To sleep, perchance to dream. Or just keep waking up.....

Sleep. It's a beautiful thing. And one of my hobbies, I'd like to think.


When I was a newborn, my mom never got any sleep. She likes to tell me that until I was 8 months old, I never slept more than 2 hours at a time. My Dove says it was pay-back because my mom didn't ever let her sleep. I tremble in fear at the idea of my own children. There's going to be hell to pay for me!

When I was in high school, I slept the sleep of the dead. My mom has always been a night owl. She would actually vacuum my room at midnight and I would never even wake up. The scarier part is that I also apparently talk in my sleep. Not just random babbling, but rather answers to questions! I've often wondered what things I've said when I thought I was safely sleeping.....

When I finally bought my own house, I no longer sleep well. Living alone (sorry Lali, you don't count as a roommate) makes your senses much more heightened. Case in point- a few weeks ago, I am soundly asleep, Lali curled up at the foot of the bed. As an aside, I'm sure the bell on her collar adds to my lack of sleep. Anyhoo- I wake up to the sound of something. I wander all over my house, looking in every corner. I am calling out to the possible intruder that I will soundly kick their ass if they mess with me (yes, the alarm was set. And no, it had not gone off to register a break-in. It was 2 am, leave me alone). Turns out something had fallen in my shower. But by that point, I couldn't fall back asleep. Damn suction-cupped razor holder.

Another night, I woke up at 3 am to the sound of shattering glass. Convinced that an intruder had broken a window to get into my house (again, alarm had NOT gone off), I wandered around my house for a few minutes. Then I saw it. The doors to my wet-bar were slightly open. That's odd. They stay closed at all times. I open to doors to discover that one of my glass shelves has fallen, and the casualties were frightening. Wine glasses, gone. Antique tea cups from my Grammy, shattered. I sat on the floor and cried for about 15 minutes. After that, I got to work. Fortunately, my two favorite tea cups had managed to survive the disaster. By the time I finished cleaning up, I just decided to begin my day.

The best was the night that one of my neighbors decided that 2 am was a GREAT time to hammer her walls. You heard me, HAMMER. She lives 3 doors down from me, yet I had no problem waking up to her noises. At first I thought it was contractors on the under-construction house next door. I know, because 2 am is when most contractors work. But no- it was crazy neighbor. I feel like ear-plugs would help me out a lot. But then how would I hear my alarm for work in the mornings?

Bankruptcy attorney, through and through

I've come to the realization that, while I might not be the best bankruptcy attorney on the planet, I have become a bankruptcy attorney. Being surrounded by people who actually understand the frequently confusing world of bankruptcy every day at work is certainly a part of it. Dating a fellow bankruptcy attorney also doesn't hurt. But it hit me last night that I am, in fact, a bankruptcy attorney.

I was over at a friend's house for our annual Christmas get-together. There were 5 of us in attendance. I started telling a work story (namely because it is an amazingly horrible story and was not about any of my clients.) The story (Reader's Digest version) went as follows:

Apparently one day at meeting of creditors, the trustee knew that one debtor was going to lie under oath. The trustee repeatedly reiterated that it was perjury. That debtor lied. The next couple, however, had apparently had the crap scared out of them. When asked about the children he was supporting, he told the trustee he had 4 children. His wife responded that they had 3 children. Turns out that for 10 years of their 13 year marriage, he'd been paying child support for some child the wife didn't even know about.

One of my friends looked at me and said, "Jane, there are about 8 words in there that I have no idea what they meant."

Man, I've been doing this for too long already!

'Tis the season.....

For parties, engagements and the like. Which I love. Christmas seems to be a time for, at least when you overlook the maddening commercialization of the season, love. And that's the part of Christmas I love.



But what I don't love, and what is one of my biggest pet peeves, is children at adult parties. If the invitation says "Mr. and Mrs. Joe Bob" and there is no mention of Little Sally Sue, Billy Bob or family, do not, I repeat, DO NOT bring your child along to the event. This goes double if we are talking about a wedding. It seems that at least one wedding a year, someone brings their infant and the child screams during the entire ceremony. And the parents, for some inexplicable reason, decide that they don't want to miss the ceremony so it won't bother anyone if they just sit in the church with the screaming child. Don't get me wrong, I adore children. But not when I am trying to listen to my friends say their vows. As an aside, please turn off your cell phone before entering the church for a wedding. Because if it's not a child crying, it's a cell phone ringing to disturb a ceremony. Also, when the hosts tell you that their child will not be in attendance, that is a clear sign to you, the parent, that your child is NOT invited. Of course, maybe I say all this without a clear understanding of what it means to be a parent. Perhaps when I am a parent, I will take my child everywhere. But I will say this, my wonderful parentals did not take me to cocktail parties and the like if I was not included on the invitation. After all, you never can tell what type of party you might be subjecting your child to.....



Another thing that annoys me at Christmas time (and throughout the year if I'm being honest. Which I'm trying to be on this blog) is strollers in tight places. Examples- the fair, the mall. I get that you don't want to have to carry your child around. And that strollers are EXCELLENT for carrying your gift buying haul. But as someone who has neither child NOR stroller, I really don't like it when I can't walk around without bumping into a stroller. Or when you decide that your 3 year old should get to push the stroller and they keep pushing it into me. Here's my biggest question, and perhaps it shows the world that I don't have kids, but why do you want to bring your too young to enjoy it child to the fair? And how do you manage to effectively do your shopping when you have a screaming 2 year old? I'm just saying....

I will say this though. At the appropriate time and place, nothing is more fun that a child at Christmas time. This year, Junior League had PJ's with Santa at the Holiday Market. And those kids, in their adorable jammies and with the joy of Santa on their faces, could not have been cuter. And COMPLETELY appropriate!!

Christmas shopping

First- let me put it out there that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It's got cool(ish) weather, great food and family time. Without presents. What? NotSoPlainJane hates presents? I can't believe it. Oh beloved readers, you couldn't be more wrong. I ADORE prezzies. The more the merrier. However, I hate Christmas presents. I am much more of a "I found this, thought of you and want to give it to you now" present-giver. Which means I never have presents to give to people on their birthdays or Christmas. Because I gave the perfect gift yesterday. The thing I truly loathe and detest the most each year is Christmas shopping. The malls, the sales, the traffic. All of it. It's just too much. And all of this is to celebrate the birth of Our Lord. It boggles the brain.

That being said, I am usually pretty johnny-on-the-spot with my Christmas shopping. Last year, I was purchased and wrapped about a month before Christmas. I was a rock star. This year has been an entirely different story. I still have 4 more gifts to purchase. Fortunately, I know what to buy for all but one. It's just a matter of getting it done. Dang it. Where is my personal assistant to get all of this done for me?

So I've made an executive decision. Next year, I am going to give everyone BK bucks. You've seen those commercials, right? Or I'm going to buy everyone a star. Simple. Easy. Ridiculously cheesy. Hey- I'm known to be lazy when the holidays roll around. I decorated. I put Christmas tunes on the iPod. What more do you want from me?!

So I know I've been a little MIA lately......

I realize that all of my adoring fans have been waiting with bated breath for a blog update. I'm going to simply delude myself into thinking there are hundreds of you. It makes me feel better about myself. It's the little things folks. Don't try to tell me that it's not true.

I'd love to say that I have been off doing great things in the time I've not been writing. If it makes YOU feel better, then I've been off saving the world and giving cat toys to homeless pets. No seriously- I've really just been lacking in creative inspiration lately. Is it because I haven't been doing anything fun since my last post? Not really. I've been having a lot of fun lately. I went to visit my "baby" cousin (who just turned 27) up in New York. Other than one day of rain, the weather was perfect. And we had so much fun, even just sitting in her apartment watching "Willow" and "Return to Oz." If you had to IMDB those movies, you are so not cool. They are classic staples. Classic my friends. I'm thinking I definitely need to add them to my DVD collection. Nothing beats Val Kilmer as Madmardigan or a flying chaise lounge Gump. My only complaint- not enough Toto in "Oz."

I've been attending quite a few gatherings/parties. I both love and loathe the holiday season. Parties are fun, until you realize you've got too many to attend. I've been to a turkey fry, where I provided a nice homemade mac and cheese. Yes, I can cook. Quite well. Don't judge until you've tried it. And after you've tried it, you will love me more. I've also attended my god-dog's 5th birthday party. Nothing says happy birthday Pig like cupcakes and champagne. As if I didn't love her enough already, she has good eats at her party!! Sadly, I didn't get to take a doggie cupcake home for my girl. I didn't think she'd enjoy it all too much. Being a cat and all. Next up, the Junior League Holiday Market Preview Party. The band was the Mighty Kicks and I am pretty sure I have NEVER seen that many people on the dance floor. Actually, I am pretty sure I've never been on the dance floor. It was great. The next best part, after seeing everyone all prettied up, was the champagne cocktail. I will do anything for champagne. There, I've said it. And there are multiple Christmas parties on the list for the next few weeks. My social calender fills up quickly people. I'm a very important person!

I ordered (and am about to return) P90X. After getting all of the stuff in the mail, I'm not to sure it's the right thing for me. Perhaps it's back to the Y. With my wack-a-doodle schedule, I can definitely manage to make it in there when there aren't a lot of people around. I hate going to the gym when it's busy. They've also got some pretty interesting sounding classes. That might be just the thing to get me motivated enough to get some exercise in weekly. That and perhaps all of my beloved fans holding me to it.....

