Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Dear Boots,

Me and zebra prints just don't go together.
At all.

-Rach

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Marriage Advice #3

"Wait about five years before you have a baby."

---M.O.S.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

A Few Things......

1. I haven't been to church in 5 weeks now.
2. I got involuntarily cavity searched by a drug dog today.
3. For the preacher's sake, please don't play rap music, especially rap music with cuss words in it, at a funeral.

That is all.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Forgiveness

You know those people that each New Years select a "Word of the Year" that's sort of a one-word goal for the year?
I think "forgiveness" is my Word of the Year.
I didn't pick forgiveness, forgiveness picked me.

I'm hearing lots of stuff on forgiveness.
This morning on my way to school, I was listening to a HomeWord podcast about......ta da! forgiveness!
That's the second one in a week.
I think it's a sign.
I know it's a sign.
So Jim Burns was talking with Gary Chapman, author of The Five Love Languages on "Something Something Something Forgiveness" or something like that.
(I forget the title.)

Apparently, there's five apology languages and Gary Chapman has written a book on that too.
Gary Chapman summarized them as follows:
1. Expressing Regret "I'm sorry."
2. Accepting Responsibility "I was wrong."
3. Restitution "What can I do to make this right?"
4. Repentance "I'm going to try really hard to not do this again."
5. Requesting Forgiveness "Will you forgive me?"

Gary Chapman says we all have an apology language, just like we all have a love language.
My love language is Words of Affirmation and my apology language is Accepting Responsibility.
If you come to me and tell me you were wrong that's a big deal in my book and all will be well.
I'll admit that saying "I was wrong" is one of the hardest phrases to get out but, it works wonders on attitudes.

Gary Chapman also said that you can't forgive someone that doesn't ask for forgiveness and that we humans can't forgive someone that God hasn't forgiven.
Hmm......

But there are people I need to forgive.

There are people who I need to forgive in order to be at peace with myself but they haven't asked for my forgiveness or apologized for wronging me.
What am I supposed to do now?

I realize that these hypothetical people may not know to the extent of how hurt my feelings are and they may not even be aware of said hurt feelings.
It is my responsibility to tell them how I feel first and then the ball is in their court as to whether or not they think they have wronged me.

But what if said person doesn't think they've done anything wrong?
They don't apologize and my feelings are still bruised and banged up.
What am I supposed to do now, I say?

Mr. Gary Chapman, you left that part out.
Was that intentional?
Is this supposed to be some sort of self-discovery journey?

Mr. Chapman I don't have time, I tell you.
I need this and I need it fast.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

I have been stuffing my face with Valentines truffles.
Happiness = Chocolate.
And Boots.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Don't Ask Me Anything & Expect to Get a Straight Answer!

Boots: "Do you like frogs?"

Me: "I had a few that actually lived past the tadpole stage. One time i froze one til he died and then cut him open to look at his insides"

Boots: "Lol"

Me: "Frog skin is really tough. They could make boots out of that."

See why he gets so frustrated text messaging me?

Thought of the Day

"Forgive and remember because it's dangerous to forgive and forget."

-Guy interviewed by Jim Burns on Homeword, I forgot his name

Friday, February 12, 2010

Dear Boots,

When I was seventeen and shopping for my first prom dress, we stopped at David's Bridal (No, I did not get paid to name-drop) to see what they had.
There was a woman there who was trying on wedding dresses and decided on a beautiful poofy gown.
It was black with white flowers jumping down the side of it and a white bar across the top and white inside.
So pretty.
Since that time I've been in love with black wedding dresses.
I'm subscribed to Etsy's daily whatever list and today......oh, just look what they recommended!

Dear Boots,
Please?
Love, Rachel

This is Alabama, Folks, and I'm a Scrooge

It's snowing.
It's snowing in Alabama.
We're apparently participating in "Southern Storm" which I like to call "The Blizzard of 2010."
How stupid, snow in Alabama.
I hate snow.
I am the Grinch.
Look at this nonsense!
My poor car.
My poor, poor car.
Summer's coming soon, right?

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Hello All!


For the ones that don’t know me, I’m Boots, Rachel’s Fiance.  She has talked me into writing here, on our blog.  Please forgive me for any misspelled words, grammar and or any other errors I might have, English was my worst subject in High School.

