Finding the Sense in Sensibility

Independence Day: Memories of a Hero

2014-07-05T21:02:00.001-07:00

Maybe it's the 4th of July holiday or maybe its all the time I've spent in the hammock recently, but my Grandaddy has been on my mind.

Yesterday was the 4th so like any good and patriotic American, I strapped on my stars and stripes bikini while I whistled Lee Greenwood's Proud to be an American and walked out to the hammock in our all-American backyard, waving to neighbors and anticipating dusk so the husband and I could see our small-town fireworks display.

How much more American can you get than a yellow lab?!

Swinging and whistling on the hammock made me go back to my fondest 4th of July memories, those hot Florida days when we would eat hotdogs and watermelon until our stomachs ached, and I would beg my Grandaddy, my best friend, my main man, to put up his Pawley's Island hammock between those two perfect trees in the backyard. He would always oblige and we would swing and swing. Maybe we were there for 10 minutes or 2 hours, I have no idea. All I knew was that it was a beautiful and happy day because I was surrounded by love and Red White and Blue.

I was young and didn't understand the importance of such a holiday. I didn't understand why we celebrated or why there were fireworks. I didn't realize at the time that even though I was always celebrating my Grandaddy because of my love for him, the rest of America was celebrating him right then because of what he did for his country.

Carroll Ray Morris, fondly known as Grandaddy, was born in West Virginia, served in the US Army during WWII as a military policeman in Germany, and was your true American Hero. I don't know what all he saw while he served his country or what memories went through his head on any given day years later, surfacing in any given nightmare, and I don't know what kind of pride, loss, hurt, or relief he felt on those holidays that are meant to cause memories and patriotism.

He died when I was 16 and there are days, so many days, that I think of yet another question I wish I would have asked him or a situation I could sit down and talk to him about. Maybe he didn't want to talk about his Army days and that's why I don't know more than I do. Maybe they were uneventful, although I truly doubt it. Maybe he was too humble to admit any of his brave acts of valor.

All I know is that he served his country and when his soul went to Heaven and his body was buried 10 years ago, an American flag was there. America lost another WWII veteran and I lost my beloved Grandaddy.

Whenever I swing in the hammock or think of our brave American veterans, I think of that blue-eyed gentleman and our sweet time together in the fleeting sunshine. His memory presents itself to me in a few other special ways, too, and I can never help but smile. Sometimes that smile is accompanied by a tear but always a smile.

As a child, I didn't realize my Grandaddy was an American Hero, I only knew that he was my hero. And I think that was enough. For him, and for me.

Anxiety Underwater: SCUBA is not for the Faint of Heart

2014-06-03T05:00:00.000-07:00

I began a SCUBA certification class last weekend.

If there was such a thing as "living crap," it has been scared out of me (see my previous post of other examples of scaredy-cat Libby) . There is something so unnatural about breathing out of a moutpiece attached to a heavy tank attached to a vest that blows up attached to your back. While looking through goggles and swimming with fins. Nope, not natural at all. Not to mention, each classroom lessons starts and ends with, "if you do ____, you will die. If you do ____, you will die. If ____ happens, you will die." Hmm, I'm not sure why, but that doesn't exactly sound super positive to me.

Saturday's class consisted of a swim test with various feats, a basic lesson on setting up your gear, and getting used to the gear underwater. All of this at 4 feet down isn't so bad... it was moving down to the 12 foot deep end that started giving me the heebie jeebies. It took a few tries and a panic-ridden almost-drowned why-the-hell-cant-I-get-to-the-top (is it normal that its not second nature yet to INFLATE the foreign object strapped to my back!?) trip to the surface, but I eventually accomplished the skills at hand. I felt okay and tried to focus on one thing: Bermuda. Bermuda. Bermuda with my new Hubby. Headed home, I knew I would be back at it the next morning and tried not to let the fact that I wasn't "a natural" get me down.

My first time trying out SCUBA

Sunday morning came and I geared up, jumped in, and began the lessons set before me. When it came time to redo all of the tests from the day before, this time at 12 feet, I took a deep breath and attempted my descent. I watched the other three pupils go through their skills with ease, all the while a little twinge of unsettledness creeping up on me. I wanted to open my mouth and breath. I knew I shouldn't look up to the top of the water but I couldn't stop myself. I was trying to think of Bermuda but instead of images of coral reefs and fish, I saw only blueish concrete pool walls closing in on me. My brain was flooded with the thought that in Bermuda, I will have to be under much deeper water than this for 30 minutes. 30 minutes?! That was just too much for me to handle. I don't think I had even made it to 3 minutes at this point when my chest started heaving and I montioned to the instructor that I was OUT OF THERE. Thankfully, I remembered to inflate and I got to the top and breathed (okay, more like gasped just for the beauty of it) that sweet, precious, natural, God-given air. And immediately, I started to cry. Ugh, crying in goggles is not pretty. While the class and the instructor were down 12 feet, I removed my goggles and swam at the shallow end trying to get myself together. I still don't know whether I was crying out of panic or because I was upset at myself for not being able to do this thing that so many people can't get enough of. That I wanted to do. I couldn't control my mind and quite honestly, it pissed me off.

I wanted to say I hated SCUBA but I couldn't. That wasn't the case. I wanted to say I was done and that SCUBA wasn't for me but I couldn't say that either. I was pretty certain this specific day was over for me, but I was almost prepared to say that I would try again another day.

Something crazy happened after that episode. I was drained, tired, feeling quite defeated, but I was suddenly overcome with the feeling that I wanted to rise above this. I may not be the best at SCUBA, and I may not do it every weekend or even call myself a Diver but I want to at least accomplish this class and get certified. It scares me to death but I want to know what it feels like to go through something so terrifying and come out on the other side victorious and in control.

I was faced with a choice of either being a quitter or being a gladiator (Scandal reference, for my other fans out there!). I thought that if I couldn't do everything perfectly during that class, that I would have failed and I couldn't go on. I learned though that you have to trust your gut, not compare yourself to those around you, learn (slowly) to control your thoughts, and that some days, it just isn't going to happen. I gain nothing if I beat myself up and let the obstacle defeat me. What I want to be defined by is that I have the ability to face something head on, pick myself up after a stumble, and fight. I want to have that quiet strength that says "today may not be the day, but I will try again tomorrow."