What it all boils down to is, I've been a very busy girl (or at least I like to pretend like I am) and a very uncreative girl lately. I'm going to try to do a little better now. I promise.

Flying- apparently it's considered a right

I like to consider myself a pretty polite girl. I say please and thank you, sir and ma'am. I say bless you when people sneeze. I let other drivers out in front of me (sometimes, when they haven't pissed me off). I cover my mouth when I yawn and my nose when I sneeze. It's probably because my mama raised me right. You just do these things. Especially in the South.

The South is such a magical place. The men stand when a lady leaves from, or returns to, the table. The men hold the door open for you. I remember my freshman year at Davidson, a campus FRAUGHT with Southern gentlemen (and also some of those Yankees). One of the girls on my hall was from Connecticut, you know, right outside of The City. Anyway, we were headed to the dining hall one night. Coming towards us was part of the football team. As the first Southern boy held open one door for us, Hallmate headed straight for the other to open it for herself. The rest of the team laughed at him as I walked through the door he still held open. She's a Yankee was all I could offer up as an explanation.

I like to think the South I was raised in is how normal people act. But every time I travel, I realize it is not. People can be the rudest when they are traveling. In the past four months, I've flown on three different trips. Which is definitely way above my average. It astonishes me that people do not recognize proper flight etiquette. For example, if you are sitting next to someone who is not in your traveling party, do not hog the arm rest. There is only one for the both of you to use. Share it. Leaving the plane should not be a free-for-all. I am in just as much of a hurry to get to my next gate as you are. If you are 12 rows behind me, wait your turn. Do not barrel down the aisle like a thoroughbred at Churchill Downs. And please refrain from hitting me in the arm/head/back with your over sized "carry-on." I get that with this new charge to check luggage, people don't want to spend extra if they can avoid it. But seriously folks, a suitcase the size of a 6 year old is NOT carry-on. Also, when you are walking to your next gate, realize that there are other people walking behind you. Keep with the flow folks. Don't just stop, mid-walk, and allow people to bump into you. Because if you are then going to turn around and be mad at me for running into you, we might have words. And believe me, they will not be words you want to hear.

On a plus note, when you somehow luck into a seat all by your lonesome at the very front of the plane. Or have a perfectly pleasant seatmate. Well, airline travel sometimes isn't all that bad.....

Taylor Swift can read my mind

My best friend Dee and I LOVE Taylor Swift. Despite the fact that the girl is like 12 years old, her music speaks to me. I listen to her lyrics and I hear both past and present relationships being discussed. It's quite interesting. And speaks to a level of maturity that a 19 year old perhaps shouldn't have.

But Dee brought up a great point about her song "You Belong with Me." Please take a look at the following example of lyrics from that song.
"But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts. She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers"
"She wears high heels, I wear sneakers. She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers"

Taylor Swift herself wears short skirts and high heels. While she might not have been cheer captain, that's because at 16, she was a multi-platinum award winning country singer. Who the hell needs to be a cheerleader when you are making bazillions of dollars by singing? I'm just saying.

But the funniest observation came from Dee herself. In high school, she was the one who wore short skirts and high heels (still wears the heels). And in high school, I was a cheerleader. And we were the misfits that Taylor claims to be in her song. The Irmo girls hated Dee. And the boys never picked me. Sometimes, the boys, even in high school, pick the outcast girl over the high-heeled cheerleader. Maybe it's because the outcasts put out.

Saturday was my 7th birthday!

Ok- not really. But Saturday, October 24th, was a pretty big day for me. Seven years ago, it fell on a Thursday. Let's look at the time line of that week.

Wednesday, I woke up feeling pretty crappy. I thought I had one of those 24 hour bugs that was going around and that I'd slept wrong because I woke up with a pain on the right side of my back. I called in sick to work and crawled back into bed with my heating pad. That night, I was hosting Bible study at my house. The girls came over, I stayed in bed.

The next morning, Thursday the 24th, I woke up still feeling bad and with back pain. I called in sick to work again. Mom called to check on me later in the day. She asked me to take my temperature, which I did to placate her. In went the thermometer. That didn't seem right. I'll take it again. Huh, 104 degrees. That seems awfully high. I called Mom to let her know and she immediately freaked out. She told me to get dressed so she could take me to the ER. We arrived at the ER (let's not even discuss the fact that I was almost insurance-less because I didn't want to have to pay for Cobra because I wasn't considered a full-time employee yet and therefore didn't have health insurance). I was absolutely freezing cold by that point. Eventually, the nurses took me back into a room. They would only give me one blanket. They took my temperature again. This time, it was 106 degrees. They took my blood pressure. It was so low, I should've been dead. I remember watching the nurses freak out and rush out the door to find a doctor. I remember thinking it will all be fine. I'll be fine. Of course, the next thing I know, I wake up in a room in the IICU. I have tubes in my arms and attached to my chest. But guess what, I woke up.

The next day was Friday, October 25, bar result day. I lay there in my hospital bed all day. At four o'clock, bar results are posted on the Internet. Guess who didn't have access to a computer. And guess who sure as hell wasn't going to wait until Monday to get my results in the mail. Yep- this girl. So I called the Supreme Court.
Hi, lady at the Supreme Court. I was just curious if I could get my bar results from you.

Um, we don't give those out over the phone. You can either check the website or you can wait for your letter to arrive.

Ma'am, those aren't options for me. I am currently lying in a hospital bed in the IICU. I can't check the website and I can't wait until Monday. I nearly died yesterday. I HAVE to know if I am a lawyer.

Fine- I can check for you. Do you remember your bar examination number?

Did I ever?! That crap was emblazoned on my brain for months. I told her my number. In the most annoyed voice I've ever heard, I hear this:

Congratulations. You passed. Click.

Oh my god- I passed the Bar!! I started crying and then I heard the nurses next door calling out their congratulations. They saw my heart rate spike on the monitor and knew I had passed. My nurse came in to celebrate with some bubbly (ie ginger-ale). Later that night, I ended up having chest pains and had to go on oxygen.

Eventually, after stripping some veins and having quite a few CAT scans (cherry flavored barium made me throw up), they finally figured out what was wrong with me. Staph infection in my kidney. As my doctor told me, my kidney would no longer have a career in photographs. It is apparently quite pock-marked and scarred. But I am alive. And I am an attorney.

I love the Fair so!

Guess what starts tomorrow people. That's right- the South Carolina State Fair (it sounds better when it's sung, but you get the idea.) I absolutely LOVE the Fair. It's usually here during my birthday, but we won't talk about how it has disappointed me this year by coming a week later.

The Fair has always been one of my favorite things. Heck, I wrote a poem about it in the 4th grade.

I love the fair so

The ducks are the best and you

Always win a prize

I'm not ee cummings, but it worked. And I do not lie about the ducks- I even pilfered one in college. It has sunglasses. The other good game- the water gun one. Provided it's only you and one other person playing. Preferably the person you went to the Fair with. That way, you are guaranteed to win!

Growing up, the Fair meant lots of things. My birthday, lots of fun and good (and by that I mean unhealthy) food, and getting your sweaters out of the attic because cold weather had arrived. Damn global warming- now the Fair means only fun and food.

I've got friends whose family has turned attending the Fair into an art form. I kid you not. At least one member of the family is out there every day of the week. Whether just for lunch (which is free from 12-2 y'all!) or hanging out at night. You call them to find out where the Bailey's Pronto Pup stand has moved (although their corn dogs haven't been up to par lately), where the granny smith caramel apples are, any specials that might be happening. I'm not kidding- they are the go-to family. Going to the Fair with them is an experience. I've not yet made it with the entire family, but I've been with bits and pieces of them. It is always fun times!

Anyway, this year I'm not sure I'm going to make it to the Fair quite as much as I'd like (if at all). I am hoping to go on Thursday night. But I don't do the Fair in the rain. I will probably be out of town on Friday night. And then I leave for Vegas (again) on Sunday until Wednesday night. Oh well, as long as I make it at least once and can eat at least one bite of each of my favorite foods (corn dog, Fiske fries, elephant ear, caramel granny smith apple, strawberry lemonade, tiny doughnuts, fried something disgusting and fattening- Reese's, Pepsi, etc), I will be a happy girl. I promise. Just one day.

Oh South Carolina State Fair, how I love you!

This place is 'Buck (if only I was as cool as Lil C)

So this morning, I didn't have to be at work until 10 am. Which was nice. Except for the fact that my cleaning lady was arriving at 8:40 am. Please don't judge me for paying someone to clean my house. I hate doing it myself. And I LOVE my cleaning lady. She's been cleaning the parental's house for years and she's just great. But back to my "story."

So the cleaning lady arrived at 8:40 am. I walked out of the door shortly thereafter. But where to go and what to do? Answer- Starbucks in the Vista. Free WiFi (allegedly, if you have a Starbucks card that you've paid for) and a free drink (it's my birth month y'all!). So off I go to the 'Bucks.

I park and immediately run into a friend of mine. We chat while in line. Then she heads out while I set up camp by the door (the only true place to people watch). Across from me is mayoral candidate Steve Benjamin (vote for him y'all- he's a great guy!). As I'm sitting here, in walk a few other attorneys I know. It's like party central up in here!

