A Selfish Decision

Late Sunday night, one of my favorite people and her boyfriend lost a family member to a drunk driver who got behind the wheel and hit another car. A selfish drunk driver that will forever be a part of their life now. And a selfish drunk driver who took away the life of a 26 year old.

When you drink and drive, you invoke your right to make poor decision, but you also take away everyone else's rights that are on that road with you. You're suddenly calling the shots for everyone else and that is just not fair. Why is it so hard to call a cab? Call a friend? Call your parents, even if you are an adult? Is your pride and convenience worth someone else's life?

This selfish driver has taken away a fiancé, a young father with a baby, a son, a brother, and a friend. No convictions, no sentences, no amount of remorse or regret will bring him back. One poor decision has cost an entire family. My heart is broken for my friends that loved him dearly. I hate that there is nothing you can say in times like this that can take away an ounce of pain. All we can do is help them carry the pain in some small way and lift them up in prayer when every other action seems trivial in light of such loss and such pain.

So today I pray for Steve's family. I pray for peace when I'm sure it feels so very far away. I pray for strength when this loss seems crushing. I pray that our Lord holds them up when they cannot take another step. I pray that his legacy will live on in his 10 month old son. And I pray that their memories of their brother, son, father and fiancé, bring them a sliver of sunshine in a very dark time.

And for my friend who is also suffering from this loss while trying to be a source of support and strength for her boyfriend as he faces what no one should have to face, I pray that the Lord gives her comforting words to share when they're needed. I pray for the wisdom for her to know when silence and just being there is more precious than trying to find those words. I pray for her heart as she witnesses one of their first, devastating losses together and learns how he needs to be comforted. And finally I pray that the Lord will support her in the moments when she doesn't need to be a support system for those around her. I pray that she has the space she, herself, needs to grieve, and that those of us who can help be her support system, will do so.

Thank you Lord for hearing our prayers today and in the days to come. Amen.

Nightmare on Event Street

I love planning, attending, even looking at pictures of events. I will always bite off a little more than I can chew when it comes to parties because I simply love them beyond what I probably should. And right now, I'm in the throes of planning and co-planning 5 events in a 3 week span. Insert ginormous bite that just may be exceedingly bigger than I can chew. What's a festive junkie to do? I just can't help myself.

Right now I have the pleasure of working on our Simply Vintage bridal expo booth for 500 brides to pass through, a styled photo shoot and "Open House" for Simply the following weekend, a couple's shower for my bestie (woohoo!), and two 60th birthday parties. With one of the 60th's being for the President of our Foundation's Board, where 400-500 of the top business leaders will be in attendance, I'm just a bit nervous. It'll be great and fun and spectacular, but it's the planning and the creative aspect of that one that is keeping this gal up at night. With actual nightmares. I'm in charge of transforming a ballroom into an industrial meets chic wonderland since the hosts own a large, local construction company that is also celebrating its 60th anniversary. My centerpieces are literally jumbo bolts, hard hats, coils of hoses, PVC pipes and candles and pearls. Oh my, seriously, what did I agree too?! And let me tell you, Pinterest fans, that little site ain't got nothing on industrial party planning. Unless I want to incorporate Bob the Builder into my theme, Pinterest let me down. Way down.

And with the above mentioned 60th soriee on a Friday night, I'm co-hosting my dad's 60th the very next night. Don't even try to call, text, or communicate with me on Sunday, Oct. 6th. I. Will. Be. Sleeping. No, really.

So with all of that being said, if I appear to be a little silent over the next few weeks, please know that I'll be back! I'm just stretched pretty thin and all of my creative juices are being thrown into making PVC pipes look classy and sassy. Words I swear to you I never thought I'd say.

Unexpected Inspiration

On Sunday the Hubs and I hopped in the car and headed off to Madison for the 2013 Ironman Wisconsin. Why, you ask? Well, the Hubs is a two time Ironman finisher for starters (yes, I'm bragging on him). Secondly, for our first anniversary with a "paper" theme (seriously, who thought those things up?!), I thought long and hard on what I could give him that would be meaningful and yet, made of paper. And thus came Ironman Wisconsin. I knew I could print off our registration confirmation as volunteer Course Marshals as part of his gift, and as someone (myself) who highly values time spent together doing something the other person loves, I thought this would be a neat component of his gift.