I will keep you posted on my progress. Pretty soon, instead of Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus, SCUBA will stand for Scared Crapless but Undefeated Bad Ass.

That's my hope, anyway!

Note to Self: You are Beautiful.

2014-05-29T11:54:00.002-07:00

Dear Self,

I owe you an apology. I have known you for 25 years and you have been very faithful to me, but you have consistently been taken for granted and not treated with the respect you deserve.

I need to tell you that for the first time in 25 years, I realize that you are not only capable, you are beautiful. Did you hear me? I said you are BEAUTIFUL. I am sorry it has taken me this long to understand how wonderful you actually are and I promise to compliment you more often- not because I am vain but because you are a gift.

image by EP Widor Photography

I am sorry I have filled you with sub-par things and expected you to work to your fullest potential. I am sorry I deprived you of sleep, nutrition, laughter, and made you spend way too many hours staring at, and obsessing over, a number on a scale. I judged you by that number and I realize now how wrong that was. You should have instead been judged by the strength you possess, the lines around my mouth that point to how many smiles we have given to others, and the freckles that dance around my skin for they remind me of all the wonderful days we have spent in the rays of the pleasant sun.

I am sorry for all the excuses that were made to not fuel you with exercise. We are so much happier and full of energy when we are active! I am also sorry for all the times I filled you with improper food because I thought I deserved it, or the times I deprived you of calories all together because I thought I didn’t deserve them. I deserve to be fueled. I deserve to give my body nutrition to live and thrive. This is just another thing it has taken me so long to realize.

I am sorry I have compared you to others. I am sorry I didn’t think you measured up to them because let me tell you, you are perfect just the way you are. Everyone has their battles and if I can love others through theirs, I can love myself through my own, too. I can’t take back all the times I stared at pictures in magazines or at strangers on the street and wished to look more like them, but I know now how foolish that was. You are capable, miraculous, and wonderful.

I am sorry for thinking a number on a scale was enough to define everything about you. It sounds pretty ridiculous said aloud, doesn’t it? Someone who loves us very much recently took that scale away, and at first I was angry because I didn’t think I would be able to measure my progress. It’s funny though- I haven’t seen this much progress in a very long time and it all started with the scale no longer being a fixture in my bathroom and in my life.

Getting to this point of loving you has not been easy. It was hard to even admit at first that I didn’t love you; however, people take care of and nurture the things they love. They treat those things with respect and honor for the blessing that they are. I have not done that with you and that stops here.

Image by EP Widor Photography

One day I hope to have a little girl and I don’t want her to go through these hard feelings like I have. I don’t want her to know what it feels like to not love exercise, not love good food, and I certainly don’t want her to know what it feels like to be obsessed over a scale. I don’t know that little girl yet, but I know that she will be beautiful and miraculous and capable. I know she will be unique and have so many characteristics about her that everyone will love. I know this because she will be a part of me. She will be a part of her dad, who is wonderful, too. These are all the things that will only begin to define her.

So, Self, with this sincere apology, I also want to say thank you. Thank you for continuing to work and thrive despite the obstacles through which I have put you. Thank you for being patient with me while I learned all of these lessons. You are beautiful. You are perfect. You are cherishable. You have been good to me and it is time now that I return the favor.

Sincerely,

Your Newest, Greatest Fan

Psalm 139:14: "I praise You for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Your works are wonderful, I know that full well."

What would you say to yourself if you had the courage?

Wedding Planning: Lessons From a Bride in the Trenches

2014-04-17T14:30:00.000-07:00

I have been officially planning the magical, whimsical, flowery, purple affair that will join my beloved and I in wedded bliss for nearly nine months (let’s be honest though, I have been thinking and plotting about it for far longer!). I am in the home-stretch now with just two weeks to go. As much as I love to plan and love having my brain on wedding channel 24/7, I am to the point now where I can reflect a bit, look forward to a few quiet evenings in the near future where my husband and I can chomp popcorn and watch Netflix and not be surrounded with paper samples, vendor contracts, and this DIY project or that. I am just so excited to be his Mrs. and share life with my best friend. I know I will always be a list-keeping, type-A, semi-neurotic planner and I will always look forward to the next big thing or event to coordinate, but nine months with one solid focus (a big, stressful focus for which I am the sole decision-maker/manager/slave driver) has begun to take its toll on my sanity. I am ready for a bit of peace.

Although I have not yet finished this journey, I have learned a lot through this process. A lot of these lessons perhaps reach further than just the realm of wedding planning and are things I hope to never forget. Maybe you can benefit from some of these lessons and maybe I can remain mindful of them as the crazy two weeks ahead of me commence!

(Us. Insert "awww" here.)

1. People who offer to help mean it.

I know when I offer someone a ride, a hand, a meal, or a shoulder, I genuinely mean it and am happy to deliver! If I didn’t want to for whatever reason, I would not have offered. I have to believe that other people are generally the same. If someone offers to take some weight off my shoulders, I cannot feel bad for taking them up on their offer!

The kicker- I have to remind myself to ask them to do things they would enjoy and will be good at (don’t ask someone who enjoys creative, fun things, to deal with something budget or contract related). Bonus: if you give them a job, it’s best not to micromanage or tell them how they have to do it. You just have to be okay with the way they wish to get the task done. Yes, this is incredibly more difficult than it sounds.

2. Flexibility and honey will get you far.

I spoke to a wedding vendor yesterday who said I was “the most flexible bride.” When she said that I was flattered, but I also thought, “What does she expect? For me to pitch a fit and tell her no?” To me, that is not only pointless in a situation beyond your control, it is just tacky. I have been treated so well by many of my vendors because we were flexible with what we wanted and were willing to discuss things rather than present a “my way or the highway” mentality. Shane and I knew a general idea of what we wanted to provide our guests, so we decided to have it on a Thursday instead of Saturday so we could afford all the niceties we wanted. I provided my photographer with a general shot list so he was aware of who was family and what images was important to me, but my approach was that providing a 3-page shot list of every single photo I wanted taken would insult his professionalism and hinder his creative process. I gave my florist a color scheme, style, and a few blooms I didn’t care for, and I am letting her take it from there. If I had something specific that I couldn’t live without, I would have told her, but mostly, I love her work, she and I are on the same page, and I am excited about being surprised and wowed on my wedding day!

