Whelan

Last weekend I became the accidental owner of an 8 week old kitten who had been roaming around behind Whelan's furniture store. Name, done. Whelan it is.  I went through my head listing all the reasons why I shouldn't take this kitten home, but deep down I knew he was mine. I've always vowed not to go out and buy pets, but if they find me then I will take them. I like removing the element of control. Fate is much more fun.

So this new little bundle of joy has found his way into my home & now my bathroom will never be the same. Kitty litter= everywhere. He hasn't quite mastered the art of keeping things neat and tidy. I vaccuum atleast twice a day at this rate. My sleep schedule= doomed. Saturday morning sleeping in is out of the question. He's hungry at 7 am no matter what and Saturday doesn't mean a thing to him. Lately, at 3 am I've been waking up to his paws on my head/face as he's trying to get comfy. Its all about you buddy- as long as YOU'RE comfortable. Using my lap top in bed= constant interupption. The screen keeps being minimized and maximized, darkened and lightened, as he unapologetically makes his way right over the keys. He also enjoys pouncing on my fingers as I type. Its like a game to see how much I can write before he goes in for the kill. My skin= scratched intermingled with teeth marks. My hands are his favorite toy. (But thats kind of my fault for letting him play rough.) The curtains in my room= forget it. Before I can clap my hands to stop him, he has scaled his way almost to the top, looking like spiderman. The screen on the door is his latest victim. Makes for a good climbing wall :(

But hey, no good thing comes without a price, right? I can sacrifice the strewn kitty litter, claw marks on my hands and curtains, and interuppted sleep for the way he purrs when I hold him and cuddles and pounces and plays with wreckless abandon. When he chases his tail, wiggles his little hiney right before he pounces, and falls asleep with squinty eyes, it makes all the madness seem not so bad. Everything is new to him and his curiousity reminds me that life can be that way for me too, if I choose to look. 

Here I go again sounding like a crazy cat lady.

Caroline

My 1st Half Marathon

As I sit laid up in my bed, with Biofreeze on both knees, I will share my reflections on the longest run of my life.

It all started back in March when I heard about the Rock N' Roll Marathon coming to Savannah. The perfect thing to scratch off my bucket list. I've always enjoyed running, but 3 miles was about my limit. So, the training began for a half-marathon (13.1 miles). I started out by printing off an on-line training schedule and followed it pretty closely all through the grueling heat-stroke days of the summer. My gym membership had expired so outside was my only option. Saturdays were saved for my "long runs" and I felt so accomplished when I finally made it 6 miles, running in circles around Forsyth. I stick with places I know! Circles worked for me- can't get lost that way, right?

Then the school year started. That's when training stopped. I had already given myself a stress fracture on the top of my foot from running, so I was forced to take a break anyway. Then came the dreaded "ant bite" on the bottom of my foot which landed me at a doc- in- a- box one Saturday afternoon. A round of antibiotics and almost a week of hobbling around later, I realized that my 1/2 marathon wasn't gonna be pretty. I had about a month until it was go- time and I had been out of commission for awhile.

As race time approached I figured I'd give the race a shot anyway since I had already paid for it. So yesterday I spent an hour in bumper to bumper traffic going over the bridge to pick up my packet. The expo made it well worth the trip cause I got some pretty cool gear!

Here is my Hippie Belt to hold my phone, keys, ID, etc.

I found some wicking compression socks I decided would be beneficial after I listened to the guy's sales pitch.

A moisture wicking headband (bandana-like)

Sport Beans & GU, all new to me, but sounded like I might need it if I was really going to trek it for 13 miles.

Later I decided a Wal-Mart trip was in order for a cheap sweatshirt and gloves that I didn't mind chunking on the road during the run once I warmed up (thank you Vicki Bradley for this idea....I'm new at this...not a clue)

Fast forward to this morning. At 4:30 AM my alarm clock chirped (Literally. I have cricket sounds as the alarm tone on my phone- its peaceful). By 5:45 I was on the Savannah Mall shuttle heading out to the races. Thank goodness for not having to deal with driving downtown- it would've been impossible. Once I got to the drop off on Bay Street I stood around trying to find warmth behind trees but my extremeties froze by the minute. Miserable.