Long story short, I think I might have a new morning tradition. Assuming I can get my butt up early enough on the mornings I have to be at work at 9 am. Oh- who am I kidding?! I'll be sleeping. But dreaming of people watching at the 'Bucks!

Don't judge- it's a Southern thing

I know it is a very Southern thing to use family names repeatedly when naming children, but there is a slight possibility my family has taken it to a whole new level. Observe the following family tree. Middle names which are of no importance will be left out, so as not to confuse the masses.

Julian Spencer Dixon Jr. (aka Bubba) married Mary Ellen Richardson (aka Dove)
Their three children:
1- Mary Dixon married Eric Ruschky
Child: Jane Spencer Ruschky
2- Julian Spencer Dixon III married Charlotte Smith
Children: Mary Corinne Dixon married Seth Woolwine
Cori's children: Charlotte Barker and baby girl due in December
Julian Spencer Dixon IV married Joy Wray
Spence's child: Julian Spencer Dixon V
3- Jane Dixon married Spencer Player (yep, she married a Spencer)
Child: Mary Ellen Richardson Player

So basically, on any given holiday, you can stand in my grandmother's house and call out any combination of the following to get everyone to respond- Mary, Ellen, Jane or Spencer. There are lots of nicknames and lots of Big/Littles going on. And to be honest, I wouldn't have it any other way. Let's face it, I'm planning on naming my future daughter Spencer. I'm all for continuing the insanity. One generation at a time.....

Pet peeve #1, part B

Okay, so I know I've already blogged about how much I hate other drivers. But every time I drive on I-26, I hate other drivers even more.



Over the last 9 months, I've spent a lot of time driving on I-26. I've gone to Charleston, Greenville, and, most recently, Spartanburg. Pretty much once a week for the past 9 months. And I swear to you, drivers on that particular highway are the worst. Maybe not on the planet (because I haven't driven on EVERY highway). But they might very well be some of the worst in the state.



Every time I get on I-26, I get stuck behind people driving under the speed limit. I know that I am a pretty speedy driver. I usually go about 15 over the speed limit. But seriously, if you aren't going to at least drive the speed limit, please get out of the fast lane. And if you are an 18-wheeler, do not, I repeat, DO NOT drive in the fast lane. That is for passing purposes only. Okay, passing and fast driving. If you aren't doing either, get the heck out of my way. No seriously, I will give you dirty looks once I can pass you.


And while we are at it, please actually get into the intersection if you are going to make a left-hand turn. Nothing pisses me off more than missing a light because the person in front of me refuses to edge their way out into the intersection so they can make it through the light. That has been happening to me a lot lately and I end up not happy, waiting for the next light. Which inevitably is a LONG wait. I'm not sure why.


In conclusion, if you see me coming, just get out of the way. It's my roadway. I bought it all when I got a car!

Clients- every attorney's dream?

I was a prosecutor with the county for quite a few years. I started working at the Solicitor's Office during my senior year of college and just never seemed to leave. In fact, I never saw myself leaving. I wondered why in the world people would want to go out into the private sector. Who would have thought I'd end up there myself?! And doing something that is SO 180 degrees different than criminal prosecution?!


One thing I always wondered about was why people complained about their clients. My thought was really, they can't be THAT difficult. Oh, young and innocent Jane. They CAN be. What gets me the most is that some clients can be so unappreciative. Yes, I understand that you are paying me to represent you. But seriously, I'm a lawyer, not a magician. If you mess up, there are times I can't fix it. Unfortunately, the law actually ties my hands sometimes. And when the statutes tell me I can't do something and there's case law to back it up, sorry client, you are out of luck. Currently, I'm the one trying to help you out. And while we are at it, don't take out your frustration on the paralegals either. You might not believe it, but they too are trying to help you out. Along with our HUNDREDS of other clients. But seriously- when you do stupid crap, you are only hurting yourself. Of course, to some degree, this feeling applied to my cases at the Solicitor's Office that involved victims. I mean, when you allow a person you don't know to "spend the night" at your house, don't get mad at me when they steal your sterling silver!!


I could write page after page on my crazy clients (or my former crazy victims). But I'll refrain. I have been hung up on, cussing at and yelled at. To the point that I've wanted to cry. But sometimes, every once in a while, I get to help someone who truly appreciates me and our office. Having a client cry tears of relief or give you a hug because you are helping them save their home is a feeling you just can't put into words. And I have to say, that makes up for all the other crap.

Historical, hysterical, whatever.....

In eighth grade, my South Carolina history teacher was Mrs. Sabo. Mrs. Sabo was awesome. The woman had done it all. She was offered multiple camels in exchange for her hand in marriage in Egypt. She went on a date to a rodeo with Elvis about 2 weeks before he became famous. She said he was a boring date. She was quite a little bit nutty as well, but in such a fun way. Any of you Hammond kids know what I'm talking about!

Back to the point of the story- she offered an extra credit option for us over Christmas break. That extra credit option was to find historical markers. If we found 20, we got some sort of extra credit. She informed us that there was a book out there that listed all of the historical markers in the state. She also informed us that we were not allowed to simply purchase the book and write them down. We had to go find them. The parentals and I, being the nerds that we are, took this as a challenge. The book was purchased. I was never allowed to look at what the markers said. Mom used the book simply to find where the markers were located. You have NO IDEA how many there are in this state. To this day, Mom has the book in her car and if we pass one we've never seen before, we mark it down. Yep- nerds to the core.

Anyway, we travel a lot to see family during the holidays. So side trips were made to find any and all historical markers in the area. My favorite was when we were near Orangeburg. The book told us the general vicinity, but we couldn't find the darn thing to save our lives. There was someone walking down the road where this alleged historical marker was located. We asked said person where the marker might be found. Said person responded, "You looking for that hysterical marker? It's just down the road. That hysterical marker's been there for years." Yep- hysterical marker. We still call it that.

By the end of Christmas break, I was ready to turn in my extra credit option. I didn't have 20 markers listed. I had over 100. I got so damn much extra credit, I think I aced every test for the rest of the year. Without even having to try! Ah- the joys of private school!

Old age is a bitch!

With my birthday coming up in less than a month, I have come to the recent conclusion that I am simply getting old. Or at least, my body is.



I tore ligaments in my ankle my senior year of high school. It was brutal. Right in the middle of a cheer during a football game. And it put me in a cast for about a month. Thereby ruining homecoming week for me. Three years ago, I sprained it by stepping off the curb wrong. No, I wasn't drunk. And no, I wasn't in heels. I was wearing flip flops and going to lunch! A year later, I resprained it running through the Charlotte airport. Again, no, I wasn't drunk or wearing heels. I was in my Danskos. I tend to NOT injury myself in my super high heels.... Anyway, I frequently find my poor ankle has a dull ache going on. Like when the weather changes. I know. Sad.



A few years ago, I started having knee problems. Diagnosis- chondromalacia. Feel free to look that crap up. Irony- it is called runner's knee. Which I don't do. At all. I did physical therapy on it. Still, my knee hurts quite frequently. Again, usually when the weather changes. It's also the reason I don't work out so much anymore. That's what got my knee hurting in the first place. And there's nothing sexy about having to wear a knee brace AND an ankle brace just so you can get some exercise in.



But here's the kicker. Last week, I woke up with back spasms. Today I woke up feeling achy. My immediate answer to these problems? Grab my heating pad and slap it on the ache. Yep- I own a heating pad. Actually, I own two. That's just because I thought I'd lost the first one so I bought a new (and even better) one. It works like a dream. But I'm just hoping that the next thing I start grabbing isn't a hot water bottle. Or some sort of chest rub. Or one of my 50 cats. When that happens, people I beg of you, take me out of my misery!

These are a few of my favorite things...

So this weekend, I was in Myrtle Beach for a work conference. Huge hotel rooms all to myself ALWAYS make me happy. We went out Friday night (of course we did- I was with work people! We love to go out). However, as an aforementioned blog stated, I am off the sauce. So I was out til 1:30 am and I was sober! It meant I didn't get a lot of sleep, so decided to bail on classes Saturday afternoon and get a nap in. Upon awakening I realized naps might be one of my favorite things in the world. Which made me start thinking about some of my other favorite things in the world.



Champagne (even though I'm off the sauce)



Brie (baked, melted, a nice chunk of it, pretty much any way it's offered)



Big glass showers in hotel rooms



Fireplaces



The smell of beach breezes



Dove's spaghetti



The smell of Mom's bread (even though I don't really like to eat it)



My best friend from high school's perfume (Tea Rose)



Brand new books



Chai tea from Starbucks



My blanket from Laura Ashley



Stargazer lilies



Chocolate



The smell of babies



Cherry Coke



Kissing



The clothing that goes along with cold weather



My Louis Vuitton



TiVo



My family



Reality TV (especially if it involves singing, dancing or modeling)


Dark hair and blue eyes


Gossip magazines


I have a feeling Julie Andrews/Maria von Trapp wouldn't be all that thrilled with some of the items on my list. But they do make me happy!

Get thee to a nunnery!

