I'll write that two hour nap today off as "jet lag."

I think my favorite Christmas tradition is eating sausage balls.

What is yours?

This week, I went to a party that included:

1) pink painted walls

2) a shrimp tree:

3) valet parking

4) a man (the only man) in a sweater playing the piano.

5) several inquiries if I had ever seen Tiger Woods out there in North Carolina

I also, before going to the party, asked if the nice sweater and jeans I was wearing would be okay if I changed into heels because, after all, the party started at four o'clock. Mom said no. She was right.

I looked at the invitation, and no where did I see that this was an all womens party, or that it was a formal party, but it definitely was. I don't, apparently, understand the unwritten rules of Russellville.

A proud moment: We've become one of those families.

I spent the morning watching music videos...

but I've turned 24 nonetheless.

(is there an age where you should stop watching music videos?)

Things I learned during my trip to Asheville.

1) Yurts exist, and there is a market for them in Asheville. 2) You can make plastic from corn starch.

3) 2006 was a really good year for pop music.

4) Pogo the dog, while still not perfect, has indeed calmed down since living in the mountains.

You know it's one of those days when you resort to leaving the house in your husband's socks AND belt.

Ayiyiyiyiyiyiyiyi!

One of my favorite things said (yelled) at the Florida game:
Does Arkansas need a shave? Cause you got some razors on your back!

There was also a pretty funny sign of a hairy armpit that read, "Give Arkansas their razors back."

Pretty clever, them gators. But Arkansas has a better fight song, so there.

And then four days later, this is what my pumpkin looked like:

EWWW! It grosses me out just thinking about it. (And for the record, Tim's pumpkin did NOT do this.) Look at that hairy mold!

I place I would not want to send my kids: A dorm with a color scheme that I would not like to live in:

4th Annual:

Tim, after trying to make it down the aisle at church this morning:

"I've never been cut off by so many old people."

Also, we were laughing today because at the church we've been going to, we sing out of hymnals. Now, in the Methodist church this means singing the first, second, and last verse of the hymn. According to Tim, in the Baptist church this means singing just the first and the last verse. But in this Presbyterian church, it means not only singing all four or five verses that accompany the music, but also the two or three verses printed below the music lines. Every single time. That's serious hymn singing.

When my mom took me to open my first bank account when I was little, the banker asked what I was going to use the money to do. I responded, "I'm going to start a pig farm." I've always had a bizarre attraction to pigs as pets. People are finally coming to realize how wonderful they can be, hence the animal I want just a little less than I want a dog (which is an extreme amount).

http://www.myfoxillinois.com/dpp/news/dpgo_Slideshow_Teacup_Micro_Pigs_fc_20091009_3957722

Tim isn't convinced.

About a week ago, our handheld vacuum cleaner fell off the shelf, and in doing so, turned itself on in the middle of the night. We awoke to the sound of our vacuum cleaner running. Talk about middle-of-the-night confusion.

Then last night, small baskets of my clothes fell off their rack. I mean, what is the deal? Does gravity become heavier in our apartment between the hours of 1-6 a.m.?

I have to say, I really like the maintenance man at our apartment. Well, there are several, but in particular I like the one that appears to be in his 20's. Brad. He takes little kids around on golf cart rides on Sunday morning, he always has a smile on his face, and he likes to talk about scuba diving. So, when he invited Tim and I to see his show, we went.

His show was something that he was DJing. His partner, a slightly older looking black man, rapped. The best word to describe the show was psychedelic, or what Cyntury (the name of the rapper, Brad was Agent B) would want me to say, it was phantasmagoric. As Cyntury spit out his tunes in his all white track suit and moon shoes, Brad, in his suit and headphones, keyed up the visuals. These consisted of movie clips, original pictures, science fiction landscapes, and moments that looked like a crazy screen saver. The visuals were definitely a cool experience.

The only problem was, many of the songs involved getting high or having sex, both in space, which apparently you had to have been high to fully enjoy.