I want to help people out and do more than my share of the work, but if someone else is the expert, by all means! I think this approach has served me very well and honestly, will remove a lot of disappointed on the big day. I guess we will find out for sure after May 1, but mostly I have had the nicest interactions with my vendors and they have been very willing to work with me on things because I was courteous and flexible (see my previous post on attracting bees with honey!).

3. It is one day.

Albeit the most stressful and important day of my life, I have had to constantly remind myself of this when I put unnecessary pressure on myself to make this the most perfect, ornate, creative, romantic, awe-striking event my guests have ever been to! In the end, I am putting a large amount of money into an event that lasts 5.5 hours and yes, I want it to be perfect and memorable, but it still just one day. Which leads me to…

4. There is a single, ultra-important goal of this day.

It could rain (it better not!). Someone imperative could come down with the measles and not show up (take your vitamins, people!). There could be a freak snow storm and my beautiful gazebo ceremony could be forced to move inside amongst space heaters and down blankets (this Southern girl did decide to get married in New England, after all.) I could worry about all of those things and have a bridal meltdown of epic proportions in the event they do happen, or I could focus on the sole purpose of the day: to marry my best friend and merge our two lives into one amazing partnership. To be surrounded by the 75 people that love us enough to travel from all over to witness our matrimony and celebrate with us because MARRIAGE is important. Without marriage, a wedding would just be an overpriced family reunion.

5. The people who want to be there, will.

I had to make some very conscience decisions early on in the wedding planning process to understand that I can only do so much and there would inevitably be loved ones who would not be on board or able to make the trip to our destination soiree. This mindset has really helped me avoid freak-out sessions because Shane and I could have had a ceremony overseas (I tried), could have done something more expensive and therefore would have had to shorten the guest list, could have picked a different continental location that wouldn’t be in driving distance for the majority of guests like the one that we chose is. Not everyone will understand the thought process and sacrifice behind the decision we made on location and plans, but that’s okay. The people who love us and know that we did what is best for us have been so supportive. Life and circumstances have forced some very eager individuals to not be able to come and they will absolutely be missed. Others may have had different ideas, but bottom line is this: the people who want to be a part of our big day will make every effort to be there. Period. I am choosing to focus on those people.

Eight-Year-Old Passion Stuck in a Grown-Up's Body

2014-03-31T17:00:00.000-07:00

Who were you in second grade?

Eight-year-old Libby carried a Lion King backpack, learned how to do a ponytail all by herself, discovered “stage fright” was not in her vocabulary as she shimmied and pirouetted across stages for dance recitals and local plays, and got her first (and last) parent phone call for writing “STUPID” on a boy named Harry’s sophomoric pencil drawing.

Eight-year-old Libby learned the words to “I Believe I Can Fly” (if you’re not humming right now, we’re not friends) and learned the artistry of everything monkey bars. Eight-year-old Libby loved making up songs, rhyming words, and she soared through vocabulary tests like a champ.

What does all this have to do with anything? I read something recently that said if you were wondering what you should be doing with your life and career, go back to the person you were in second grade because this is the time when people really start attaching themselves to a personality that travels with them through life. The heart of what you enjoyed in second grade is still the heart of what you enjoy and are passionate about as an adult. You just need to be honest with yourself about what those things are and how to apply that to something that, ya know, ideally makes a little money.

I’m not sure I could gather many concrete passions from what I remember of my second grade self but I do remember third and fourth grade, which were taught by the same teacher, to be exceptionally pivotal. It was there that Mrs. Stinnett’s class wrote in daily journals and were greeted by a cheerful written response the following day; it was there that I was complimented for bringing my Winnie the Pooh story “full circle” (the story began with Pooh looking in the mirror, deciding he didn’t like his look, Piglet gives him a make-over, and it ends with Pooh looking in the mirror and loving his look! I’ll read it to you sometime. If you want.); it was there that Mrs. Stinnett foreshadowed my adult writing career and made me promise that when I write my first book, I would dedicate it to her. I fully intend to make good on that promise.

Why then, does “growing up,” having bills, starting a family, and “being in the real world” suddenly choke me of my one true passion? Why do I feel as if writing isn’t good enough and won’t pay the bills? Why have I put my blog on the back burner for so many months (my truest apologies. I was going to write about why I haven’t written but quickly thought better of an excuse-laden post) when this is the one outlet I have that I feel adequate, at peace, in love, and the truest and best version of myself?

I honestly am not sure. I do think that this is why a lot of parents encourage their children to become whatever their little hearts desire! Want to be a firefighter? Do it. An astronaut? Do it. The president? Please, dear God, do it, because somewhere along the road, mommy and daddy may have strayed from the path they were once on and they don’t want their children to have regrets. They don’t want those dreams to be scoffed at for being too big or shrugged at because they suddenly seem too difficult to attain.

I am truly blessed by my current career and am happy to wake up each day to take on such an exciting venture of which I am proud. I do get to write, exercise my creative muscles, help people, listen to stories of success, and create new and better ways to reach people and help my company thrive.

I would just hope that we do not lose sight of the things that truly get our heart pumping, smile beaming, and feet moving. Life is too short to do anything less than what we are passionate about and retirement is too late to do all of the things we were waiting and hoping to enjoy.

Who were you in second grade? Are you bold enough to get to know that person again?

Prescription Frames and a New Found Perspective: Guest Blogger

2013-08-06T15:22:00.001-07:00

Many of my tried and true followers know how close my mom and I are and how many traits she has so lovingly passed down to me (okay but really, mom? You could have kept the varicose to yourself). Just today at lunch while involved in a deep and interesting conversation about the proper way to load a dishwasher and scrub hard anodized pots, my lips sputtered some passionate idea about the heat at the bottom of the dishwasher ruining Tupperware and I tried to cover my mouth in time but, alas, my mother had escaped again.

This is why I am so excited to show you all first hand another passion I share with my mother... our love of writing. She truly is a talented and comical writer so I know you all will love this guest post from my mommy dearest. Enjoy!

Prescription Frames and a New Found Perspective

So.....had an interesting morning. Quite an adventure if I do say so myself. An odyssey in my own home. A unique and unusual experience that began when I accidentally misplaced my glasses and ended when I located them. This is the tale of my vision quest.