For those of you who knew me in high school, you will probably remember that I was pretty much boyfriendless for darn near my entire high school career. For those of you who knew me post-high school, you might be a little shocked by that revelation. However, I had a plan back then. And I'm going to share it with y'all now (and invite anyone to join!).

I'm going to start a non-denominational convent. We will, just like nuns, be the Brides of Christ. However, we can go out on dates with boys. We just can't ever marry them. Our "habits" will not be ugly black dresses with wimples. Instead, something sexy. Like jeans and halter tops. Or sundresses. Or the above modelled ensemble. We won't have names like Sister Mary Katherine. But instead, names like Sister Good Time or Sister Sexy Pants. We will all get donations and buy a really cool house somewhere like the Hamptons or Miami or the Caribbean. Where we can have our "nunnery" in peace and quiet. Or craziness. Whichever.

Feel free to submit an application to join my convent. Basically name, photo and agreement that you don't plan on marrying as long as you are in the convent. After all, Father Cutee left the priesthood to get married. I won't judge if you leave my convent. Mock you incessantly, but never judge! Please don't get offended by this post- I am in no way trying to be sacrilegious. Not at all!

Breaking up is hard to do......

Dear Alcohol-

I think the time has come for us to end our tumultuous relationship. We've been together a long time. We've had some good times. We've had some bad times. We've had some times I don't remember (although thank goodness, not too many of those). You've helped me through tough times in my life. And you've made some good times even better (or worse, it depends...)

Anyway, I've been noticing that lately, you've really been giving me a headache. At first, I thought it was just that I'm not 21 anymore and can't recover as well. Then I decided to test you out. I had half a beer last night. And woke up with a headache this morning. Damn you, Alcohol. You've done me wrong again.

So for now, we're going to have to take a little break from each other. Maybe, at some point in the future, we can try again to make our relationship work. I'm not saying that I never see us spending time together ever again. But for now, all good things must come to an end. And this time, it's not me. It's you.

Love, Jane

M-I-C- see ya real soon!

I've frequently been compared to a teen aged girl. It has nothing to do with my youthful looks and everything to do with my music/TV/movie choices. I'll spend an afternoon watching the Disney Channel and think nothing of it. Of course, it does give me something to talk to My Favorite Person in the World about. She's a HUGE Disney fan. Definitely makes me a cool cousin. I have no problem singing along to Hannah Montana or High School Musical. Or discussing why I actually prefer Selena Gomez to Miley Cyrus.

I remember when Disney Channel was a station you had to pay extra for. Would the parentals spring for it for their angel? Nope. I know you people think I'm spoiled because I am an only child. But I was denied things. I was! But every year Disney would do a few free weekends. And I lived for those weekends! MMC, Avonlea, Kids Incorporated. I loved it all. And still have old episodes on tape. Yep- I said tape. As in video.

The funny thing is that sitting here watching Disney, I wonder about the appeal of the Jonas Brothers, Hannah Montana, those Sprouse twins. Then I remember what I used to love as a kid. New Kids (although they are STILL hot), the MMC guys, Tiffany. And I'm sure there were women in their 30's who wondered what I saw in the popular acts of the 80's and 90's. After all, it's not every act that I wonder about. Just that stupid Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus!

The hills are alive....

Last night and today, I've been happily ensconced on my sofa, watching "The Sound of Music." Arguably one of the best movies ever! I sing along, I laugh, I cry.

Sadly, my nerdiness takes over every time I watch a movie and I end up IMDB'ing the heck out of it. Did you know that Christopher Plummer hated filming this movie and called it "The Sound of Mucus"? Or that Liesel (who was 22 at the time) sprained her ankle during "Sixteen Going on Seventeen" and had to perform the whole scene with her ankle wrapped up? Or that the kids grew so much during the filming that they had to put them in lifts so that their height didn't change? Or that the real Maria von Trapp has a cameo in the film? Or that the von Trapp kids were mad at how their father was portrayed in the film because apparently he wasn't so stern and officer-like in real life? I know- I'm a dork. And I love knowing all of this trivia!

And nothing beats Julie Andrews. I hate that she had to have surgery on her throat, resulting in the loss of her beautiful voice. She's still one of my favorites.

But what gets me every time is that Maria, who thought she was going to be a nun, ends up married to a widower with 7 children. There is no way I could have done that! I mean, I love kids. But really- after wanting to be a nun?! Although I've never been a nanny, so maybe you fall in love with the dad when you fall in love with the kids....

Football season has begun....

I remember when I used to ADORE football season. Simply because it was football season. Now, I just like it because it means that fall is upon us and fall is my favorite season.

Growing up, I was a Clemson fan. Down to my "I'm behind the Clemson Tigers" bloomies and my cheerleading uniform. We didn't go to a lot of home games, but we always watched and we always cheered big.

Once I started school, football was a big deal at Hammond. That was what Friday night was all about. And once I hit high school, I never missed a game. That might have had a little more to do with the fact that I was a cheerleader and therefore required to attend. But that's neither here nor there.

First up for college football was Davidson, basically high school football at the collegiate level. No tailgating, no ESPN. You showed up on a Saturday afternoon, watched a little football, and then walked the 10 yards back to your dorm. Of course, sophomore year I never missed a game. Again, that might have had a lot to do with that pesky cheerleading. Yeah- I was a collegiate cheerleader. Bring it on!

Then came the transfer to USC and the realization that football in the South truly is a phenomenon unto itself. The planning that went into the tailgating. Who was going to pick everyone up so that cars could be left on National Guard Armory Road to save spots the night before? Answer- me. In the Explorer. With coolers. And 12 people. I'm not kidding. What to wear. What to fix for tailgating. This was a new experience for me and I embraced it with open arms. My blood ranneth garnet!

Law school was a whole different experience. They always say you can never go back. And they weren't lying. I figured I'd either keep tailgating with my college friends or find a new group of friends for tailgating. Neither happened. Too many law school friends couldn't have given two craps about USC football (or any college football for that matter). And the college friends had moved on to new tailgating adventures. So slowly, I went to less and less games. Still tried to hit a few each year, but not every one.

Then I graduated. And all of a sudden, I didn't have free tickets waiting for me each season. My parents tried to explain, in vain, that none of my tickets had ever truly been free. My opinion was that if I didn't have to shell out my money, it was free to me! But now that it came down to spending my hard earned money on season tickets or new shoes, shoes were going to win out every time.

The further removed I have become from being an active football attendee, the more blase I become about college football in general. I'll watch USC if they are on TV. I'll watch Clemson if they are on TV. While my family still likes to call me each year and pick on me when Clemson beats Carolina (don't hate- you all know it's true), I care less and less each year. Slowly, I am becoming Switzerland. And I think I like it that way.

I'm feeling very ShopTarty!!

Today was a very ShopTart-esque day for me. The only thing missing are going to be the accompanying photos!

I started by having lunch with my friend Nancy. The one whose wedding I was in just a few short weeks ago. Nancy and her husband live in Myrtle Beach. I know, there are actually people who LIVE in Myrtle Beach. And they are cool people! We hit up a place neither of us had ever tried before, Bistro 217. It came recommended and I'd seen the menu, so I figured why not try it out. Why not indeed! It was delish! One of the specials was a beef bourguignon, something Julia Childs is known for. I found that quite odd as I had JUST finished reading Julie and Julia (where it is mentioned numerous times) and read an article about the fact that Julia Childs' cookbook is currently at the top of the best seller list (where it is mentioned again). Anyway, Nancy and I both had the chicken sandwich special. Grilled chicken topped with portobello mushrooms and melted Brie. In case you didn't know, I am a sucker for Brie (or a whore for Brie as I told Nancy at lunch). It came with a very nice salad and sweet potato fries. Heaven, I'm in heaven. For dessert, we split the white chocolate bread pudding. On second thought, maybe I should have just gotten that for lunch! It was all very tasty and very "ladies who lunch." I will definitely be a repeat customer. Anyway, next thing we know, we've been there for nearly two hours and someone needs to get back to work. That someone was not me!

Nancy headed back to work and I hopped back in the Solora, top down, to make the 2 minute drive back to Litchfield. Solora, I've missed you. I stop at Peddlers' Porch (or whatever the name of that shoe store is) to grab some shoes for my little grandmother, Dove. She's got the world's narrowest foot and very few places sell shoes that fit her. Not only did Peddlers have some, but they were in the middle of a 75% off sale. So of course, I had to nose around for myself. At first glance, I see nothing of interest. A LOT of VanEli old lady shoes, but nothing that screams Jane- buy me! Wear me! Love me!! Then imagine my delight when I spot the Pucci wedges, the Marc Jacobs gold lame wedges, the Lily Pulitzer gold evening sandals. Sadly, none of them fit me. So while my wallet thanked me (after the brutal thrashing it got outleting (still a word people)), my heart was sad. No new shoes. But a darn good lunch! So anyone in the area, ignore Peddlers Porch but head straight to Bistro 217. As Julia would say, Bon Appetit!!

Coincidence? Or foreshadowing?

So last night Pops and I went to dinner Island Cafe and Deli. It's no Frank's, but our family likes it. The food is good and the nearby ducks like to join you for dinner. So anyway, Pops and I are sitting there, just eating away, and 2 people walk up. The man is slightly older (I'd say in his late 60's) and the woman is quite a bit younger. Pops says Second wife or daughter? I quickly respond Has to be second wife. Even though she was definitely younger, she was too well dressed. You could tell she still cared what he thought about how she looked. Then it hit me. Dear lord- people are thinking the same thing about me and Pops! Ew- gross. And sadly, story of my life.

