Homesick

I'm so homesick today that I actually feel nauseous. This happens every now and then. I'll feel so unhappy here that a knot will form in the pit of my stomach. My throat tightens around a scream and my eyes burn fighting back tears. Some people are rooted and some are meant to wander. I'm rooted. But being away makes me feel like my roots have been severed and I'm not whole. I can't ever be complete somewhere that isn't Tennessee. I'll always be grateful to Georgia. I've done a lot of growing up here and have met some amazing people. I've started and developed my career in this town, probably better than I could have in Tennessee. I've spent a large portion of my time here by myself because of Sam's schedule and it's actually been a good thing. People are scared to be alone, scared of being left with just their thoughts. I've become at home with myself and ok with my thoughts, strange and quirky as they may be. Solitude a state away from all that is familiar matured me. That said, I still miss Tennessee and long for home. I'll be back one day, a better person than the girl that left. 

Reactions to my Facebook-less Status

People act like I've done something shocking or revolutionary. They look aghast or confused. When Sam tells people it's even more hilarious. They act as if I've been maimed or killed.
"Seriously, what happened????"
"Is everything ok?"
"Is it permanent, she'll come back, right?"
"How am I suppose to contact her?"
I had a life before Facebook and I have one since. I'm just not constantly abreast of everyone's life, which suits me just fine. No one should be so up someone else's ass that you know when they last took a shit. Unless you're a parent, then that shit's important. Life without Facebook has been better for me. I'm happier, the grass is greener, and the birds have started to sing to me in a Snow White-like fashion.

The one thing I miss about Facebook is that I won't have that reminder of people's birthdays...fortunately, I kinda remember the time frames of most friend's birthdays so I can call them approximately on their birthday. But if I forget yours, I am so sorry and I sincerely hope that you have a great one.

Kittens having Kittens

Teen pregnancy may be on the decline, but at work the other day Sam helped a 6 month old kitten deliver a kitten. Bob Barker was right, spaid and neuter your teens!!!!

Zumba dance/exercising taught me one thing...

I'm even more white than I previously thought. I had hopes that my Native American ancestry would help me out in the rhythm department some, but alas all I got from my great-grandparents was my sparse amount of body hair. (which I'm grateful for!) So apparently, I have no rhythm. None. By the time I would get the footwork part down, I had completely stopped moving my arms...which goes to show why Irish dancing is what it is...white people moving their legs but not their arms. There is some kind of disconnect between my legs and my arms. I can only coordinate one or the other. I'm shocked that I can drive, walk while carrying something, jump rope...not that I do any of those things well... I wish I had grace but I will forever be clumsy, uncoordinated, and rhythmically challenged. But if I can make you laugh while I'm stumbling through this life of mine, then all the bruises, both to my body and pride, makes it worthwhile. 

Funny is Genetic

A co-worker complimented me on my sense of humor the other day and while I thanked her for it, I honestly can't take credit for it. I come from a very interesting, funny, and weird family of all types of humor. The best example of my zany predecessors is that of my great-grandfather, Charlie. He had no censor of any kind, none. He was once at an outdoor revival and was standing behind a very "voluptuous" woman. Charlie noticed that her dress in the back had wedged between her...um...cheeks. So Charlie, concerned for her comfort, took it upon himself to remove the dress from betwixt said cheeks. Her round derriere was apparently very receptive to touch and she swung around in absolute horror and hit Charlie across the face. Nonplussed by the smack, Charlie simply asked her, "Do you want me to put it back?"

After the church revival ass incident, he was talking to a young Amish couple that were about to go to the hospital to have their first baby. **Sidenote: Amish women generally have their babies at home and Amish almost never go to the hospital for anything** Anyway, Charlie decided to have fun with their naivete and told them that the hospital was great! You just go in and they hand you a baby. The young couple looked up him in shock, "But we want our baby!" Charlie just shrugged and said, "Eh, it doesn't matter, babies are all the same."

So there you go. I come from a long line of smart asses...I never had a chance.

Crazy Awesome Skills that I Need, Posthaste!

I want to learn how to pickpocket. I don't necessarily want to go full on pickpocket...a cockney British accent and dirty, corduroy cap are unnecessary; plus, a soot covered face is not a good look for me. However, you never know when you might need to pickpocket someone. I obviously wouldn't use this newly obtained skill for evil. Instead, I would use it for good. I'm sure I'd come across opportunities to use it for good...can't think of any right now...
Anyway, another skill that would be useful would be hot-wiring vehicles. Once again, I wouldn't do this with any ill intent. I would only pull this tool out of my toolbox of awesomeness in an emergency, like if I was running away from zombies, trying to escape a horde of bees, or worse yet...a horde of Bieber fans...
One last skill that I need to obtain is picking locks. Because I'm kind of easily distracted...which results in locking myself out. Imagine what would happen if Bieber fans start chasing me because they caught wind I had just compared him unfavorably to a dancing nancie. I jump into an unlocked car, which I hot-wire and drive off. They all pile into cars and start chasing me, which is made even more terrifying because all these rabid Bieber fans are 13 years old and hopping off of pixie sticks and coke (powder and liquid form). They chase me all the way to my house, my sanctuary. I can see Squeaky through the window, squeaking in fear at what is following in my wake. I rummage through my purse for my house keys and then bleakly realize that I can see them sitting on my coffee table. The Bieber fans grab me and I'm quickly reduced to nothing more than just a gory skeleton that can be used as a prop in Bones. If I had known how to pick a lock, I could have survived.  So I either need to brush up on my misdemeanor skills...or teach Squeaky how to unlock the door.

A Dancing Nancie is a slang term for a transvestite prostitute in parts of Europe.