I noticed about a week ago I was furrowing my eyebrows in class. This might seem like an academic thing to do, but the thing is, I can't stop. I mentioned it to Tim, and he even said he's noticed it lately. I can't have a thought without furrowing my eyebrow. I was furrowing my eyebrows just then. I'm going to get wrinkles by the age of 26.

I feel like this is the same as the grinding the teeth business. I can't will my body to stop, which leads me to my age old question: Why can't we tell what's going on in our bodies? It seems I should be able to have control over not grinding my teeth. People have to go to the doctor to find out if something is broken, if she is pregnant, if there is a growth forming inside. It just seems unfair a doctor can know before the person whose body is in question can know. Isn't that crazy? I guess God knew humans were going to be control freaks.

This picture was taken before we were dating, by the way.

In my book design class, I'm putting together a zine. Since I'm not a poet, and I don't have any other short bits of writing I wish to "publish," I've decided to write a love letter to Fayetteville.

That makes me curious - what is your favorite place in Fayetteville?

And thanks to Virginia for this:

http://fraseprotection.com/

The difference between "gray" and "grey" is still very confusing for me. I recently turned in a paper in which I apparently used the British spelling throughout the whole thing. I wonder if that confused my teacher.

My schedule this past week has mimicked the schedule I kept as a freshman in college, and that, my friends, isn't a very good thing.

Because Tim and I own only one car, and because riding public transportation makes me feel like I'm living abroad, and because parking downtown and on campus is expensive and riding the bus is free for UNCW students, I ride the bus to campus and work.

Yesterday, I waited at the bus stop with a man, probably in his mid-40s. He asked a few polite questions, which I answered, and then he asked me which bus I was getting on.

"The 102."

"Oh, I should ride that bus," he said. "But I won't. I'm getting on the 103 instead because that bus driver hates me. Don't you think bus drivers should say hello when you say good morning to them?"

"It's easy enough to do, yes." I agreed.

And then the man listed ten different reasons the bus driver was terrible, and told me I should complain to WAVE transit, or put in a compliment if I had a good bus driver. No matter which direction the conversation ran, it always came back to this topic (and the fact he was running for city council).

Finally, my bus came. I got on, he waited for the next one.

As soon as I stepped up, the bus driver glared at me accusingly. "Were you just talking to that man?"

"I was," I said, and the bus driver rolled her eyes. I added, "I heard you two didn't get along very well."

"I can't stand that guy," the bus driver insisted. "None of the bus drivers like him. He always comes on my bus and gives me advice I don't need. If I want someone's opinion, I'll ask them for it, thank you very much..."

And she continued until I arrived at school.

My parents never divorced, and I was never at the center of a custody dispute, but I imagine that is what it might feel like.

I'm in the mood for an adveture.

Today in the cupcake store, while I was there by myself and helping a customer, a man came in with a white bowl with flowers on it. Without hesitating, he put it by the wall in front of the cash register, declared "this is for the water," then immediately left.

Neither I or the customer knew quite what to make of it, since the man was definitely not the landlord, there was no water drip, and the man didn't stay around to clarify.

So now, a white flowered bowl that smells like ashes sits outside of Coastal Cupcakes, apparently for the water.

These are two of my current favorite things:

http://www.funnyordie.com/videos/e062d7b4d5/take-on-me-literal-video-version-from-dustfilms

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lj-x9ygQEGA

School has started back. That's the way of the game.

There's just no bakery quite like Rick's bakery in Fayetteville... but when the top of your wedding cake resides in Arkansas, and your first wedding anniversary has come, an oreo cake from Apple Annie's is a pretty good option.

Creepy:

Looking outside around 1:30 in the morning and realizing the storage-space-right-beside-your-apartment's door is open, all the lights are on, and there are about 10 refrigerators and stoves that weren't there three months ago, just sitting and waiting for a serial killer to jump out of them and kill you.

