judge me...tis the season people

13. Anything and everything classic! (Burl Ives, Bing, Johnny Mathis and Perry)

And if these guys had an album...I'd buy it!

Can. Not. Wait!

I Heart New York City

Sorry I've been lazy on the posts lately. I have a good reason. I was in a Christmas performance. More about that in my next post. Until then, enjoy these NYC photos!

I've always wanted to take a picture with this bull. Me and the other junior high boys chose to pose at this end of the statue. Nice.

Central Park. I fell in love! How can you not?

I was just about to execute my triple toe loop...

Katie and I at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. We had a cop take the picture from the street and obnoxiously yelled for everyone around to SMILE for the camera. Notice the one dude in the back who took us seriously. A true southern gentleman.

Bad JoJo. Must you flip off the parade watchers?

I took this illegally from Radio City Music Hall. It's my all-time favorite Rockette number from their Christmas show. FABULOUS!

Thanksgiving dinner at Tavern on the Green.

We were seated by this beautiful tree!

Oh Macy...why are you so good to me?

First Moments in NYC

As I said in my earlier post, New York City was amazing. My friend Katie and I had been planning our trip for months, and were excited about a few particular parts of our agenda:

1. Flying first class on Katie's miles
2. Center orchestra tickets for Wicked
3. Thanksgiving Day parade and watching the balloons blow up the night before
4. Serendipity's

You all probably know that Broadway was blacked out while we visited. I was so disappointed and knew they would resolve the situation before we got there. Not so much.

And then I was given the bad news that Serendipity's had failed their health inspection. Not once...but TWICE. They were closed down.

Seriously?

At least there was first class.

Arriving at the Continental counter in the fancy "elite" line was as great as I thought it would be. I was dressed for the occasion and was excited to experience how the other half lived. You know...the ones who get a big chair, pre-flight cocktail and a personal TV. I checked in with an air of confidence that could only mean I had done this before. Secretly, I wished to pull out my camera and take a picture with me holding my ticket.

After checking my bag, the Continental lady handed me my boarding pass and I just happened to glance at the ticket.

Seat 18 F

Hmm. That's a big first class.

Then I saw a huge ECONOMY written by my seat assignment. Economy? ECONOMY! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I look at Katie and she immediately whips out her cell phone to "discuss" the issue with the travel agent. To make a long story short...there was a miscommunication. Nice.

I tried to shake it off and tell myself that you don't know what you are missing if you've never experienced it before. I convinced myself that it probably would have turned me into a flying snob and it was best for me to be with my own common folk.

But it still pierced my heart when the flight attendant called for the first class passengers to board.

To top it off, our flight was delayed two hours.

We shuffle through the first class cabin, rolling our eyes at the "select 20." Katie almost stole a banana. She was really suffering. We make our way to 18 F and are excited to see that my favorite movie of 2007 is playing! Hairspray was the in-flight entertainment! That's somewhat of a pick-me-up, right?

I open my "Sexiest Man" edition of People magazine, stopping on DAVE ANNABLE and wondering why I didn't know who this gorgeous hunk was, when it hit me.



My stomach gurgled. I think you know what I mean. Let's just say there was a bathroom "situation" and I was back in my seat just in time to watch Hairspray.

Or I should say listen to Hairspray.

You see, 18 F just happens to be that seat that is directly below the little fold down miniature monitor. It looked as if the movie was a film negative. ANNOYING! And I'm just too blind to watch the miniature TV four rows up. Back to my sexy People.



We land in New York City about two and half hours later than planned. We hustled to get our baggage and taxi to check into our hotel. We rushed to Times Square and headed down to where the balloons were being blown up. If we hurried, we could get there to see them! Unfortunately, it was about a million blocks away. We opted to ride in a rickshaw. You know, the little cart that the guy attaches to his bicycle? He hauled BUTT to get us there. And speaking of butts...if you ever want to achieve a nice shapely one, I suggest you get in the rickshaw business.

What? It's right there in your face! You can't NOT notice it...

As I was saying, he hauled butt. Just in time for us to see the cops shutting down the street. It was five minutes after 10:00 p.m.

To recap:

1. First class? Denied.
2. Wicked? Nope.
3. Balloons? Hopes deflated.
4. Serendipity's? I'll pass on the cockroaches, thank you.

So what do you do when your first day in NYC is not going as planned?


You dine on the City's finest at midnight...pizza and cheesecake.

More NYC adventures to come!

I'm in love!