I am very dependent upon my eye wear. I have been since a child when my dear mother noticed much squinting and exasperation during homework and music lessons. Eye exams, glasses, contact lenses, solutions, cases, and cleaners have been part of my life for 47 years. Improved vision has made colors crisp, letters, numbers, musical notes and faces readable. Transformed blurriness to clear.

Misplacing glasses or contact lenses isn't really an option for me if I hope to navigate my world. Upon discovering this morning that my vision aids were MIA, I drew a breath and glanced around, anticipating their presence, right...here...

No, not here, perhaps over there?? At first, I felt a faint glimmer, a hint of annoyance...they have to be right here on top of my reading materials or hiding under the Life section of the Ledger. Searching involved looking and patting, feeling for the familiar face wear. Eventually, hopeful assurance kicked into gear. Of course, ( head slap) I could've had a lapse and left them in the bathroom nestled in my well-stocked makeup bag, beside the toothbrushes or darn it, maybe in the messy drawer next to the hairbrush. Cursory looking transitioned to controlled rummaging. Those darn things should be RIGHT here!

Okay, break time, lil' spurts of nervous giggling and roving eyeballs....I spied my Samsung cell phone and had the presence of mind to distract myself with Facebook...ahhhh, that baby is soo sweet; she's in Alaska?? Hope they see the Northern Lights, I would love to see the northern lights, whose birthday is today?

Breathing returned to normal, equilibrium reestablished. Checked my fuzzy reflection while passing a mirror. Pasted a smile and gave a silent pep talk, usually an effective mood booster! Ready. Set. GO!!
I resumed my search for much needed glasses. Getting a slight headache from squinting, pretty strong prescription for nearsightedness and astigmatism. Don't think I'm exaggerating when I mention that "blind as a bat" describes my -5.00 & -5.50 prescription strengths.

I knew I had things to do, places to go, and people to see. I had to get down and dirty serious about locating the missing eye wear!! They could NOT have been stolen and I know they didn't just walk off. Think....think harder and smarter. Could they have inadvertently been abandoned at the coffee pot/toaster during breakfast? No, they had not been inadvertently or deliberately abandoned by the coffee pot or toaster. Then, without forethought, I threw open the french doors for a quick look in the refrigerator. I admit, I paused for a quick spurt of nervous laughter at this instance. Now that would have been funny (read: embarrassing) to find them next to the International Delight Hazelnut flavored creamer. Alas, they were not left behind in or around the Frigidaire, nor were they located in the pantry or languishing with the few, neatly stacked dirty dishes by the sink.

Exasperation settled into my psyche as I stomped to the laundry room and looked high and low for missing spectacles. No, they were not in the pile of clean clothes or the basket of dirty clothes, nor in the washing machine that had reached the Rinse cycle.

Desperation drove me to retrace my morning routine. Pressing my face close to every surface, top, bottom,sides, and all around the town. I flung sheets, towels, mail, art projects, dog toys, magazines. I looked in the dog beds, under my bed, sofa, and kitchen table. I emptied trash cans, found a partially emptied piece of Samsonite (unexpected bonus locating dirty socks, shirts, and unmentionables from a trip three weeks ago), teehee. I'm sure this never happens in well-managed households. During this period of shame and deep lament over dust, clutter, and the piercing agony of not having Merry Maids on a regular basis, I nearly shrieked with frustration. I wanted to pitch a fit, host a conniption, have a meltdown!!! When the red mist dissipated, I decided against having an undignified hissy fit. It wouldn't be fitting to disrupt and disturb the dust bunnies congregating nearby. They were, to be fair, just minding their own bunny business.They didn't deserve to witness dirtball carnage and I'm quite certain they were too young to come to such a tragic end. I came to the inevitable conclusion that the real tragedy was discovering my myopia had far reaching effects beyond being shortsighted. Vision, while important, is but one of my God designed senses. I still have smell, taste, touch, and hearing.

Comforted by these calming thoughts, I decided to scrub the bathroom. Have any idea how close you have to press your face into a sink, tub, and toilet to ascertain how much scouring is necessary to thoroughly remove soap scum and mineral buildup? Scrubbing Bubbles are truly fascinating up close and personal! Who knew that Ajax appears white until it comes into contact with water and miraculously transforms into a lovely shade of blue? Clorox Cleanup works miracles with that disturbing moldy colored ring in the toilet! Merry Maids may appreciate my unscientific discoveries. I tackled the grungy grout until the travertine was ready to cry for mercy. Then, while backing out of the throne room on my hands and knees, I glanced up at the sage green bath towel draped over the towel holder and noticed an arm. The arm was connected to the lenses and yahooooo! there were my glasses. They once were lost, but now they're found!!! Rising from my gleaming pine-scented floor, I did an impressive happy dance and smiled a true and happy smile. What a relief! What an odyssey! What an adventure! What a moron! Why were they there in the first place? Well, whatever the reason, it was a unique and unusual way to "see" my world for a couple of hours. Perhaps a new perspective is helpful every now and again.

Wear Your China

2013-07-25T13:17:00.001-07:00

If you have ever seen my closet, you would know that I am at no loss for clothes. I have a very large walk-in closet full of all sorts of things. I am one blessed girl, this I know. And yet somehow, I frequently have nothing to wear. The other day was one such day, and I picked through my line of dresses a few times, feeling and remembering the purchase and wear of each one (yes, I love my dresses. And they love me.). A beautiful Giani Bini number stood out to me, a dress I spent a pretty penny on for family photos last year. I love this dress. It fits like a glove, comfortable, and in the prettiest shades of floraly blues and purples. I have only worn this dress once.

(My beautiful dress. And my beautiful family. And a logo over my beautiful face!)

On this random Wednesday morning, I was feeling daring. I would wear this dress to work! It is a special occasion dress and I would wear it to no occasion at all. I felt liberated. More than that, I felt kind of gorgeous.

People took notice; I received quite a few compliments from strangers. That made me stand a little bit straighter. When my friend Sonya also took notice, I explained my special occasion dress I chose to wear on “just a Wednesday.” She loved the idea, said a few “you-go-girls,” and told me that she took the same kind of outlook in her own life. She serves dinner every night on her fine china. “Someone took the time to buy me that china and I want to make every day feel special by eating off it! What good does its beauty do if it’s stuck in a cabinet?”