I should have taken a picture.

I've been married 1 year. Just one reason I'm glad I tied the knot with him:
He knows that, at 9:00pm on the night of the Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince movie

premier, when I jokingly suggest we go to the midnight showing, I'm really serious about it. And, despite having to take me to the airport at 4:45 am that same night, then report for work at 8:30 the next morning, he agrees, and has fun doing so.

That's love.

Reasons why goats aren't the best petting zoo animals:
1) They're bony. 2) They're not at all soft.

3) They don't show affection.

Rabbits would have been much better, but despite my mom's repeated offer to be a renegade and get the rabbits out of the cage, alas, we were stuck petting the goats.

When you travel to Eureka Springs, you can dine at such lovely restaurant as the Rowdy Beaver Den, which serves such lovely foods as fried green beans.

However, do not expect extreme rowdiness. We were the rowdiest things in there, with the general population being around the age of 58 (including the waitress), and the music being what I would describe as "cool adult contemporary" (think: "You Raised Me Up").But that's what Rowdy Rhonda, Tornado Tammi, and Sassy Sally are for.

Also, at Silver Dollar City, they have one large rabbit:
Look at that huge thing!

I have been silent, because I have been, in Arkansas: diamond of the South.

Actually, I've also been in Branson, for a lovely reunion with lovely girls. Yesterday, we went to Silver Dollar City, where we arrived early and had little wait to ride the rollar coaster named The Powdered Keg. All 4 of us rode in the front, 2 at a time. Heather and I were first. As we waited on the track for the rollar coaster to go up the hill, Heather noticed the camera.

"Is that a camera?" she asked in disbelief. "That's lame...why would they put a camera before a big hill? Wouldn't they want it on the way down?"

"That is lame," I agreed. And then, a thought crossed my mind. "Do you think this roller coaster has a fast start?"

As soon as I asked, the rollar coaster took off. It was, in fact, a fast-starting roller-coaster.

But we faired a little better than Olivia and my mother, neither of who saw the camera. My Mom had her hands up, waiting to go up the hill, and had her arms slung back from the fast start.

We were ready for it the next time.

My 4th of July memory:

When I was probably in first or second grade, we bought three fireworks to set off from our deck. One was one of those innocent worms that just roll around on the ground. The other two were ones that shot up and let off sparks for the whole ascent.

Mom and I stood in the doorway for the first of the two exciting ones as Dad carefully lit it and ran back to join us. We waited, waited, waited, and finally realized that it was a dud. That meant all of the 4th of July rode on the last firework.

To make up for the dud, we went and turned off every light in the house. Again, we waited in the doorstep as Dad carefully lit the last firework and ran back to join us. Except, as the fuse went closer to the firework, the firework fell over, pointing straight toward the house.

We had enough instinct to get out of the way as the firecracker erupted, but no one could act fast enough to prevent the firecracker from heading straight into the house. Mom and I ran into the kitchen, and I'm pretty sure I screamed continually as the firecracker let off sparks for the whole ascent around the living room. It hit the corner of the room by the ceiling, ricocheted into the breakfast bar, then landed pretty close to the door it entered in.

There were scorch marks where it hit, but we still had a house. We could hardly do anything after, due to laughing too hard. That was the last time we set off fireworks from the deck.

Another 4th of July mishap:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qVPzFFP5Fzc

http://myparentsjoinedfacebook.com/

Oh no! Have your parents joined facebook?

(as I think the only readers of this blog are my parents, I feel I should say that I don't mind that you're on facebook, as long as you don't start taking quizzes like "what my stripper name is" or anything like that.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z04FpTPnUCA

If you want to know what's going on in our world, this might sum it up.

While running the dog today, I saw a lady open the door wearing a towel.

I thought that type of thing only happened in the movies. And at night.

