Mommy's Piggy Tales: Post High School

I've come to the last post in this particular series of Mommy's Piggy Tales. Thanks to all of you who have read through my long posts. Hopefully, I was able to adequately express the love and gratitude I've always had for my family, friends, life, and my Lord, even in times I was down or upset at a particular person or event. I don't mind talking earnestly about my own life and all of the silly things I've done. But I apologize to those who didn't ask for their lives to consequently be exposed. :) I can appreciate the "less pretty" moments in life as the learning experiences that they are.

This next phase of my life did include a lot of tears and trials. I'm fine with it all now; everything worked out.

I mentioned to somebody last week that I wish I'd had a bigger world view in high school. I went to high school "pre-internet," and although I was always a lover of adventure and change, my world view had its limits, coming from a small town. It didn't really occur to me that I could go to school far away. I don't even think I applied to any colleges but one. I actually can't even remember. It doesn't really matter, though, because I don't really think I would change much about what I did, even if I could.

I applied to Southwest Baptist University (an hour or so from my hometown), which is where I had attended Super Summer for so many years in high school. (I was also a "Mom" - counselor - for 2 years in college.) My memories of this place and the good feeling that I associated with it, were all I needed to be convinced that this was the place for me. I don't mind saying that my number one goal is life was to get married and have children. I felt that going to a Christian school was the best way for me to meet this goal.

I have to mention that I still had a boyfriend at this point (until partway through freshman year), and he was definitely also a consideration in my future plans. I didn't know if I would end up marrying him, but I knew it was a possibility. One thing I did know - I didn't think it was wise to marry your "high school boyfriend," no matter how much I cared about him or how important he was to me. (I know a lot of people are incredibly happy after marrying their high school sweetheart, which I think is romantic and wonderful. I just worried about it for myself.)

My family moved to Arkansas immediately after I had graduated. My dad was already working there. I wish I'd fully recognized how much life was going to change. I tend to think about life too idealistically. If I'd realized that things were never going to be the same with so many of the most important relationships in my life (my Missouri relatives we regularly saw and my family's best friends, the Keithley's, etc.), I might have tried to cling a little more tightly to them and not let time create so much distance. ("Keeping in touch" was harder back then, without email and facebook.)

I was still in the high school "social" mentality, and the thought of leaving town just like that seemed horrible to me. It seemed horrible to my sisters, too, but they were going into 6th and 9th grade. They didn't really have a choice. My boyfriend's aunt and uncle, who lived in my town, asked me if I wanted to live with them and take care of their young boys during that summer while they worked. That's what I did. They fixed up a spot in their basement for me. I loved that whole family, and they treated me as one of their own.

There were a few other families from our town who were transferred to Arkansas right along with us. It was nice to have familiar faces around. Jared, who was a year older than my sister, Cary, went with us a couple of times on our Missouri visits. We stopped off here to take a picture during our drive.

I was up and down that road many, many times that summer and that whole year, visiting my friends and family. My sisters went with me a lot, too. As much as I didn't want my family to move, removing the ability for me to ever really "go home" again, the silver lining was the excitment of checking out a new place. We went from living in a town of 1,000 to 40,000. We thought it was AMAZING to live in a town with movie theaters, shopping centers, and SNO-CONE STANDS!


We also really got into hiking. Arkansas is obviously a beautiful state, and we enjoyed visiting places like Petit Jean Mountain and Pinnacle Mountain, etc.

At this point, I still planned on going to SBU. I had no back up plan. My parents weren't supportive of my plan at all. They tried to talk me into going to school in Arkansas. There was no way I was going to do that. They told me they just couldn't afford to send me to SBU. I totally understood that; I didn't need them to pay my whole way, if they could just help me a little. They were drawing a hard line, though. (The only help my mom offered was calling UCA and getting information from them.) I can imagine that it will be hard for me, too, when my kids start making their own decisions.

The problem was this: I could attend UCA for $850 a semester and live at home for free. SBU cost about $10,000 a year. (I didn't want to be selfish; my parents had 4 kids, had just moved, and were building a house.) I had a couple of small high school and ACT scholarships, but there was still a lot left to cover. I tried to convey that it was really important for me to be in a Christian school setting, as well as a small school setting because I knew I'd be swallowed up at a big school. I just know myself well - what it takes for me to be happy and successful. Going to SBU was the BEST thing for me to do. We fought a lot about this because it seemed to me like they were thinking about what was best for them, not what was best for me. I think they just couldn't visualize the two different paths I saw clearly in front of me. I think they realize this difference now and are happy with the way my life turned out.

