never, never....

Just like the old saying goes "Don't judge a book by its cover," people need to also remember to "Never judge a girl by her handbag!" I say this for many reasons, here are just a few...1) I feel like some people tend to decide whether one has money or not by the bag a girl may carry 2) That some people think that just because a girl carries a nice bag she MUST think she is better than everyone else & 3) Who does she think she is carrying THAT bag?! Anyone else out there with me? 


For me, my love of handbags started when I was little. I witnessed my Memaw (very much a lady, cared for her appearance, & loved to spend money on her wardrobe) select her handbags based on quality, craftsmanship, & timeless style. If you could have met my Memaw you would have known that her handbags were not a way to say to others I am better than you or look at me, I can spend $X amount of dollars on a bag, she was more than that. She was a hardworking, loving, sweet, faith based lady, full of grace, & never, ever placing judgement on a n y o n e. Her bags she carried were simply because she liked them, wanted to invest in ones that would last, & because they were something she chose to spend her hard-earned money on. Definitely not because she thought they brought her some sort of status or made her better than the next woman.


I remember the first bag my Memaw gave me. I was probably 4 when she gave me my first "designer" handbag. All I have left of it is a photograph...with my dad, Memaw, & myself, bag on one shoulder, holding hands with her & Barbie in the other, oh how I wish I still had that bag! You see when your 4 you don't know what things cost or what a designer is, so I (now regretfully) threw it in the "mission bag." My parents were great about teaching me that when you get new things you should go through & clean out your old things, then in turn give to those less fortunate than yourself. I didn't know at the time, that some things you just DON'T throw out because they will mean so much to you long after your Memaw is gone & that if that thing is a handbag from her, it probably cost her a pretty penny. 


Anyways....after I got older I started to appreciate handbags. I recognized that although I may like certain handbags that cost more than what others are willing to pay, it didn't mean that I was better than them. It just meant that, that's the bag I liked & I was willing to pay the cost. Anyone that shops can buy something that has a hefty price tag on it...does it mean that they are privileged or wealthy? Not in the slightest. They may have worked hard & saved for that purchase or they may be in credit card debt up to their eyeballs for all you know. Does it mean that they think they are better than everyone? Some might have that mentality (& if they do, that doesn't mean everyone else does too!), but you might be surprised to find that some don't at all, but rather that's just what they like. Just remember, never judge a girl by her handbag!


Until next blog....

{n i n e} years

For this post I have to start out with an apology to my little blog...I'm sorry I do NOT keep up with it like I should...I honestly do not know how people do it for a living or that have more than one busy child and find the time to consistently keep up with it...maybe that should be my new years resolution! Anyways, back to my post....


Nine years ago I was a junior in high school...I can't say I know what path I was on because I think back and think about where I was headed during that time, and I couldn't tell you. I was coming off of a long list of dating the wrong guy (for me) pattern, I just witnessed the death of my beloved Memaw, and to be honest, was getting a little tired of being treated like I was a bad child at home. Not that I was perfect, but my mom insisted on being on top of me like I gave her a reason to think I was a "party or bad" girl type. I barely did anything, besides shopping...I worked, helped with my little sister, and did my chores. I was a good student and never really gave my parents reasons to worry...but for some reason, if I asked to do anything, I got "I don't know their parents", "no you need to watch your sister", "you need to do x,y, & z" yada-yada-yada. ((for the record, I'm not saying this from a whoa is me stand point, just stating the situation during that time..)) I remember thinking that if I was going to be accused of or constantly asked if I was doing certain things, that maybe I should just start. Maybe I should become a party girl...what did I care. Life was too short, and I had just witnessed a woman, who lived a good "clean" life, was full of faith, never drank, smoked, did drugs etc, suffer through a long, painful death. Why on earth should I be good when life can turn on you no matter how you live... So there you have me nine years ago, on a path looking for "bad". Now fast forward a few weeks later and cue my saving grace...


I had met him when I was a sophomore. I went to a baseball game to watch a then boyfriend play. I said hey could you go get "Mr. Wrong" for me and tell him I'm here! He said sure and was gone for a few minutes. He came back and said "umm he's sort of busy right now...". I was a little disappointed but I figured he was warming up or something for the game, but he said "I can't lie to you, he's busy playing video games & just doesn't want to come talk to you....BUT I will." Such a sweet gesture I thought, we chatted a couple of minutes, and then went on our separate ways...I thought that he was nice, but that was all... On to watch the game, after all I was there to watch my boyfriend play. A few weeks went by and Mr. Wrong & I called it quits. Partly because he was a jerk and partly because an old boyfriend, who I thought I would never hear from again that had moved to another state, contacted me again. 


