Daydreams Really Do Come True


I didn’t know it at the time, but as I was writing my “Daydreamin” post, I was already closer to making all of those decisions than I thought I was. That’s right – I’m pregnant! Denny and I are going to have a baby! We found out this past Saturday after doing not one, not two, but three at home pregnancy tests. We were so shocked that we couldn’t believe the first one, and so we rushed back to Wal-Mart to buy two more. We are so excited! It was a complete surprise – we weren’t trying yet, even though we had planned to start trying in a few months. I am about 5 1/2 weeks along, and my due date is February 21st, but that might change once I go to the doctor next month (I’m pretty sure that it will change to the 25th. Trust me, I know exactly when it happened). So for now I am just taking it easy, eating healthier, and drinking plenty of water. No morning sickness yet, thank goodness!


Millhouse Misery

This past Friday night, Denny and I, along with our friends Paul & Megan, went to dinner at Statesboro’s new Millhouse Restaurant. I for one, will not be returning, if I can help it. Every aspect of our dining experience was no less than appalling. Our server was slow – it took too long after we were seated for him to stop by and introduce himself, and then it was an even longer period of time before our drinks arrived. We had already finished the basket of bread that had been placed on our table, and the bread wasn’t even that good. The menu is impressive, I will give them that much credit. With everything from italian pastas to cajun and creole spice to down-home southern food, they have it all, including steaks. Maybe that’s why the food isn’t good – they make so many different things that they don’t have time to perfect the flavor. To make a long story short, I brought my leftovers of my chicken parmesan home to Magnum, which was at least two-thirds of my food. Denny’s steak was dry and the bottom nearly burnt, even though he ordered it cooked medium. And Paul & Megan weren’t exactly raving about their food, even if Paul did eat all of his. Maybe it’s because they just opened, but it isn’t like this is the first of its’ kind. And to top it all off, the prices were a bit expensive. We could have gone to a much nicer restaurant, for example, my new favorite 119 Chops, and had much better food at a cheaper price. But don’t let me stop you from going – see for yourself, if you don’t believe me!


For the last few months, Denny and I have been discussing the possibility of us becoming parents. And before I go any further, no, we are not pregnant, and we are not officially trying to become pregnant either. We just like to daydream about it and talk about it for hours each day. But each and every day, it seems, our dreams are crushed by the other person and all talk of babies goes down the drain – until the next day when all previous dream-crushing is forgotten and we are back to la-la land. You see, our dreams of having children are two very, very different extremes. I dream of a super-chic nursery, decked out in all of the latest must-haves and that season’s trendy colors, which involves absolutely NO theme. No ABC’s in red, blue, green, and yellow, no zoo animals, and certainly no heavy equipment. I dream about picking out a furniture ensemble that complements the nursery’s colors and fabrics perfectly. I dream of cool and sophisticated baby names that haven’t been used 5 million times before, and won’t cause confusion once my little one is off to school because there are 4 other children in his/her class with the same name. I dream of edgy, spunky baby clothes, and not the pastel, cutesy stuff that every other baby wears, especially if our baby is a boy. But Denny’s dreams are the exact opposite of mine. Denny dreams of a nursery themed with John Deere tractors, Honda 4-wheelers, or even better – both. Denny dreams of finding a crib on Craig’s list or in the pennysaver – and he could care less if it matches the rest of the furniture. He dreams of the ultimate redneck name, like Leroy, Hank, or his personal favorite, Bo. Yes, you read correctly – Bo – like one of the Dukes of Hazzard boys (to which I constantly remind him of the unlikelihood that our son named Bo will ever become an educated, successful member of society with such a name). And finally, Denny dreams of camoflauge clothing, regardless of the gender of this child. The only thing that we can agree on is that we do want a child. The rest will be decided as the need arises. But the way I see it, I have much more pull in the decision-making. You see, I will be the one who grows this baby inside of my body for 9 months, and I will also be the one who pushes it out of a teeny-tiny orifice that can barely accomodate something much smaller than a baby. So I think that I should get to have all of my dreams come true, don’t you agree? Or maybe I’m being too selfish. Oh alright, I’ll let him put a small, hot wheels sized tractor in the nursery. And he can dress the baby in camo when I’m not home. I think that’s fair!

The Redeemer

He might be loud, annoying, and really, really dumb.

He greets me with jumps and scratched up legs each day when I get home from work.

He often chases the golf cart and the 4-wheeler like a psychotic wild beast. 

He usually gets wet when his daddy uses the bathroom outside (don’t forget, we live in the middle of nowhere) because he can’t wait for him to finish before he must re-mark his territory.

He sometimes digs up the mulch in my flower bed, which drives me INSANE!

He used to jump on top of my car and leave scratch marks, but thankfully he has gotten past that stage.

He also used to pee on everything in sight- including the toaster (yes, the toaster, that sat on the counter top in the kitchen. We have since gotten a new toaster.), laundry baskets, couch, flower pots, bags of groceries that I had brought inside and sat on the floor, etc. – and this is the reason that he is now an “outside dog” for the rest of his days.

But there is one thing that he does that I will never complain about. Well, actually two things. Whenever we have a visitor, he makes sure that we know that someone is approaching long before we can ever hear the vehicle pull up outside. This most often is the UPS man. I wonder what he thinks of this crazy little dog?

And the second, and most important job of his, is the Snake Patrol. If and when there is a snake in the yard, my little Magnum gets super protective. He even has a distinct Snake Bark which instantly alerts Denny and I that there is indeed a snake to be killed.

For example, a few nights ago, Denny and I were sitting on the couch playing a game, when all of a sudden, we heard the dreaded Snake Bark. We jumped up and raced outside, BB gun in hand. A few minutes later, the moccasin was history.

But the scariest part of all this? No less than 2 minutes before, I had been outside, walking just feet away from where the snake was. It was dark out, and I easily could have been bitten. Thank goodness for my annoying, dumb, leg-scratching, territory-marking Magnum.

Enough is Enough

I used to be skinny. I used to have a body that would make most women jealous. And I had all of this when I was 16. Well, guess what. I’m not 16 anymore. 8 years and 15 pounds later, I’ve had enough. I am embarassed to wear shorts in public, because my thighs have (as my husband call them – he’s so nice) leg titties. Or in other words, I have saddle bags. Grandmothers have saddle bags! Not 24 year olds! I don’t even feel comfortable wearing a bathing suit at my mother’s house. I’m embarassed to be seen by my own family! So enough is enough. It’s coming off. And I’m telling you all about it so that I might actually stick to my word. Plus, I’m sure it’s no secret that I WANT A BABY and I don’t want to be carrying around extra weight when I get pregnant. It will just give me more to lose once the baby is born. And it wouldn’t hurt to start eating healthier since I will be growing a human inside of me either. I am more motivated now than ever before to get in shape, and by god, I’m gonna do it! Wish me luck!

Just Another Ordinary Day

So it seems that I have reached that point in my life in which birthdays are just another day. That day was yesterday, and it was, just another ordinary day. I no longer need everyone under the sun to know that it is my birthday. I don’t need parties and gifts and cake and ice cream. It’s just not that big of a deal anymore. Does this mean that I’m getting old? Gosh, I’m only 24………….