Yesterday, I was an extra for the show One Tree Hill. I'm hardly familiar with this show, but it's on it's 7th season, and is filmed in Wilmington. Tim, a friend and I signed up to be extras earlier in the spring, and I guess Tim is the most charismatic on paper, because they often call him to come extra. But, I'm the one that didn't have to work on Friday, so I'm the one that ended up going.

The scene was about a 30 second monologue that one of the new characters to the show (to replace the 2 main stars that left last season) gives to a college sports management class (think typical big lecture). It was the actor's (Robert Buckley) first day ever filming on the One Tree Hill set, and the thing was, although this actor has been in many other things (I looked him up), he was really nervous. I could see his hand shaking at times, and after the first few run throughs, he kept announcing, "Oh man, they're going to fire me. I'm so fired. They're thinking right now, 'his audition tape is so much better that this is.'" But, after going through it about 40 times, all of that was over, and the whole time he was extremely nice to the audience of extras.

Like I said, I know nothing about OTH, so I kept having to ask other extras who were the actors and who were the film crew. The people that come to be extras are an interesting group. There were those like me who just wanted the experience of being an extra, and knew very little about the show. Then, there were the avid fans, who were only in Wilmington to be on the show. There were DJs and partiers, who were just trying to get people to come to their party afterwords (I don't know if they realized that in a group of college students, not that many people are over 21). Then there were people trying to break into the business. The person that signed the extras in picked one girl to come be an extra for some scene that requires fashion experts. You can imagine how beautiful this extra was.

Mostly, it was a bunch of waiting, and getting paid to read Harry Potter It took about 3 hours to get this thirty second clip. I was originally in the third row, but I have continually proven not to have charisma, and got moved to about the 15th row. Next time, maybe Tim can come with me and maybe then we'll get a speaking part. Or at least, he will.

You know you eat too much pizza when the owner of the pizza store across the street from Coastal Cupcakes offers you a job working the hours you don't work at Coastal Cupcakes.

What can I say, I love pizza pie.

Did you know that Zac Efron is moviestar by day, superhero by night?

Or that sometimes superheros like to hang out at The Chill Lounge?

These are the types of things the audience learned at the red carpet event, Superhero movie premiers, in which the third graders I worked with this past year made movies out of the superhero stories we wrote together. That's what you call the good stuff.

(I actually had very little to do with the actual movie-making, so it just shows you how amazing elementary school teachers are, and exactly how behind-the-scenes script-writers really are.)

I ride my bike to work to help burn off the calories I consume eating cupcakes, and also to save money as to park downtown costs a dollar an hour. But on Thursday, as I approached my bike parked conveniently at the library bike rack a street over, I noticed a completely flat front tire, and had to call Tim to come get me, as company was due at our house in an hour.

So, fast forward two days, I come back today to deal with the bike, and it's gone. Stolen.

You have to admire the criminal somewhat, because he/she either had to
1) saw through my chain, or
2) figure out my number combination.

Also, he/she had to walk the bike away from the crime scene, because it had a dadgumed flat tire.

This makes this thief a better criminal than the other Wilmington thief we've encountered, which stole the Coldplay CD from under the mailbox (where the silly mailman left it), but left the envelope it had been mailed in as evidence of the stolen CD.

On a whim, I acquired some ferns from a wedding we went to a few weekends ago, and now the fear of commitment is sneaking up on me. How am I going to keep 2 ferns alive?

It was quite nice to see family, and to get to know some of Tim's friends together. Who knew such a big reunion would happen in Isle of Palms, SC?

(thanks to Hallie for these pictures)

Last night, I had a dream (or nightmare) that I signed up for graduation incorrectly and therefore wouldn't be able to graduate.

After about five minutes of frantically lying there, telling myself I could just deal with it in the morning, I remembered I wasn't about to graduate from anything.

(a picture of us about to board the ferry to Southport. It's the first ferry I've ever driven a car onto, at least that I remember.)

