thursday's ten: i confess

true confession time! join me for your thursday's ten confessions if you like :)

i confess

- that i'm often spurred to write a blog post because of my boyfriend's disappointment that i haven't updated in awhile

- that i can be rather lazy when there is a computer, couch, or tv involved

- that i hate yogurt. ok, hate is a strong word. i despise yogurt.

- that i often find myself watching children's programming after the children have left the room

(or that i dvr it for myself)

- that i'm completely addicted to texting

- that i kinda think photoshop is cheating. although if i had it i'd totally cheat.

- that i'm really into america's got talent lately

- that i may never stick to a decent bedtime

- that as much as i love organics, sometimes mcdonalds calls my name

- that i can't remember the last time i had a pedicure...and one is badly needed!

please join in!

Dear Facebook Friend(s) (part 2)

I know you are excited about the birth of your first child, and understandably so.

And it has been fun to watch your belly grow, see the ultrasound pictures, and read on your status updates how you are going to be induced today! I have, in fact, been looking forward to seeing cute red wrinkly pictures of your little man.

But really? Do you HAVE to update at each CENTIMETER today? I presume the people who want to know that (ie your husband and mother) are already at the hospital with you. I'd really prefer not to have quite that much information. Hence the text I sent to dear boyfriend earlier:

"Oh geez. I don't need to know how many freaking centimeters you are dialated, keep that shit outta your facebook stat!"

Last count you were 8. Could you please not get on facebook again until your sweet baby boy is here? I promise I'll comment on the pics even if I think he's not so cute.

Thanks much,

your kinda-friend from college who'd rather not know all the gory details
Lora

Crazy Neighbor Lady Chronicles; Volume 4

Remember the Crazy Lady next door?

Well, ladies and gentlemen...she strikes again.

I was babysitting the other night when Mattie (who is the normal and fun lady next door) texted me.

"There is another note taped 2 her tree. I'm afraid 2 look"

Of course I urged her to look at it, and later on I get another message:

"It was about the tree."

Huh?

I was thinking dog poop...cars...perhaps a request to remove the squirrel that continually pelts the cars...a hate letter about Mattie or me...

My response was

"Sounds about right."

So I called her a bit later and she told me it wasn't written on normal paper. We spent some time upon returning from work the next day trying to figure out exactly WHAT it was and finally decided it was a towel like you would wash your car with.

(We couldn't just go up and touch it. She was home and the blinds were open. Cra-zy doesn't need any encouragement to come out and start a conversation with us.)

Later that night, under cover of darkness and noting that her blinds were closed I touched it and confirmed that our conclusion was indeed correct.

So the question is...

does it make her MORE crazy or less that she had the forethought to write it on something like that just in case it rained?

You want to see the note you say?

All right then.



Note the size of that tree, ok?

Now here's the note:

"Unless you have an order to cut down this tree, please just trim off the dead parts. I changed my mind as it does provide some shade & helps keep heat out.
Do you have an ordet order to cut down the tree (bush should be) at side of house. I hope so.
Any question, knock on 725 door. Thanks"

Uh...last time I checked the yard crew/association doesn't communicate via notes. Nor take orders from residents to cut down trees if they're not damaging anything or in danger of falling on our roof.

And it's been there...at this point...for a full WEEK. It's HUGE. I've had 3 people come to my house in the last week whose first words were "What is THAT?"

It's in front of MY parking space.

Can I leave a note asking for no more crazy please?

Oh well. Gives me something to blog about.

You Can't Make This Stuff Up...Volume 1

I often see odd sights while driving through Nashville...or hear odd things.

Case 1:
At a party on Saturday night, a friend was telling me that she has an aunt who has actually written her a letter condemning *something* she's doing (let's say it's drinking wine once in awhile). Her aunt wrote the following:

"Satan is happy with your decision."

(my friend said when she told her sister this, her sister would call her answering machine periodically and say "This is Satan...and I'm happy with you!")

{My friend, L, says that she just tells this aunt "You'll be pleasantly surprised to see me in Heaven, sipping my wine and wearing my shorts."}

My response to this story?

"Suddenly my family seems a thousand times more normal."