I visited the SBU financial aid office and pleaded for help. I wasn't eligible for help beyond loans because of my parents' income. I was sobbing in front of the guy, telling him they weren't giving me any of this income. There was nothing he could do. If I had known any better at the time, I would have filed to become independent.

I hate not getting my way. However, I'm also very determined, and I will do whatever I have to do to meet my goals. I was realistic enough to see that this situation was not going to work out exactly the way I'd envisioned. I had to formulate a new plan. I've mentioned before that I've inherited this ability from my parents to do whatever it takes to "make it work." It has become instilled within me as I watched them do whatever it takes to make it, no matter what they were going through in life. (During my last year of college, when I didn't have a car, I'd walk 2 or 3 miles to substitute teach or wherever I had to go.) I can be rather lazy on a daily basis, but when it comes down to it, I have the ability to work really hard.

And that's what I did my first year of college. I finally called Mom one day at the very end of the summer and said, "Fine, I'll go to UCA and live at home. For one semester. I'm going to work and save my money, then go to SBU."

our first Christmas in Arkansas

Going to UCA was everything I thought it would be. I went to class, rarely working up the nerve to talk to anyone. I was lonely, and I watched with envy the groups of friends walking around. I was used to being at the center of everything in high school, so this was a new, jarring experience for me. I went to class, went straight to work, went home, did my homework, and I went to bed. It was a quiet phase of my life, and I suppose I can find value in it now. I spend a lot of time talking to God and thinking about what I wanted in life. I'm also not devaluing the time I got to hang out with my parents and sisters.

mom and me at Silver Dollar City

As soon as I got to town, I applied for a job at Stoby's, a small, popular restaurant near UCA. I can't remember if I applied anywhere else. I had my first job interview and was immediately hired. I worked at the carry-out window. I also had to scrape dirty dishes into the trash, run the dishwasher, fill to-go orders, fill and tie up chip bags, and carry supplies from the storage room.

John and me, right after closing up the restaurant on New Year's Eve

I had my first experience of making "work friends." I really liked everyone I worked with (a wide range of characters!), and it definitely made work fun.

The best friends I made were John and Gina. They were dating and later got married while we were still in college. I was always the third wheel, but they didn't mind. I guess I didn't mind, either, because I was equal friends with both of them. I didn't expect to grow to care about anyone that year the way I came to care about them. I was even a bridesmaid in their wedding. I was sad to leave them, when the time came.

Petit Jean, fall 1994

I worked overtime almost every single week because I earned time and a half. I was willing to take every extra shift that anyone offered me, and they all knew this. I'd be working my day shift, and they often asked me to stay for the evening shift. Soon, I was also waiting tables, which generated more money. I also learned how to cook, and that was kind of fun to switch things up once in awhile. I took on the extra position of being the "lettuce girl." I just had to make sure there was always lettuce grated for the salads and sandwiches. I slammed head after head against the stainless steel work table to remove the end, put it in the grater, and filled the bags. I grated A LOT of lettuce that year.

I didn't do exceedingly well in my classes. I made a few C's, which hurt a little because I wasn't used to making C's. I loved my composition class, though; it was the bright part of my week.

Tracy and me, sitting on the deck of our newly built home

An exciting part of this year was watching the progress of our house construction. We lived in a rent house while it was being built. Even though I know my mom hated living in our rental, I didn't think it was too bad...other than there were mice. I was sitting on the kitchen floor, wiping out cabinets before we moved in, and a mouse ran right by me, provoking me to scream and run.

I think I pretty much kept all of my money shoved in the back of my nightstand table in the bedroom I shared with my sister. I have to admit, it was very addicting to see it pile up, and that is what motivated me to stay in Arkansas the entire school year. I made more than enough to pay for a year at SBU. I remember staring at what I considered to be an insane amount of money at the time and thinking, "I could really do anything at this point." I could travel all over Europe, whatever I wanted to do. I packed up my stuff the next August, though, and after telling my Dad and sisters good-bye in our driveway, drove to Bolivar, where my mom and brother helped me move my life into 2nd floor Beasley Hall.

my family at my brother's graduation from Mizzou, at the end of my sophomore year of college

I attended Welcome Week before classes started, which was a lot like Super Summer. It felt good to be surrounded again with such fun, light-hearted, people whose hearts were bent in the same way as mine. (I loved my Arkansas friends, but there were a lot of them who I just didn't have much in common with at all.)

It just so happened that one of my best girlfriends from highschool - Missy - had decided to attend SBU. I didn't know until right before school started that she was even thinking about it, so we hadn't requested each other as roommates. However, with all of the halls, in all of the dorms...we ended up two rooms away from each other. We thought that was incredible.