She is right! So much so that I coined a new life phrase from the conversation. You’ve got to wear your china! Forget YOLO and all that jazz, I want to wear my china and give these nice things I love and cherish the value and attention they deserve. And this goes so much deeper than just “stuff.”

In the video I posted in a recent post, I shared a video that a good friend showed me. In the video, the presenter shared some very important lessons he learned after almost losing his life. One thing about his presentation stuck out to me over the rest. He had a philosophy to collect cheap wine, because if someone wants to come over and visit, he is not only going to make the time for them, but he’s not going to make an excuse not to crack open a bottle of wine and enjoy the company. How often do we make excuses to hold off on things, put tasks off, or tell our family “maybe some other time?” Life only happens once, and it happens quickly.

The moral of the story… Wear your china. You are not promised tomorrow so go ahead and wear that fancy dress you’ve been saving for a “special occasion,” open the bottle of wine, and serve dinner on your finest china. Spend time with the people who matter most; tomorrow is not promised to any of us and we need to make this moment count.

Wear your china. Life is too short to feel anything but luxurious and special. Everyday.

And you know what? Just go ahead and buy the matching shoes, too.

An Engagement and a Favor

2013-07-18T08:51:00.002-07:00

This blogger has some exciting news! Last Saturday, July 13, my wonderful boyfriend of over 2 years asked me to be his wife!!

On a morning kayaking trip, we took a breather on a beautiful piece of beach, much like we did on one of our first dates. As I was enjoying the sun, Shane told me he wanted me to see a picture of Sadie, our yellow lab. When I opened my eyes, it was a picture much like one I had fallen in love with on Pinterest only it was our dog...with my ring!! I looked to Shane who was on his knee with a sweet smile, sparkling blue eyes, and a BIG question. I squealed a "yes!!" and we excitedly hugged and laughed and basked in our lovely bliss.

During all this excitement, Shane and I entered into a contest for the ultimate dream wedding in Pensacola. Its called the Block Party Wedding and it brings together all of the top vendors in Pensacola, Fl who have graciously offered to donate their services to one lucky couple for a wedding in September!

Shane and I have made it into the TOP 10 and we are so excited!! But now I need your help, fellow bloggers and friends.

PLEASE VOTE FOR SHANE AND LIBBY TO WIN A FREE DREAM WEDDING!!!

We are so excited about this opportunity that we want to make a donation to a local charity with the money we will have saved on our wedding if we win this amazing wedding!

You can read our love story on the home page, and vote under the Vote icon in the top menu bar. (That makes sense, right?) One vote per email address, so please please please send this to your family and friends and let's show Pensacola how tight knit the blogging world really is!!

(Courtesy of Aislinn Kate Photography- one of the vendors of the Block Party Wedding!)

Thank you so much!!

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2013-07-01T06:33:00.001-07:00

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The 15 Most Difficult Lessons to Learn in Marriage

2013-06-27T15:00:00.001-07:00

How many times have you been told, “learn from my mistakes?” Probably a lot, right? And yet, how many times did you actually do just that? For some reason, our human nature is to assume we know better and go off of the need to do things for ourselves. Well, while this may be necessary in some things, I would like to know that I can approach my future marriage with a few lessons already under my belt, thanks to some wonderful people around me who have been there, done that, and gotten the t-shirt. While it is inevitable that mistakes and tiffs will happen, I think the world of relationships would be a lot less tumultuous place if we just took the advice of those who have already had to learn the lesson the hard way.

A few days ago, after a fleeting thought of “I wonder what the hardest – but most well worth it- lesson people had to learn in their marriage” was, I decided to pose my question to my Facebook buddies. I was overwhelmed with the honest and forthcoming responses and was really touched by how willing people were to share what may have been a very tough and humbling lesson- all in the name of letting someone else learn from their mistakes.

I truly believe people are willing to put their pride aside to help someone else. It is up to the receiver of these lessons what they choose to do with them. Always willing to help myself, I want to share these lessons with you! (I’m just a doll, I know.) I encourage you to pass them along to someone who may also benefit from them (so….pretty much everyone) and if you have one of your own, please share!

The 15 most difficult, but well worth it, lessons in marriage (straight from the horse’s mouth!):

1. I am not in this alone and my wife does not have ill will towards me. We are on the same team.

2 2. being loving is way more important than being right.

3. Always communicate with each other, no matter the mood. Spouses are not mind readers.

4. Don’t put unrealistic expectations on your spouse. Enjoy and embrace their differences, instead. God led you to that person for a reason.

5. It’s okay to hold hands even after 20 years of marriage.

6. Don’t vent to your family about your spouse. Odds are, you and your spouse will work it out and your family won’t forget about it when you do.

7 7. I am more selfish than I ever dreamed I was.

8 8. Communicate love on purpose. Discover their love language and act on it. (For more on this, see my post on Gary Chapman or visit his website to discover your love language.)

9 9. Never go to bed angry. You never know what tomorrow will bring. Work it out before you go to sleep and wake up without stress.

10. Live every day and love every day like it is your last. Good or bad, you can overcome it if you stick together.

1 11. Make sure you agree on how to manage your money. Money is the biggest source of marital strife.

1 12. When you are young, you nit-pick things to death. As you grow older, you learn to pick your battles. Example: your husband empties the trash but doesn’t put a trash bag back in the can. Instead of complaining, put the bag in yourself and give your hubby a kiss and thank him for taking the trash out. Men need to be shown how much we appreciate the little things they do. (I personally LOVE this example!)

1 13. I can’t fix everything. Sometimes I just have to be a listener rather than a fixer. (Now what gender do you think the friend who offered this lesson is?)

1 14. Learning to be more feminine and let him do nice things for me. (I hope we can assume the gender of this one…)

1 15. Always kiss each other goodnight.

I don’t know about you, but I think I am going to print these lessons and put them somewhere where I can reference them often. Now that’s what I call free, fabulous pre-pre-marital counseling!