Let me preface all of this with my mindset going into Sunday's volunteer experience. I did not get it. Not at all. Not even an ounce, even though I thought I did. I've always been proud of Tim and his multiple marathon and Ironman achievements. I even surprised him with an Ironman groom's cake at our rehearsal dinner, but I never really understood what it means to be an "Ironman". Well, I was served an Ironman sandwich on Sunday and it tasted amazing!

Once we arrived, checked in, put on our XXL volunteer shirts, the Hubs got to show me around a little bit. At this point, I'm still thinking this is a really cool event and neat race, but not much more, yet. I was just glad to be there with him in his element. As we began making our way to our Course Marshal location, I think I started to see a bit more of what had been "unseen" to me over the last few years. What caught my eye pretty early on was the sidewalk chalk messages along the course. I asked if next year I could volunteer as a "chalker" (y'all know I love some DIY and chalk!), and Tim explained that those messages on the course were from the families of the participants as encouragement for their athletes. Very cool. These people must be proud of their athletes, I thought to myself.

Fast forward to the actual run component where Tim and I would stand for 4 hours and make sure that the Univ. of Wisconsin students and spectators didn't interfere with the course, etc. We had the pleasure of standing at a corner where we'd see the runners pass by 4 times. 4 times?! AND, by the time they got to us at mile 1, they had already swam 2.4 miles AND biked 112! Um, you. people. are. crazy. CRAZY!

Everything finally hit me when the first runner passed by us at mile 1 with his police and bike escort, and there was no one else in sight. For 15 minutes he was the ONLY runner. I was humbled, shocked, encouraged and in awe. Oh, you know, just your typical Sunday afternoon feelings.

As runner after runner passed, I became more engaged and more aware of what I was watching. Suddenly I wanted 1,000 pieces of chalk. I wanted every one of those 2,500 participants to have an encouraging note to pass by when they wanted to quit or felt like this mile, or every mile, could be their last. I clapped and cheered those runners on to the point that I was irritating myself. I'm not sure "Way to go, guys" or "Keep it up, ladies" was annoying them or not, but I couldn't stop. At one point Tim had been chatting with another volunteer for a bit and I frantically motioned for him to stop the chatter and start clapping. These people looked exhausted and we needed to cheer for them! I had become some weird Ironman super fan, calling the runners by name if I could read their bib in time. Obnoxius? Maybe. But I was 100% on-board at this point and they had my full attention.

I could go on and on, which I have done to my supportive husband who is allowing me the time to process all of this even though he's fully aware of everything I'm saying, questioning, etc... But here are just a highlights and final thoughts that I cannot close without sharing:

