Crazy Girl

2011 was a hard year for me.  I lost a lot and felt like I gained little (which I know isn't the case).  One of the things I lost was my grandmother, a beautiful gal.  A couple months after she passed I went to an Eli Young Band Concert with friends.  When the band sang a lovely song called Guinevere, I broke down.  One minute I was happy-go-lucky, dancing and singing and the next I had tears streaming down my cheeks as I related the brave woman in the song to my grandma.


I tell you that story to tell you this, my favorite song used to by Crazy Girl (also by Eli Young Band).  My boyfriend at the time also liked it.  In my head, I counted it as "our song."  After Guinevere, my boyfriend took me in his arms and whisper/sang all of Crazy Girl in my ear along with the country band.  I never felt more cherished or closer to him.  I took this song as a promise.


Several months later we broke up; the promise broken.  I could not listen to this song for a very long time due to extreme emotions.  The last time I heard it, I was able to resist turning the channel.  I'm not able to sing along yet, but you never know what tomorrow holds.

Snakes in the House

I was in grade school when my best friend told me that her sister had found a snake.  Was this snake in the garden? No.  Did she find it outside? Negative.  She saw the snake when she went to flush the stool after going to the bathroom.

My reaction?  "AHHHH!" In case you don't know me, I'm scared of snakes.  Terrified even.  I was going to put a picture of a snake on this blog but even the thought of it gave me the chills.  Ever since she had told me this story I have checked the toilet before going to the bathroom to see if any of the cretures had slithered up the drain.  I forgot why I had that reaction until the other night when I was taking a shower and it just came to me.  I of course put the plug in the tub before I did anything else.  I almost had to call my parents in case I was eaten by the snake.

Red Plates and Baked Potatoes

First off I LOVE potatoes.  They're practically their own food group:  mashed, baked, steamed, hash browns, french fries, etc.  Yum-yum-yum however they are.


Growing up, we lived close to my grandma and every Sunday after church we would go to her house for a Sunday meal.  Every Sunday I would set the table and every Sunday I made sure I got a red plate.  This might seem silly and my uncle and dad sure made fun of me for it but it's just what my spoiled little self wanted.  So to recap every Sunday I would make sure I had a red plate, and every Sunday I would have some form of a potato.  Not a lot, but I was happy.


Recently my grandmother passed away and the day before I moved away I was helping to clean out her house.  All I grabbed was a red  plate.  My dad thought I was crazy, but honestly how could I ask or want more?  That's one of my most vivid memories of her and that house.