Sunday, July 31, 2011

Samantha Jones once said, "if you pull out a grey hair, six more will come to its funeral." and it was that belief that led her to dye her nether regions. well my friends, apparently coloring your hair has taken on a whole new meaning.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

signs of a cat lady

today when i tried to download some celine dion on my itunes from my phone, it told me there wasn't enough space and to delete some pics to make room. i had 408 pics on my iphone. 100 of them were of pete. i wish this were an exaggeration.

but look at that face. how can i not take a pic of him every freakin' chance i get? i would be a bad mother if i did not take full advantage of photo opps with my son.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

evening phone call with merdeezy's mama

merdeezy: hey mama. what are you doing?
mama: well. i'm watching public access from south carolina about this murderer, peewee gaskins.

[note: mom is from south carolina. double note: i have no idea why she even gets SC public access since she lives in north carolina]

merdeezy: do you KNOW him?
mama: i'm not sure. i'm trying to figure it out. when i was little, daddy worked with a man named ricky gaskins. and his son was peewee gaskins.
merdeezy: mama. i can't imagine there are THAT many peewee gaskins in south carolina. you grew up with a murderer!
mama: i guess so. he was from hemingway and killed someone in conway, which isn't that far from hemingway.
merdeezy: or GEORGETOWN (I was getting very excited).
mama: right. i better call Libby and tell her.

[note: libby is my aunt, mama's sister]
so we get off the phone so she can call Libby and I can tend to Lee, who kept beeping in to discuss the crisis he was having over Eli's birthday card (don't ask because i just don't know). about an hour later I call mama back.

merdeezy: so, did you find out if you know a murderer?
mama: yes. it's not him. i googled him.
merdeezy: so you're telling me there's more than one peewee gaskins in south carolina?
mama: yes. he was very gruesome too. he was a cannibal.
merdeezy: i just can't believe you have a friend named peewee gaskins and that there is more than one of him in south carolina!
mama: well this peewee was born in 1933. so it can't be the same guy because i'm not that old.
merdeezy: i mean, who even names their kid peewee?
mama: i don't know. he was the son of a man daddy worked with.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

hump day at its best.

i hosted a jewelry party tonight.

some of my fave ladies.
lots of bangles and baubles.
a giant bottle of wine.

and to top it all off...

VH1's "Behind The Music" was first about Nelly and then about Lil Wayne.

Last night I felt like a loser because I watched two movies on Lifetime that both ended in death. They were love movies but still. I though love meant never having to say you're sorry? And it sure as hell means everything but death!

So tonight I Just want to give a big phat shout out to VH1 for making my heart beat again. I honestly don't know where I would be without Nelly's band-aid or Lil Wayne's gold teeth. (I'm pretty sure Lil Wayne would have found something at the jewelry party to entertain himself).

Seriously. Be still my beating heart.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

ma! where's the protein?!

Just got off the phone with my mama. Here is our convo.

Mama: did you get lunch?
Merdeezy: yeah. I'm drinking these protein shakes. They make me gag. I have to quit.
Mama: aren't you going to be hungry?
Merdeezy: yeah. I am eating a banana though. What are you doing?
Mama: eating my lunch from The Chicken Box. They have the BEST friend chicken. and they don't have biscuits. Only yeast rolls.
Mama: did you hear me? they don't have biscuits. only yeast rolls. and the best tea made with splenda.
Merdeezy: I just don't think it's very nice to tell things like this to the girl who just said she had a protein shake and it makes her gag.
Mama: sorry. but this chicken is so good I had to tell someone.

the way life should taste

This picture was captured by my Uncle Kenny several years ago at Pawley's Island, SC. My mom's family is from Georgetown, just 12 short miles south of Pawley's. And because they grew up at Pawley's, so did we.

Every year my family spends a week at Pawley's. It's a big family reunion for an entire week. Four houses, but probably should be five or six. This year there were 40 of us at one count (I think but honestly, I can't quite remember). I look forward to this week more than any other week of my year (even my birthday, which is saying something). A week smashed together with my family pie is sometimes enough to make me cry. Being completely surrounded by so much love, so much humor, so much fun is sometimes too much for one person to take. Each day we spend together in the sun or shade at our tent city on the beach. And each night we share meals of food and catch up. If we're not participating with a family float in the annual 4th of July Parade, we're watching and cheering it on (though this year, we had a float that I regretfully did not participate in. They came home with a trophy for "Most Humorous" Float. I am still jealous. And trust me, green does not look good on me). It really is the most glorious week.