I moved out of my apartment right before starting law school. I left my two roommates there and they found a girl to take my room. So moving day meant that I was moving out as she was moving in. A little confusing perhaps, but whatever works. At one point, she and I ended up on the elevator together. I had just met her that day, so we didn't really have a lot to talk about. Her first comment to me was It's so sweet that your boyfriend is helping you move today. I really appreciate mine for helping me. Did I mention that I didn't have a boyfriend at the time? I didn't. Oops- my bad. Who was helping me move you might ask. That'd be Pops. Yep- this little 21 year old girl thought that my little 21 year old self was dating a 51 year old man. That either says something about me or about me. Gross gross and gross. And perhaps the underlying reason why I subconsciously go for younger men.....

Working at the car-wash

Today I went outleting (yes, that's a word). I love to outlet shop. I can do some SERIOUS damage in 2 hours. I'm not even going to tell you what kind of damage I did today. Suffice it to say, I've got some great stuff for work this fall!

Anyway, I was driving back to Litchfield. Pops had asked me to get the car a bath on the way back (after our muddin' experience). So I spotted a car-wash off to the right. It was no Constan, but anything in a pinch. So I paid my $6 and drove into the machine. As I pulled out I realized that Mom's antenna with Minnie Mouse on it had been pulled off. I had to run back through the car-wash and get Minnie. Yep- you read that correctly. I RAN through the car-wash. And damned if the car-wash hadn't actually broken Minnie. I killed Minnie! And got two baths for the price of one!

Ridin along in my automobile. My dad beside me at the wheel.

This year's family vacation is missing a big part. That would be the whole family. Pops and I headed on down to Litchfield WITHOUT Mom! Why? Because the parentals' cat is still with us. Not that I'm complaining. She really is the sweetest cat on the planet. But even the vet tech is confused that she is still trotting around the house like her toxin levels aren't enough to kill a person, let alone a 5.5 pound cat! She's a survivor, that one. Should have known it when we found her. But anyway, Mom just couldn't leave her alone yet.

So Pops and I hop in the Highlander to make the trek to the coast. To be honest, I wasn't all that excited about alone time with Pops. Probably having something to do with the fact that the last time we had alone time, it got kind of heated. Because what he says/does/believes is a little different that what I say/do/believe. So I try to keep him in the dark as much as possible. All you only child who are girls, you know what I'm talking about. It's beyond him to try to understand the difference. And it's beyond me to try to explain it....

But back to the southern trek. We aren't alone in the Highlander. With us- the Garmin.

He has a few names. Jack (if he's American), Lee (Australian), or my favorite Daniel (the Brit). We of course know the way to the beach, but decide it will be fun to let Daniel direct us and then "re-call-cu-late" (as he calls it). Mom is from Lake City, so she likes to brag that she knows all these back roads. Back roads that Daniel sent us down. The best part though is that Danny seems to know about roads I didn't even know existed! We were driving down 378 when Pops realized we'd be coming into Litchfield from the north. Does it really matter? Why yes it does. Glad you asked. Pops wanted to stop at some golf course that was south of Pawleys. Daniel- a little help here. Why sure- just turn left on Miles Road. And from there, put on your muddin' gear because we didn't drive on a paved road for the next 6 miles!! Awesome! And of course, Danny was right. We ended up on Indiantown Road (or as one street sign said Idiantown), exactly where we wanted to be.

As for the drive, well, books can distract me so well that I can pretty much ignore anyone. Even when the book was about a group of housewives who became phone sex operators in order to get rid of some debts. Oops- bad choice with Pops sitting within spitting distance!

Memories- all alone in the moonlight....

Recently, I've been doing a lot of looking back. Rehashing old memories. Both good ones and bad ones. I think it's because of the parentals' cat. When the cat you found 16 years ago is dying of kidney failure, it tends to make you look back. I remember finding Toe (she's polydactyl, meaning she has an extra toe that makes her little front paws look like mittens). She and her twin sister were found by me and my BBSHS (that'd be best friend since high school). They were the cutest freaking things ever. Her sister died a few years ago. Toe has missed her ever since. And now the vet has said, what with the tumors and the kidney failure, it's just a matter of time.

So then I started looking through old photo albums. You know, from back when people took pictures with something called film? High school. College. Law school. I started looking at them all. Then I found them. Videotapes. Yep- those old school things from before DVDs. But after Beta. The first one I watched was from the summer of 1998. The summer before my senior year of college. 4 college friends/fellow Young Life leaders and I worked at Windy Gap for a month on summer staff. For those of you who have never been to or heard of Windy Gap, it is in the mountains of North Carolina. And despite the fact that I haven't been there in YEARS, it might still be one of my most favorite places on the planet.

One of the guys on summer staff was the videographer. So one month of my life is captured on a 15 minute videotape. While a lot of my memories didn't make it to the video (I guess Jud didn't feel like following only me around for a month would be all that exciting), it's still kind of fun to see all those people who were so important to me that summer. And wonder how they are. What they are doing. If they ever pull out that video and smile.

The other video wasn't even remotely professional. It was from the summer of 2000. The summer after my first year of law school. And all we did was mess around. It's just us and our guy friends, talking and laughing and eating and being silly. I looked at my 22 year old self and sometimes wish I could go back. Back to when everything was so much simpler. I look at the girl I was then and really do wish I could live my life all over again. If given the choice, would you live any part of your life over again? And would you live it the same way? While I can honestly say that I might say some things a little differently, I honestly don't think I would DO anything differently. Every mistake, misstep and achievement I've had have led me to the woman I am today. While not everyone might like the woman I am, guess what. YOU don't have to. I do. And I do.

Life, love and passings

I don't plan on using this blog to post about my policital views. But suffice it to say, I am a Republican. Kind of a liberal one, but a Republican nonetheless. Either party viewpoint you have though, it was still sad to hear about Ted Kennedy losing his battle with brain cancer. It seems like there have been a lot of "celebrity" deaths lately. Farrah, MJ, Billy Mays, Ed McMahon. I know people die every day. Looking at the paper can tell you that much. But I don't know most of those people. Not that I knew any of those celebrities either. But I felt like I did. At least their public personas.

It's never easy to face the death of a loved one. It's something that I think about and worry about all the time because of my dad. Until my third year of law school, I was one of the few 24 year olds I knew who still had all 4 grands still alive. March of my third year, my mom's dad passed away. He was only in the hospital for a few weeks. I remember going to visit him the weekend before he died. I remember him telling me that he loved me. But most of all, I remember the AMAZING man he was. Generous to a fault, never knew an enemy, Bubba could talk to a brick wall and get its life story! Then, two months later, right during the middle of Bridge the Crap, my dad's mom died. She, on the other hand, had gone into advanced stages of dementia about a year prior to passing away. She didn't remember any of us by that point. But I do remember the last visit I had with her, when she still knew me. The nurse asked if Grammy knew who I was. She told the nurse I was her sweet, sweet girl. Something she'd always called me. I couldn't ever go to see her again. It was just too hard, which I know was very selfish of me. But I remember her for the spitfire she was. Opinionated, brilliant, she was definitely a woman to whom I would be proud to be compared. Two Marchs later, my dad's dad passed away. Too put it bluntly, he died of a broken heart. Once my grandmother passed away, Grampa just didn't have the heart to go on without her. She was the love of his life, the 10 years older than him woman who stole his heart over 50 years earlier. Grampa was my most romantic of the grands. He wrote his wife's name with a heart over the I, so in love was he. So within two short years, I went to the funerals of 3 grands. And each one was difficult.

Thinking about each of my grands who has passed away, I like to think there is a little piece of each of them that can be found in me. While I might not talk to a brick wall, I will talk to darn near anyone and definitely share a lot. Just like Bubba. I am BEYOND opinionated. And love a compliment. Just like Grammy. And I am completely the romantic that Grampa was. I wonder how much of them in me is genetics and how much is watching and admiring them.

It's been interesting to see how each grand dealt with the loss of their spouse. Dove, although she misses her husband of over 50 years dearly, is still keeping herself busy 7 years later. Grampa just couldn't do it. I've always thought that men really couldn't make it without women, especially when that woman is/was the love of their life. If they are young enough, they will remarry. They have to. Women can somehow keep going. Does that mean women really do need men like fish need bicycles? And that men need us more than even they want to admit?

Law, order and suits

I don't know if it's because I am a lawyer, but I've very picky on what lawyer shows I will watch on TV. I don't mind cop shows- I really like Cold Case, The Mentalist, and Psych. I can handle Law & Order, but only the original. That might be more for sentimental reasons though. My dad and I used to watch it a lot. And I used to date a cop, so someone once commented that we were our own episode of L&O! Which was kind of funny to me. I'm a very big fan of pro-prosecution shows though. I'm sure that has NOTHING to do with being a prosecutor for over 5 years. Or having a dad who was a prosecutor for 30 years. NOTHING at all! Oddly enough though, I kind of dig on Raising the Bar, which is not really a pro-prosecution show. But my all-time favorite lawyer show was Ally McBeal. I know, not even remotely realistic. But great all the same.