Somehow through the sea of people, I bumped into my sister's friend Courtney and we decided to be running buddies. My dilemma was: Do I blow it out and see how far I can run without stopping? Or do I pace myself and run intervals so that I don't burn myself out and have to drop out of the race. Courtney decided she was going to "cruise" slowly and try to run without stopping, so I just followed suit.

On mile 1, I could not feel my feet. No exaggeration. My toes were so frozen that I had to watch where my feet landed beacuse they were numb & I didnt want to step in a hole and break my ankle. Around mile 3 I finally started to feel my feet again and Courtney and I realized that we were feeling pretty good for having just completed a 5k.

People were still fired up, hooting and hollering at mile 4, then around 6 or 7 it got a little more intense. Not so much laughter, just breathing. I was feeling extra excited because 6 miles had been my personal farthest. Mile 8 was the Gu station, so I told myslef I could make it

that far. (GU= you squirt it in your mouth for energy...and it's just that. GOO). Somehow I kept on trucking through mile 9...then ...10. I told myself- only 3 more miles from here!!! Then came mile 11 and thats when it really started to suck. I pushed through 11 & was overjoyed to see 12. I had run 12 miles without stopping. Amazing!!!! Surely I could go one more, right?

Mile 12 was the absolute worst. Imagine your quad muscle being stretched like a rubberband that is almost to it's breaking point. So tight!!! My legs just couldn't keep the pace so I had to alternate walking & running for that last mile. So close, yet so far away! I ran the last part through the finish line ending at 2 hours and 22 minutes. Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

The rest is a blur of crowds, and medals, and water, and fruit, and energy bars. They were giving out big plastic trash bag type things to block the wind and keep our muscles warm. I wrapped one around me, found myself a spot in the sun and just....sat...and sat.....and sat.... loving the ground. The worst pain was afterwards by far. My legs have never felt that kind of pain before. I now understand why runners stretch afterwards. It was the only thing that brought relief.

At the end, Brian was kind enough to fight the mad traffic, come pick me up from downtown and carry me on his back 7 blocks to the car. I was worthless.

So as of now, I'm not sure that I will ever do another half marathon again. My body hurts too much to think of that. I can say that I've done it & that is good enough for me!

Caroline

Halloween Tour De Home

Just a few of my favorite Halloween decorations for your viewing pleasure!

1. Halloween Plaque courtesy of Suzanne from Just Another Hang Up! I make one for each month.

2. Black Tulle Wreath (Pinterest Project, done!)

3. Fabric Pumpkins. Does the green one look familiar? If you've been with me for awhile, I bet you saw it this summer. The season has finally approached for him to sit on the mantle.

4. Mosaic Jack-O-Lanterns. Quite possibly my favorite decoration for the month of October.

5. Pumpkin Pie Candle: Handmade by Julie and me at our craft day last weekend.

5. Front porch complete with yellow mum, over-priced pumpkin and wreath.

Happy Fall Y'all!

Caroline

A Kindred Spirit

Right now I'm reading Angie Smith's book, I Will Carry You, and I would highly recommend it if you're into the whole Christian women's book scene. Brief synopsis: its about the loss of her daughter, Audrey Caroline, and "the sacred dance of greif and joy." I heard Angie speak at the Women of Faith conference in Atlanta over the summer and I fell in love with her. I felt like I could relate to her from the second she walked up onto stage. Her exact words were: "those were the hardest 7 steps I've had to take." {about having up walk up on stage in front of the crowd} She shared about how she had struggled with living in fear for most of her life. One of her greatest fears was public speaking. HELLO....me too.

I just finished a chapter of her book where she tells of being rushed to the hospital when she was 4 years old because she battled with such overwhelming anxiety. Well, for those of you who know me...that's become something I struggle with as well. She talked about how her dad would have to walk her around the house every night before bed so she could make sure the doors were locked, the stove was turned off, and her sister was breathing in her crib. To some of you I'm sure that sounds absolutley absurd, but it struck such a cord with me.

