Feeling Fallish

Y’all its here! Finally! It’s the second most wonderful time of the year- Pumpkin Spice Latte time! The first most wonderful time is of course Winter when Starbucks has the Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha (yum yum!). I am a firm believer that our seasons should be centered around Starbucks seasonal drinks- it just makes sense. Fall is my FAVORITE season. To me its scarves and changing leaves and college football and pumpkin everything and apple picking and sweaters and hiking. I adore Fall. I also went to college in Greenville, which has an incredibly gorgeous Fall. Seriously, I’m so excited to go to Homecoming partially because its going to be so lovely which leaves everywhere, crisp fall air, and easy access to hiking.

Apparently, Charleston has not gotten that message. Now I am Southern enough to understand that September is not the Fall, no matter what the calendar may say. I know that the first football games of the season will be unbearably hot and you should always pray for a night game. A few weeks ago when a big storm moved through I was unbelievably excited because it meant I got to actually need to wear jeans and a sweater. Oh how exciting! Of course then our parking lot was flooded for a good 3 days and my car now vaguely smells of crayons so there’s that. I even went a got a Pumpkin Spice Latte just ‘cause I could.

But my joy was short lived because just 2 days later it was back up in the 90s and humid, humid, humid. My happiness in walking to class without sweating, and of running outside without getting heat stroke was gone. There is just something so wrong about having to wear shorts this late in September and really the sweating on the way to class thing is just getting gross. Every time it looks like its going to rain I get excited thinking its going to cool off. And then it backfires and just gets muggy (and the parking lot water level rises yet again. Cue the mildew).

I would also like to be able to eat outside without having to drink a whole liter of water. Call me crazy but when its officially Fall I prefer to not be dehydrated by sitting outside. Get with it Charleston. Not that I want you to be cold yet but can you give me a little breeze, a few changing leaves? Am I being too demanding here Charleston? I even made a pintrest board for helpful hints as to how you can be more Fallish.

Step 1: Cool it down. I mean uppers 70s would be nice. Its almost October- you do not need to be in the upper 80s. Also I have lots and lots of scarves and seeing as this is my last class semester, I want to get the most out of these scarf/jeans combos.

Step 2: Get a little breeze so that the delicious smells from Starbucks and Halo can fill the air when I’m in class.

Step 3: Provide me access to Carolina home games. This might be a little more difficult but I think we can work it out. Also I would like this puppy with a Carolina collar.

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Step 4: Import me some good apples. Seriously, this is not negotiable. I’ve lowered my standards of wanting to go to the orchard but the least that you can do is import some.

Step 5: Build me some hiking trails. Ok this may be asking a bit too much. Sometimes I forget I don’t live in the mountains anymore. Then I get sad. Then I remember I live by the beach and I feel better.

I think we can really come to an agreement on this. Because I really like Fall but I also really like Charleston. So get to in Chucktown- turn the thermostat down, amp up the leaves and bring me a Pumpkin muffin stat.

Oh Sweetness

I was in a sorority in college. Its sort of weird to graduate and realize that in the real world not everyone knows what different sororities were like at your school or even what the greek system was like. Since my school was small, rush was not a big deal (at least until you got on the other side and spent hours making hair ribbons. yeah.) It also wasn't a huge deal to rush or not rush and there were no houses, just halls. Pre-college my idea of a sorority was part "Legally Blonde," part "Mean Girls," and part "Animal House" and I'm pretty sure if I had gone to a bigger school I would have run in the opposite direction.

Yep. Totally not one of those girls.

I'm not even one of those people who creepily have everything they've ever owned emblazzoned with their letters, including their bodies. I mean I still wear the t-shirts because really can you ever have enough t-shirts? And even though I was voted "Most likely to have a secret dolphin tattoo" I can assure that I do not. And a dolphin? This is not 1998. But really I treasure those 4 years of delta-ness because of the incredible friends it brought into my life. I won't be all sappy and talk about how all of my best friends are really sisters and such- its just that it was a way for me to meet certain girls who changed my life. And this post is for one such girl..

