Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Napoleon ain't got nothin' on me...

This is quite possibly the best picture my sister has taken of my nephew to date, if not the best, the funniest. My nephew, Cal, has no idea who Napoleon Dynamite is and quite frankly he does not care. His imagination rules his world. I called the house the other day to a 3 year old voice announcing "911 we have a fire at our house".

But this picture...the shorts, the ski boots (also known as Spiderman shoes), the full belly...I could hug him for hours!

Missing the kiddos! 1 week and counting to the best visit of the summer!


Thursday, June 19, 2008

My Security Blanket

When I was younger I had a yellow waffle knit blanket that had possibly a brown bunny and maybe green frog printed on the fabric? Was this my security blanket? I don't know, I do know that it is the only blanket that is in the treasure troves of my "keep box" sitting high upon my bedroom shelf at my parent’s house. I keep thinking that if I had a security blanket today would I use it? Would it bring me the same comfort from bedroom monsters? I have been thinking and wondering, do we actually possess a pseudo security in our grown lives? In that thought I have been racking my brain that if I did have a security...something, what would it be? Do I carry it with me often and just not associate the fact that I have it with me as keeping me secure. If so, what in our adult lives do we need security from, not monsters and if we do not need protection the question is then is a security something more of a habit?

So after thinking of what is on my person the most, I have come up with...drum roll jean jacket. I noticed it with me in the picture in my previous post, I notice it either on, in my purse or draped over my arm in many pictures. I love my jean jacket, even with it’s' holes and tears from my abnormally pointy, bony elbows. I trust that it will keep me warm on cool days as well as in air conditioned rooms and that it will shield the rain from my hair so as to prevent a day of frizz. I love my denim jacket with the pink stitching (replacing the kaki stitched look alike that had to be put down due to elbow holes too big to hide) I never leave home with out it, I trust that it will fulfill its purpose and darn it, I look good... So I rely on my jean jacket to get me through cool nights, cool days, whether happy or sad, dress up or dress down...(with the exception of jeans, I have never been a fan of the denim suit) I have security in my jacket. What is your security/habit/freaky weird personal possession?
*** That's right my friends, she was there that day too! Just for the after party, it was October!


Wednesday, June 18, 2008

A Little Sisterly Love

My sister visited this weekend. After the life altering events of last week I was really feeling blue until she arrived. I tried boosting my spirits with my amazing self held self help pep talks, however they did not raise my mood and led me to question whether talking to yourself in the car on the way to a job which you no longer work was actually a) safe, as I drive over a 7 mile bridge and b) a sign that possibly I should be talking to someone else.
Back to my sister, Ann brought some light on the subject and my mood, we laughed, laid by the pool and played cards. I miss her already. I wish my sister Erin could have joined us, but alas we will all be together in 2 weeks and I am counting the days.
I am truly doing some major soul searching, looking to what drives me, and what makes me happy. I am going to focus inward to find the answers and hopefully a recipe for happiness.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Goodbye Old Life...

It's done. I quit...or wait was I fired? The comment "we should part ways" was used by my boss, so which is it, the chicken or the egg. I mean we should part ways but don't leave just yet, I need your help, you can stay until you find something else (yeah likely). So I guess technically I am still employed by Mr. Passive Agressive. Whatever.

Getting ready to post about new doors and all that other shit you think and say to people who get fired, I mean quit. There is really no comfort mind you, but I am preparing to take the turn off of the easy ramp and onto the highway of the unknown, with all the crazy's just like me. Scary.

I am getting over the anger of how it "went down" but my husband is right it is for the best.

So I guess...uhhh...hello world, it's me Shannon I'm available...who wants to hire me.


Wednesday, June 4, 2008


I have changed my blog... I wanted the address to be my title and so on.

My title? My "mimi" (my maternal grandmother) was a a fireball. She was the glue that held our family together. She had a superior memory, a love for life and her family. When I was young, in all of my graceful tomboy glory, whenever I would trip over a crack in the pavement , crash on bike or skates or fall while running, she would greet me with my new band aid, ace bandage or cast with a simple "speaking of grace". She would then hug me and make the hurt from the wound go away.

Now that I am older I find that I am saying it to myself, when I drop a full can of diet coke, trip over a crack in the pavement or over my words as I try to make right a wrong for a poor choice in the daily grind of life. Everytime words echo in my mind I think of my Mimi, I wish she were here, for if nothing but a hug to make the pain from the "trip" go away, and to offer a word of wisdom to get back on course.