The night before classes started, we attended the student government pizza bash. I had a lot of fun that night, meeting one great person after the next. I was particularly enamored by this one guy who was already my friend. (He had went to a high school near mine and was a grade ahead of me.) He had went out with one of my best friends a few times, which is why I never thought about dating him back then. (Girl code.) But now I was thinking - maybe he's the reason I was "meant" to come to SBU! Toward the end of the night, one of his best friends from the previous school year arrived, and he introduced us. This was his friend:

And the rest is history. :)

Mommy's Piggy Tales: 12th grade

1992-1993

There's really too much to write about my senior year. I should just pick one thing and write about it, but my OCD prevents me from doing so.

I loved my class schedule my senior year. I had these fun classes: English 4, Yearbook, Chorus, Band, Philosophy, and Home Ec. My only "hard" classes were Physics and Accounting. I took Algebra II for awhile because I wanted the weighted class for my GPA, and I was determined to conquer my nemesis. I didn't enjoy the class, though, except I remember singing More Than Words by Extreme along with Brent as he played his guitar. That's my only memory of Algebra II. Also, I thought the teacher was a little snarky for my taste, so I dropped it early on. (Disclaimer: I'm sure she's a lovely person.)

I also had it timed perfectly. I could sleep as late as possible, then leave 5 minutes before the 2nd bell rang and make it on time for school. A few times, I was late, though, and in danger of getting in-school suspension or whatever the punishment was. I remember walking into the school, hearing the bell ring, and turning right back around to my car. I'd go home and take a first period absence, rather than get disciplined for tardies.

My Children, when you are reading this, please know: this is one of Mommy's many examples of what NOT to do in life. Also, do not copy someone else's accounting homework five minutes before class starts; you will feel guilty about it 17 years later.

I traveled all over the country my senior year. Elizabeth, Angie, and I went with Mrs. Vincent to fall FBLA leadership conference in Milwaukee. This was the first time I ever flew in an airplane.

I also went with a group from yearbook class to Columbus, Ohio for the National Journalism Convention. We took a chartered bus.

There was a lot of traveling over the years with FBLA. This picture (I'm first on the 2nd row.) was taken junior year, but it demonstrates the kind of fun we were always having with our group and the friends we made from other schools.

We had more opportunities than usual to travel with FBLA because my friend Elizabeth was state president (and then later a national officer). We helped her campaign at these events. Our school board and town were really proud of her, and they were so gracious in helping us financially.

Another way our whole town came together: our baseball team got to play at Busch Stadium. (And I can't find my pictures right now.) Everyone joined efforts to make it happen and raise the money. There was so much support and excitement. They rented a big nice bus for the team, and there was room for fans, as well, so I got to ride, too. We all stayed at a hotel together, and the guys played their game (and won!), then we all attended the Cardinals' game that night. (Our guys also went to State in baseball later that year.)

Something I will always remember about highschool - pulling away on the bus, and the line of cars that followed, honking and proclaiming their pride with shoe polish: We love you, Pirates! and Good luck, guys! I'm getting teary-eyed just thinking about it!

One of the ways we raised money for our FBLA trips was volunteering at Silver Dollar City. They had this great program. The students worked for a night, and they gave a certain amount of money to our group. I think we did this twice. I remember going into this big room full of the old-time fashions and picking out what we wanted to wear. It was fun! It was really cold out, though - obviously, it was December, and we were wearing dresses. I had my Dad's red long johns on underneath, though. I worked in restaurants, helping serve and host. We were supposed to completely stay in character and talk like a hillbilly or whoever we were supposed to be.

This picture was taken after FBLA districts. I earned two first place awards, one for an Exhibit created by Chris, Kristi, and me. I also won for my Partnership in Business report so I was able to advance to State competition. I had written about my experience, shadowing at a business during a school day. We had to think about what we might choose as a career one day, then find a place to work. I chose the A.I.D.S. Project of the Ozarks. I had really considered becoming a social worker and still sort of wish I'd gone in that direction.

I was obsessed with the show, Life Goes On that year. Sarah and I both were. We were in love with Chad Lowe, who played Jesse McKenna. His character was HIV positive, which triggered my interest in the whole subject of A.I.D.S.

Life Goes On aired on Sunday nights, and every Monday morning (unless we'd already talked about it on the phone), Sarah and I would run to each other in the hallway and dissect every moment. We argued over who loved Jesse more and who was going to marry him. I recorded all of the episodes on VHS tapes so I could watch the best Jesse and Becca moments over and over again. I still have that box of tapes, and I can't bring myself to get rid of them. I memorized the scenes and still find them running through my head. ("YOU brought ME to Allison's house?" "It was your idea." "I thought it would be a good idea for you to talk to her; I didn't say I wanted to watch." "I had to watch you and Tyler." "That's different." "How?" "It doesn't involve you." "It doesn't? Why'd you guys break up?")

