Irony: A definition

I was targeted at work to give an overview of proper dress code attire to the girls at my school. (Since spring has sprung - the ratio of fabric to skin is decreasing daily). As I walked up the stairs to bed tonight, Husband (who was walking behind me) pointed out that I was wearing fairly visable red-striped underwear beneath my beige linen pants. Do as I say, ladies, not as I do.

Lots to Learn

Yesterday we (Melissa, Beth, and I) threw a baby shower for our good friend Laisa and I served Spanokopita - a greek filo pastry filled with spinach and feta cheese.

Feta cheese. As in, one of the foods that pregnant women are not supposed to eat.

Prom, Raleigh, and Other Happenings

Saturday night was Prom Night for school . . . and then Sunday I left for a conference in Raleigh, NC. Still here (here=Raleigh). Details to come soon.

Words - but none that do justice

On Wednesday, April 8, the phone rang and the news was bad. Amy had been tragically killed when another driver ran a red light. The world had lost a truly wonderful and beautiful young woman. The students at DeMasi Middle School lost one of their favorite Language Arts teachers. And my close friend Greg lost his wife.

It pours on the day of Amy’s funeral. The kind of drenching, sopping, wet rain that soaks you to the bone. We stand as one unit, Russ, Sarah, Dustin, Mike, Adam, and myself, huddled beneath umbrellas, sending every thought and every prayer – hoping that something, anything, can provide Greg and his family with the strength they need to survive this day.

After the funeral, there is laughter. About Amy’s incessant list-making and her obsession with visible vacuum lines. But after every story, there is a lull. A gap that is quickly filled by the reminder that she is no longer with us. And that Greg is left to bear a cross which no one should have to carry. He’s not even 30 years old.

We rally. We rally around our friend. We support those that we love during their darkest hours. We remind ourselves how lucky we are, that we can kiss our husband goodnight; that we still have the privilege of the mundane – picking up his dirty laundry, or sending a quick text message from work. And we revel in the realization that these things are not to be taken for granted.

Under the very worst of circumstances, it was a good trip. There were stories, and memories, and celebration of life and friendship and love; a stark reminder of what is really important.
Amy continues to teach us all.

Grieving

Anyone who has ever written – in any form – understands that writing can be cathartic, liberating, cleansing. But what happens when there are simply no words . . .

You Said It

The sign outside the Mauldin Pub (this TOTAL dive near our house) currently reads; "Beauty is in the Eye of the Beer Holder"

Touche, Mauldin Pub, touche.

Picture to come soon if the sign is still up on Thursday.

Great Expectations

I have the day off from work (we have an extended holiday for Easter - have I mentioned how much I love getting holidays off from work that have no real meaning in my religion and are therefore just freebie days? Well it's swell.)

Being that the rest of the world is still functioning as normal today - I hope to get a lot of things done. My wish list for the day includes:
Gym - week 4 of "Couch to 5K" plan begins today - ugh
Costco to buy bulk toilet paper, paper towels, and gas
Publix to buy food - lots and lots of it
Ann Taylor Loft to buy clothes - lots and lots of them
Coffee with Ashley - a fellow Wheeler High survivor

It not the prettiest day here in G'ville . . . but I'm excited to have it to myself!