This is the way I live.

Have I mentioned that Betty Rascal is full grown now?
And all kinds of sassy?
Don't come near me or I'll cut you.
I guess she takes after her momma. Anyway, it is a wonder that she is still so sweet-natured after the humiliating things we make her do. Examples One, Two, and Three:

What? Mama's Family is on.

You only think I adore you.

Go ahead. Judge me. But dancing pays the bills, and I say, "if you got it, flaunt it."

Before time immemorium...
To all you bloggers out there: Have you ever wondered when you will stop blogging? Or if you ever will? I mean, do you think that you will just continue writing until you kick the bucket, and then 500 years from now, historians will have all these great stories about you from the time you were in your youth to your elder years (In 2007, the mind reader had not been invented yet, so people actually had to type their thoughts on computers!)? I have been thinking about that a lot lately. I have noticed that a lot of people have stopped posting, say for example, after law school, because a particular chapter in their life has ended, and with it, their blog.

I hope that doesn't happen to me. I kind of think it would be fun to one day tell my little grandchildren (yes, I know that means I have to have kids first; a minor detail ) that granny has a blog and they can go read it and learn all about their granny and grandpa when they were young. Even now, I find it entertaining to go back through some old posts and see what I was consumed with (or how much wine I had consumed) at that point in my life.

I'm so dangerous...
Last weekend, I was at the Knight's parents' home, and in the attic, I discovered some old poems that I had written in the throes of my teenage angst. Apparently, I thought they were of great literary value, because they were all stuffed in a manila file entitled "VERRRRRY Important Papers. Do Not Touch. That means you, DANIEL!" (Daniel is my now 22 year old brother.) I'm certain my warning completely dissuaded him from taking a peek.

I meant to bring them back to Memphis with me, but inadvertently left them. As soon as I can get my hands on them, I promise I will post some. They are embarrassingly crass and full of cliches. Every single one is so bitter and jaded, you would have thought I came from some terrible childhood. Also, almost every one had something to do with sex. Sex is something I did not know about firsthand until much, much later, but that didn't stop me from writing about it. Clearly, I was going through puberty. And trying to be some sort of artistic, alternative, emo-ish old soul.

Also, remember that post about me winning the songwriter's contest? Well, I found the newspaper clipping of that in the paper, too. God bless my mother, she really did save everything. I will try to remember to bring that too, and scan it in.

A dash in the past.
Last weekend, one of my best friends from high school and I went back to good old White House, Tennessee. In case you didn't know, football is a religion in White House. Growing up, I thought it was normal for football players to be revered as near-immortals. When the movie Varsity Blues came out, I had to do some significant research to convince myself that my hometown was not the inspiration for the movie. Even our colors are blue and white. In 1997, the football gods smiled down on the Blue Devils and they won the State Championship. I don't think they have been very good since then, but last weekend, we all returned home to celebrate a 10 year reunion of BDP (Blue Devil Pride). While I was a little surprised at myself for agreeing to go, I have to admit that it was good to be back. White House had grown so much, but it was still pretty, lush, and quaint. Whoever is in charge of their zoning had done an excellent job preserving the integrity of the small town while allowing new, big businesses to settle in. We drove by our old houses, our old haunts, old ex-boyfriends' houses, and other places that were permanently cemented in my mind and heart as tokens from my past.

I was surprised to see how little people had changed. Most people looked exactly the same, plus 5 or so pounds. A couple people had a few more wrinkles than most, and one guy who was a real hottie in high school had gone completely gray. What was more fascinating to me was the paths their lives had taken. Almost everyone had children (except for me and my friend) and was/had been married, a few were in jail, one had passed away. One of the wildest partiers was now a youth minister with four kids. Some of the shyest students were now gregarious managers, bartenders, or professors. One girl was a belly-dancer. Another one had totally surprised everyone, and outed herself (I apologize if that is not the PC way to say it). One of my old boyfriends had been married, had a child, and gotten divorced in the 7 years since we dated. Another old friend candidly shared her struggle with leaving her career, being a mommy, and wrestling with postpartem depression. Another friend had married his little brother's ex-girlfriend. Everywhere, people sharing their stories, some genuinely sincere and others still trying to climb the high school ladder - talking to acquaintances until another "more popular" person came by.