And as a bonus, some good friends of ours who have been married for 6 years and have the kind of marriage people wish for, shared this video with me that really touched me. He said, “I don’t like to fight with my wife, so I remind myself to choose to be happy as opposed to fighting to be right.” This man is giving us the framework to literally “live like we are dying” from his experience and the lessons he took from it.

What lessons could you share with someone about your marriage that you may have had to learn the hard way?

Chivalry Ain't Dead!

2013-05-22T08:28:00.001-07:00

I have always been an “old soul.” I wear dresses (I’d add petticoats too if I didn’t think people would gawk!), some of my favorite celebrities are Ann Margaret and Frank Sinatra, and I love my cast iron skillet. Over Christmas, Shane’s uncles and I laughed as we realized my personal tagline should be, “I like to cook and bake and be in bed by 8!” I mean come on, what 24-year-old do you know in this century asked for a sewing machine and spatulas for Christmas?

Along with these attributes, I am also a big believer in the “old school” views of family, marriage, and gender roles. Yes, I am ecstatic for my right to vote, my competitive salary based on my merit and not on my gender, and that I can live on my own and not need a man to change my light bulbs. I do believe, though, that there were some things that America has “grown out of” and we may not be better off because of it.

Although I have always had very strong goals and dreams for myself and my career, I knew that my number one calling in life is to be a wife and a mother. I believe that those will be my most influential and important occupations…if I don’t throw myself into those things, I will have failed. I believe a marriage is a partnership but also that the husband is called to be the head of the household. Why? Because God called husbands to love their wives as Christ loved the Church. Christ laid down his life for his Church and didn’t make any decisions based on power or greed or submission… he made them all out of love and based on what was best for his bride. This doesn’t mean that the wife doesn’t have a say or isn’t an “equal,” it simply means that she is trusting her husband to lead her the way God intended.

Call me Southern (GRITS- Girls Raised In The South), but I am also a huge believer in chivalry! Contrary to popular belief, it is not dead. On our first date, Shane, who had recently moved to Florida from New England, opened my car door for me and he has been doing it ever since. Most men in the South don’t even do that anymore, and I knew that wonderful man was rare that first night because he respected me enough to uphold the traditions of old. Why? They worked! If it’s not broken, don’t fix it, right? Every time I hop in the truck as Shane hold the door open for me, I am so grateful for who he is and how he views me as a woman. If a man is respectful in the little things, he will be respectful in the big things.

This by no means indicates that women are damsels or are incapable of thinking and doing things for themselves. It simply is a gesture of love and tradition that radiates so much more than just holding a door open.

Last week at a company-wide meeting on leadership at work, I arrived at the last minute and was looking for an empty seat. I spotted one in the front corner of the room near some of my co-workers but it was an awkward maneuvering to get to that corner chair. The presenters and “higher ups” of the company were standing near and I smiled as I attempted to get to my seat. Low and behold, I was astonished to realize that a new higher-up director of our company, one who came from the military and would later give his presentation on leader- and followership, stepped up to pull the chair out for me and waited as I sat down. This was such a sweet gesture, so unexpected and appreciated, and it let me know that not only did “his mama raise him right,” but also that he understood the impact of chivalry and respect. And you know what else? It really made me believe what he talked about later on. He is proving himself as good leader because he cares about the people around him. He understands that chivalry isn’t dead and it takes kindness and respect for those under and near you to be successful.

So call me old school (no really, I hear it quite often) but I just believe that there are certain traditions that we had right the first time. Shane treats me with respect, and I him, and this will always allow me to rest assured that he will lead our family in the way that is best for all of us. I also know that, because of this, we will be able to show our children what it takes to be ladies and gentlemen through the example we set. They will understand that it isn’t about power or inability or manipulation. When a lady acts like a lady of poise, personality, and self-respect, it allows men to truly act like a man of brawn and chivalry. Now THAT is the kind of world I want to live in.

Babies and Blessings

2013-04-15T14:55:00.000-07:00

One of my nearest and dearest friends, Mallory, had a little bundle of joy in February- Gavin Mark. I helped throw one of her baby showers in December and met some of her friends who loved her and her soon-to-be baby as much as I did!

Shane and me with baby Gavin a few weeks after he was born.

This past weekend, one of those friends- Katie- threw Mallory a Baby Meet-and-Greet party- something that was new to me, despite all my baby shindigs.

The party was held at the yoga studio at which Mallory teaches, and it was lovely meeting all her “yogi” friends. Katie had mentioned on the invitation to bring something for Mallory to fill a jar with good things for Mallory. Not sure if i was on the right track, I brought a tube of my favorite fancy lip gloss to remind her not to forget about little luxuries, and hoped it would suffice.

Walking into the yoga room, shoes off, lights low, you could feel just a very cool energy. Baby Gavin was happy and peaceful, the girls were lovely to be around, and I was just genuinely happy to be there for my friend and her baby.

We first wrote blessings for Gavin’s life to be displayed in a doorway blessing (I couldn’t find much online about this but it is basically a banner made of colorful fabric that hangs outside of the nursery door with separate little pockets to stuff the written blessings). Everyone went around and shared their blessing, and then it was time for the bowl for Mallory. Not exactly what I was thinking, the bowl was full of homemade sugar scrub and some of the guests added “pixie dust,” lavender essential oils, and stones with things like “patience” written on them. Obviously, I couldn’t exactly add lip gloss to this concoction, but the idea was the still the same: pamper yourself, you’ve done a miraculous thing bringing this life into the world, and even if just for a moment- you deserve to be treated like royalty. At least I know Mallory will appreciate her skin AND lips being as soft as a baby’s bottom…(chuckle chuckle…get it!?)

I am so excited for Mallory’s journey, and grateful that I have been able to play a small part in it. Gavin is such a beautiful gift and Mallory and her husband, Stefan are already amazing parents.

What are some unique ideas you have seen displayed at baby or wedding showers?

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, I Am My Mother After All.

2013-04-10T18:22:00.000-07:00

It is no surprise by now that my mother is my best friend.We are completely opposite in some very key areas, we are alike in all the onesthat count, and we bring out the best (and I guess worst) in each other incertain instances that take me by surprise.