Something about Pawley's just puts a peace in my heart. It really is vacation at it's best. Spotty cell service. Attempting to sleep in till lunch but knowing you won't because mom and dad don't whisper. The smell of boiled peanuts wafting through the house. Evenings on the widow's walk watching the sun set. Finally having time to start and finish more than one book. Finally having time to sit for a spell and breathe. Days spent with my toes in the sand, and sometimes on a very hot day, in the water. Reminding everyone that I don't love the sand, I don't love being in the ocean water but I do love being with them.

It's weeks like this that my heart swells so much with gratitude that I am certain it will burst. It's week like this that I am reminded of how blessed I am. It's weeks like this I wish all of my friends could be as lucky as I am when it comes to their family pies. It's weeks like this I eat more than I do in a month but I know every extra calorie is worth it because it's not just food for my bell, it's food for my soul.

Pawley's Island fills my cup and because of my family pie, that cup runneth over.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

some thoughts on forgiveness. and why it really does matter.

I recently read about a woman whose young daughter had been murdered. The killer was caught and during his time in jail, the mother visited with him. She got to know him. She took him in as his own. When he got out of prison, he moved into the house next to her and they live now with a mother/son relationship. She forgave him. That's the most important thing about this story: her forgiveness. I cannot even begin to fathom forgiving someone who took my child away, let alone loving them and living in relationship with them.

Sometimes, when I tell people my own story, I get asked how I can be so forgiving (and believe me. What I consider "my story" isn't nearly as tragic as some of the stories that make up friends' lives). Now, don't get me wrong -(and for once, I'm not trying to toot my own horn here.)-I think we all know the Mere Mere knows how to hold a grudge. I don't have a problem cutting people out of my life. If you have hurt me enough, I will cut you out. I believe the people we choose to surround ourselves with should bring us up. While they should hold us accountable, they should not bring us down. And when I feel as though someone is bringing me down, and doesn't want what is really best for me, then I cut them out of my life. That doesn't mean I want bad things to happen to that person. That doesn't mean I don't forgive them for hurting me. Cutting someone out of your life does not mean forgiveness hasn't taken place. I will be the first to admit that when someone hurts me, my first thought is what I can do to really show them, to really get them back for what they did to me. I want to hurt them one million fold. I would be lying if I didn't sometimes look at someone who has hurt me, scrutinize their life, and then say "welp. they made their bed. and I don't want them to just lie in it. I want them to freaking wallow in it."

But, I've always said that forgiveness wasn't between me and the person who wronged me but rather between me and the big man upstairs.

I've also always said forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting. We are human and we don't forget things. And if you tell me you can forget the greatest hurts of your life, then I say you're a fraud.

I had an ex boyfriend who really hurt me. He opened up a lot of old wounds and really just brought me back to a negative place. When I finally got to the point where I had had enough, I cut him out of my life. We had talked at length about forgiveness and how he couldn't forgive some of the people in his own life who had hurt him so whether or not he was going to forgive me wasn't something I was even concerned about, especially since I already knew the answer. When I cut him out of my life, he sent me an email filled with links to internet articles about forgiveness and the detriment it can cause to your health if you go through life being unforgiving. I just responded that forgiving doesn't mean forgetting, and it doesn't mean excusing. Somewhere along the way, we got to a place where forgiveness went from being something we are called to do as Christians to being something that the world expects of us.

When did forgiveness become synonymous with excusing? And when did forgiveness become expected?

I don't think people can change. I struggle with that often in my life as I am reunited with people who have hurt me, and whom I have hurt, somewhere along the way. But, if I am not holding up my end of the deal and offering them grace and forgiveness, then why should anyone else offer me grace and forgiveness when I continue to mess up? Steven Furtick wrote in one of my favorite devotionals of all time that "refusing to forgive someone until they ask for it is like refusing to breathe to prove a point." This makes TOTAL sense. Why would you just not forgive someone? To prove a point to them? To prove a point to someone who already doesn't care about you enough to not hurt you greatly? I may be going out on a limb here but I just really feel like the person who hurt you to the extent that choosing to forgive them is even a question probably isn't going to care whether or not you forgive them.