I am going to enlighten everyone on the true story of how I proposed to the soon to be Mrs. Boots.  Rachel’s story is pretty close, but of course she's not going to tell the Whole Story.

I called her and told her that I was on the way to see her and that I had a few things that I needed to get done before I could head that way.  I was not sure what time I would be up there but that I would try to be there before she got off or shortly after.  (I had no idea I would be looking at rings in just a few hours.)

I finally got everything taken care of and started to head that way and start thinking …..I had to leave town for a few days and knew that I wouldn’t get to see her for awhile and how much I was going to miss her.  I got closer to her big city and decide to call the manager of the jewelry store who I had been talking to for the past 2 months about a ring.

As I am talking to him, I make an offer on a ring that I had picked out weeks ago, I told him that I was 15 minutes away from his store and if he would take X amount for the ring that I would bring cash for it today.  He kind of hesitated and told me that he might be able to work with me to come on in.

I picked it out all by myself; she refused to go look at rings with me.  She said that she wanted me to pick it out and that she would love anything I got because I picked it out.  After about a month I was able to get her to look at pictures and she told me what she like about different ones and, boy, was I taking notes!

I get to the store and I am looking at the one I picked out weeks ago and I tell the manager that I wanted something different, that I did get her too look at a few pictures of rings.  Well, by now Rachel is calling me and I really don't want to answer cause I can't lie too well and plus she would hear the music and people in the mall.

So the manager and I are going back and forth, looking at different rings and still at this point I didn't think I would be purchasing a ring.  The more I looked at the beautiful diamonds the more I thought about my precious, beautiful Rachel.  But I am trying not to let the manager get the best of me and try to sell me something I don't want.  By this time the manager has, no lie, about 8 to 10 rings on his two hands.  I finally made my mind up, I was going to buy one and it would be ready by February 6th.  

The manger kept talking and I looked at his pinky finger and looked at a different the ring on it. The way the light was reflecting off the diamond and it was so sparkly I knew that it was the one.  So once again I changed my mind, I just had that feeling that she would love it.  I got to the cash register and my knees were knocking and I start giggling like a little kid.  I was so excited I just couldn’t wait!

I am at the cash register and Rachel calls me back, so I answer and tell her I had to stop and help work a wreck and that I would be there shortly.  Of course, I tell her a road I shouldn’t been on but HECK! I just bought a RING! I was on the top of the world.

As I am walking out of the mall I have to help a city police with a domestic violence there in the mall.  I finally get out and head to her house and I call her and ask her if her and her roommate wanted to go out to eat.  She was like "Well, we got fish sticks out and about to put them in the stove."  She said, "Well me and her will talk about it and will let you know when you get here."

I started thinking-- she told me a few weeks ago that I couldn’t surprise her with the ring because she would know that I was going to propose to her.  She said, "You’re going to want to go out to eat and you're going to be dressed all nice and be all nervous."  So I scratch that idea.

I arrived at her house and they were putting up their fish stick and I broke the news, knocking her off my track. 
"We can eat fish stick that’s fine with me."

 I could tell she was way too excited about going out to eat, I thought she might be on to me so I had to play it safe.  (But I really wanted to go eat at that place they have such good food.)

I ended up riding with her to the store to do a little grocery shopping with her and I am thinking the whole time, "How am I going to pull this off?"  We get back to her house and it’s killing me.  I can’t think of how to be that sweet guy and surprise her. 

As I am sitting at the table, I look at her dog, Nikki, and start thinking about how much she loves her dog and all and it hits me.  I go out to my car and get the ring and put it in my pocket.

As I am coming back inside she meets me, of course, with Nikki, taking her out to go to the bathroom.  I was like, "Oh well, for that idea."

I am going stir crazy, thinking how am I going to do this.  I make it inside and she comes in, right behind me and tells me that she didn’t have to go yet.

Rachel walks to her roommate’s room and I pick the dog up off the floor my heart is pounding, palms sweating and I am all shaky.  I get the ring on (after a few failed attempts) Nikki's collar and put her back on the floor.  Of course, the dog takes off running back to Rachel needing to go outside.  I am sitting waiting to hear something, but nothing, just nice and calm. 