Of course, as I am sure most daughters of mothers (yes ladies, that would be all of us) can attest to, there was that one moment whereI realized, “oh my gracious, I’m turning into her!” It started harmlesslyenough, when I realized I wiped the sink down in my first dorm room the way Isubconsciously watched my mother do so many times. As time went on though, Ifound myself doing things- saying things- SOUNDING just like her. I saw a signonce that said, “sometimes I open my mouth and my mother comes out.” I smirkedonly because I’ve never read anything more true.

I’m going to be honest- as a grown adult with my very ownjob and bills (hooray!...), it is so easy to be best friends with my mother from8 hours away. I miss her, I cry for her, and I look forward to our dailyconversations. But it took a little adjusting when she recently came to staywith me for a week and a half. How couldshe not know to turn the lights off? I don’t think I have EVER turned the lighton in my spare bedroom. How dare she move my expertly placed decorative pillowson the couch. And, gasp! She tried my eye cream??!! I’m not sure how Ms. EsteeLauder would feel about that.

To figure out the level of my ridculousness, I shared thesethings with the always level-headed Shane. Not even half-way through mydramatic, adjective-ridden spiel, however, he just couldn’t help the smirk. The smirk quickly turned into laughter and I just stared at him. “What is sofunny!?” I said, gaping. “Honey,” he began, still laughing, but a gentle handon my shoulder. “You act JUST like her.”

So there it was. As a 24-year-old woman who prided herselfon independence, whit, savvy shopping, and promptness, there was no escapingthose little quirky quirks of my mother. They were swimming in my veins. Therewas no alternate exit. Pass “go” and collect 500 genes.

On a recent trip to visit her family in Pennsylvania (see a previous post about this wonderful place here), mymother sent me a picture. It simply said, “Mirror, mirror on the wall, I am mymother after all.”

So, ladies, if it hasn’t happened yet- take heart. It iscoming…and probably quicker than you would think. You will wake up one day, look in the mirror,and realize that face staring back at you is not your own. It’s the face, voice,mannerisms, idiosyncrasies, laugh, fashion sense, and dance skills of noneother than mommy dearest.

Good thing I happen to have a mother who is beautiful,charming, fashionable, funny, AND a great dancer. I certainly lucked out.

Hearts, Ribs, and a Mansion.

2013-02-14T13:32:00.004-08:00

Happy Valentine’s Day! Although I have never claimed to big a huge celebrator of Valentines Day, today has already proven to be a GREAT holiday. I woke up early this morning to take Simon out, and saw something on my windshield! At first, in the dark of the early morning, I thought trash had blown on my car! As I walked closer, I saw that it was a dozen red roses underneath my windshield wipers and a gift bag with the sweetest card (seriously, Shane, where do you always find these great cards!?) and a BEAUTIFUL bracelet I have been wanting! I was quite surprised and full of those giddy, in-love feelings, even at 6 a.m. I’ve said it before and I will say it again, when you know, you know.

I saw something online the other day about all the things a woman is. How they are strong but caring, persistent, nurturing, fighters, friends, and supporters. Truthfully, I didn’t read very much of those parts because one line grabbed my attention so strongly.

Woman was made from man’s rib so he can guard her heart.

Think about that for a minute. Think about the role of your ribcage… it covers your heart! Your ribs protect the heart beneath them, not because they are better or have a more important job, or even call the shots in any way. A heart knows it is safe beneath the ribs because they have proven their strength against outside danger. Without the ribs, a heart is exposed, vulnerable, susceptible to harm.

We know that God spoke to his people in examples and metaphors they could easily understand. My favorite of these is in John 14:2- In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.”

At the time this was written, if a young man wanted to marry a woman, he settled a dowry with her father and then he went away. He built an addition onto his father’s house that he thought would be suitable for his betrothed. When finished, her father would come and approve that it was good enough for his daughter. Meanwhile, the girl had no idea when her betrothed would come back for her. So she would keep a candle in her window so that he would know where she was and that she was anxiously awaiting him. When the addition was finished being built, the young man and all other young men in the town would run up to her house in the middle of the night with music and dancing and loud cymbals! They were announcing his arrival and she would finally be with her love after so much time of wondering.

When Jesus said this to his people, he knew it was a language that they would understand. “I am going to prepare a place for you.” The groom is anxiously waiting to bring his bride to the mansion He has built for her. And when He does come back for her, it will be a loud homecoming!

1 Thessalonians 4:16- For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God.

This is why I love the saying I heard so much. Yes, woman is strong, can endure tremendous pain, can fight for what she wants and still have the touch to sooth and comfort. But we need protection. We need someone with strength and armor when we just can’t fight anymore. That is why Eve was created from Adams ribs… not only is she a part of him, she needs him, too. Her heart needs the comfort of his ribs.

Someone I trust very much once told me, “Don’t look for the cracks in his armor. Look for someone who will guard and protect your heart.”

Men aren’t perfect, and I sure am glad they don’t expect women to be, either. But what I know for sure- when you find a man who does everything in his power to look out for you, protect you from harm, and love you like you have never been loved before- you found a man for life. Because a heart would never leave the comfort of the ribs protecting it, and the ribs would never do anything to leave their sacred post.

This is what true love is. God, as always, nailed it right on the head.

Kooks of a Feather Laugh Together

2013-01-29T14:28:00.003-08:00

I am a self-proclaimed writer. Writers write. They create stories, describe situations, and a lot of times- tell exaggerated, over-the-top INTERESTING accounts of life because we love an audience! Am I right? Anyone? ::Crickets:: See, I’m just not as funny without an audience.

I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I was pretty sure Shane was the one for me after our first date. Not only was he accomplished and charming, open the car door for me and show up in an ironed shirt, he thought I was funny! He was generally interested in what I had to say and never in my life had I sat across the table from someone more enveloped in the words coming out of my mouth. As I drove home later that night, I called my mom and said, “Mom! He thinks I’m funny! The man said I was better than T.V.!”

I knew it would work out because some people just don’t get my humor. They don’t think I’m as humorous as I intend to be. Sometimes I forget to laugh at my own jokes, and people take my sarcasm for… the opposite of sarcasm.

One of my goals has always been to write a book and- MARK MY WORDS- I will! Perhaps I should put a time frame on it- before I’m 30. Well, crap, that would add another time-consuming goal to the next 6 years of my life (the other being having kids and being out of diapers by my 30^th birthday. I feel as if I am running out of time on that one…)

I have started a few books, but have yet to get to a point where they STICK. I believe they have a term for this… Ah, yes, writer’s block. Can I get an “amen”?? I’ll look for some more resources on this and keep trudging along… some of those ideas are too dang good to walk away from.