Which is exactly why forgiveness is between me and the man upstairs. My forgiveness is how I respond to my faith. If I really and truly believe that Jesus died on that cross for me, and that I am already forgiven for the things I have done and have yet to do, then why would the same not be the person who hurt me? Jesus died for them in the exact same way He died for me. And the truth of the matter is, not forgiving someone really does have harmful health side affects. So, if I don't forgive, then I'm not responding to my faith and I'm also harming my health. I eat enough McDoubles to know that I don't need to add any extra health harmies. Forgiveness is like a freebie health check. And it's one I like to take advantage of.

I'm not saying you should run around and hurt me, or anyone else, on purpose. But I am saying that when it comes to forgiveness and matters of the heart, we have a choice. We can either really show someone and give them what we think they deserve. Or we can step up to the plate and show them grace and give them what has already been given to us.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

what are you talking about? i've found a baby before.

below are some nuggets (in the form of thoughts, quotes and txt messages) that highlight approximately 15 hours of my weekend.

"whoa. what is this? Vanilla Ice's cd? Why aren't we listening to this right now?" (it is important to note we were in my car)

"do you know where she lives?"
"no. I just know the cross street."
"How can you not know where she lives?"
"I do know it's the house with the fence and the porch upstairs."
"that's great detail. especially since all the houses on this block have a fence and a porch upstairs."

"She just sent me a txt that she is in the pawn shop" (fyi it was about 10:30a)
"why is she in the pawn shop? does she need breakfast money?"

"don't forget about me when you go for your car."
"wait, where is she?
"what? what happened to her?"
"I don't know but I got this txt from her: smoked and chatted with the cabbie on the way home.
"what did you say?"
"I asked her what she smoked. She said she didn't know."

"I saved her in my phone as Soul mate and she saved me as Soul mate."
"I can't believe you've been keeping my soul mate from me."
"are you ever going to look at me, your boyfriend, the same way you looked at your soul mate?"

"is your house the one with garden gnomes in the yard?"
"gnomes? No, I don't think so. I think they're angels."

(while digging in the dirt for her spare key since she locked us out of the house) "I just knocked over the cross. is that sacrilege?"
"no. but i need to brush my teeth. how are we going to get in?"
"I guess through my back window."
"I can hoist you up."
(we managed to break and enter into her house. She has bruises and scrapes up and down her legs. It was awesome. Especially at 9a on a Sat. morning).

"I feel like I'm being kidnapped. Can you please take me back to my car now?"

"I'm having an 80's party after the hurricane party."
"80's party is canceled. no one is coming."

"umm, when have you ever seen a guy change a filter with duct tape?"
"umm, when have you ever seen a guy with a giant foot cast change a filter with duct tape?"

"what is that?"
"it appears to be a nekkid baby doll"
"in the cab?"
"yes. we are in a cab and there is a nekkid doll baby on the ground."
"don't act like this isn't normal. you're in your clothes from last night and I'm in men's pajamas. and we're in a cab on a sat. morning with a nekkid baby doll on the floor."
"and our cabby has no teeth. like, at all."

"and there I was, lying on the bathroom floor crying because I had eaten 18 cookies. But then I threw up and I felt better. and that my friends, was my brush with appendicitis."

"I want a cup of gumbo but I don't want any fish bones in it."
"do you mean claws?"
"yes. i don't want any claws or fish bones in my soup please."

"that was the best shag I've ever shagged!"
"oh, we dipped and twirled and showed all those old farts what's up."

"Is that blood on the floor?"
"I'm not sure. I tried to wipe it up. It's been there for awhile."
"who is it from? No one has been here!"
"well, it's not from me. I checked. but one time, this guy came over and dropped a fork on his foot. and he was gushing blood and we didn't realize it until later."
"I want to know who left dried blood on my floor. and on second thought, who stabs themselves with a fork?"

h8 unc

if you see this car, you have my permission to key it.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Adios, turd nuggets.

i finally got the stooges to watch grandma's boy. mom said she would not judge me and just watch it. only, she lied. because she and dad both judged. lee too. and eli and melissa. basically, it was me against the rest of the world during family movie night at the beach.

how is it possible that people i am related to do not find this movie funny? i guess they don't appreciate a good dance dance revolution dance off.

mom and dad told me they are worried about me now that they have seen what i watch in my free time.

they didn't even get to see the monkey drive to the devil's house.