But one thing is a common thread for me. I do NOT approve of female lawyers wearing pants suits in trial. And that is something that holds true in real life. I'm very much a believer that women are just as smart and just as good as men at darn near everything. I don't think it should be a rule that women have to wear skirt suits in trial (although there was a judge who used to hold women in contempt if they didn't wear skirts in his courtroom). But for some reason, it just feels right to be in a skirt for trial. I feel more powerful in it. I feel more ladylike in it. Does that seem like the two don't mix? But I do feel it appeals to the jurors and the judge. Despite the fact that I'm not in trial anymore, I do appear in federal court, in front of a federal judge, at least twice a month. And I still wear skirt suits in "big court." Never for meetings of creditors though. Sorry trustees- y'all don't get the benefit of seeing my legs!

Did you know that men who kiss their wives every morning also live longer?

So I was reading MSN today, as I usually do each day. And one of the articles was about love being unhealthy and toxic. Being the avid reader I am, I clicked on it. How surprising to immediately start reading about our esteemed Gov and his estranged wife. The focus of the article was about how affairs can be bad for your health, but that love can actually do wonders for you. Here's what a Men's Health article had to say about why love (and marriage) is good. So all you wives (and husbands) pay attention!

1. Married men earn more money than single men. I wonder if that's the same for women? Somehow, I feel like a single woman could earn more, just by being single....

2. Married people (esp men) get promoted faster than singles.

3. You are 4 times as likely to be a victim of a violent crime if you are single. I have a feeling those stats might vary depending on the crime and your marital status however.

4. Married men have more sex. The article doesn't say that all that sex is with their wives though....

5. Never-married and divorced men have a higher mortality rate than married men, at least as far as cancer goes. So yay for my dad! He's gonna be fine.

6. Over an 8 year period, UCLA found that single people, even in good health, were 88% more likely to die. Now, they don't really specify the age of these singletons. I'd be curious if they were talking about oldies or youngins.

Other studies have shown that if a man gets divorced and doesn't remarry, there’s a 40% chance he’ll die before age 65. If he never gets a divorce, there's only a 10% chance he'll die before 65. Another showed that ending a marriage can increase a man's risk of dying of cardiovascular disease by as much as 40%.

Either way, all of this is pretty scary stuff. But simultaneously fascinating. Who would have thought that marriage really is good for you?! At least, good for your health. So all you long-time lovers out there- here's to your health!!

If I was a celebrity, it's adios reality.....

For those of you who don't know me all that well, I am OBSESSED with celebrity gossip. I've been called a walking People magazine before. I don't lie. It's kind of sad, I know. But people know who to call when they want to know who Cameron Diaz is dating or the names of Brangelina's kids. I know these things. It's Keanu Reeves. And Maddox, Pax, Zahara, Shiloh, Vivian and Knox. That's by age, not appearance into the family. Yep- I know these things.

Because I'm obsessed with celebs, I'm also moderately obsessed with celeb kids. I think that Suri Cruise looks too much like Katie Holmes and Chris Klein for her to be Tom's baby. That coupled with the fact that Tom and Nicole had to adopt because allegedly Tom couldn't get her pregnant. I find it astonishing that celebs don't seem to control their kids. I wonder why they name their kids horrid names like Apple, Suri, Pilot Inspektor (that'd be Jason Lee for those of you who didn't know that one).

But what I find so sad is when two pretty celebs have unfortunate looking children. Case in point- Rumor Willis. Demi Moore- one of the prettiest women around. She looks great and always has. Bruce Willis- kind of sexy, in a baldheaded way. Not everyone might agree with me, but I find him attractive. Yet poor Rumor is ouch.... Not good. And she's not the only one. Wouldn't you hate it if your parents were gorgeous and you looked like a troll? I know I would.

Music makes the people come together

Pretty much all I listen to in my car is my iPod. Yes, my car is fancy enough to have XM/Sirius Radio. And no, it's currently not being sprung for in my car payment (despite the fact that I'd really appreciate the navigation....) But I don't make those decisions and that's a whole other issue!

Anyway, I absolutely LOVE to sing while I drive. Pretty much anything will keep me happy, and my iPod reflects that. I've got everything- from rap, to country, to showtunes. I've been known to dance while I sing and drive as well. Don't worry- at least one hand (or knee) is always on the wheel!!

I keep my iPod on one of two things. Either I'm playing my list of current favorites songs (which is about 100 or so) or I have it on shuffle. Shuffle is my favorite thing to do because, let's face it, with well over 6000 songs, I've forgotten half of what I have on there. So it's frequently quite a surprise to hear random songs on the iPod. I mean, REALLY random stuff. Especially thanks to Starbucks free iTunes downloads. Those songs are wicked strange. Yes- I just said wicked. Like I'm from Boston. Don't worry- it's happened before. I blame my Yankee daddy (even though he doesn't say crap like that). Or my love for New Kids and their Bostonian accents.

But one thing I've noticed that I never noticed before. My iPod has a hella lot of songs about love, heartbreak and the like. Seriously. Do people write songs about anything else? I mean, OTHER than country musicians (who write about little else)? Just wondering. Thank goodness for rap artists. They aren't really down with love songs. Booty songs, yes. And those are always a good time (at least for a listen!)

Jane's Secret.....

As a bankruptcy attorney, I spend all day, ever day, talking about debts and creditors. What's really funny is that I don't personally have a lot of debts OR creditors. Maybe it's because the parentals raised me that if you can't pay for it immediately, you can't really pay for it. Or because I was simply blessed not to have to incur mountains of student loans. Either way, I am debt-free. Except where Victoria's Secret is concerned. That's Jane's Secret. I'm a VS-aholic!! I have a platinum card from them. Yep- you heard right. PLATINUM! That means I have the biggest line of credit they will extend and I rack it up all the time!

I know what most of you are probably thinking. How much lingerie does one single gal need? The answer- not as much as you think I'm buying! The majority of my bathing suits come from VS. Half of my work clothes come from VS. When in doubt about something I'm wearing, it's either Target or VS. I'm not kidding. However, I have been known to indulge in the occasional lingerie purchase. A few years ago, I read a story about a woman whose good friend had died. This woman went over to the friend's house to help the husband go through her belongings and found quite a few beautiful things. China, lingerie, dresses. All of it being saved for "something special." So I started thinking, why should I wait for some special reason? What if that special reason never happens? So I occasionally buy myself summin purdy to wear and feel quite special curled up in my bed with my cat. She thinks I'm beautiful, no matter what!

Bruise is defined as the extravasation of blood in the tissues as a result of blunt force impact to the body.

I have always bruised easily. Like a ripe peach one might say (if one is a little weird and creepy). Unfortunately, while I bruise easily, I don't bruise immediately. Which means that I'll run into something, comment that's going to leave a mark, and then wonder where the heck that bruise came from when it appears 2 days later. And for someone who's pretty coordinated, I run into stuff A LOT!




I had a friend in college who also ran into stuff a lot. Usually, we might not be complete sober while doing the running into, but either way, it happened. She and her high school friends called this phenomenon of running into stuff and only days later having a bruise UPBs. Unidentified Party Bruises. To this day, I still use that terminology, even if I didn't get the bruise at a party (or while intoxicated)!




Anyway, most of my bruises go away within a few days/a week. I've had this one behind my knee that just has me baffled. I think I got it in Vegas. Which was over a month ago. Right after the Vegas trip, the thing was actually black. Now, it's just a slight off-color. But it really has me confused. I swear, I wish someone lived in my house, because I could SOO say I was being abused. My legs currently look like they've gone 9 rounds with Tyson. Okay, maybe not Tyson. After all, they are bruises, not bite-marks!

Love and marriage, love and marriage

My friend Nancy got married this weekend. She was my law clerk back when I worked at the Solicitor's Office. I remember when she came back to work one Christmas break and told me she'd been dating a guy. And that guy was Louis, the man she just married this weekend!! Nancy asked me to be a reader at the wedding. I was thrilled to say yes. It meant I got to be involved with everything, but wear whatever dress I wanted!!!

The weekend began on Thursday with the Sip and See at Nancy's parents house. For those of you who don't know what a Sip and See is, it's where guests get to come "sip" some sort of tasty beverage and "see" all the gifts the happy couple has received thus far. The theme of the evening was CHAMPAGNE. Oh yeah- and looking at all of Nancy and Louis' great gifts. I had to ask if we got favors for coming to the event. If so, I kind of liked her Mottahedeh plates... Then we helped the maid of honor make Nancy's bouquet. Really, we just put bows in our hair and talked.

Next up was the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner on Friday. At the rehearsal dinner, the groom's parents went all out with the Clemson theme. There were Tiger Rags on each chair, embroidered with Nancy and Louis' names and wedding date. There were orange flowers everywhere. And the best part- the Clemson tiger showed up. He apparently knows how to dress for events, because he was wearing his best tuxedo. T shirt.

Everything about the evening was great. There was a super slide show about the couple. The toasts were great. All in all, a great rehearsal. Oh- did I mention the food? SOOOO tasty! B-b-que (with all 3 sauces), mac and cheese, grits, Moon-pie banana puddin. Delish!