I even got to church late a few times when a pivotal episode was coming on. OR if I was crying so hard from the episode, I'd have to wait until I was presentable to arrive. How sad am I.

I still loved my youth group that I'd been a part of since 7th grade. We'd have youth group, then church, and then an activity after church. I was one of the only seniors, and most of the kids were in 8th-10th grade. I loved all of them, though, so much! My sister was in the 8th grade now, and since she was getting older, I was spending more time hanging out with her in social settings. Our youth group had great times together (like going to Braum's for ice cream or all around town on silly scavenger hunts), instigated by our leader, Phil.

Heather and me at Silver Dollar City for Young Christian's Weekend

with my sister Cary and Phil on Mount Judea in Arkansas

I could talk to Phil about things I couldn't talk about with anyone else. He took us canoeing and camping and rock climbing & rapelling. We got to experience a lot of fun things we normally wouldn't have, if he hadn't come into our lives.

I was in the girls' sextet again this year and also the mixed double quartet with the guys. Both groups earned a I at Districts, and we had a great time traveling to Columbia (Mizzou) for State, where we also earned I's. It was additionally fun going to State because that's where my brother was now going to school.

I spent a lot of time at...McDonald's during junior high and highschool. Can't remember the last time I actually ate at a McDonald's (probably college), but the school bus always stopped there after games and events. I would order french fries and sometimes an apple pie. There were games several nights a week, and I went to all of them, no matter the distance. (My face paint here says: #1.)

This picture makes me think of how I almost got into a fight my senior year. Okay, maybe not technically "almost," but this is the closest story I have to sounding tough and edgy so I'm going to run with it.

I had this "friend," and I might have had a crush on him. He was dating a 9th grader. He and I talked and joked around probably often, but it was all innocent. I had a boyfriend, anyway. I guess someone told her that I was talking (talking, flirting, whatever) to him at Baseball State, and she was not happy. I was hearing rumors that she wanted to "beat me up." (I'm getting so amused writing this, by the way. NOT at her, just at the thought of someone wanting to beat me up. And the thought of me actually having to take part in that. I was really good and sweet and not the fighting type.)

I'm not going to lie - I was kind of avoiding her; I didn't want to get beat up! Even though she was only in the 9th grade, she was quite a bit taller than me. And more muscular. And just more tough and fierce in general! Somehow, right after lunch, and I was heading to Accounting, I was left all alone in the hallway, getting my books out of my locker.

Then I heard a locker door slam loudly.

And next it was, "Hey! Stay the (insert bad word - sorry) away from my boyfriend!"

I should have said, "Okay! I will!" But what did dummy me do? I said, "Oooo, I'm scared." Then I shut my locker door and confidently turned and walked toward class. But I WAS scared. I'm sure my eyes were bugging out of my head, and I'm sure I was walking as fast as I could, all the while trying not to look like I was trying to walk fast. I made it unharmed into Accounting, where I burst into nervous giggles, "Oh, my gosh, she's going to kill me!" to my class of friends.

my friend from my class, Becky, and me...

I think this was during the last week of school.

Isaac and I walked together at graduation. I think we'd agreed to do that back in junior high. It was just something understood, as we were really close and always together and partners in everything. (We never dated, though - just friends.) Our lockers were next to each other every year because our last names are together, alphabetically. (I always had Sarah on one side and Isaac on the other. How fun to have your two best friends from your class on either side of you for 6 years.)

Isaac and I were also voted prom king and queen. I have a funny (sad) prom story. I got sick the week before prom. (I can't find my pictures, though.) I apparently had a bad viral infection with a temp of 102, and my throat was closing up. I was having trouble breathing and swallowing. (Ridiculously, though, I can clearly remember going out the night before.) I couldn't even drink water without horrendous pain so my mom ended up taking me to the doctor on the Saturday morning of prom. When the doctor told me I wouldn't be attending prom, I sobbed hysterically for hours. This was my senior prom, and I had a boyfriend and a dress, and I had even helped organize Project Prom (through PRIDE, the drug and alcohol free group I was a part of at school).

The fun part of being in the hospital was having so many visitors. Streams of people from my school and town came in and out all day and evening. A lot of people came early dressed in their formal wear. The nurses felt sorry for me and persuaded the doctor to release me for 3 hours to attend the affair, which was taking place just across town. I did have to leave my IV needle in my arm, and it was wrapped up in bandages. My boyfriend came to pick me up at the hospital and escorted me back as soon as prom was over.