New York City was absolutely fabulous. I fell in love. Central Park, Washington Square, Little Italy, Radio City Rockettes, the Thanksgiving Day Parade, smelly cabs, pushy street vendors (miss,miss,fendigucciprada?fendigucciprada?) and snotty Tiffany & Co. sales staff. I embraced it all.

Not to mention the ginormous Gap ads of my boyfriend. Looks like I have a new "insert Jim Halpert face here" photo for the Bachelor recaps. And for my screen saver. And a poster above my bed.

Is that too much information?

It's official...

No Broadway shows for me while visiting New York City. I guess the brighter side is that there will be more time for shopping!

A Bite Out of the Big Apple

Guess who is going to New York City next week for Thanksgiving?

And guess who went on strike four days ago...

Of course.

Who Says Colombia Isn't Safe?

A recent conversation with my boss

Boss: "What are you doing Monday and Tuesday?"
Lincee: "Watching the Bachelor."

Boss: "I need you to go to Colombia."
Lincee: "As in Ohio?"

Boss: "No. That would be Columbus. I need you in Colombia. The country."

Lincee: blank stare
Boss: "Great. We'll talk about details later."

A new find for my sweet tooth

In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, York Peppermint Patty has rolled out a pink version of their wintry delight...which just happens to be one of my favorite guilty pleasures.

So good! You must run out and buy a bag today!

Meet the Family: Johnny Ray

He loves his tractor.

He carries matches around in a Mason jar so he can burn things.

He kills snakes...


...with his machete


Love you Daddy!

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

I attended my sister's high school football game this weekend, and a cheerleader from the opposing team was holding up this sign.

In her defense, the crowd had milk cartons full of rocks that sounded really loud and annoying when they shook them.

The girls were super excited when the student section "got into the cheer" by chanting, SHAKE YOUR JUGS! SHAKE YOUR JUGS!

I think a "bless her heart" is in order.

Visual Proof

This is why I hate green beans.

Look...even the one sad little carrot is trying to get away from them, sacrificing himself by touching the ham juice.

(I'm at the hospital just hours after my dear friend Rebecca had her new baby girl...and this is what I take a picture of. I'm such a good friend.)

Here's to VODKA!

I'm back from the Ukraine and feeling a little groggy. Yes, the flight home was 11 hours and yes the pregnant women who sat both in front of me and back of me threw up different parts of the flight, but that's neither here nor there.

I think my body is still trying to filter out the Vodka. And there was a lot of it.

On my last night in town, the guys from the Ukraine facility wanted to treat the Americans to a traditional Russian dinner. There were 10 of us all together at the back of a restaurant in the small town of Stryi.

Here is a breakdown of nationalities at our table:

1 Ukraine guy

2 Russian

3 Brits

1 dude from Ghana

3 Americans--me being the only girl

I am seated at the middle of the long table with my American colleagues at either side of me. I'm directly across from the Ukraine guy who happens to be the General Manager of the facility. He motions for the waiter to come over to pour a round of Vodka shots.

I had already been warned that these people drink Vodka like water. I had also been warned that it is an insult to not drink with them, so if offered, you'd better partake.

Ukraine guy stands up and toasts everyone at the table. He talks about the wonderful relationship between them and the US and it proud to call us partners. This goes on for about five minutes. In this five minutes, waiter boy has placed a plate of "something" at each end of the table. I'm no expert, but it looked like slugs.

Our host concludes his salute by saying that it is Russian tradition to chase the Vodka shot. On this special celebratory occasion, we will be chasing the shot with herring. And onions.

Lord help me right now. That was my first thought. Seriously.

He lifts his glass and toasts the table. We all slam our drinks back and spike the herring with our fork. Down the hatch.

All I can say is THANK GOODNESS the Vodka tasted like rubbing alcohol, because it burned the taste of the oily, slimy herring in my mouth. It may have burned a few taste buds too, but I'm good with that at this point.

Everyone cheers and high fives as waiter boy brings a plate of cucumbers, tomatoes and red bell peppers. I start munching away. I'm professional. I can get through this, even though I can't stand tomatoes. We all know I have the appetite of a sophisticated fourth grader, but I pressed through for the good of the company.

All of the sudden, waiter boy starts making his rounds filling up the Vodka shots again. What in the world? Number two Russian guy stands up and makes a toast. It too lasts forever. We cheer. We toast. We take the shot. We all suck in air...you know what I mean...and then eat some more oily herring.