• Watching someone when they've been going full throttle for 5.5 to upwards of 9 hours before they get to your point on the course is humbling. I have no other word for it. These people are true athletes and dwarf almost everything I've ever thought an athlete looks like.
• Seeing someone walking on mile 1 when you both know they have over 25 more to go, but then hearing a bystander say to them as they pass "Come on #1204, don't give up, don't give in, you've got this" makes your eyes sting a bit when they nod and then start running again, even if ever so slowly again. It makes you want to run with them for a minute or two.
• Seeing 2 amputees running in their prosthetics, as well as two wheelchair duos, makes you feel 110% inadequate. I should never complain about ANYTHING. Ever. I know nothing of true challenges.
• Standing at the finish line of an Ironman is what truly drives home the awesomeness of this event. Seeing someone's face as they round the corner and enter the shoot is like watching a dream lived out over and over again, only with different faces, body types, ages, and stories, etc... I could've stood there ALL day (and we did for a good while). I was enamored by watching the different areas of the finish. I wanted to see them in the shoot, I wanted to see them as they crossed under the finish line arch, I wanted to see them as they were greeting their families at the end.
• High-fiving 2 of the finishers as they ran the last few yards makes me giddy.
• It's amazing to me that someone can go 140 miles and then completely collapse once they stop. Like literally, fall to the ground. I now know what beyond exhaustion looks like and I now know, I've never felt it myself. They had pushed their bodies to the limit and theirs legs were going to carry them to the last possible second.
• Hearing the announcer say "____, YOU ARE AN Ironman!" as each person crossed the line is something I'll never forget. It's verbal validation that they are strong, worthy, and dedicated to their dreams. Only the toughest of tough will ever hear those words. Some that start and fight for 17 hours, will never hear those words if they time out. I, personally, will never hear those words with my name attached. I could've cried each time I heard those words, but I was trying to be tough in front of the Hubs;) Although, I'm pretty sure he knows full and well that he's married to a softy.
• These athletes are SO polite and respectful. Countless runners ran by me and as I cheered them on, they took precious seconds to say "thanks for being out here and volunteering." Me? Are you kidding?! I wanted to yell back "Noooo, save your breath, you need that air in your lungs! It's my pleasure, really!" Ironman=sportsmanship.
• Lastly, I'm so incredibly proud to be married to a two time Ironman. There really are no words. I'd give anything to have been there to see him complete such an amazing goal. I'm always proud of him, but to now have witnessed his accomplishment up close, I'm amazed. And in all honesty, the actual event itself is just the culmination, I'm guessing. It's the "end" and where the true amazement lies is in the "means" it must have taken him to get to that moment. I'm sure there were days that he wanted to give up or have an easy day of only 50-75 miles on the bike while other people were relaxing and watching football. If he ever does one again, I'll be there bright and early with my chalk, my signs, and my t-shirt. And if he doesn't feel called to that challenge again, well, I'll gladly volunteer next to my Ironman with pride. For him and for everyone on that road (and lake). They're stinkin' made of steal!

Ironman Wisconsin 2013

Chalk Motivation

 

Our Iroman, Tim (aka...Hubs)

 

 

 

Biking for 112 miles. No big deal.

 

 

Completing a full marathon (26.2 mi) after biking and swimming. 

 

His great looking support team.

 

 

 

Three cheers for Uncle Timmy!

 

 

It's a long day for the dedicated fans and spectators.

 

Tim, you are an Ironman...

 

And an incredibly handsome one at that. 140.6 miles looks fantastic on you!

 



 

Expecting.

No, not me, sillies. BUT, one of my favorite couples in the whole wide world is anxiously awaiting the arrival of their precious baby girl. Any. Day. Now. Ahhhhh! I'm beyond excited for them and for her. And I'm beyond beyond to meet her via Skype and then in person later this month.

With how excited I am for them, I just cannot imagine the amount of butterflies they must be feeling. I'm envisioning a Jurassic Park size butterfly fluttering in their stomachs as they attempt to go about their days this week and try to play it cool and calm. I give any expecting parent major credit for being able to function as a normal human being in the last few days before they meet their forever. I think I'd probably be sitting on the couch for days on end, unable to work or sleep or eat, and with every little movement or hiccup, I'm pretty certain I'd be shouting for the Hubs to "grab the hospital bag and roll out!!"

Last month when I was in SC with my girls, two of us sat on the couch with the-mom-to be amongst the beautiful chaos of girls, food, and laughter, and the three of us quietly went through the "girl" names of the Bible to see if we could predict this little one's name.  (God Bless, iPhones and Google. Seriously, Amen.) We know it's a biblical names, so one by one, we read aloud the names and tried to gauge her momma's face. This mom may just have a future career in Texas Hold'em tournaments in Vegas someday with that poker face. It was like steel, folks! And although we absolutely do not need to know her name in advance, there was just something so sweet about those 45 minutes or so together, reading names out loud on a Saturday night. Suddenly, names that I've heard and said a 1,011 times, seemed so new, so fresh and so delicate. They seemed so promising. Like all of a sudden, a name like Hannah or Lily, instantly encapsulated this new, beautiful girl with a bright future, loving and Godly parents, a safe and warm home, and the world at her fingertips. Isn't it crazy what a little, tiny bundle of hope can do to you?! Reading biblical baby names at a Bachelorette party weekend?!