Tim and I recently journeyed to Myrtle Beach, which is only an hour to an hour-and-a-half away from Wilmington. It is a town made up of

1) Beach apparel stores (you know, buy one shirt that has a bikini on it, get three rebel flag or and pirate skull-and-crossbones shirts free type of store)

2) All-you-can-eat seafood buffets, and

3) Miniature golf courses.

I wrote down every putt putt golf course we passed, and it totaled to 13 courses... and none of them are the equivalent to ghetto golf. I could list them for you, but to give you idea, they ranged from dinosaur theme, to Hawaiian jungle, to mayday crashing planes, to inside of a molten mountain theme. We chose to play pirate golf (although the facility couldn't do the pirate show until the church across the street let out, which is why you shouldn't play putt putt instead of going to church.)But that didn't stop us. Instead of playing the track where you get a pirate show, we did the track where you have to spin a wheel every third hole to make your game trickier. For example, I landed on spaces such as having to use my hand to throw the ball instead of putting it, or where Tim had to stand on the course as an extra obstacle. Here is Tim, demonstrating another obstacle, having to hit the ball with the other end of the stick.

Overall, I'd say it was pretty much putt-putt heaven. 13 courses!

You know summer is definitely here when you spend your Friday nights down by the river listening to a Journey cover band, and your Sundays at the beach and at the pool, listening to teenagers talk about who they are going to fight, and how they are going to do it.

(both pictures taken from a recent trip to Myrtle Beach)

I had a nice bowl of soup tonight, thanks to

1) Kris Allen winning American Idol, thus Tim (who thought Adam would win) owed me dinner for losing the bet and
2) The watching of the movie The Tale of Despereaux, inspired by my reading of the book, in which soup makes everything okay in the end, and
3) having to work today, which gave Tim the time to make the masterpiece, and made me fully appreciative. But really, why I wanted to mention that I worked today is to say that in the last two hours of work, we only had chocolate cupcakes. This allowed me to finish The Tale of Desperaux (although we had already watched the movie).

But hey... how about that Kris Allen? I'm turning into those people who go on and on about their brief glimpse with fame, because I was totally on the same intermural bowling team with his wife. Not that she would remember me now, but it goes to show, Arkansas is like one giant small town (no oxymoron here).

Happy Mother's Day to the best Mom I could ask for.

And, I am lucky enough to have a nice Mother-in-law as well!

And, of course, a surrogate Mom:

Happy Mother's Day to all!

I know we aren't suppose to call it swine flu anymore. The Razorback mascot is probably glad for that.

Thanks to Paula for emailing the pictures

Tim, with money given to him for his birthday, bought a wii this week. And with this new and fancy game system, all we have played are video games released in the 1980s.

I'm dominating Legends of Zelda, 1986 style.

Why do we only get a Good Friday, when Eastern Christianity gets a Great Friday?

For my fiction workshop this week, the beginning of my story is loosely based on a real life event in which my friend Kari and I discovered a bat in my guest bedroom sometime during elementary school. I went into the guest bedroom about once every three months (mainly to play Seaquest, which was a very short phase), so perhaps it was just fate that we decided to go in there that day.

The thing is, when I saw the bat on the curtain, the first thing I told Kari was, "Don't turn around. There's a bat on the curtain."

I'm not sure why I did not want Kari to see the bat. Of course, she turned around, saw it, and we both ran out of the room in a panic. The bat then made its way through the crack in the door, and the towel covering the crack, and down the stairs, at which point Kari, me, and my mother became prisoners outside of the house.

When my dad came home, he found the bat on Kari's shoe. So much for protecting her from the bat I didn't even want her to see.

Remember that cupcake place I talked about earlier?

I'm totally working there.

(and it's for the love of the cupcake I am publishing this picture.)

Tim and I dyed Easter Eggs last Sunday, but then I read that you should eat boiled eggs within 5 days, which would still be 3 days away from Easter. I guess the Easter Bunny won't be hiding those.