And then comes the questionable deli meat. Being the smart eater I am, I choose the two lightest meats. I convince myself they surely come from Louis Rich and chant mentally in my head, "It's turkey and ham. It's turkey and ham. It's turkey and ham." I gobble it up in three bites, ignoring the funny smell. I soon notice a plate has been thrust in my face. It's full of rolled up bacon.

You may be thinking to yourself, "Oh good! Something she recognizes. Everyone loves bacon!"

Dear friend. We are in the Ukraine. It's bacon fat. Fat. The fat of bacon. All white. Fat. Bacon fat.

My Ukraine friend who is across from me is holding the plate with a huge smile. "It's good for you!"

Good to clog my arteries, but WHAT THE HECK! And where's my Vodka shot? OH THERE IT IS!

Waiter boy comes over with the third shot. It helps to dissolve the roll of bacon that has lodged in my throat, so this is a welcome shot!

It is the beginning of the fourth course when I realize that we toast each round. I try to get the attention of my waiter friend, but my arms are too heavy to lift. He finally realizes that my joints are paralyzed from the Vodka and comes over to see what I need. I ask for bottled water. After looking at me like I'm from another planet, he finally brings one over.

Everyone is diving in to the potato ravioli (not the real name, but what I called them) and luckily they don't notice me putting water in my shot glass. The next course comes and I'm ready to toast EVERYONE! By the end of the night, the Russians are toasting the Vodka. The Brits are toasting the Americans who carry guns, and the Americans are toasting the Revolutionary War. Good times.

All together there were seven courses. I had four Vodka shots and three water. I slept good that night. And also have the feeling that my insides have been cleansed.

And it's a good thing my insides were cleaned out, because I later found out that that deli meat was donkey tongue.

I think I threw up a little in my mouth just typing that sentence.

I'm in the Ukraine

I'm in the Ukraine for work. It doesn't matter that I've been traipsing around a rig yard all morning long and it's 54 degrees and raining. It doesn't matter that I'm tired from an eight hour plane ride from New Jersey to Germany with a seven-month old baby in the seat next to me. It doesn't matter that I haven't had a Dr Pepper in 48 hours. It doesn't matter that I just had pigeon for lunch and think I might hurl all over this desk.

What matters is that I'm gaining life-long lessons and learning about new cultures. Yeah. That's it.

Appetite of a Fourth Grader

I’ll try anything once. Usually that is all it takes for me to choose never to eat that particular food again. It’s not picky…it’s knowing what you want in life. And I know that everything and anything…is better with cheese. Or ranch.

On the last day of my business trip to California, the district manager took me to a nice restaurant on the beach in Ventura. It was a seafood restaurant to be exact. My Daddy owns a seafood restaurant. You can imagine that I’m pretty sick of seafood since I’ve been eating it for the entirety of my life.

Oh who am I kidding? Did I eat catfish at Daddy’s place? No. I ate hush puppies and pinto beans. I can tolerate fish, but I generally try to stay away from anything crustaceous. This we know.

But being the big/grown-up/mature person that I am, I did not flinch when he ordered an appetizer for both of us.

Muscles and clams.

I didn’t even cringe when he pointed out that the seaweed adds a robust flavor.

I had to watch my host closely, as he stabbed his muscle aggressively with his fork, in order to pretend that I knew how to eat these things. Silly me thought they would slip off of the shell with ease. No, no. You have to pull the slippery sucker away from his mother shell as it holds on tightly (with what can ONLY be described as an umbilical cord) for dear life.

Then you dunk the “meat” into some sauce and let it slide down your throat.

Needless to say, I ate a ton of bread with my appetizer.

At least the view was great!

It's Not Easy Being Green

Just got back from seeing Wicked in LA. Might I say that Megan Hilty and Eden Espinosa are absolutely amazing. Run...do not walk to see this show.

It didn't even bother me that the old man next to me asked why the audience was cheering "the green girl" when she hadn't done anything. Or the fact that two of the tallest beings on the planet naturally sat in front of me. Or that the lady's thigh on my left was seeping into my chair space.

It was that good.

I got teary eyed (what?) during "Defying Gravity" and I can't get "Popular" out of my head. Absolutely loved Galinda (the guh is silent) and have deemed her my new favorite musical character.

Tomorrow I'm off to Bakersfield to visit some rigs. Now there's potential for a good blog entry!

Until then, how much do we love WICKED!?!?