I look down and there is Nikki with the ring.  Rachel walks back into the living room and bends over and grabs Nikki’s collar.  She brings the ring around and is stunned, speechless, floored, and she tries to ask why there's a ring on her dog's collar but she starts stuttering, "Why--- why is there a ring on here?"  

Her face is red, she is breathing heavily.  She looks like she is about to burst into tears of joy but she holds back.

I kneel down and look up at her and ask her to marry me.  I am still waiting on the answer, but she is proudly wearing the ring.  I have to stand up and hold on to her and she says, "It’s hot in here and I can’t breath. I need to go outside to cool off some, it’s hot!"  

She still refuses to admit that she stuttered and was breathing like a racing horse. But it was priceless I couldn’t see doing it any other way.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

To My Dear Rachel

When I saw you I was afraid to meet you. When I met you I was afraid to kiss you. When I kissed you I was afraid to love you. Now that I love you, I am afraid to lose you.........Author Unknown

Today I am so bored I could almost go back and open my facebook up again.

Monday, February 8, 2010

No, Thanks

Of all the many things in this world that I'm glad I'm not, a school bus driver ranks pretty high up there on the list.
I have so many bad memories of riding the bus.
I fear that if for some reason bus driving was my occupation, I would only acquire more bad memories and probably lose more of my hair, forget the steady paycheck.

I always sat in the back of the bus, with my great-aunt So-and-So who rode the bus because a) she didn't have a drivers license and b) she worked in the school lunchroom so why not catch a ride going in the same direction?
Great-aunt So-and-So got off the bus before I did and this proved to be a problem on several occasions--one in particular stands out.
One day we had a substitute driver.
I was in kindergarten and was pretty short at that age (the growth spurt that made all the boys say I was on steroids didn't happen until sixth grade.)
After Great-aunt So-and-So got off the bus that afternoon I just kinda chilled back in my seat.
Being meek and mostly mild in life isn't an overnight development, you start out that way.
When it came time for my stop the substitute bus driver didn't stop.
I didn't jump up and run for the front exit, I just sat there and watched the world go by out of my little rectangle window until the very end of the route when the substitute bus driver (his name was Joe) finally caught sight of my little short self and said, "Hey!  Where you 'sposed to get off et?"
I don't remember what I said, but he was probably pretty agitated about having to take me back to my house, where he'd already been.
My mama was running up the drive way with the cordless phone in her hand, crying and upset because she didn't know where her baby had been!
Haha!
That was pretty funny.

One time this older scary high school girl flicked a lighter in my face and told me she was going to set my hair on fire.
My mama had a fit about that.
That was pretty scary.

The same girl laughed at my baby doll I took for show-and-tell, saying it was "a yellow baby."
Psshh......
So mean.

Kindergarten was pretty traumatic as far as bus riding goes but it only got worse after that.
Every year somebody would puke.
Gross.
Every year there'd be a massive fight.
Intense.
There was the lady who made us late to school every Monday because the bus would go dead over the weekend.
Why she didn't plan accordingly after this turned into a habit, I don't know.
The bus drivers hated their jobs.
They had to have hated their jobs.
They were always in bad moods and probably closer to the ends of their ropes than any of us realized.
The kids were horrible.
I'd like to think that I was pretty compliant.

The buses were always nasty.
Kids sticking their food wrappers between the seats, spilling their drinks on that black floor.
Trash and crumbs everywhere, mold growing on the seats from sitting shut up during the humid summer months.

When I was in the band I had to carry my trombone back and forth to school, via the school bus of course.
We got assigned seats one year and I got stuck sitting on the hump.
On the inside.
That brass beast rode between my fifteen year old knees and ankles, pressed up against my nose while the little third grader that got on after me was oh, so, comfortable.

I wouldn't wish bus driving on my worst enemy and I hope that my kids are fortunate enough to not have to ride the bus.
It might be a gas-saver but dang, its traumatic.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

If you do anything in life for very long at all, mistakes and accidents are bound to happen.
When flames come knockin' at your oven door......
......it's best to just answer them quickly.
Dear Boots,
Next time you want to send flowers, don't.
Send a fire extinguisher.
Love, Rachel

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Why does everybody take the weekend off when it comes to blogging?
I need something to read people!!

Friday, February 5, 2010

Marriage Advice #2

"It's like taking a bath-- hot when you first get in it."


-R. E. M.