I think the thing that was most comforting to me was that almost everyone seemed so comfortable in their skin. Like we had all grown into our potential or our calling to be teachers, professionals, mechanics, mommies, daddies, husbands and wives, and seemed content with it. I'm sure some people were faking it, and others were going through some major turmoil, but it was hard to tell if they were. That night, as my friend and away drove south back to Nashville, I glanced back and for the first time in my life, I thought White House doesn't look better in the rear view mirror. It was a wonderful place to grow up, had equipped me with a good public school education, a couple lifelong friends, and an appreciation for the small town way of life.

Bum plus one?
In other news - I am loving my new car. I cannot even begin to describe to you how nice it is not to worry every time I get in the car that Oh GREAT, This might be it. I might just break down and have to hitch a ride with yet another trucker. Also, I am loving my job. Sure, there are a few teensy drawbacks (i.e., pay isn't as high as a firm job, but then I also don't work 90 hours a week), but my assignments are interesting, my hours are wonderful, and everyone I work with is very friendly.

Recently, I signed up to run another 5K. The Le Bonheur Pumpkin Run is on October 13th, and I am pumped. I haven't been as diligent about running since we moved here, and my butt is starting to anarchy against the rest of my body and declare its independence.

Also, Jess(ica) and I have decided to tentatively dip our toes into Lake Entrepreneur. We are considering making crafty things (indie aprons, tea towels, embellished wifebeaters, and possibly some paintings) and selling them at the local craft fairs here. Apparently, Memphis has tons (Germantown Festival, Cooper Young Festival, Cordova Fest, Pink Palace Arts Fair, etc), and although we don't envision ourselves getting rich (breaking even would be nice), it will be a fun creative outlet and something different than the beloved LAW.

We were inspired when we went to the Cooper Young Festival this weekend. Here are some pictures from the event:

It's how much?!?

Aprons - our inspiration.

I like getting my pups. Pronto.

Art imitating life?


Picture this.
Okay, so, some of you may not be interested in this next part, but I promised friends I would do this. The following are pictures of our apartment. We have been very busy little bees, and I finally have the dang innernet at home, so I now I can upload these pictures.

Betty Rascal welcomes you to our home!

The Knight would like to invite you inside.

Dining Room (I use the term loosely).

Our China Cabinet. Something I get truly excited about? Dishes! Why yes, I would like an afghan. Certainly, you can borrow my arthritis cream. Grandkids? Heavens, no! I am only 26.
Our living room. Betty insisted she be in the picture.
My latest painting. I like to think that it represents a modern vineyard.

The wingback chairs and ottoman were hand-me-downs that we got recovered this summer.

Pocket full of posies! A chair that I refinished, painted, and reupholstered.

Our guest bedroom. The theme for this room is Parisian B&B. The quilt on the bed was made by my great-great-grandmother on my mom's side. Isn't it gorgeous?

Our guest bathroom. Still trying to continue the European theme.

Our bedroom. Mom helped me make the toile throw pillows and the monogrammed one. The monogrammed one was made out of two place mats on clearance from the Williams Sonoma outlet. Aren't we crafty?
More toile and our little chair. This was the Knight's late grandmother, and will look great in our bedroom once we have paint on the walls.

Our bathroom.
Have I ever mentioned how I am in love with the Pottery Barn Outlet. $79 shower curtain for $22!
Shiny, Freckled People! With Bonus 20% More Bushy Eyebrows!
We hope you enjoyed the tour. Please come visit again!



I am not a Seinfeld junkie to the point where I can quote lines or remember the shenanigans from every episode. I do, however, love me some George Costanza. Sure, Jerry is funny, Elaine is quirky and adorable, and Kramer has the best entrance of anyone I know, nevertheless, I love George because I can relate to him. As much as I hate to admit it, I think I have a little Costanza inside me - you know, always blowing things out of proportion, kinda nerdy, a little bit fat, and a tad self-loathing with a splash of giving myself too much credit. (And, really, who doesn't love sex and a sandwich at the same time?)

Anyway, I can't remember what episode it is, but one of my favorite George moments is when George spends the entire episode trying to think up comebacks to some jerk. All of them are bad, his timing is off, and yet he keeps trying so hard. If only George could make his comebacks in in a blog post, he might have saved himself some serious indignities. See, the benefits of blog-comebacking (Blog-backing?) is that you can edit, ponder, and reread your comebacks, and then wow everyone with your intellect.

A few days ago, Ana at Rubyredslipper.blogspot.com posted a hilarious, Carrie-esque post about women "putting out." While she notes in a later blog that she has edited it, even in her first, probably more emotionally written post, it was great. I love Ana's blog, and think you should too.

For a real life lesson in Blog-backing that even George Costanza could benefit from, GO Here.