Don't Mess with Us

Last week at Grace Bible Church, our preacher wanted to express his gratitude for all the hard work a certain member of the congregation has done in preparation for moving to our new building. He invited Matt up to the front to present him a gift. No…it wasn’t a Bible or even a gift certificate to Chili’s across the street.

I was a shot gun. HELLO!
Dove season is in a few weeks people!

To quote West: “For those of you who are visiting from out-of-state…welcome to Texas.”


We really aren't as country as it sounds. I'm just saying...

Tales of a Former Jungle Cruise Skipper: Volume 1

“Welcome to the world famous Jungle Cruise. My name is Lincee and for the next few weeks, I’ll be your Jungle Cruise skipper. I’ll also be your alligator wrestler, snake charmer, lion tamer…and if you don’t laugh at my jokes—quite possibly your swimming instructor!”

[Pause for laughs.]

Yes, in 1998, yours truly donned an extremely monochromatic uniform consisting of khaki shorts, shirt and safari hat, while bravely guiding Disney guests through dangerous rivers around the globe. And I loved every minute of that terrible, terrible spiel.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Before I treat you with the hilarity from backstage of the Jungle Cruise and Walt Disney World, I must confess that I did not start out as a super cool skipper.

After interviewing for a summer internship at Magic Kingdom with my dear friend Jill, we were excited to find out that we had not only landed the job, but would be working an attraction!

Our first day in orientation was exciting. We opened our packets to find that we were in separate lands…Jill in Adventure and me in Fantasy. Jill went off to be a Jungle Cruise skipper. She was funny and energetic…just what they needed. I was so disappointed that I couldn’t be a skipper too.

You see, there are a few attraction jobs at Disney that come with a certain reputation. Aside from characters, most cast members aspire to one day be a skipper or a pirate. A skipper because it’s fun. And a pirate because…it’s just plain cool.

While Jill was off shooting hippos and getting squirted by elephants, I was running attractions in Fantasyland. Or Fantasy Hell as it was known to those in my inner circle. Not just one ride…but FIVE! I can tell you everything you need to know about the inner workings of Snow White, Peter Pan, Dumbo, the Teacups and Cinderella’s Carrousel. I was absolutely miserable.

I longed for the “stage” that the Jungle Cruise could provide as a creative outlet. I did not sign up for this gig just to say, “How many? Row two. How many? Row three.” while pushing green buttons to make the ride go. My heart really was convinced that I had been misplaced.

After numerous complaints to several managers and a little finagling by Jill to her JC bosses, I was OUT OF FANTASY HELL just two weeks after entering its gates. Nice!

I was home in the jungle. I flourished in the jungle. I made many friends in the jungle.

Disney offered me a ton of fond memories that I will be sharing here for your reading pleasure. Check back often for more tales from the six months I spent working at Disney World. Experience the shocking behind-the-scenes moments my innocent eyes witnessed. Join me as I re-live the time the rather large woman fell on me at the handicapped entrance of Peter Pan.

Until then,

“Off your seats and on your feets…back out to those Magic Kingdom streets. Make sure you catch the three o’clock parade. If you do catch it…let it go. It will drag you all the way to Main Street. Go on and watch your step. Watch your head. Watch your step. Watch your head. If you happen to miss your step and hit your head…lower your voice and watch your language. This is a family attraction and we’d like to keep it that way.”

So There I Was

On a rig in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico…

Costa Rica

On January 1, 2007, I sat down at my kitchen table and made a list of goals I would like to accomplish in the upcoming year. The usual suspects (lose weight, eat healthier, read more) were all there, but they seemed so surface. I needed a bigger goal…a deeper goal.

I had a random idea pop into my head about a month later. I made a mental note to check and see when the next church mission trip would be held. To my surprise, an announcement was made the following Sunday regarding an exciting opportunity. I found my new goal.

My trip to Costa Rica was one of the most rewarding experiences in my life. But I was anxious leading up to the departure. Where are we staying? Will there be plugs? I certainly don’t need a hair dryer to plug in…who cares…but what about my portable DVD player and iPod? Should I bring toilet paper? I don’t speak Spanish. Surely that is going to hinder what it is that I’m supposed to be doing, right? How am I going to make a difference in the lives of these people?

Little did I know that God would bless me each minute of every day until I finally realized that it is not about me. His love is bigger than my comprehension. I was humbled to witness that laugher, music, soccer, stickers and hugs are universal. Without the prayers and support of my family and friends, I would not have had the pleasure to directly witness God’s love and the work He is doing within the Connexion ministry in Costa Rica. For that I am truly grateful.