Life Is One Big Comedy Act

Driving 80 miles to school one way is a very long way indeed and it leads to excessive amounts of boredom indeed.
Indeed.
Yesterday morning I saw an eighteen wheeler stopped on side of the road with a haybale up against the nose of the truck.
(I really don't know what you call that, but it looks like a nose.)
And half a mile later there were several murdered scattered and run over haybales all over the highway.
Oh, the carnage.
Approximately 54 miles later, I saw for the first time ever a real LIVE skunk.

I have never seen a LIVE skunk.
I keep typing LIVE because all the skunks (skinks? what's the plural here?) I've ever seen have been dead.
And then, since it was raining, I almost hydroplaned on a huge water puddle which made me remember the crazy dream I had last night.
I took my little beat-up car (Dear Car, I love you.  Rachel) to the shop to get the oil changed.
The little old lady that worked there hopped in my car and started to drive it around the building where the mechanics were.
She came back inside right away, yelling, "We can't fix your car!  Its blowing coal!"
Coal, yes, coal, was blowing out of the air conditioner vents and landing in the lady's lap.
They refused to fix my car or even change the oil, saying that I was going to have to buy a new one because this one was obviously broken.

No legal stimulents this morning.
Some dork dear, sweet friend shattered the coffee pot right when I walked in the door.
No, it wasn't my fault, I heard the distruction before I even rounded the corner.
Chemistry was really boring after Ms. D went over the info we needed to know for our impending scholatic murdering fest test.
It was like a sleeping pill.
My head was bobbing and I kept waiting for Ms. D to yell at me to wake up and pay attention but she never did.
I have no clue what she talked about when she got to atomic numbers and protons and neutrons and such as that.
Soon we got a break and were allowed to vainly attempt to wake ourselves up by methods that didn't include coffee.
The unemployment bus showed up at school shortly afterwards, and we all had to troop over to the exercise building (in the rain) to be subjected to the "getting a job" nonsense, complete with a map we had to fill out with initials from booths we'd visited (stupid) so we could when a doorprize (lame).
Some lady in a very purple shirt tried to take me into the mock interview room but I told her I wasn't having no part in that because I already had a job, a good job that I work 45 hours at.
She really didn't seem satisfied with my insistence, but she decided to just let it go when I told her I really wasn't going to do it when she told me I didn't have to.
Great.
Then she tried to put me in the line that required me to answer a question about whether I had children at home under the age of 18.
I look like I'm twelve years old.
Really, lady?
Children under 18?
When I answered negatory she decided that line wasn't for me either.
Of course.
And then I got stuck in a line listening to a lady talk about a CD and a piece of paper but my ears perked up when she got to the part about templates for resumes and cover letters being included on the CD.
About once a year, I'll have to roam around Google, hunting for templates to make your own resume, at which point I get severely aggravated and curse the Internet people.
I decided that this was the one good thing about the whole unemployment bus parking outside the athletic building and that this magical CD was worth the water half-way up my jeans.
And the candy I got when I filled out the survey about my "experience" at the "job center."
Some dude One of my classmates birthday is today and some other dude his dad brought a King Cake for us to celebrate with eat.
Excellent.
I had never heard of a King Cake before.
Its some Mardi Gras thing apparently, complete with green and gold and purple glitter and a teeny-tiny baby that you have to be very careful not to swallow.
 
King Cake was good.

*NOTICE!!  THESE ARE NOT MY ORIGINAL PHOTOS, I BORROWED THESE FROM GOOGLE.*

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Qdoba

Have you eaten there?
Its the Subway of Mexican food.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Musical Obligations

I have Musical Obligations.
Do you have Musical Obligations?
Like when The Star Spangled Banner or Amazing Grace comes on and you can't change the channel because you know if you do you're super unpatriotic and destined for Hell?
Yeah.
I have Musical Obligations.
And now my Musical Obligations have expanded to include Sweet Home Alabama.
I can't change the channel!!
Help!
Free me from this disease!

Monday, February 1, 2010

I have a terrible case of writer's block.
Nothing interesting (or even uninteresting for that matter) to post!
Except, I watched the remake of Grey Gardens the other night.
Its really weird.
And I don't think I'm really down with the whole idea of having a garter toss at my wedding.
Especially since it's my leg involved.
Let's don't do that, Boots.
'K?