The end of an era.

I am back! We still haven't set up innernet at our apartment, so I have to sneak away to the coffee shop when I can. I have been working on this post for a couple of weeks, but never had a chance to actually post it. This morning, I got to work a little early, and had time to proofread my post and upload some pictures. Also, I am wearing red heels. Did you know that only whores wear red shoes? Seriously, once during my clinic class we were talking about women, the law, and sexuality, and one law review article quoted a judge stating that, in his opinion, "only whores were red shoes." Funnily enough, I was wearing red heels that day, and I proudly marched around the rest of the day, proclaiming my apparent whoredom.

Okay, as I noted in my last 3 volume sized post, I have been car shopping.

The transmission in my faithful Buick died and the Knight and I decided that rather than fixing it, it was time for me to have a car that I loved.

See, ever since I was 16, I have driven hand-me-downs. Now, I am not ungrateful. And, I realize that many other people would be so glad to have driven the cars that I drove. It's just that I am a tiny bit of a car person. Like many people, I am invigorated by driving fast, turning up the radio, and singing at the top of my lungs. When I was younger, I dreamed about my first car like some girls dreamed about their weddings. But, over the years financial common sense and practicality won over good looks and fast engines, and so I have driven a host of donated cars.

First, when I turned 16 I got a 1990 Chevy Corsica. I think we named it Carrie, but I can't remember. My grandmother gave it to me, and it was a very cute starter car. It was fairly reliable, and great for a new driver to learn on. After I got in an accident and totaled out the Corsica (my freshman year of college), my aunt sold me her purple 1996 Dodge Neon for about $500. My friends and I endearingly referred to that car as the Cupcake because of its size and color, but whatever it had in cuteness it lacked in reliability and safety. The Cupcake let me down too many times to count, and I know I paid for that car many times over its worth in repairs. The Cupcake met her demise on the side of the road in Arkansas in the middle of a 108 degree day (timing belt issues). I safely hitched a ride with a trucker, and though I later got it fixed, Cupcake was never the same.

After the Cupcake, my uncle (who is married to the aunt who sold me the Cupcake) felt so bad about the Neon that he gave me his old 1997 Oldsmobile Cutlass. Although it was an Oldsmobile, I have to say that it was pretty cute one. It had a sunroof, leather seats, and radio controls on the steering wheel. The Oldsmobile was the first car that was somewhat reliable. Unfortunately, the motor for the sunroof quit working during its tenure as my car, but other than that, it was a nice car.

Right before the Knight and I got married, his grandmother passed away, and somehow we were chosen to inherit the infamous Buick LeSabre. The Buick had been driven by a granny and when we received it, it only had 36,000 miles on the odometer. My Oldsmobile had about 150,000, so the Knight and I decided to sell it and I would drive the Buick. They always say that hindsight is 20/20, but looking back I wish I would have pushed more to just sell both the Buick and the Oldsmobile and buy something that I would have loved. But, at the time, the Knight felt funny about selling his granny's car, and we weren't married quite yet, so I just stayed out of it.

I have driven the Buick (better known as the "hooptie") for the past 3 years. It has been an interesting experience and the Hooptie and I share a lot of memories. I was in the Buick the day that I got lodged in a car wash and was stuck inside for a couple of hours (talk about terrifying). I started and ended law school in that car. The Knight and I have taken countless road trips sitting upon its burgundy velour seats. We used to joke that the Buick was a hotel on wheels because of the number of naps taken in there and its plushy old person comfyness. I used to get tickled every time I'd drive the Hooptie on the interstate because I could look in my rear view mirror and see a line of cars behind me - their interiors contained drivers cautiously eyeing my car's appointments, trying to determine if I was indeed a "plain white rapper" (undercover cop car) or just some elderly lady driving to get her hair done. Once each car would figure me out, they would zoom by, relieved to have confirmed that their speeding would not be addressed by me.

The Buick has not been a great car, but it seemed to know that the Knight and I needed it to last just a little while longer. Although we have known for about 2 years that it needed a new transmission, our theory was that we would just drive it 'till it died. We both prayed numerous times "just make it through this road trip" or "just last us until law school is over" and "please don't die until we can afford to fix you."

A few weeks ago, the Knight and I spent a good deal of time driving around different areas of Memphis and northern Mississippi looking at nice places to buy a home. We were talking about what to do with the Buick now that we have paychecks. Should we try to fix it or sell it? Almost on cue, the Hooptie's transmission starts to go haywire and our thoughts jump from future repairs to "Are we going to make it home?"