These were my girls. (Sarah and I were a grade ahead of the others.) They are my dear, close friends to this day. We try to get together a couple of times a year. I can't believe it that I was so fortunate to have lived in this town during the same time as these other amazing girls who shared my views, morals, humor, and love of good, clean fun. I know that it is rare to form deep friendships in highschool that you retain for the rest of your life...but that is what I have with them.

One example of the kind of fun we had: we formed the group, Black and White. We'd all bring every piece of black and white clothing we owned (and I had a lot!) and get together at someone's house. We'd go through the clothes and pick out our outfits, tease up our hair (even after we'd stopped normally teasing our hair), put on make-up, and make music videos on Angie's video camera. We lip-synced to songs and even acted them out. (I Hate Myself for Loving You, Jack and Diane, throw in a Wilson Phillips song or two, etc.) The girls who weren't "singing" or taping would act as the back up singers. We also made up raps, including an ode to trashcans.

We took that video camera EVERYWHERE with us over the years. We have quite a library of recordings. We'd take it to ballgames and pretend like we were recording the game, but really we'd be recording the cute boys sitting nearby.

Another fun memory I have with my friends is singing My Boyfriend's Back at an FBLA fundraiser dance. We dressed up in 50's clothes and each took a line of the song to sing. The funny part was getting our friend Jan (a boy), who was an exchange student that year from Germany, to dress up in a wig and join us in singing one of the lines.

It's interesting how a certain year of your life can be one of the best years and one of the worst years at the same time. That's kind of how my senior year was. When I think about it, it's sort of insane how many fun and important events and escapades were jammed packed into that time of my life. There were other situations taking place in the background that were sad and hard and sort of surreal to think about now. One, for example: my great aunt Mert who was more than a great aunt to me, the one I talked about last time, was diagnosed with lung cancer. I was actually in D.C., having the best time, when I called from a payphone to check in at home. My mom told me she had bad news and asked if I wanted to wait until I got home to hear it. I told her to tell me. She said, "Mert died." I spent the rest of the night crying, curled up under my hotel bed covers.

My dad also found out he had to take a new job in Arkansas. We had to put the house I'd lived in for almost 15 years up for sale. There were a lot of things going on, and I guess I'm grateful I had so many positive distractions.

Mommy's Piggy Tales: 11th Grade

11th Grade: 1991-1992

This was a hard one for me to write, to be honest. I'm not sure exactly why. I got my pictures out yesterday, and good grief, I ended up bawling my head off. And I felt like I was on the verge of tears the rest of the day. Maybe when I wrote about earlier years, it just felt so distant, like another world. Perhaps my last two years of high school are so preserved in my head, it feels too recent. Which is ridiculous because it has been 17 years since I graduated.

Easter, home in our yard...this was 91 or 92

I think as I looked at pictures from this particular year, thinking so much of my life was about to change and go away forever. I'm actually a big proponent of change in life because honestly, I get bored easily. (That always ends up being one of my faults.) However...


The pictures of my home I loved so much...I had no idea, standing there, that I was only going to live there for one more year. Some of my friends who were the most important people in my life...well, some of them I haven't seen since, and even the ones I do keep in touch with...it's not nearly enough. I think it was the pictures of my great aunt and uncle, Mert and Donald, which really kicked the tears into high gear. That always happens, though, when I look at pictures of them.


I'm a sentimental, mushy person in general, but I think that if there was ever a time in my life to feel the weight of uncontrollable change, this was the time. Maybe there's just a big difference in how you feel with change that is of your choosing - and change that is out of your control.


This is just a random picture of my dad in front of his garden. That's our neighbor's farm in the background. Our neighbors, especially Ben (who I mentioned going with us on one of our Texas trips), played a significant part in our lives.

I don't know what year this was taken, probably just a few years before. My dad always had a huge garden. A couple of memories of Dad's garden: the compost pile was located next to it, and it was a little walk from our house - not that far, but it wasn't my favorite chore, having to take our "slop" up there. Also, Dad often had us pick up rocks, which was another chore I didn't love. Except that he would often pay us like a quarter or something a bucket to do it, which was nice.

I grumbled about all of the chores I ever had to do, living in the country - raking leaves, mowing the lawn, feeding our baby calves at the crack of dawn, stacking wood...man, I wouldn't change any of that. I feel like I'm in no way instilling the capability of hard work into my own children, at least not in the character-building way that I feel it was formed into me.


I was inducted into National Honor Society this year. That's my shoulder pads and me sitting there in the white shirt. The next year I became National Honor Society president. I actually had to speak in a microphone in front of the entire student body. This was a big step for me. I still had shy tendencies, but I had come a long way by the end of high school.