So from across the miles, I'll be here in Illinois praying and awaiting this sweet girl's arrival. I'm literally beaming for her parents. I know they're going to rock this parenthood deal. This girl is going to have a blast exploring her world with those two by her side. She's one lucky Lily, or Hannah, or Ruth, or Sarah, or Shiloh, or... Am I getting closer, B & S? ;)  JK! Love you guys and praying for you!!

Chipmunks vs. The Bergs

Remember that one time when I found a chipmunk essentially shrink wrapped in our basement? Alive, mind you? Yeah, well, that seemed way cooler than what's happening today at our place.

As I got ready for work this morning in our quiet and peaceful home, I began hearing scratching. From inside said quiet home. With both Piggy and I standing in the same room and Tim already at the office, that left only one other option as to where the scratching could be coming from. Critters.

Knowing that we have a new hole in the base of our front door frame, I took my robe clad self to peek at where I thought some critters might be coming inside (the walls, not the actual inner-house itself). Sure enough, there lay about five large acorn tops in a pile. Oh geez, guys, so sorry that the whole nut could not fit through your new condo door! Thanks for discarding your nut casings next to the front door, you little striped mongrels.

As I'm growing increasingly more irritated whilst counting acorn tops at 7:45am, something catches my eye on our living room couch. Don't panic, it wasn't another shrink wrapped chippie! There, on our suede sofa lay little clumps and streaks of mud. Are you joking??? These fools have somehow gotten into the ever loving house and are chilling on my couch while I'm sleeping???? Someone is going to die. I love animals, but I despise them when they're on my couch with muddy little feet and topless acorns.

Folks, I don't even know where to start with this mess. What comes first? The blocking of the hole or the trapping of the munks? If we block the hole and they're inside the walls, will they find another hole and escape or will families of not so innocent munks starve to death in our walls??? The horror of it all.

I wish we could all just sit down and have a little heart to heart. "Look guys, I'll stay out of your woods and away from your nuts, and you keep your distance from my walls and keep your feet off of my couch. No one has to die here. Really. Deal?"

And before I close and attempt to catch some munks, my real question is where are they after they chilled on my couch? Are they stinkin loose in my house right now?? If I come home to mud on my pillow today, it's going to be World War Chippies!!! Believe it.

The Long and Shorter of It

Shorts make me sad this summer.

1) They make me sad because my legs are so pale that I've tucked my shorts away for next year when I pray to the Lord above that I have tanner skin that won't scare small children when the sun reflects off of my opalescent legs with blinding force.

2) They make me terribly sad because they seem to be disappearing at a rapid rate. Seriously, where have all the shorts gone?! I see them walking around the grocery store, in retail stores, on the college campus where I work, etc...but they appear to vanishing before my very eyes. Why have all the shorts become the size of exaggerated undies? Why are 12 year old girl's little, innocent cheeks hanging onto the fabric for dear life? Where are the parents in all of this?

I know I'm not a parent to an actual human, aka just a puppy mom for the time being, but I can't imagine ever being okay with my young, teenage daughter walking around in "booty shorts". Doesn't it hurt their heart to see their daughters pretty much on display for the world to see? Why is this okay? And designers, would it hurt to add a little more fabric to the trends this summer? "Cool" is apparently what you tell us is cool, so please be kind and dole out a little extra fabric and respect for those who trust your fashion sense.

Today as I drove home for lunch, I had the untimely opportunity to ride behind a teenage girl on her bicycle in the tiniest shorts I've ever seen. My bloomers from my cheerleading days had more coverage honestly. As she pedaled in front of me, I could tell that she was uncomfortable and I shared in her un-comfortableness. Part of me was thankful that I was the one behind her and not a man who'd have no business seeing a "child" like that, but at the same time, even I felt like I was seeing more of her than I should be. Who wins in that situation? Certainly not me, and hopefully not her.

I know we all have the right to wear what we want, where we want and how we want, but I just pray that there are parents out there that say "No way. Not today and not any day until your 18 and can decide what to show off to the world." Undies are not shorts and shorts are not undies and somewhere along the way, I think we've all gotten a little confused. The last time I checked, denim panties sounded like a good idea to no one. Ever.