So back to a Mr. Perfectly Wrong for me...a great pattern I hope that my daughter never falls into! School came to an end, summer started with me working full-time, and trying to keep up with a long-distance relationship...every so often when I would be online, the nice guy from the baseball game would "IM" me saying Hello Beautiful! I would tell him I had a boyfriend, we would chat a little, then that would be it. I spent my summer into my junior year, in and out of the hospital with my Memaw. She was becoming seriously ill and having a lot of complications. (short story on her...she contracted in the '80s, Hep C in a blood transfusion, which later turned into Cirrhosis of the Liver,which in the end took her life.) Come November 14th, we were called to go to the hospital to say our goodbye's...they turned off the machines and all day we played the waiting game. I remember thinking with each passing minute that there was a chance that she could have a miracle, wake up and be healed. I was standing there, in what almost felt like a bad dream and like forever all at the same time...starring at this woman whose life was ending too soon, who was too good to deserve this, and who I was going to miss too much. I walked up to her and I said goodbye Memaw, I Love You...and that was it. She died....the line went flat and she physically left us. I was so overcome with emotions from, she waited on me because she knew how upset I was that I didn't come up with my parents that last weekend, to maybe I shouldn't have said goodbye and maybe she would have held on longer. But it was over, she died in front of my own eyes. That was a long, silent drive home. I didn't want to talk about it to anyone and just wanted to be left alone. I got on the computer to email Mr. Perfectly Wrong about what happened...that and snail mail were our only form of communication at the time. As I was typing the email, the nice guy from the baseball field IMed me, Hello Beautiful! popped up on my screen. I typed, you don't even know me and my Memaw just passed away, I'm just trying to email my boyfriend...I don't feel like talking. He told me he was sorry and that if I needed anyone to talk to, he would listen. Pfft, what did this guy know? He didn't even know me and besides I had Mr. Perfectly Wrong to lean on...or so I thought. Mr. PW called me, told me he was sorry, told me how sorry he was that he wasn't going to be able to be there for me, blah-lie-lie-blah...A few days later I found out he had another girlfriend or 2 and that he had been lying to me all along. Whatever, I'm over Mr. Wrong's...in fact I think I'm just going to be single for a little while....In fact, I think I want to just be carefree, figure out how to get into the party crowd, and not care about anything anymore. There was no point... 


Winter-ball was coming up and a girl in class asked me if I was going. I wasn't...didn't have a dress, didn't have a date, and didn't really care. She said "would you go if you had a date? I said I don't know maybe...She said do you know Mr. Perfect For You? Yeah, I met him last year at a baseball game. Would you go with him? I guess, if he didn't have a date." Well you guessed it, he had a date. Just as friends, but he had already promised he would take her and he didn't want to do that to her. I told him it was okay, I understood, but he asked if he could call me later. So he called and we talked a little, then he said he had to go, his dad was making him do the dishes...Sure I thought, the dishes...then later I got an IM: have to finish my english paper, but I'll call you as soon as I'm done. Okay I mean really, he obviously doesn't want to talk to me. But then he sent another message: if I call you back tonight, you'll know I really like you. A couple of hours went by and I thought for sure that he wasn't going to call...but he did. We talked A L L night. Seriously from 10:30pm to 5:30am. We met up between classes and just started to get to know one another. He invited me over to meet his parents (no Mr. Wrong's in the past did that...) I invited him over to meet mine...then Winter-ball came, I went over and helped him get ready. He was going to come over to my friend's house when he was done to hang out. He came over, rang her doorbell, I answered... There he stood with a single rose and asked me to be his girlfriend...


Now I am not saying we have had a perfect relationship...but we have been there for each-other, grown up together, overcome many, many obstacles, supported and loved one another for nine years now. He was there when I wanted to spiral out of control and he let me a few times, but he always helped me back up. He supported me in any decision I have had to make. And most importantly he has loved me for just me. I don't know how he has done it, but I do know that he is my best friend. Some people say you shouldn't be best friends with your spouse, but I'm here to say, you need to be best friend's with your spouse! We wouldn't have it any other way. Who wants to go through life without their best friend by their side? I sure wasn't doing a very good job without him that is for sure!


I know I could have made this world's longest blog...but I didn't want to bore the reader. I feel like I've left so much out...but that's our nine years in a blog-shell! Feel free to leave a comment or a short snip-it about your "best friend"... I appreciate any comments, tips, or suggestions, just leave them in the comment section!

Until next blog...

honey water with lemon..

It's crazy to think that today marks nine years since I said I love you & good bye to my Memaw. Most times when I think about her I'd give anything to just have a phone call with her. To visit her is a given, but going on nine years without her, I would take a phone call if that's all I could get. I know she watches over me and for that I am extremely lucky..grateful...and blessed! A few weeks ago I even got the luxury of getting to visit her home. Some people don't get that chance, but her house was on the market again from the people who bought it nine years ago and with my husband being a realtor, I told him I wanted to go see it. Walking through the front door was like getting a piece of her back for a moment in time.


Even though it wasn't the exact same, she was still everywhere in that home. Most of my memories with her can be found behind those walls. Standing in the kitchen I could imagine her boiling her water, pouring it in her coffee cup...squeezing in the lemon & stirring in the honey. She did it every morning...Being in that house one more time help ease the pain of the last memory I had with her. Although a special memory, also very difficult & painful all at the same time. That house helped me to think of the countless other ones though. Playing the piano...making tacos out of her coffee table decor...riding countlessly up & down her driveway...spending many nights there & going to church with her the next morning. I love those memories...that house...and I love her. 


If heaven wasn't so far away, I'd go every single day! 


Until next blog...