I had a sort-of epiphany sometime around my sophomore year. I realized that I was disappointed in myself for giving up on my grades. My math grade had made me feel defeated, like there was no use in trying. (Well, of course, like I've said - that mixed with the fact that I had a lot of fun that seemed more important than studying.) However, I started thinking...Sarah and Daniel could tie for first place. That left the spot for Salutatorian open, and there wasn't a clear front runner. I had a shot, and I started putting more effort into it.

I just loved our theme. I thought it was so cute and clever.

I continued on in the majority of the school clubs and activities. Being in the clubs meant getting out of a class at least one day a month, plus other advantages, such as getting an extra picture in the yearbook. Also, in FTA, we actually got to teach an elementary class one day a year.

I was in the girls' sextet in chorus, and we earned a I at music districts, then got to travel to State. We also earned a I at State! Yay!

I joined the yearbook staff my junior and senior years. It was right up my alley, everything I joined - taking pictures, writing stories, arranging layouts...except for selling ads. I hated doing that, and I don't think I got the best grade on that part. However, my senior year, Missy, Elizabeth, and I were ad sale partners and assigned to Branson. We actually got to leave school and spend the day in Branson.

This was my last year of cheerleading. Elizabeth and I were co-captains. It's funny that I ended up being a cheerleading co-captain, and I couldn't even really do a cartwheel. (Again, the advantages of going to a small school.) I'm the base whose face you can see. How fun it would have been to be a flyer, but no, I was always a base. I think this is why my shoulders are messed up, to this day.


Regardless, cheerleading this year was ridiculously fun with Elizabeth and Missy and my other friends. I decided to not try out my senior year because I was determined to have the most freedom possible my last year.

The most exciting thing that happened to me my junior year - I GOT A CAR!!! This was even more exciting than getting my license. My parents had been looking all year for something, then finally ordered my brand new Bimini Blue Ford Tempo in the spring. I was ecstatic. (I had voiced preference for a more neutral color like hunter green, but my parents said that seemed like a trendy color that would go out of style. Um, I'm sure BIMINI BLUE was a much more "timeless" choice, ha. I didn't ultimately care, though, because I loved it!) My mom drove it to school the day she picked it up, and I remember running out from cheerleading practice to look at it for the first time. It was a bummer because I couldn't drive it to school the next day; Mom had to go get the tags for it, etc.


I took Lori with me for my first night out on the town in my NEW CAR. We were so giddy and thought we were so cool. I stopped at Wal-Mart to buy a tape case especially for my car. We went to the mall. Of course, we went to the mall. The Battlefield Mall was a home away from home for me. I logged many hours in that place during my teen years. Besides sporting events, there was no place I'd rather be. We rolled down our windows as we drove through the mall parking lot, playing I'm Too Sexy, which I'd bought that night on a single cassette tape. Whenever I had a little money, I always picked out a new single tape. I think I also bought Save the Best for Last that night.


We went back into town after shopping. As soon as we got there, a huge bug splattered on my windshield. We screamed, then started laughing - I mean, it was a really big bug, and it looked really gross. I tried using my windshield wipers to wash it off, but it just smeared it across the window. I was aghast because I was so particular with my new car. You would never know this by looking at my insanely dirty car now, but I never wanted so much as a crumb in my car. Not everyone had seen my car yet, and I think I even used the words, "You don't get a second chance to make a first impression." We stopped at Casey's General Store to clean it all off.

We had started a tradition maybe a few years before this - spending Christmas Eve with Mert and Donald. She always crocheted dolls for us. She always let us pick out the pattern, the hair color, and all of the yarn. She had a room that was full of yarn on one wall. We always got her a new doll, which she loved collecting.

What I was thinking, looking at the pictures yesterday...I had no idea sitting there that this would be the second to the last Christmas Eve I would ever spend with them. Mert died a month or so after I graduated...Donald passed away several years after that. I would say so many more things about them, but...it's still too hard to think about it, even almost 20 years later. And I'm sure it's no easier for my family to read this, either. They know what I mean...

that if I could be sitting anywhere, next to anyone right now, in this moment...it would on that couch next to Mert.

To lighten the mood, I feel certain Cary, age 31, would want me to mention that she has really great hair now.

The summer after my 9th grade year, my family started a fun tradition. We took our first family trip to Perdido Key, Florida. For the first few years, we even stayed at the same place, Sandy Key. Two years in a row, we even stayed in the very same unit. This picture was actually taken at the battlefield in Vicksburg, MS either on the way there or back.