I met Allison at the Student Activities Fair my freshman year when students new to the Furman bubble walk around and learn about all the different organizations. Fresh off the overwhelming, over-committedness that was my senior year, I wasn't ready to jump head first into too much. But of course all of the sororities are out there and you have the chance to meet some girls in the most un-awkward way (kidding!). But Allison bounded right up to me, introduced herself, and we bonded over our mutual names. And that was it. I knew I wanted to be a Tri-Delt. Seems silly to base that off of one person but I had met some other girls, she just really cemented it. I remember my mom commenting on how nice she was when she introduced herself at Family Weekend. Oblivious to "rushing," I just wanted to be that girl's friend.

So rush rolls around and long story short, I went Tri-Delt and waiting for me on Bid Day was Allison, giving me a huge hug. Fact: her hugs are awesome and the way to my heart is through good hugs.

Homecoming my senior year- this hug lasted a good 10 minutes.

I loved her joy and zest for life, her always matching-ness, her love of pink that matches my obsession with all things turquoise, our intense love for our dogs (her pugs and pomeranian, my labs and dachshunds). I knew I wanted her to be my big sister and when I got a matching brown headband with polkadots with one of my gifts? Yeah I thought it might be her. This is also when we officially founded the pink princess family that continues to this very day.

The thing I love most about our friendship is that it always went beyond being in the same sorority or having a mutual love of Disney Princesses (she likes Belle, I like Ariel) but she was an incredible friend. Fiercely loyal, encouraging, goofy at the right times and always a shoulder to cry on. Her love for Jesus is inspiring as is her optimism and her contagious giggle/laugh we all love.

An excellent depiction of our goofiness and love of all things delta.

Y'all thought I was kidding about the princesses? Nope.

Her friendship is one of my favorite things about college. So of course when she called me to tell me about her engagement I sort of freaked out. And by freaked out I mean I squealed a whole lot in the middle of my buildings laundry room (guess who's neighboors still think she's a little crazy?!?!). It was the most wonderful call (and you should read about it on her blog! http://allicatrenfro.blogspot.com/)! We both kissed a few frogs in college and cried right along with one another, so to see a dear friend find that forever love is kind of a big deal. Like dance around your living room big deal. As I told her, she is proof that there is love, real love, outside of the Furman bubble. I could not be delighted for a more wonderful lady for she soon surpassed big sister into real sister in my heart. I know that not only will she have a beautiful and joy filled wedding, she will also have a beautiful and happy marriage. As she plans her wedding, I have also mentally decided that her pom, Chewie deserves a wedding portrait as well. Did you know that when pomeranians are the chocolate color they are instantly 12 times cuter? Seriously, Google Image it- those things are cuuuute.

So for you my pink, sparkling, lawyer princess, I am so so happy you found your prince charming!

Freshman initation-we look so little!

Ultimate Grand Supreme

Friends I have a confession- last night I watched Toddlers & Tiaras. The most acurate description I can find is like watching a wreck on TV- you don't really want to but you just can't turn away. Seeing as I've never been to a child paegant (what with there being no petite ones) I find this world quite fascinating. When I'm home my mother and I have taken to yelling out "Maaaaahy NiNi," a catch phrase from one of the "pros" at what may or may not be appropriate times. The kids are pretty cute although they don't look much like kids by the end of it all. Mostly they look sort of like dolls and since dolls- you know those creepy ones whose eyes follow you- freak me out, I am sort of terrified by this part of the show. The contestants have beauty (where they are judged on "facial beauty"), sometimes a talent portion and the perinneal favorite Wow Wear! Apparently Wow Wear is when the kid can wear whatever they (or their coach) want them to wear. This can range from anything to themed days to 80s wear to being a celebrity to being Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman." Yes, you read that right. Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman," as when she was a prostitute. Now I love that movie and I appreciate Julia and her crazy hair but that isn't something to be parading your 3 year old as. Apparently this pageant mom is now in hiding. Wellllll duh. Most people won't take to kindly to that. The sad thing is she won Ultimate Grand Supreme. Yes, queen is just not good enough so you want a supreme title where the crowns are roughly the size of a sidetable. I'm concerned about these children having back problems.

Yes People, it has.