It's Hot, Cue the Pandemonium

It's hot, folks. Like almost triple digits, but not quite. For me, after over a decade in the south, it feels like the beginning of summer. To everyone else here, it apparently feels like reason to panic. Schools are closing early, y'all. What?!

On one hand, I can see their logic as many of our schools do not have AC. No one wants little ones falling out due to the heat. I DO get that much. And I DO worry about the elderly in our region without AC. Sadly, I'm guessing this heat wave will claim the life of someone who is not fortunate to escape the heat and that breaks my heart. That side, I do understand.

What I don't fully understand is how it can appear as hot as people are making it to be here? I've lived through HOT. This isn't even close to the heat that I'm used to in the summer and early fall in Charleston. There wasn't an ounce of humidity that I felt today(seriously, it's amazing to have a great hair day when it's almost 100 degrees! Can I get an amen?!).  Nothing took my breath away, as in almost sucked the life right out of me, as I unlocked my car after it sat in the sun. In the south, you cannot even get in your car for about 2-4 minutes after you leave the office for fear that you may suffocate or stroke out from the swelter. The daggom car upholstery can give you 3rd degree burns if you're not careful. I've driven home from the office in SC while sitting on file folders to protect my legs when I had nothing else with me. Sweaty file folders that I then had to physically peel off of the back of my thighs when arriving to my destination. Now THAT, is hot. And nasty.

I mean, do I want to go for a jog in this weather, not so much. Let's be honest though, I never want to go for a jog. Can I fully function in this weather, absolutely. Am I going to stroke out before the sun goes down, highly unlikely, unless I go for said jog.

To Charleston and its years of brutal heat and borderline torturous summers, thank you. You've made me stronger. You taught me to hydrate even when I wasn't thirsty to avoid more IV's in the CofC infirmary. You taught me to hold my breath as I leaned in to turn my car on after a day at the office. You've shown me what true humidity feels like and you gave me the awful hair days to prove what you were capable of. And lastly, you've taught me that without access to a beach with triple digit temps, people panic. Here, where people panic, we just chalked it up to a great beach day and an excuse to be knee deep in the water somewhere. Thank you for the previous torture life lessons in the sun, my old friend.

Friday High Fives

TGIF, Y'all!!  As we head into a gorgeous weekend, I'm passing out the following high fives:

 

• Sushi double date nights that involve a friend chicken roll with cilantro.
• Not sitting behind my office desk for 48 hours. Booyah.
• Date night with the Hubs on Saturday night for a little dinner and movie action.
• Apparently I'm the only person in America who is pumped to watch Ashton Kutcher as Steve Jobs. Oh well, I stand behind my fan-hood of Ashton and refuse to jump on the whole "I just don't get it" casting moan-fest.
• A fun, vintage photo shoot in my backyard tomorrow. Stay tuned for pics.
• Resting up a bit this weekend after not sleeping much last weekend.
• Another friend visiting from Charlotte tonight.
• Working on my dad's 60th "retro" Birthday bash. I love me a birthday, and at 60, you deserve a dance party. And that is just what he'll have.
• My new addiction to red nail polish.
• Cheesy shirts that make me laugh. Every thug rocks Cynthia Rowley pj pants, duh

• Celebrating our sweet boy, Wrigley! I was excited to tell him that everyone sent him some FB love for his big day. I'm pretty sure he was equally excited and overcome with appreciation.
• Discovering Stella Rosa Semi-Sweet Red wine, it's perfect for summer evenings. You must try it, friends!
  
• Fresh, cherry tomatoes straight out of our garden.
• Lionel Richie station on Pandora. All day, every day. Hello? YES, it is me you're looking for, Lionel. I just know it.
  

Have a great weekend!

Email Soap Box

I needed to step away from my inbox for about 5 minutes before I slapped someone through my computer screen. I'm not a violent person at all, I swear, but man do I get irritated when people do not read emails in their entirety. So consider yourselves warned, my sweet friends. If I send you an email, please for the love of all things holy, read it before responding with questions. Please.

Lately I've had to communicate with a few people that either cannot read or are just too lazy and max out at 50 words when it comes to comprehension. Nothing chaps my buns quite like someone who asks you questions that you literally just answered. In detail.