Speaking of Grace...I don't want to get caught up in the "trips" of my life, but I am not perfect, hell no one is. I just want to remember the giggle I would get out of the comment, remembering that all wounds heal, band aids do cover scars and that life does offer graceful moments if you take the time to notice.



Sometimes cycles long to be broken, each month I pray mine will be. Here's to a new month!


Back from a short trip to Las Vegas. Not that one needs any more than 3 days enjoying the spoils of a city so appropriately nicknamed. The trip itself was to meet with my mom and aunt to send them to the David Foster tribute concert. The joy they had at the concert was enough to make the trip a true success. I miss my family terribly and short visits always pull at my heart when saying goodbye. Every memory, those good and those bad flood my overly nostalgic mind as if my heart is pleading with my head to remember, to grab those memories, to remember the smell of my mom, as awkward as that may be, because it is truly the scent of home. When we part my mind then races for hours on all the memories stored. I think of the house I grew up in, the arguments between my parents and how they always made up, of my grandparents and sisters and friends. I think of home. I have lived away from home for over 10 years now. There have been the occasional extended trips back when my life has dealt me a hand of confusion, but for the most part I have not lived under the same roof or in the same city as my family for over a decade. I miss it. I miss Sunday dinners, laughing at movies, making fun of my little sister until she totally loses it (I know I am mean, but if you saw her all worked up over the fact that I can sit really close to her without touching her and watching her fight laughter while trying to act pissed off, well it is just down right funny), my sister tattling on me to my mother even at the age of 28, my older sister and her beautifully perfect family, my Dad and all the love he shows even with the shortest temper on the planet, my lovely 92 year old Memaw who still must color her hair and put on lipstick, and my beautiful niece and nephews and everything that makes them smile. I love my husband, I love my home and I love the city in which I live. But I will always miss my family, my first home and I thank God for the large novel my mind has written and that piece of my heart that always begs me to remember. ~S

Some Say I'm a Dreamer...

It is amazing how reading one entry on another blog can get my mind running and set my fingers to typing. I was visiting Petunia Face and low and behold, I see a quote she has posted months back that jacks me all up and makes me realize why I started thinking about a blog in the first place. Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car you are still paying for - in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car, and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it. ~Ellen Goodman, American Journalist, 1941 I cried last night for a good hour while I drove to Home Goods to look for decor for my home that I have no idea how to decorate (not that I do not know how to decorate, that I don't know HOW to decorate) anyway crying because I am creatively in a rut, WAY TO NORMAL as the quote describes. I am buried by the mundane cycle that has become my life. My time feels ill spent, my nights in a nutshell: drive home, make dinner, eat ...which is always too late and then bitch about the growth of my ass and the rapid decline of my waist, by decline I mean fat, goodbye waist hello one size fits all. But the majority of the tears were being wasted over my job. I am a 9-5 hater. I do not enjoy what I do and that is the down right shame of it all. I have a degree in dreaming. Want to own my own business, check, I've dreamt it. Want to become an actress, CHECK, that is a dream us with said degree can spend days on! Want to be a writer, of books, of blab, of anything, check, check, check. The issue that dreaming creates is that when you dream you get so caught up in what if's and how to's that the actual do's tend to die with the dream, not die, too harsh, they fade. They fade into the corner of your mind and heart so that they become a memory to smile upon when triggered by life. I have vowed to make a change, vowed to my husband (who is ever so kind to listen to my dreams and actually believe in me to push me to make them happen) that I will DO something, anything. Problem…I am comfortable in my hating of my 9-5ness and probably more scared than I care to admit and throw in a little lazy and tell her what she has won…that’s right crying for an hour and bitching on a blog. So where am I and what am I gonna do about? This won’t be my last bitch post. This post however puts me one step closer to using the degree I have been working feverishly towards for 32 years. ~S

Deep Breath and...

here I go. I don't know how long this "journal" will last, or who cares to read, but I am leaping. I have been waiting for the right time to begin the blogging life and today unlike yesterday or the days before seemed fitting. It could have been the inability to sleep and my mind spinning over the eternal "what am I going to do...with my career...with my house...with my weekend (and it is only Tuesday morning)" Things that I feel should be in place have seemed to found there way out and the pest known only as doubt has crept in. So why not throw some more in the mix and start this journey today? A question that I answered after 3 hours of sleep. So now that I am here what am I going to say? That I can hopefully answer tomorrow. ~S