(ps - I just ran spellchecker on this post, and it highlighted every word but "be" and"so." I'm really hoping that is a malfunction.)

This past weekend, Tim and I attended the Azalea festival. This is such a big deal that the signs that announce you are in Wilmington also say: Home of the Azalea Festival. And it is quite an interesting time.

For example, one event we attended was the 3 hour parade. The highlight of this parade were elephants. 3 of them. The most represented in the parade were JROTCs, all the way from Durham, to Myrtle Beach, to Whiteville...over an hour vicinity of Wilmington. (btw: the biggest troop was Brunswick, whose JROTC was bigger than their band.) We also heard several sirens from various vehicles (including ambulances...I don't remember ever seeing them in a parade), but ultimately, sirens aren't anything to get excited about because we hear them about once and hour in our apartment. What was definitely not the highlight were the so called "local celebrities." I am, at times, embarressed by the useless celebrity information I know, but I had never heard of these people. I mean, doesn't Chad Michael Murry live in Wilmington? And Jason Cook had been there the day before.

Additionally, there was a shag dance competition. Your eyes probably did a double take right then. Shag dancing originated in North Carolina, and is quite popular. It is pretty much swing with a "triple lindie," as we called it at the UofA. Tim said it rememinded up of the SNL skit with the Cooger Girls. That might be an accurate description.

We also viewed the "multicultural dance" stage, and watched some amazing dances. The festival also had tours of historic homes and pretty gardens, one of which I passed that had a girl in what had to be a pink Easter dress playing a flute with flowers in her hair. I wonder what she was thinking.

But all in all, I give the Azalea Festival a big thumbs up. But, I probably won't do the parade again. 3 hours is a very big committment for a parade.

Before Virginia came, I also had a good visit from the inlaws. It was great to see them, and find some new interesting things about Wilmington.

For example, Fort Fischer has one of the neatest war maps I've ever seen. Little lights blink and travel across the map of the area. Pretty high tech, for the Civil War.

Apparently the left foot is the ideal starting foot when scaling a wall.

More pictures as they come! (Tim and I haven't been the best at taking pictures lately. I prefer stealing them from others)

Just so you know, if your car battery dies at Sonic, you can meet an array of people including every Sonic worker, even the owner. This is especially true if the first car that tries to jump you doesn't work...hence meeting the owner of Sonic.

You might also get to meet the nice people at Advanced Auto Parts, including a woman who thought I was married at age 16, and Sonny, a super friendly employee that can't taste, smell, or see out of his left eye, because of a car wreck in '74.

It's not such a bad experience.

Things that happen when you get your hair cut at a place that advertises: "Not your Grandma's beauty parlor"

1) You will sit among people trying on animal inspired clothes for a fashion show. This will include blue sequences spandex and dressed that tie on.

2) A man next to you will insist on getting his hair cut like The Mentalist's, even if the hairdresser doesn't know who that is.

3) Your hairdresser will be attempting to fix the eyes on her raccoon head, made completely from human hair, for the fashion show that night (apparently the themes were all animal inspired).

4) You will get 7 1/2 inches cut off, because the hair dresser insists 8 inches is too short, thus preventing you from donating it. But you'll like it anyways, because it's spring, and you're ready for a change.

5) You also might walk by and be in the pilot for some new WB show.

You know its an interesting day when you hear your bus driver tell everyone to look her up on myspace.



Virginia and I tried to, but we failed.

I'm not sure I appreciate my toothpaste bottle telling me how to get the toothpaste out. I read this morning:

FOR BEST RESULTS, SQUEEZE TUBE FROM THE BOTTOM AND FLATTEN AS YOU GO UP.

This is not how I prefer to squeeze the tube, and I'm pretty sure my way is just as efficient. So take that, Crest.

What it might look like to be a part of the Duggar family (the one from the show 18 kids and counting):

That's a lot of macaroni, folks. and I only ate a bight of it.