Saturday was the busy day. First up, the bridesmaid luncheon at her aunt's house. I've decided that I would like Nancy's uncle to be my personal caterer. He made the most amazing chicken salad with lemon zest in it. Don't even think it sounds weird, people. It was one of the tastiest chicken salads I have ever eaten. And I LOVE me some chicken salad!!

I arrived at the church around 4:40ish. Just enough time to hang with the 'maids and Nancy while everyone was getting ready and enjoying mimosas. Yum. I read Genesis. About how God created woman out of man because man shouldn't be alone. Man needed a helper and woman was created for him. So that they could cling to each other and be one flesh. I know- I didn't read the LOVE passage. I really preferred the one I read. That Old Testament is good stuff. Next thing we knew, the couple were kissing and hello Mr. and Mrs. Cote!!

The reception was SOOO much fun. The band was the Men of Distinction. They are way too much fun. The fathers got up to perform a little Blues Brothers. The maids were the Supremes. The groomsmen- the Temptations. The bride was Tina Turner. And Louis got a 'fro to perform as James Brown! Everyone was dancing and singing all night long. The only snafu of the evening occurred when the horn players were laying on the dance floor performing and some woman decided that falling on top of the sax player would be a good idea. If only he hadn't just had neck surgery, it might not have been quite so bad...... But the food was delicious. And there was a complete open bar, which meant more champagne for Jane!! One of the best parts for me was signing the guest book. Because both Nancy and Louis went to Clemson for undergrad, their guest book was a book about Clemson. I was able to sign on the page about the old Tin Cans (Johnstone Dorm for those of you not in the know). That's where my uncle lived long ago when he attended Clemson, so I thought that was kind of cool that no one else signed that page before I got there. The couple left to us blowing bubbles at them (Bubbles, bubbles, my bubbles!). And the fun weekend was over. All in all, the groom looked handsome, the bride looked BEAUTIFUL, the 'maids dresses were great, and a fun time was had by all!

Congrats to the new Cotes! I'm so happy for y'all!!

Dream a little dream of me

I have always had some of the world's strangest dreams. So strange, in fact, that my college roomie gave me a Dreamer's Dictionary and notebook to write them down and figure them out. I think I freaked her out when I told her that I'd had a dream that a friend of hers named Harvey came to visit us and ended up falling asleep on the foot of my bed. Why did that freak her out? Because her family used to have a dog named Harvey who slept on the foot of the bed. And she'd never told me about this dog!

Another time, I dreamt that I was a cartoon bunny rabbit in a musical. Yep- you read that correctly. And I'm not talking some Bugs Bunny type cartoon. I mean Dreamworks quality. We sang, we danced. We stole carrots from the evil King of the Hares. Don't ask. I have no idea where this comes from.

Then there was the dream about Richard Simmons. I was helping him lead a Sweatin' to the Oldies class. Complete with thong leotard, bike shorts, and those stupid thick socks with my Reebok hightops.

Or the time I dreamt there was a tiger loose in my grandmother's house in Lake City. Somehow, we got it trapped in one of the upstairs rooms and had to climb through ceiling tiles to get out of the room. My grandmother's house is like 100 years- there ARE no ceiling tiles in her house!

This morning, I awakened from another doozie. I was in the woods, with an ex. And we were being chased by a man with a gun who was trying to kill us. I don't know what we'd done, but clearly, it was something bad. Anyway, we are running and he's chasing and the next thing I know, I'm now alone in the woods. I keep running and eventually end up in a small town. I find some police officers who I hope will help me. One of them is a former co-worker from the Solicitor's Office. She left about 3 or 4 years ago. I'm trying to get help, but I can't talk because I'm so severely dehydrated. Finally, they realize what's wrong and get me some water from the Taco Bell. As I'm basically pouring water down my throat, I wake up. And I've been thirsty all morning. Wonder what kind of thirst I'm REALLY trying to quench?!

Size 4 you say? Inconceivable!!

This morning, I was flipping through my closet for a black skirt. I've got about 6 of them, so I always have options. I grabbed one that hasn't fit in YEARS. It's a great skirt- Banana Republic, fishtail skirt, size 4. I think to myself what harm can it do to try the thing on? Imagine my complete shock when it actually fits! And is a little big on me! I haven't been a size 4 in years! Happy day, happy day! But it got me thinking about my past ventures in weight loss.


A few years ago, I joined Weight Watchers. I'm sure every single one of you who reads my blog just went "Are you nuts?! You? Weight Watchers?" Let me explain. I'd just gotten out of a very bad relationship and gained about 10 pounds before the break-up because it was just way too much drama. Long distance, didn't see each other for 6 months because he was cheating on me, yadda yadda. Anyway, I noticed that none of my clothes were fitting anymore and that made me not happy. I spend WAY too much on clothes to not be able to wear them. So off to WW I went. I didn't really go for the meetings. I'm not big on the "rah rah you can do it" aspect of weight loss. I went for the info and the weekly weigh-in. Dun dun dun.



Week one: I explain to the WW guru that I'm only there to lose about 10 pounds. Because I've realized that I don't want to wake up one day and need to lose 100. She applauds my realization that any little bit of weight that makes me unhappy is weight I need to lose. The other women give me evil glares. I get all of my info about how many points I can eat each day and then hop on the scale. This can't possibly be right. I've never weighed this much in my life! 10 pounds my butt- I need to lose 15! And so began my quite successful foray into WW. I learned all sorts of tricks for snacking throughout the day. I still would have a drink if I felt the urge. I was working out. And once I hit my goal weight, peace out WW!!



I've realized that I have always been a fan of trying (or thinking about trying) the fad diet. I tried that stupid Lemonade Diet/Cleanse that Beyonce did. I made it 2 days and promptly threw up from the cayenne pepper concoction I had to drink on a daily basis. I'll read a book about a diet and think I could do that. But I don't. The only part of dieting I actually like is being able to fit into clothes I haven't worn in years. The best diet I've ever been on though is the one that happens naturally. You know, when your appetite just fades away. I know I'm not the only one here. We've all had it happen. For whatever reason. So that size 4 skirt fitting PERFECTLY might be a silly reason to be happy, but it is what it is. Sometimes it's the little things.

"Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak." William Congreve

I've always been musical. I would never actually call myself a musician by ANY stretch of the imagination. But I grew up dancing, playing the piano and singing constantly. Much to my chagrin, I was NOT voted Most Talented for my Senior Superlative. Still a little put out about that, but that's a whole other issue. As is my bitterness about not being voted Miss Hammond my senior year. Or co-captain of the cheerleading squad my senior year. Or the fact that they decided to do away with someone singing at graduation my senior year. Dang- I used to think senior year was pretty good. Looking back, my senior year sucked!

But back to music. I spent all 4 years of high school taking voice lessons at Columbia College. I sang show tunes, I sang hymns, I sang Italian arias. And I loved every minute of it. I knew I didn't have the voice to make a career out of it. I harbored no delusions of grandeur. But I knew that I could sing. And I did so every chance I got. Still do. I sing in the shower, I sing in the car, I sing with my mom, I sing Hannah Montana with my little cousin. Heck, I make sure to sing happy birthday to my friends, making up new songs for them as I go. One of my best friends and I have ALWAYS sung with (and sometimes at) each other.

But music goes deeper than that for me. I've always wished that I could also (to steal a line from the fabulous Mr. Manilow) write the songs that make the whole world sing. I've always dabbled in poetry. Writing when the mood strikes. But to be able to set it to music as well would be amazing. Because almost every day I find a song that truly speaks to me in that moment. I've got nearly 7000 songs on my iPod. Some of them are from my own CDs, some are free downloads from Starbucks, some are songs I've simply heard a verse of and decided I must own. But it's amazing what can be found when you are nosing around your own musical tastes. Lately, I've had one particular song on repeat. It's a song by a girl named Lucy Woodward. And it just makes me feel like I'm not the only one who feels like I feel. That right there is why I would love to write music. Because somewhere out there, there's a person who feels exactly the same way I do at exactly this moment. And I'd love to be there for them.

Mask- it's not just a Cher movie you know....

This morning, I was getting ready and watching Full House. Please, don't judge. I love me some Uncle Jesse!! Anyway, a commercial came on for the movie "A Cinderella Story." And it made me start thinking about the baffling concept of masks in movies/TV shows. Why is it that a simple mask over the eyes or glasses all of a sudden makes you unrecognizable to people who have known you for years?! Like Superman/Clark Kent. Seriously, Lois Lane didn't recognize him?! Even I have a hard time suspending my disbelief for that.

But of course, it made me think even deeper about what it was truly saying. Do we all wear masks? I think so. We definitely don't like to show everyone our true selves. We don't like for people to see our weaknesses, what defines us. But what else really defines the masks we wear? Is it when we tell people what they want to hear, even though it's not really the truth? Is it when we don't allow someone in, even though they are desperate to share our lives? Do we put on a mask only when we feel like the other person has one? Sometimes the masks we wear are good and sometimes they aren't. And amazingly, even if we're wearing a bad mask, people can't see it. Guess it just goes to show that we see what we want to see.

If you can't say something nice, come sit next to me.....

You know how Mama always said to be careful what you say about people, because SOMEONE could be listening? Or your old boss always said to be careful, because THEY are out to get you? Oh, that second one was just me. My bad.