I was a worrier as a kid too. I think mine came from watching too many episodes of Rescue 911. William Shatner's voice still makes me uneasy to this day. I would dream up every possible scenario that could go wrong and play it out in my head. Well- not much has changed. Sometimes my dad would have to go to work at night when I was younger and I would look at the clock and worry myself sick if he wasn't home by the time I had alotted in my head for his arrival back to the house. I would convince myself that he had gotten into a car wreck. Then, I would proceed to "page" him on his beeper (back when those were still around) or call him on his car phone (prehistoric reference again) just to make sure he was okay.

In the same chapter, Angie talked about her trip to Disney World as a kid. When she went into a little shop with stuffed animals she felt guilty for picking out just one because she was so worried about the other stuffed animals who didn't get chosen. Then she cried all the way home because she felt sorry for them. Once again- I can relate.

Much like the guilt over the stuffed animals, mine had to do with the school lunches my dad would pack. I distinctly remember NOT throwing away my empty ziplock baggies because I wanted my dad to see that I had eaten what he packed me. I felt like his feelings would be hurt if I threw away something he carefully selected to go in my lunch. If I had a half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich, it would go back home so he could see that I ate some of it, maybe couldn't quite finish the rest, but was appreciative that he thought to pack me the sandwich. I'm not sure that I could describe it in those words when I was in elemetary school, but that was my thought process. It wasn't that I was trying to show him what a good eater I was, but rather, I felt that he would be hurt if I didnt' eat what he so thoughtfully packed. Looking back- I doubt that was the case, but that's how my little brain worked back then.

Another freak worry of mine was that someone was going to abduct my little sister when she was outside playing. If I thought about it hard enough, I'd have to walk out to the yard and call for her or walk a lap around the neighborhood just to make sure I saw her. Such a little mother hen I was. Oh, and I was also afraid of the garbage man. Laugh it up, Blair and mom. I know y'all remember that.

These days my worries have turned to more adult issues, but they are still there. I am still an anxious worrier. So...in a nutshell, this blog is for those of you who can relate. I know you're out there!

So here's to taking a few deep breaths, remembering that God is in control, and knowing that He wants us to lean on him when our troubles become too much to bear. I've been doing alot of leaning these days :) Trying to atleast.

Caroline

Leftover Spaghetti & Chocolate Chips from the Bag

Yeah, its been that kind of day. A day when re-heated spaghetti and chocolate chips straight from the bag soothe my soul. I wore killer heels at work today. Apparently my feet were not used to being at such and angle for 8+ hours, so I'm paying for it now. My large glass of red wine seems to be helping matters.

So I've been reflecting lately and realizing how much blogging has helped me to notice things in life that would clearly be overlooked if not for my sweet blog, awaiting its next entry. Some days its spaghetti that I have to write about...other days its the grandness of a major revelation. Most days its the spaghetti though. I've always been a journaler, so why not share it with the world? When I was babysitting over the weekend, I ran across this book stashed away on the mom's shelf called: The Happiness Project. The theme ran true to every other book I've ever read on the subject (and that's a lot of books): Find what is FUN to YOU. Simple enough, right? A lot of my friends like to mix and mingle...to be social....to tailgate...to have cocktails...to read magazines about fashion and Kate Middleton...to watch the news....to listen to the latest songs on the radio...to know what happened on Grey's Anatomy last night. I think I'm an old soul. I'm not a "crowd" person. And 3 is a crowd in my book. I'm a one-on-one, let's sit in a booth and talk kind of person. Big T-shirts and crafts and baking are how I prefer to spend my weekend nights. I am fascinated by someone who can march to the beat of their own drum (possibly why I became a special education teacher). Life without a TV is appealing to me. Adoption is on my bucket list. Christian music is my favorite. Yeah- I said it. I love when it rains outside because it gives me an excuse to stay buried up in my room with my books.

I can play the part and be "cool" on the outside, but on the inside, I'm far from cool. Isn't it refreshing to meet someone who is passionate about something other than the cookie cutter makings of life. Some of the most interesting people I know have chosen to hang with what makes them tick, even if it is completely off the grid. So, you read instruction and repair manuals for enjoyment? I can appreciate that.