Case 2:
A text I sent to A earlier this evening:

I just saw the WORST sign flipper guy ever. Instead of flipping he was using the sign as an air guitar. That coupled with the white-as-he-is wanna be rapper attire...

(Seriously, this guy was probably 34ish, stocky, very white, and was dressed in this all white gangsta suit get up. Strumming on the sign as if it were a guitar. It was NOT working for him.)

Case 3:
A friend of mine from high school said to A and I at my 10 year reunion a couple of months ago:

"Greasy women make goooood food."

You can't MAKE this stuff up.

Any stories to share? I kind of expect this to be a semi-regular feature :)

A Year Ago

I was awakened by a text message from the man who the night before had nervously sat in our youth minister's office to ask if it was ok to date me...
(actually the conversation went something like this:
A: D (youth minister), what's the policy about two lifeguards dating? Is that allowed?
D: Only if it's not Lora!
clearly he knew before we did...)

my text that morning read: "do you like italian?"

do I like Italian. Please. Carbs are my best friend.

That evening, he showed up at my door bearing a single white rose and looking even more handsome that usual. We went to Maggiano's downtown, and were given a wonderful booth where we were able to sit side by side and enjoy our meal...we did dinner and came back to my house where we more than likely watched an episode of "Friends" and called it a night...after all it WAS a Thursday night and he had to be at work the next morning!

Tonight we will return to Maggiano's.
It's hard to believe it's been a year.
And yet in so many ways I feel like he's been with me all my life.

I'm blessed beyond measure to experience my journey with this amazing man by my side.
He's
Romantic
Sweet
Sexy
Attentive
Silly but Serious
and best of all, I know that his love for God will always outweigh his feelings for me

I couldn't have dreamed of a better last 12 months.
Thank you, Anthony, for all you mean to me.

And thank you, God...for giving us each other. How could I have ever doubted that You were the best author of my love story? More than I could have ever asked or imagined...

August

September

October

November

December

January

February

March

April

May

June

July

August

*crawls out from under rock*
*blinks*
*rubs eyes*

Well, hello blog world! It has been forever since I've updated. In the time I've been gone I have

• attended my 10 year high school class reunion (and poor Anthony was subjected to a weekend with the folks...but he survived)
• babysat some adorable kiddos
• completed one part of a c-r-a-z-y deadline, with 2 more to go within a few hours...one of which I still have NO materials for!
• randomly had a visit from my sister...
• and once in awhile slept in a bed or had a meal

Seriously, it's been crazy at my house the last few weeks. I promise I'm still reading blogs when I can...but I'm awful at posting comments, I have awards that I need to accept and pass on, and I haven't posted a blog of my own in a very.long.time.

I'll leave you (for now!) with this gem.

So I'm sitting on the couch Wednesday night, watching tv. Mind you, this is probably the first time in a week the tv has been on longer than an hour. I'm watching, chugging along on my laptop with some work and I reach up to brush the hair off my shoulde...

It's not a hair.

It's a spider.

A big 'un.

Amazingly, my hand continued the sweeping motion and he fell to the floor (I know it was a he. What female do you know that would hop up on a fellow sister's shoulder without a little warning?!) It was only after he was safely off me that I began to worry. I stared at him, silent and wondering...

What if I get up to get a tissue and he moves and I can't find him and then he crawls upstairs and gets on me when I'm in bed and OH MY GOSH he's gonna crawl in my mouth.

And Emi is no help.

I finally have the presence of mind to remember a little piece of heaven sitting right next to me...

A box of Kleenex. (Puffs, actually, but who's counting?)

And triumphantly I carried him to his watery grave in the half-bath off the living room.

I want to go on record to say that never once did I make a sound throughout this whole ordeal. That's impressive, no? However, I immediately sent Anthony the following text:

Spider. On. My. Shoulder. Huge. Scared. Me. To. Death. Holy. Shit.

I still feel creepy crawly.

Another text I sent Anthony this week:

"The redneck comedy tour bus just cute me off in traffic. I can't even be mad, I was laughing so hard."

Really? Must they have their own tour? At least I know what bus NOT to get on now.

*crawls back under rock*
but promises to be back within 48 hours. Really.