Blockbuster Movie Replay: Summer 2007

Most of you may know that I screen movies as a way to make a little extra cash on the side. Although I’m not the main screener, I am occasionally called up from JV to play in the Varsity game. This year was no exception. I’ve seen pretty much everything worth seeing.

It was the summer of the blockbuster. The summer of the three-quel. The summer that broke all previous movie records.

And it was the summer I developed a significant crush on a few of the silver screen’s leading men.

As you may recall, summer 2007 had many attractive actors that the average girl would gladly race to her local multiplex to see on a 60-foot screen. Pirates brought us Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom. Ahoy matey indeed! My fake boyfriend John Krasinski tried to get his License to Wed with Mandy Moore. The movie? Let’s just go ahead and insert a Jim Halpert face HERE. (We still love you John!) We wondered why there was so much focus on the Transformers instead of more scenes with Josh Duhamel without his shirt on. Raise your hand if you leaned over to your girlfriend during Live Free or Die Hard to whisper, “Bruce Willis is HOT!” Oh…and who could forget the cast of Ocean’s Thirteen?

It’s a pretty good list, right?

Sure it is. But it was at the end of the summer that I developed my crush...

On Harry Potter and Link Larkin!

Harry is growing up and is so cute. (STOP JUDGING!) The kiss between him and Cho Chang was adorable…love the part about the nargles. (YOU DON’T KNOW ME!) And I’ve seen Hairspray three times and bought the soundtrack the day it came out in the stores. (THAT’S PERFECTLY NORMAL FOR SOMEONE MY AGE.) When Link sings “Tracy I’m in love with you” in “Without Love” I switch the name to Lincee. That’s not weird, is it? (OKAY…THE FIRST STEP IS ADMITTING THAT YOU HAVE A PROBLEM!)

The problem is that I still see myself at or around the age of 24. I pondered if my “enthusiasm” should be a legitimate concern of mine…sure it was a crush, but an unhealthy one? Is this something I should bring up to my therapist in our next session?

Luckily, I went to see a movie last week and have been redeemed. Jason Bourne was added to the list of summer crushes. A real man! Oh to be that hand towel he wrapped around that dude’s neck in the bathroom scene.

Anyway…

When calculating the average age of my crushes, you get the number 25. And since that falls into my dating range, I’m no longer categorizing this as an unhealthy crush.

It’s really just about the math.

The Name Game

A few years ago, I started recapping ABC’s reality show The Bachelor. I would sit/lay on my comfy couch and stare in awe and bewilderment at my TV as the train wreck unraveled before me. I would laugh, gasp, hide my face in embarrassment behind a cushion, take notes and generally write about the wonder that is The Bachelor.

A few people checked the website out and suggested that I write a personal blog. I have to admit, it had crossed my mind. Thus, www.ihategreenbeans.blogspot.com was born.

I know what you are thinking…

You too hate green beans.

Who doesn’t? That’s why the title is sheer brilliance.

I chose the name because, let’s face it, who in the world would remember how to spell my name in a blog title? Not that I don’t like my name…I do. And not that there wasn’t a time when I didn’t like it…there was.

Picture it:
The year was 1984. My older sister and I were shopping at TG&Y with my Mom. We were in the school supplies section when my sister discovers an entire display of personalized pencils. She twirls the display around to the middle of the alphabet and shouts with 12-year-old glee at the sight of her name! I, having to copy everything Jamie did my entire life, continue to search and search in the Ls. There was no Lincee.

I remember how the tears stung my jealous eyes.

Jamie, of course, paraded her pencil in front of me every chance she got. My mother at least tried to alleviate some of my pain. She used paint pen on a boring yellow number two and tried to pass it off as the same kind of cool as Jamie’s pencil.

I didn’t buy it.

That same year, I won the Citizen Bee award at Hallsville Elementary. When the principal called my name in front of the entire school at assembly, my teacher had to punch me in the arm and encourage me to go to the front of the auditorium. This puzzled me because my name hadn’t been called. Some girl named Linky was the winner…not me!

Pretty much from fourth grade on, I was Linky. Which changed to Slinky. Which was later shortened to Slink in my glorious high school years.

But I digress.

I really do hate green beans. And all my other unique titles were already taken by Google bloggers.

So this marks the inaugural posting of the rambling tales and random thoughts that creep into my brain.

This is Slinky. And this is my blog.