These trips to Florida were my first traveling experiences beyond our many trips to Texas. It was exciting and fun for all of us. We got to know many places in the area, including Bellingrath Gardens, the USS Alabama in Mobile, the naval museum, the Dauphin Island ferry, and different forts in the area. In the picture, above, at Bellingrath, I am wearing overall shorts with the straps down, which was the style. I know without looking I would have also had on my black Keds that matched my black belt and black headband.


I was always ridiculed by bringing the largest suitcase with the most pairs of shoes on our vacations. I just wanted to be prepared. Complaints about my big suitcases was just another way I felt discriminated against, being the only teenage girl in the house. :)

This was the year after 11th grade. Most summers I made friends on the beach; it's just sort of what the teenagers did while staying with their families. It was totally normal behavior. In fact, the year before I made two friends (Chad and Jason) who I actually kept in touch with (which is such a "me" thing to do). My parents had totally let me hang out with them and even go souvenir shopping with them. (That was the year my brother didn't come with us.)

Well, this year I was hanging out one night with two guys my age (PLUS a 9 year old brother to one of them) who had came with one of their families. (They were from Fayetteville, which wasn't far from where we lived, so we bonded.) It was all completely harmless and innocent, but my brother came out looking for me. He even got the security guard involved. He completely freaked out. He was screaming at me from the pool, with his flashlight. "Jenny, get your (insert profanity) up here right now!" I was sooo embarrassed. He never used profanities so he was clearly very upset with me.

I think earlier in the week my mom and brother came looking for me, as well. I had just walked up to the nearest payphone to call one of my friends - honest, but I don't think they believed me. When I had gotten back to the condo, my Dad, slightly amused, said, "You better think of a good excuse before your mother and brother get up here."

I felt so stifled and smothered as a teenager. I just wanted to reach the age that I already felt inside. It's silly, now, but it felt very important and dramatic to me, at the time.

We had good times, regardless. It was relaxing by the pool and always fun to make meals in the condo together. This was also the year of "Captain Fred." We bought tickets for this luxurious sunset sailboat ride, and it turned into what has become an inside family joke over the years. The boat was kind of crowded, and the assortment of passengers couldn't have been better picked if this had been a television comedy. One couple argued the entire time. One of the men was really funny and kept us laughing the entire time. One lady was obnoxiously drunk.

The boat got stuck right when we were leaving the dock, which prefaced our ride to come. The ride really was nice and beautiful, but we don't choose to remember or tell that part of the story. We stopped at an island to swim, but it was kind of dirty so I didn't. Captain Fred was working on the boat. We ended up getting stuck again out in the ocean; the motor wouldn't run, and we had to wait for help. The small boat that was trying to pull us almost sank. We think Captain Fred, who was wearing bikini swim trunks, was intoxicated. Everyone was practically running to their cars when we docked.

visitor's center in Mississippi

If you're joining in from Mommy's Piggy Tales and are actually still reading, feel free to drop out now. I'm going to add this next part, just because I think my family will find it interesting. This is something I wrote on our drive to the beach in 1991:

Before explaining this trip, I'll start by explaining my family...Family car trips...each person with their own contrasting personalities. Everyone trying to get along but never admitting their faults.

Tracy - the youngest child, age 9 definitely fits the typical "youngest child." If you get my meaning. She is also very fun-loving, talkative, and outspoken. Cary, age 12 - fun, happy, and content, as long as she has her pick of seats and no one says anything to provoke her temper. Stephen, age unimportant, but he is 38. He is the main driver and sole protector of the family. Said to be old-fashioned, conservative, and natural, he has been known to flex his muscles and smile his famous-cheesey grin in front of the camera.

A morsel of excitement was already cut out of the trip by one member of the family - Matthew, age 18, whose absence in the trip caused much grief and worry for Mother, age 35, who is having much trouble watching her children grow up.

Making Potions or How to Keep 'Em Busy for an Hour

My kids have always enjoyed "making potions." I do not know how they got this idea originally. When he was younger, Tornado used to call it "doing science experiments." Ever since he could stand on a chair at the sink, he always wanted to pour leftover drinks and food into a bowl and mix it up. Once he could stand on his own at the sink, I'd often walk by and see some weird concoction sitting amongst my dirty dishes.

I've caught them (and when I say "them," I mostly mean Dash) using my natural dish soap, whole jars of spices, and any of my other expensive, organic food. That is exasperating. I try to fight his impulse by providing plenty of opportunities to make potions with restrictions. Several times this summer, they've carried stuff by the handfuls to their picnic table.

I give them each a bowl, several beakers and measuring cups, eye droppers, empty water bottles, and spoons. I give them bottles of vinegar and boxes of baking soda. I sometimes remember to pick up a bunch of Kool-Aid packets because they are cheap and fun for them to play with. I also let them take a food coloring squirtie (with several warnings to be careful not to dye their whole bodies and clothing). Then I just see what I have - expired spices, crayon shavings, and any other things sitting out on the counter. (They like it when Daddy leaves a few tablespoons of soda in the bottom of a bottle.)