Since then, I have shopped for a car like it was my job. I have Autotradered, CarFaxed, CarMaxxed, ConsumerReported, Kelley BlueBooked, and NADAed the heck out of some car shopping. Finally, about 3 weeks ago, the Knight and I found an extremely nice, extremely well-taken care of Lexus at a local broker/dealership (CITY AUTO). We were literally about to open our mouths and make an offer when the Knight's dad called to say that one of his good friends was selling his old BMW 330ci. And asking an extremely fair price. As much as we hated to tell the oh-so-patient car salesman that sorry, we are going to have to wait, but we simply cannot buy his car unless we go look at this one first, we told him just that and drove home.

The anticipation killed me the rest of the week. I wanted that car so bad I could taste it. I even made a little Word document of cut and pasted pictures featuring the car's body, color and interior. Whenever I would get restless, I would just open that document and start dreaming about my new car.

Well, that weekend we drove to McMinnville to see the car. It was a beauty. Even though it is 7 years old, it looks brand new. Apparently, the lady who drove it got it detailed every week. Every week? Who does that? Amazing.

Anyway, we totally bought it. And it is beautiful. I have never felt so excited about something. Well, okay, maybe I was a tad more excited when the Knight proposed. And getting Betty was a pretty big deal, too. But this car is right up there.

Anyway, here is a picture. The Knight was cute and found a big red bow in the attic, just like those Lexus Christmas commercials. He is too funny. Goodbye Buick, HELOOO BMW!

Here is the best picture I have of the interior. Please don't mind the drunk girl holding the dog in the background. Someone needs to stop feeding her cosmos, that is FOR SURE!

Anyway, I am in love, and I have named her Audrey, because she is classy, lovely, and dainty.

OKAY, you are probably all thinking, MOVE ON, ARTSY FARTSY! We don't care to read 10 pages about your new used car.

If that is so, then we can't be friends, because quite honestly, that is the most exciting thing going on.

But, I guess I can drum up some other gossip. I have a new haircut. I'm not sure how I feel about it. It is kind of a cross between a mullet and the Rachel cut. I think it has potential, but I just haven't quite figured out how to fix it.

The Knight is turning 29 this weekend. He's been kind of pitiful about it, and I don't know what to do to cheer him up. Any suggestions?

The Knight and I are all done decorating our apartment and moving in. So far, we like our location, and generally our apartment complex. Unfortunately, this Sunday both our kitchen sink drain and our guest bathroom toilet got clogged. Nothing says fun like getting awakened by the Knight at 1 in the a.m. to make a mad run to the Walgreens for a plunger. Also, our neighbor is slightly creepy...actually, he is creepy enough to make me ask the Knight to walk out with me at night when I take Betty outside. I can't put my finger on what it is, but all I know is that he gives me shivers...and not in a good way.

I am really starting to like Memphis. There is tons of stuff always going on, and I have already made new friends. Memphians are FRIENDLY! In fact, I have made two Memphis friends via our blogs. First, Amy at Worrell Wind Life and I had lunch when I first moved here. We haven't done much since then, but we're going to have to change that. Amy, I want to hear all about your new job!

Also, Jess(ica) from Fiat Lux and I have had some serious bonding time. Hi Jess! She may disagree, but I think we are well on our way to being good friends. Plus, her hubby and the Knight get along, so that's always good. She is clerking for a judge here, also, and she has an adorable little Yorkie named Reagan. He and Betty are in love, and so we try to do our best to get them together.

As expected, I have become obsessed with the Pottery Barn and Williams Sonoma outlets. Of course, it isn't all my fault. At least that's what I keep trying to explain to the Knight. Can I help that my Nashville friends keep coming to visit me and they want to go? I have to be hospitable, right? Who am I to deprive my friends from one of the most holy bargain-hunting experiences?

Okay, well, that is all I can think of for now. Hopefully, in the next post I can put some pictures up of the apartment-ay, and the new painting I did. Also, I will try to put some footage of Betty in her Ballerina costume. Priceless.

Also, Daisy is in town for the entire week, so I am a happy little bee. Last night we ate inexplicable amounts of sushi at Blue Fin and promised to not feel guilty about it.

Ya'll have a good Wednesday!

Artsy Fartsy is trying to figure out where in the world she can buy cool and conservative graphic tees for a soon to be 29 year old that aren't sexual, crude, or frat-tastic. Seriously, who wants a t-shirt that reads "Orgasm Donor?"

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