Oh SNAP!

 If you've ever driven through a small, southern town on a Sunday afternoon, you've probably noticed a porch full of people- families gathered together after church.  Grandchildren are running around, parents are sipping sweet tea, and the youngest is always perched on the lap of the oldest in attendance.  The south is notorious for Sunday gatherings, though I'm sure they're not the only ones.



My grandmother, southern and modest, having her leg shown
after my Papa pulled up her skirt.

In our family, Sundays were always spent at my grandparents' home, either swimming in their pool during the spring and summer months or fighting for the corner spot on the couch in front of the fireplace the rest of the year.  There was always sweet tea, brownies, and chocolate candy despite the fact my grandfather is diabetic.  It was the comfort of being with family, the ease in which we came and went, and the release of stress that occurred when you walked in the door that I cherished most.  The memories are etched in my mind I just wish I had some to hold.


My grandfather, not really a fan of cameras, is hardly in any of the pictures I do have.  Now that I am 2,000+ miles from home and my grandmother has passed, I wish I had more.  Which brings me to the reason I'm writing today:  take pictures.



Like my grandfather, I also hated being in pictures (though I was always about snapping them).  I never like my outfits, hair... basically, I never liked the way I looked.  And so, I always found a reason to leave the room when a camera was around or turn my head right as a picture was being snapped.  That is, until I realized that life is not forever. 

Some time after my grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's (which you can read about here), I realized how important these family relics were.  I made my plea as we gathered for holidays and my grandpa, finally understanding, smiled for at least a few.  By the time we were married, my grandmother barely knew who I was.  I never got a picture of us together with her in my wedding gown (something I will regret forever), but rushed home after our honeymoon to take one in their yard.  Her hair was ruffled, her makeup missing, and her clothes mismatched.  She would've died if she knew what she had looked like-  to me it is one of my most cherished pictures.  She is real and that picture gives me a look in to what I hope will one day be our future-  standing with our grandchildren after they're married. 



With my grandparents celebrating our first week of marriage. 

So now, I beg you, take pictures.  Lots of them. And then... BE IN THEM!  You may not like the way you look, the awkward face you've made, or the lack of perfect hair and make-up.  But, the person taking it loves you the way you are.  And one day, they will be all that's left.  Have them taken by friends, family, and finally- professionally!  One day, you will be happy you did!

 



A Mom Knows Best

I have always given. It normally wasn't much, but it was something. It started when I was young. The picture in my mind is as clear as a photograph.

"Hand me my wallet", my mom said softly as we approached a stop sign off an exit somewhere in Pennsylvania. We had just visited my grandparents and we were making the six hour trip back home. We were tired, we were cranky, and we were hungry. No one really made a move for mom's purse. Again she asked, but this time with a little more demand in her voice. My dad argued and in the end he finally said no. (What my sister and I didn't know was that they weren't arguing over who was going to pay for dinner.)

We approached the stop sign and my mom whipped around, grabbed her purse, and proceeded to grab a handful of cash. She rolled her window down and she handed it to the man with the sign.

I studied the guy; average height and weight, scruffy beard, tired brown eyes. He wore a hat that at some point was probably white and a grey t-shirt. He blessed my mom and we were off.

As we pulled away my parents continued their argument. It was the argument that as I got older I also faced within myself. Can you trust that he's really homeless? Is he going to use the money for good or evil? Why should I help him, what has he done to help himself?

My mom's answer was simple: You don't know. As we ate our McDonald's, mom explained that you don't know how people will use what you give them but you pray that it is for good.

My mom has continued with just that. She is always helping others and donates when she can. She reminds us that it wasn't too long ago when we were also at a point in our lives where we had to reach out and ask for help. And people, not knowing us, gave. Now that we're older and have been blessed with more than enough, she believes in giving as much as she can. And, I do too.

We are our parents, the good and the bad. Luckily, I think I took away far more good from my parents then the bad. So, when people stop to thank me for what I do, I need to also stop and thank my parents. You taught me well. Everything I do is because of you. Thank you!

Dress for Success

 

 

In southern California, anything goes- especially with clothing.  Growing up below the Mason-Dixon line where pearls with polos were always in style and ripped jeans were left for lounging in the home or helping on the farm, I've found myself gawking at nearly every woman that passes me in the grocery store.  These grown, (and I'd like to think educated), women are prancing around in skirts that wouldn't fit most ten year-olds while falling out of their too tiny tops and wobbling on heels that should only be worn in the bedroom or at your local strip joint.  But, that's not all...  they wear these things to work.  Forever 21?  C'mon, who are you kidding with all those wrinkles?!

Now, I'm far from fashionable in my simple jeans, button ups, and pearls and so I understand I don't have much room to talk.  However, I remain true to southern form and keep modestly covered.  I realize that my wardrobe could use a little help and so could three quarters of those lovely locals still wearing their clothes from elementary school which is why I was thrilled when one of our town's best dressed began blogging about southern fashion with a twist.  Written for those that want to add a bit of trend and personal touch to their professional wardrobe, she covers topics from interview attire to the corporate Christmas party.  My personal favorite are her posts on casual Fridays - as we all know in SoCal that's every day.  And she does it with style!

 

So ladies of southern California, I urge beg you to take a moment, browse her posts, and trade the trash for class.  And please... you do NOT need Uggs when it's 60 degrees and you're wearing shorts and a tank top. 

Our First Friendsgiving: A Beautiful Mess

Most of my Thanksgivings have been spent hovering over my dad’s shoulder, “sampling” a bit of everything as it came out of the oven.  (Un)traditionally, he’d prepare seafood in our coastal Carolina vacation home, my mother and sister would watch football, and I’d create whimsical floral centerpieces.  Having celebrated a more traditional Thanksgiving the weekend before with extended family, we’d all welcome the change in scenery, warmer temperatures, and alternative menu.  In our home, this was our tradition and one we looked forward to each year. 

But, times have changed as they always do.  With us in our first holiday season as a married couple and living more than 2,000 miles from where we grew up, we decided to start our own traditions.  Though my husband and I enjoy our time together, the thought of Thanksgiving with just us two, seemed less than ideal, especially since I do not eat leftovers.   As friends began making plans, we decided to offer our home as the backdrop to what would be our first annual Friendsgiving. 

As our friends gathered during the course of the day, I occasionally found myself stepping back and absorbing the laughter that filled our home, the friendly rivalry being exchanged, and the smells of our sides blending together.  After filling our bellies with food inspired by our childhoods and washing it down with wine and whiskey, we crowded on our couches and watched “A Christmas Vacation”.  Some dozed off, others gravitated to the table for a second snack or to begin wrapping up what was left in boxes for later.  With the ending of the movie, came an end to the evening.  While standing in our kitchen, putting the last of the food away, I smiled.  Our first Friendsgiving was a success by the beautiful mess we’d have to clean in the morning.  And in the south, a happy home is one filled with family and at least this family we got to choose.