eleven

As I came in from a lavish night of Walmart shopping, I noticed someone had left a Hallmark card wedged in my front door. While I appreciate the sentiment, I am neither "Rebecca" nor "Brian" as the card was addressed to. I apologize to my avid readers on my slacking lately. I am loving my change in majors and feel that I really "fit" (artsyfartsy-less). Two weekends ago, I had the privilege of having Mom, Dad, Nan, and Pops down to visit. Those of you who know Pops know he is Mr. AU, so, I was especially excited for him to be here. Getting to see his eyes light up as he walked around the Auburn Arena and driving him around town and campus was priceless. I am truly blessed to have such a wonderful family. Although I am scarcely home, I spend every minute I can with all of them when I do visit. Hearing Billy Roy and Wilma bicker about if so-and-so's third cousin's, step daughter's, neighbor's, preacher's, aunt is married or not make the 220 mile trip worthwhile. Those two can make me laugh like no other. If you're lucky enough to have your grandparents around, spend time with them. If you don't, you can certainly miss out on a blessing and a one of a kind friendship.

ten

I love 8 a.m. classes. I live for sitting in assigned seats (as if I'm in 6th grade) shoulder to shoulder in a boiling hot room with 200 strangers. The boy on my left reeked so strongly of onions, I thought a Vidalia was occupying seat O-10. That's another thing, in a room of seat rows A through P, I am assigned to row O. Not only can I not hear, but I could use a Dramamine after class due to all of the bobbing and weaving my head is experiencing trying to catch a glimpse of our professor. I noticed that Sorority Sally on my right didn't have the juice to wash off the "X" stamp on her hand from drink specials the night before. I guess she'd had a long night. As I was enduring the brisk walk to my next class, I was almost overrun by a fellow peddling feverishly to class on a unicycle (with a tank top on, no less.) It takes all kinds. Anyway, as I sit in my professional writing class, I am constantly reminded of Mrs. Tidwell. As we go over the elements of style and basic grammar usage, I can hear all the things she used to tell me, and the hundreds of other students that had the honor of having her as a teacher. I remember one of the last times I talked to her, she was inquiring about my college plans. At the time, I had no idea, but I would love to be able to tell her all about it today. What a woman---and, what an influence on my major, as well. I'm so blessed that I had the chance to have her as a teacher, and I'm sure everyone who experienced her teachings would say the same.

nine

Apparently, all these years of college have been pointless as I see I cannot count correctly. I seem to have forgotten that seven comes after six in my post titles. If you hadn't noticed already, (which, be honest, you know you didn't either), I'm pointing it out now. I don't know how familiar you all are with the Opelika Walmart, but I do not advise venturing there...especially after sundown. I have never seen so many strange looking creatures in all my life. I know my expression had to seem as if I'd never been to town before as I tried not to gawk at the barbarians but it was like walking through some sort of warp zone. I began to wonder if there was something in the water. Maybe some aspiring Erin Brokovich will check into that. I've always thought the idea of "earbuds" was to enjoy your music personally and discreetly but apparently that is not true. As I walked into the Haley Center today, there were so many genres blaring I thought I'd taken a wrong turn and ended up at the Crawfish Boil. Why not hoist a boom box onto your shoulder? Anyway, I knew I'd picked the wrong seat today in class as I had unknowingly parked it by Chatty Cathy. It turns out that Cathy was not her name, and she happened to have an equally loose-lipped friend sitting in front of her. I tried my hardest to tune out their rantings of the latest love triangle, the last chapter meeting, and how much money they each blew last Saturday night, and focus on my Spanish gibbering instructor. And, if the person behind me propped his/her legs on my desk and kicked my rear ONE more time, I was going to return the favor.