The kids, cute though they may be with the exception of a few who their mothers call brats, are not the real stars of the show. No no. The real stars are the moms. Every once in a while there will be a nice well-adjusted mother who just wants her kid to have fun but that makes for rather boring TV. The heads that be over at TLC have hand-picked the most ridiculous mothers they could find. There are 3 basic types...

1. The former beauty queen- This type typically wants her daughter to follow in her footsteps despite the fact that their child may be the most wonderful soccer player ever. This mom is often seen at the side of the stage wearing a crown herself and doing exactly the same moves as her child. Please see Amy Poehler in "Mean Girls" for a reference.

2. The cray-cray one- One mom last night described herself as the "insane pageant mom." Yeah, not comforting. This is the mom who will say absolutely bizarro things, giggle incessantly, freak out when their child does not "pull for a higher title" and overall just give off that "we're going to have to put you on 'Hoarders' for hoarding all of your child's crowns" vibe.

3. The uber- competitive one- This is the mom who says she will "do anything to win." This includes but is not limited to mortaging the house. She will go find the pageant director when something is just the tiniest bit off or the music is wrong and she will storm off so don't get in her face.

Most of these women I'm sure have been edited to fit the story that TLC is selling but doggone if the editors aren't fantastic at it. As soon as the mom says little Miracle just loves pageants they cut to Miracle talking about how much she hates it. Check and mate TLC. They also choose to show the pageant moms in the most unflattering angles (playing up that whole living through your child things) and those lovely moments where the mom has a little touch of crazy around the eyes.

As entertaining as the editing may be, I just don't get it. I've had friends who've done Miss America before and I see how dedicated they are but the crux of it is that they love it and would also love the scholarship money. But the littles? I just don't understand it. Apparently there are something called "nautral" pageants but these are obviously not the best TV makers so they aren't featured. I mean winning and taking any money from it for a college fund sounds great but not when you spend thousands on one pageant- the dresses, the spray tanning (reason #716 why I could never win), the makeup, the flippers (dentures for you 5 year old! Sorry but I thought the point of losing your 2 front teeth was to show everyone), the glitz photos. If someone can explain this financial plan please help me because me and most of the dads they show just don't get it.

As terrifying as Toddlers & Tiaras is, there is a new show called "Dance Moms" that highlights a uber-competitive dance company where the teacher each week makes a pyramid of importance and the moms stand there horrified. This lady seriously makes me want to cry and hide in a corner and she isnt even my dance teacher. Did I miss out on entire culture in my childhood? I thought my snazzy gymnastics leotard I wore for our little performances (for our parents and unwilling brothers) were cool and felt like such a star. I also thought I wanted to be a mermaid at this point so there's that. So if you'll excuse me I'm going to go prance around in my own crown...

On Cars and Growing Up

Its time's like these that I realize that I don't quite want to be a grown up. When things in life just go horribly wrong and I long to curl up in a ball, give my Daddy the keys and pretend to be 5 again. So before I elaborate on how this is my life, here's a little background to why exatly I don't want to be a grownup.

I LOVE my car, Flounder. I seriously have no desire to replace it until absolutely necessary. Flounder and I met the fall of my senior year in high school when he became my early graduation gift. I was excited because a. It was a Jetta b. I liked the color and c. It was not the Intrepid I had been driving for the past 2 and half years that smelled like cross country funk (from my bro) and who's paint shed if you tried to wash it. I loved this car and I still do and even at 8 years old it still runs pretty well.

This is not Flounder but merely a distant cousin. I have zero photos of my car on my computer. Is that weird?

Except for last week. Then? It did not run well at all because it wasn't running. I know very little about cars. I know basics like how to check the oil, where to find my spare, how to call AAA, and when to call in a professional. So the other day when my car wouldn't start I thought it was a simple battery problem. Oh how I was wrong. So I called Triple A who came out and charged my battery. But the man (he never told me his name...) was concerned because he charged my battery really quick which apparently meant that something weird was going on. I assured him as he left that I was heading right over the car place to take it in. Which I was prepared to do had my car not died again. Frustration was mounting, the heat was stifling, and the skies were growing black. So I called a friend to jump off my car thinking surely it would be enough.