A bit of a rabbit trail there, but...back to what I was originally talking about: The Happiness Project book. One of the suggestions- # 8: Start a blog. I couldn't agree more. The hardest part, I admit, is being exposed to the world, however, I think that's what a good writer does. No one wants to hear about my perfection, they want to know that I have flaws, too.

"I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions." ~Augusten Burroughs

I read on a blogger friend's website about doing a 30 day theme for writing. For example, "30 days of Letting Go" (that was her topic). I strongly considered taking on the challenge, but I realized this would require me to write EVERY DAY for 30 days. Once a week has been more of my pattern, so I didn't want to put stipulations on my blogging habits and scare myself away! I blog as the inspiration strikes. The idea is still lurking though, so maybe next month.

What is fun to YOU?

Caroline

Friday Night Football

Tonight I turned off the air conditioner in my house. The most wonderful thing ever. I know its Fall because I have the screen door to my bedroom open, the breeze is blowing in, and I can hear the football game from across the river.

Now, I know you are thinking that I am posting this because of how much love football, but sadly that is not the case. Confession: I am not a very big football fan. Sacrilege, I know! However, there is something about the announcer's voice over the loudspeaker that gives me chills. I can hear his muffled voice right now, getting very excited over some play that I certainly will never understand, but his excitement makes me excited. Then the band kicks in and I can hear the crowd cheering over them. This is my favorite way to participate in football...from my room, relaxing in my bed, computer in my lap, listening to the sounds of the game as my curtains gently ripple from the breeze. What a loser.

Whenever I go to a football game, I tend to find myself people watching throughout the crowd rather than paying attention to the game. Then, I'm startled when a REAL fan breaks out into a cheer- so I clap along like I know what's going on. The commeraderie is great, the weather is nice, but I wish I could love the game like 99.9% of everyone else I know. This is my confession. I hope we can still be friends.

Caroline

Ty

At the risk of sounding like a crazy cat lady, this blog is about my cat, Ty. You have my blessing to stop reading now if you are not a cat fan. I understand its annoying to hear about someone else's pet. That being said- I am lonely for my Ty tonight.You see, when I moved out on my own, he continued to live with my mom and dad. So, he's really my mom's cat now. I'm pretty sure he hissed at me last time I tried to pick him up.

Meet Ty Coots. My family and I found him as a 4 week old furball trying to cross the highway in Jacksonville. We were on our way to Miami to board our first cruise ship ever. Thank goodness the traffic was slow moving due to roadwork or else he woud've been a pancake. He ran out in front of us & on instinct, my dad hopped out and scooped him up. Then..... we were stuck with a kitten....and we were on our way to Jamaica. All the humane societies were either "full" or used the "he's too small for us to take care of" excuse. What?? You are a HUMANE society! We finally found a saint named Debbie from PetSmart. She took him home with her for a week, making us sign in blood that we would come back for him when we returned from our cruise. She already had something like 9 cats at home and didn't need another.

Sure enough, we came back for him. On the car ride home we

relived all the good times from the cruise. It seemed that every story we recounted from the trip had something to do with the boy we met from Fyffe, Alabama....Ty Coots. Everything was funny about him, right down to his name. One of those boys who got the braids in his hair in the Bahamas, got busted for under-aged drinking, had a thick Alabama accent and said things like..."Let me smell of it" (when trying to figure out if a drink had liquor in it or not.) It was then we decided that our kitten would carry on his name.

Hard to believe its been 4 years since then. Ty Cootsie has brought us more laughter than we ever intended. He is fat and spoiled rotten, just how cats are supposed to be.

He wants to be in your presence, but do not dare act like you see him or care that he is in the room...or else you will get the evil eye.

He loves to play peek-a-boo, but only on his time. Not when you want to. Oh, and clean sheets are his thing.

Birdwatching is his favorite hobby. He chirps at them and swishes his tail back and forth. If it weren't for the window, he would pounce.

His rabbit feet are my very favorite. Sometime he will let me rub his little paw pads if he is sleepy enough.

How can you not love this face?

Caroline