eight

Resolutions are the root of all depression. The past few days have really solidified that theory. As noted in a previous post, my resolution for the new year is to get fit. Austin and I started P90X January 1, and in turn, gave up every "bad" food we love. I've done relatively well on our "all birdseed" diet until last night. A bag of movie theatre butter popcorn stared me in the face, and I stared back, salivating. I needed it. After much justification, I decided it was quite alright to have this snack as I'd worked very hard and it's not like I'm the "Biggest Loser" material, I just want to tone up! I could hardly wait for the 2 minutes and 25 seconds to end. I ate every last kernel being sure to pick out the yellowest morsels first because everyone knows those are the best. I then got a finger full of peanut butter straight out of the jar (which Austin doesn't know, but, I suppose will after this is posted. Although, I was sure Couver had blown my cover as he obsessively licked and gnawed at my finger). I was a wild woman. I was totally unravelling. After that fiasco, I decided to really get my act together. The only thing not sore on my body right now are my fingertips. Don't worry, my blog isn't going to be turned into a daily saga of my trials and tribulations of workout regimens and weight loss, because that's boring, and nobody wants to hear about that.

six

Ah, Christmas. The time of year that brings families together while bringing out the height of craziness in anybody. The season where one asks a total stranger in a department store to dig inside their pants to find the size, as the same exact style are on a soon ending sale (yes, this did happen to my mother--she was the digger not the digee, thank goodness.) I've found myself recently being stressed as to how I'm going to spend all of my Christmas money before Christmas. I catch myself counting down the shopping days until Christmas and strategizing a way to be able to buy all of my gifts with my allotted money before the 24th. What a real worry! As generic as it sounds, I realized that I should focus more on the real "reason for the season" than spending every penny I can before Christmas Eve. As I hustled through Belk en route to the shoe department as the boots I've had my eye on were 65% off, the sweet sounds of Christmas carols were quickly drowned out by booming rantings of Nikki Minaj at the Mac counter. What a disgrace. As I ventured on, the Junior's department was bellowing the definition of Fergalicious and I wanted to puke. What happened to Jingle Bell Rock? Maybe I'm just old fashioned....or maybe just old. I've realized this too, as I was overwhelmed with excitement as I got a Crockpot for Christmas and recently signed up for a Winn-Dixie Rewards Card. A buy one get one free deal on niblet corn and a little holiday cheer make Lindsay a happy girl.

five

I hope to never be that mother with a child-on-a-leash. While waiting in the extremely long line at Hobby Lobby the other day, I locked eyes with a poor little boy housing one of those contraptions on his back and his face seemed so pitiful. I also noticed the 6th grader in front of me with her white iPhone 4S and cringed. Call me old fashioned, but I just do not understand the necessity in that. You are a child. You do not need a Facebook account and I'm certain the only followers you will have on Twitter host criminal backgrounds. You may have big people toys when you are in fact, a big person. I don't know why this little girl got to me so, but she did. Maybe it was the snarky look she gave me as she looked me up down from my ratty bun to my oversized sweatpants. I then began to make a list in my head of New Year's resolutions. Looking like a homeless person everyday is unacceptable and I have recently hit an all time low--this issue must be addressed. One of my professor's noted the other day that "I looked more like myself today." If by that you meant, I looked as if I had showered that morning as opposed to all other mornings, then yes, you are correct. After watching the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show with five tongue wagging males, I added "get fit" to my resolution list, as well.

four

Starting off the day with an asthma attack and ending with a tornado wasn't exactly what I had planned for this Wednesday. I'd like to think my lungs are as accurate as a NOAA weather radio. Anytime the weather gets hairy, I tend to get a little wheezy. Anyway, I'm blessed to have made it safely through today's storms. Still phoneless, I appreciate all of you who sent Facebook messages, tweets, or called Mom to check up on me. I tip-toed across every sidewalk, pavement, and concrete in my path today. Partly because I did not want to sustain another fall, as Yellowbox flip flops do not have the best traction on a rainy day, and because my severely bruised knee would not allow me to go faster than a snail's pace. I've become increasingly annoyed by bicyclists lately. Motorists hate pedestrians, pedestrians hate motorists, and no matter what your form of transportation, everybody hates the guy on the bike. If I had a nickel for every time some hot shot on a Schwinn nearly caused me an accident, on foot or in my car, I'd probably have enough money to buy a new iPhone. I think next time a cyclist comes within a foot of my car, I'll just open the door and clothesline him/her. Or maybe just leave a trail of those snap firecrackers for a unsuspecting Huffy to hit. Maybe I should be kinder, or maybe these road hogs should abide by the rules. I'm going to go with the latter.