I don't know if we're a product of a texting and twitter environment where we max out at 140 characters, but it just isn't right, y'all. I kid you not, I have been "chatting" with someone for the last 48 hours and I swear to you, every single thing she has asked in the last 42 of those 48 hours has already been stated for her in detail. About 10 times. In various ways as to try and eliminate her confusion. It's painful and I am done. Done. The final straw was when I sent along actual photos of what I'm trying to explain to her and she completely changes the course and ignores what we've been beating into the ground like a dead horse with a totally unrelated question of "where are you located?" Um, no ma'am.

I'm telling you all this today because I just can't face anymore people who are email illiterate. It's just not okay and it's unprofessional. I know we can all be long winded, take this blog for example, BUT if someone sends you an email that you plan to reply to, please just read the dang thing. Your answers may very well be in the email. Crazy, I know. And whoever came up with the whole "there are no dumb questions" clearly invented that statement before the Internet and email graced our lives.

In closing, I refuse to respond to this woman. 1) I don't want to waste anymore of my time on her when she already has everything she needs from me at her fingertips. And 2) I refuse to give her my "location" for both of our sanity's sake and both of our safety. I do not want to see this person in person, especially until I calm down. AND, I know if I give her my location, she's going to ask me five ways to Sunday how she should get to said location. Not going to happen. If she responds again, I'll simply shoot back my response that politely states "just forget it, man."

And if you've made it this far and are still reading this, thank you for restoring my faith in humanity! It would appear we can consume more than 140 characters at a time after all.

You Know You're Older at a Bachelorette Party When...

I found myself giggling a few times this past weekend and thinking "wow, bachelorette weekends are way different in your 30's versus your 20's". Not different in a bad way or a "whoa we're so old and lame" way. Just different. The girlie chatter was different. The food was a bit different and more substantial, and the amount it took a few people to bounce back from the previous night's festivities was a bit different and delayed, if you will.

Here are a just a few reminders on how a 30 something beach weekend may vary slightly from one in your roaring 20's:

• It's totally acceptable to bring your sweet baby to the gathering. Well, at least it's appropriate during the day time hours next to the pool. No one walked in and thought "hmmm, you have a baby...at a bachelorette party???"
• Advil was a must in the "weekend survival kit". Next time I know Alka-Seltzer is also a must, even more so than the Advil. And tweezers, apparently.
• One can somehow pinch a nerve in their back while stirring chocolate on the stove for chocolate dipped strawberries. This one still blows my bind. And my throbbing back.
• Coffee can seem more important than adult beverages at times.
• You find yourself discussing which books everyone is reading over which raging parties everyone's gone to this summer.
• "So what anti-aging, skin care regime is everyone using?" suddenly takes the place of who's dating who, who's texting/talking to who, etc...  #wrinklessuck
• The Nursing versus bottle feeding stance can come up at least 2-3 different times over the course of a weekend.
• When someone says "hey y'all, I accidentally packed up someone else's shorts and tank top, who's missing them?" they should first read the clothing label to see if it says "A Pea In the Pod";) That's typically a dead giveaway when there's one 8 month pregnant woman in the mix!
• Some beach go'ers who chip in good money to stay at the beach house actually choose to drive the 30 minutes home to sleep in their own bed. Long gone are the days of "crashing" anywhere you land.
• You actually think ahead to still bring the bride's flip flops when she insists on wearing her heels to the 80's concert. And then force her to sit down and let you physically change her shoes for her so she doesn't break an ankle. Lastly, you actually spot her discarded heels chilling on the stage and hook them to your purse so you don't lose them. #truefriendspackflops
• Staying in versus hitting up the clubs is a really good idea. You can actually hear each other when conversing. Imagine the concept! #chinesefoodrocks  #200dollarsworthofchinesefood
• When you first arrive, everyone is on high alert to spot who might be drinking or who is sitting it out on the wine to scope out those in the group who might be pregnant. #sneaky #highalert
• And last but certainly not least, breast pumps are way more common at the party than shot glasses or any form of beer funnel.