The first jump worked long enough to turn the car on then bam- nothing. The second jump (charged for the duration of Nicki Minaj's SuperBass) let me roll down the windows. I felt like crying (which I may have done over the phone to my dad because the windows were rolled down and it was going to rain gosh darn it!). I had zero clue what was going on but considering the car dealership is located over a rather large bridge, I decided that maybe risking the drive myself wasnt worth being stuck on the Cooper Rive Bridge at rush hour. So for the second time in an hour I called Triple A. That right there is a slice of humble pie. They were so concerned that the previous man who had come out called me back to make sure I was ok. Apparently calling twice in the hour isnt the norm. But I have to give it up for Triple A- they are always so nice and concerned about your safety. Although it is a little awkward to answer their service survey in front of the person working on your car. Just sayin.

Anyway, the tow finally arrived and the driver and I bonded over stupid car moments in our past as we drove little Flounder to the shop. Fun fact: I have never hit a moving object with my car. Nope, its always those dang curbs, poles, orange barrels (you see where this is going) that get me. Depth perception is not a strength. Thankfully the driver could not have been nicer and got me to the shop before they closed for the day. I simply gave them my keys and said "Please fix." and rode on home with a friend.

I always think car repairs take an incredible time so I was pretty excited when they at least called me the next morning. Seriously, I was like some desperate girl waiting by the phone for her crush to call, if that crush were to be Greg from the service department (we're on a first name basis). But that excitement when the phone rang was short lived. I ran out of class where Greg told me everything wrong with my car.

G: Well your car won't start because we need to replace the fuse panel and the alternator cable. (This is obviously paraphrased).

Me: Well I would like my car to start so I guess we should fix that. (I've never heard of either of these things so I'm just going to go with his judgement.)

G: Also, all of your brakes are metal on metal.

Me: Oh. Guess we should fix that too. (I know enough to know that those are important, seeing as like to stop the car on occassion.)

G: And m'am, just how long has your check engine light been on?

Me: Uhhhh, ummmm, a while?

G: Well.... and then he lists all the things that are causing it. Apparently Flounder's emissions are a little off or something like that. Maybe he's just cranky.

Me: Well then, I had no idea.

G: But what I'm really worried about (oh, dear) is your timing belt. (Another thing I have never heard of!) I'll paraphrase but this is apparently something important in the car that starts to stretch at 80,000 miles and should be replaced around 90,000. I'm at 97,000 which makes mechanic-types shudder a little bit.

Me: Well Greg, let me call my dad and I'll call you right back.

I go back to class, take a breather and call my dad during the next break where I relay the news. Breaks were on the plan anyway so those are go for launch but we'll just take our chances with everything else (also I was probably not the most accurate at relaying Greg's advice so I had it him right it down for me.) Guess what Santa is bringing me this year? Yep, a timing belt!

I call Greg (where I just say "Its me again!") and give him the go-ahead and he tells me the car will be ready by 4. What? 4? It takes longer for some women to get their hair done and you can make my car start and give me new breaks? Well then go ahead by all means. Long story short, I got back over there (thanks to great friends who drove me around) and gave VW a ridiculous amount of money and got Flounder safely back in my possession. I wish I had a photo of his homecoming but its sort of weird to just take a picture of your car- people look at you funny.

This is all a very roundabout way of saying that things like this make me scared to be a big kid. Cars are important to get around yet I am (mostly) clueless about apparently vital car organs. My dad did try to teach me some basics when I started learning to drive but they always ended up with me crying. Don't worry it was all me. I also cried the first time I drove and the first time I drove with my mom and almost ran into a ditch. Crying- its what's for dinner. So even though I can be adult about many other things in my life- you know going to get a flu shot, buying books, documenting my belongings when we think there's going to be a hurricane but there really isnt (Irene!), I doubt I will ever be fully independent in managing my car. Good thing I have a dad and brother who get this kinda stuff. Some of us are just are meant to understand it all (gosh I really hope Flounder doesn't take this the wrong way... oh wait its a car and can't read).

So until next time (which will be soon since I have tests coming up) I'm off to go find more Harry Potter humor blogs (yeah not helping with the whole adult thing am I)....