Anyway, I've always wondered who SOMEONE and THEY are. And last night, I discovered that SOMEONE and THEY are people you already know. I was grabbing dinner and drinks with a friend, a fellow female attorney. We got to talking about work. And I mentioned one of the local judges, who has a reputation for being, well, difficult. Not everyone likes him (although darn near everyone respects him). I, on the other hand, think he is fabulous!!! Some of my most memorable experiences in the courtroom were in front of him. Not to mention he sentenced a guy to a whooping 18 years in my 2nd ever trial!! But I digress. Anyway, I ask my friend if she's ever appeared in front of him and how much I like him. About an hour later, we have made a location switch to another bar. I notice a girl I know who had been sitting at the table next to us at location number 1. She comes up to say hi and, color me floored, she is this judge's NIECE!! I'd have been mortified if she'd heard me say something horrible about him. Thank goodness I really do like and respect the man (and his funny sense of humor).

So lesson learned, Mom and former boss. Lesson learned. If you can't say something nice, say nothing. And they really are out to get you!

Pet peeve #1

I've got a lot of pet peeves. A lot of them. And I'm just going to go ahead and put my biggest one out there. I hate other drivers. There we go- I've said it. Why do I hate other drivers? Because they aren't me! I'm more than happy to acknowledge that I am not the world's best driver. But dang it- everyone else is SO much worse. Case in point. Today, I swing by the parentals' house to check on their animals. The cat's doing well and is happy to see me. The fish couldn't care less. They aren't even interested in the food. Stupid fish. I leave and head off to work. One end of the parentals' street is a swampy area. I am behind a small SUV which, without any warning whatsoever, slows to a crawl and pulls off the side of the road. Would it kill you to give me a little heads up? It would. Oh, okay. My bad. The very next street, some other driver does the exact same thing. Turns into a driveway with no turn signal. Did you know that cars now come standard with turn signals? You didn't? Okay- I'm letting you know. Feel free to use it regularly in the future. Then, driving down Millwood, there's almost a wreck in front of me because someone just up and decides to pull out into traffic. I nearly get decked by an ambulance because the cars in front of me won't move. I swear, our highways would be a safer place if I were the only one driving. Of course, I'm not sure how the rest of you would get around. But that's not really my problem, is it?!

"Love" stories?!

I love to tell stories about my life. I especially love to tell stories about my bad dating life. And every time I tell a story, people laugh hysterically and say "You should write that down." I also get a lot of "Holy crap- that really happens?!" Which made me start thinking. Now that I have a blog, I DO have a place to write down all these stories. So let's start with some of my favorites.


I'd been seeing a guy for a few months. It was long distance- like 8 hours long distance. But we were trying to make it work. We didn't see each other a lot, but we sure did burn up the phone lines. Anyway, things were starting to get a little off because neither one of us wanted to move. Kind of hard to continue a relationship when it's going nowhere. Literally. So I had already made plans to go up to visit him one weekend. Mid-week, I shoot him a text about weekend plans so I'll know what to pack. Hello- I'm a girl. I'm a "like to plan ahead and be prepared for every option with the appropriate outfit" girl. Next thing I know, I receive the following text. "I don't think you should come up this weekend. I don't have feeling 4 u." To be forever stated as "I don't have feelings number 4 letter u" by me. Yep- I just one-upped Carrie Bradshaw. Screw the Post-It. I got dumped via text speak!! He couldn't even spell it out or do it in a phone call!! Oddly enough, we remained friends (sometimes it's just better that way).


Another doozy is Fish Boy. About 5 years ago, I got set up with some guy. I don't even remember his name, but that's not really an important part of the story anyway. I don't really know much about him, so I decide I am NOT going to let him know where I live. Instead, we meet out for drinks one night at Gracie's (I miss that place!!) We have a great time. At the end of the night, he doesn't walk me to my car. Strange. But he's a West Coast boy. Clearly his mama didn't raise him right. We had such a fun time though, that I agreed to a second date. We again met out, this time at Mangia! Mangia! (I miss that place too!!) Again, a fun time was had by all. We actually shut down the restaurant. We walk outside, have the obligatory hug, and then he walks off to his car, leaving me to walk to the back of the restaurant alone. Not cool. I'm going down an alley. I could be raped. I could be killed. Stupid West Coast boy. But for some reason, I decided to give him another chance. This time, it was a movie and sushi. Because the movie theatre was conveniently located about 1/2 a mile from my house, I relented and let him pick me up. We head to Inakaya for sushi. We have fun. We laugh at people's inability to use chopsticks. I eat eel. We head back to my house and sit in his car, just talking. As I notice him leaning towards me, I think well, this IS date #3. I guess a kiss is in order. Next thing I know, he leans back from the kiss and this comes out of his mouth- Hmmmm- you taste like fish. Yep. Our first kiss and after feeding me sushi, he tells me I taste like fish. I immediately blacked out. I have no recollection of getting out of the car or into the house. And suffice it to say, I never heard from Fish Boy again.


There have been so many others. Break-ups while out of town for a wedding. The time I went to a hockey game for a date and came back out to discover that my date's car had been broken into. Luckily, I hadn't left anything in the car, so didn't affect me! The time I went to law school prom and came back out to discover that my date's car had been broken into. Luckily, my overnight bag in the back wasn't spotted, so didn't affect me! The Valentine's spent at Bubba and Buck's (a country line dancing bar, for those of you who didn't know Columbia back in the day). I'm sure there are countless others. And looking back, they still make me laugh!

Quotes

I've always been a sucker for a great quote. I think it stems back to my freshman year of college. We used to post quotes up and down the hallway. Admittedly, the majority of them were quotes that we had said. But they were great nonetheless. My all-time favorites being "Boys are dumb" and "Don't be a wet-head." Man- I loved my freshman hallmates! Fun (and funnier) girls couldn't be found! Even others from college added fabulous quotes to my list. "What do you mean, why do I drink? I'm part Viking. All the Vikings did was drink, rape and pillage. At least I'm not raping and pillaging." (Thanks Matt!)

As I've grown older, I've found myself drawn to quotes with a little more substance. Quotes from famous people. Quotes from novels. Quotes from movies. Things like:

"Being successful in life is not what really matters. Being significant in life is the core root of what matters."

"Love does not consist of gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction." Antoine de Saint-Exupery

"A friend is one soul, existing in two bodies." Socrates

"If someone says something bad about you, live so noone believes it."

"Regrets are mistakes that you don't learn from."

"When Christ said your faith could move mountains, He didn't mean it was as simple as saying 'presto-chango!' He meant that faith that moves mountains always carries a pick." S. Rickly Christian

"I'm from the South. Flirting is part of my heritage." Blanche Devereux (ok, maybe that's not of too much substance, but Blanche speaks the truth!)

And my new favorite "Love is as love does."

Really makes you think about things. It's like that Extreme song- "More Than Words." When people say they love you, is it just words to them? Or do they truly SHOW you how they feel? I feel like people throw the word "love" around too easily. You hurt my feelings. I didn't mean to- I LOVE you. You are so much fun! You too- I LOVE hanging out with you! I LOVE pizza. I LOVE watching TV. I LOVE YOU. So just an observation, don't say it if you don't truly mean it. Because pizza's feelings are going to be hurt when you decide you don't love it anymore or that you've decided you actually love sushi!

Ants in my pants (well, not literally)

About 9 hours ago, I realized my cat (Lali) was milling around outside the kitchen, as though to tell me she was hungry. You know how kids have a potty dance to let you know they need to go? Well, my Lali-bug sometimes does the hungry prowl. Or so I thought. Off I go to the kitchen. I serve her food on a tray underneath a little table in my kitchen. The tray is currently not there, but that's a part of the story.

Anyway, I glance at her tray and see that there is quite a bit of food on it.

Odd. She usually only prowls when I forget to feed her on time. (I swear- I am a good mommy!!)

Then I notice something strange going on in my kitchen. There is a steady stream of ants going right under the cabinets and towards Lali's food tray! Not just towards it- they are on the freaking food!! My kitchen is just inside my front door, so I immediately looked in the foyer to see from where this stream of horrific-ness stemmed. Nope- they hadn't come from outside. Rather, the root of the problem was the inner door jam of my kitchen door. Next thing I know, I'm emptying out the tray of food, swatting at ants that have now made it to my countertop and closing the doors to the kitchen. Yeah, that's going to keep the ants in there alright. As I'm not big with the bugs, my first call is to the parentals. Who are conveniently in Chicago at the moment.

Mom- there are carpenter ants in my kitchen! (My immediate assumption because they were hanging out in my wooden door) Help! What do I do?

Well, are they big?

No.

Then they aren't carpenter ants. You probably need to get some sort of spray to kill them.

But where Mom? From some place like Wal-Mart? (I'm not kidding people. There's a reason why God created men and moms).

So off I go to Wal-Mart. In my undershirt and unwashed hair. Oddly enough, I got some glances. And I don't mean confused ones. Wal-Mart is a frightening place. I grab some ant killer and it's back to kick some ant butt. The spray down starts. Not an ant survives. Rivers of little dead ant bodies are running along my floor. Victory is mine!!

The downside is that I've moved the cat's food, I've still got the doors to the kitchen closed (again, like that's going to keep them in there), and I'm thoroughly convinced that ants are currently crawling all over my body. And Lali, bless her heart, is hiding out in the guest room!