Something else that is always fun for them to play with: I save the water from boiling broccoli, beets, or purple cauliflower, etc. It's a deep, lovely color - and free. They also might add items from outside - like pine needles, dirt, etc.

This will occupy them for an hour (which allows me to clean the kitchen or whatever). They make a big mess, but they've gotten pretty good about cleaning it all up themselves.

I love catching bits of their conversations when they are playing or working together. They have quite a time, pretending they are scientists or magicians or chefs or whatever. Clearly, this wouldn't really work as an unsupervised activity with preschoolers alone. My kids definitely don't try to ingest their potions, thank goodness, and if anything ever goes awry, Biggest Brother is an amazing Watch Dog.

Sharin' with ABC and 123!

Gratitude List #224-246: Buffalo River and Grandpa's Birthday

I haven't had much time to blog lately so let's start catching up...I've had lots to be thankful for, and I've gotta get going if my Gratitude List goal is really 1,000. I was just going to give up on that, but it feels, of all things, that would be the pathetic thing to give up.

During (Gratitude List #224) my sister Cary's visit at the end of July (I wrote a couple of posts about their visit on my other blog: my birthday and our dog's Scooby Doo birthday party.), we (my family of five, plus Mom and Dad, plus Cary and her kids) drove a little over an hour to the Buffalo River (#225). My brother and his family drove about the same distance to meet us (#226).

That's Tornado above. I'm so thankful for all the PURE JOY he brings into my life. He is just so GOOD and truly a lovely person to be around (#227).

Ryan and my Dad had a swimming race to the rock cliff. #228 - for fun times and no one having a heart attack.

The kids had a good time looking for tadpoles. Uncle Matt was a great help. I'm thankful Dash exhibits a gentle side with animals...some of his rare gentle moments. When we first started to "get to know our son" as he got older, we were, like, "He's going to be THAT kid, the one who wants to torture cats or pull bugs apart, piece by piece." Thankfully, that isn't the case (#229).

#230 - I'm thankful for baby giggles.

#231 - I'm thankful for their curly hair. Have I already counted that one? I don't care. I'm thankful for it every time I lay my eyes upon it.

#232 - Pierson was happy as can be to just sit in this tub most of the afternoon.

#233 - My niece Grace is an exact mix of my brother and her beautiful mother, and they get all of the credit for how amazing she is. However, I love that I can look at her and recognize a little bit of myself, too. I think (in a way) she's more like me than my own kids are. I realize that makes it sound like I'm saying I'm amazing. That's not what I meant, though. :)

#234 - I'm so happy that Dash has such a buddy in his cousin Owen.

In early August, we drove up to Matt's for Grandpa's birthday party.

Ryan took off on his bike that morning, and we picked him up in Leslie. I was getting a little worried about him because it started pouring outside. He was riding through the rain. I knew him well enough to realize he was NOT going to stop because of a little rain. I'm always thankful each time Ryan comes home safely from a ride (#235). Cycling might not be the most dangerous activity in the world, but there are risks. (One of his cycling buddies got hit by a car and had to have major surgery.)

I'm thankful, as always, that he works so hard at meeting his goals (#236). And also (as always) that he's so very cute (#237).

While we were at the gas station to pick up Ryan, Dash crawled into the dogs' crate. For the constant amusement my middle child brings us - #238.

#239 - Sissy and Clara have gotten to be such great friends.

#240 - They rarely left one another's side the whole day and had so much fun together.

I'm thankful that my grandfather gets to look out toward so many people who love him on his birthday (#241). I'm thankful that I still have my grandfather, age 90, around (#242). I'm grateful for the way he gives all of the kids a silver dollar for every birthday (#243). They don't really understand what it's worth/will be worth. It's a treasure in itself to them, just the way it is: big and round and shiny. They know that they like these coins Great Grandpa gives them.

#244 - So precious.

The whole family on my dad's side, minus Tracy and Cary and her family...Something funny Dash said on our way to the party: "How come there are two Patsy's? I forgot; what's the other Patsy's name?" Those are Dad's two sisters (Patsy and Judy), and they probably look similar to Dash. He does know Judy's name; he just couldn't think of it. He has been around Patsy more and knows her better, so I thought it was cute and interesting that he referred to them as the "two Patsy's."

I'm thankful that we choose to get together every year for Grandpa's birthday (#245). I'm happy for my Grandpa (#246). I hope this is what I have sitting around me in 50, 60 years.