Recently, my mother and I have toyed with the idea of co-writing a book about our crazy adventures. If you’ve ever read my blog, you know she and I have quite a few of them! Let’s face it- we’re hilarious! Okay, maybe it’s just hilarious that we think we’re so funny. Either way, we could sure fill up some pages. I know how this book would go, though. My beautiful, fun, witty, princess of a mother would describe all these wild scenarios in which she ate wonderful pastries, met helpful wait staff, and bedazzled whatever she could get her hands on. I would write about how irresponsible she was, the sense of urgency I (unsuccessfully) tried to ESP to her, and how she makes me late for everything. Honestly, is it so hard to get an 8-year-old in her Hippie Chick costume to the party on time so she can save face!? Missing out on a few Cheetos and a game of MASH is not to be taken lightly.

The woman has no sense of time, or knows her way around a sewing machine. But boy, can she dress, accessorize, decorate, charm the pants off of anyone, and bedazzle! What she has, I sure don’t, and perhaps vice versa. I think this is what makes us the best of friends.

She gave me a decorated plaque that I have hanging in my closet beside my full-length mirror so I can read it every day. “I am blessed because you are my daughter and also my friend.” It’s not every day you come across a relationship that not only are we forced to know each other because I am part of her, was formed in her womb, but we choose to be close. We choose to reveal our secrets to one another, cry together, and more importantly, laugh together. She makes me a better woman because she showed me what a graceful, loving, attractive, and fun woman looks like. We’re two of a kind… even if deep down, we’re both just a couple of kooks.

Mistletoe and Match.Com

2012-12-31T15:51:00.001-08:00

As we know, thanks to the abundance of diamond commercials that have been splashed on my television screen, and- hello! Have you checked your Facebook newsfeed lately?- we are in engagement season!

Which is why, I, Libby Morris, have an announcement to make....!!

...I am NOT engaged. But thanks for asking... again. Really, I never get tired of telling people, "no, not yet"... (sarcasm. dripping sarcasm.)

I called my best friend today, and instead of answering the phone like someone normally would, ("Hello?") she answered it, "are you engaged yet??"

Funny. But not funny. Har har.

Winter sets a romantic stage, I get it. The lights, the snow, the mistletoe. Romance is in the air and the holiday sales at Zales and Jared are helpful in setting that stage, too, I'm sure. I'd be lying if it didn't cross my mind as my Significant Other and I walked through the decorated Boston Public Garden and stole a kiss under George Washington's statue. (Okay, that part's not very romantic, but hey- it's us.) But just because the season is right, the person is right, and I'm sure he can catch the ESP's of my ring size I'm sending to his brain, doesn't necessarily mean the timing is right.

Since I found my one-and-only, I can say pretty confidently that some people fall in love with the idea of love before they actually fall into the real thing. I can understand how easily this can happen to, with movies, mistletoe, and match.com.

I heard a song recently that said, "if you don't have two kids by twenty-one, you're probably gonna die alone." As ridiculous as it might sound, I think this fear is very real for people. So they search. And they jump. And they fall...hard.

Internet dating can be very helpful for some people who are confident, secure in who they are and where their life is, and know exactly what they are looking for. I've seen it work. I think though, for the most part, it creates more problems than it solves. It makes so many people accessible to momentarily fulfill your romantic needs, it takes the fright and kahounas out of communication, and gives people the opportunity to paint an unrealistic picture of themselves. The problem you then face is having a handful of interests at your fingertips, no commitment, no assurance in what is real and what isn't, and no accountability to make a decision and pick someone! You are constantly being "winked" at by so many people, banter ensues, phone numbers are exchanged, and next thing you know, you have 17 dates lined up in the span of 3 days and you can't keep them all straight. Suddenly, it becomes so easy to forget the reason you signed up for the site in the first place- to find your ONE and ONLY.

Mistletoe and matchmaking go hand-in-hand. This season awakens the hopeless romantic in all of us, but it also reminds me of a verse in Songs of Solomon: "do not arise or awaken love before it so desires."

Don't go searching for something you may not be ready to find yet. Take your time. Let love find you. It sounds like a cliche, but I promise you it's true- when I met Shane, I had just done a lot of soul-searching, a lot of work and exploration of who I am and where I wanted to be, and the last thing on my mind was meeting the man of my dreams. Of course, as life so often works, that was exactly when he found me. When I wasn't looking and was least expecting it.

Say, "Uncle!"

2012-12-13T14:40:00.000-08:00

I think I should perhaps rename my blog "The Long List of Libby's Quirks." I feel like I present new ones to you every other entry. It's not that I focus on the negative, but rather, am embracing all aspects of my personality and really getting to know myself more everyday. It's a process and a journey... if you haven't really begun a journey similar, I challenge you to.

I have known for quite sometime that I am a planner. I plan ahead for everything... which explains my overloaded purse (I'm sure one of these days that floss, deodorant, and letter opener will come in handy!), my inability to throw away boxes, Christmas cards sent prior to December 1, and my oh-so extensive Pinterest boards. I love to plan. Sue me.

This quirk comes in handy at times like preparing for a trip, taking my good friend's baby to his first Christmas parade, and when birthday's roll around (happens every year, you know.) Other times, however, I know my ultra-planning gets in the way.

I'd like to say I am a flexible person. I would love to tell you I am a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants type gal who "goes with the flow" and says things like, "Whatever happens, happens. No big deal." I would love to lie and tell you all of those things but frankly, I'm much too neurotically type-A.

You all know I love a good glass of wine or girly cocktail from time to time. I would never get drunk though, for one simple reason: I hate to feel out of control. I hate being out of control of my emotions, of my body, of my plans, of my laundry, of the traffic that doesn't realize I have somewhere to be. Being out of control is not ever something I enjoy experiencing (unless of course, I'm on a ride at Busch Gardens. Completely different can of worms.)

With life being what it is, I have to let myself be out of control from time to time. It just comes with this crazy territory. I would like my hand to be in everything relating to Libby, but it just is so often not the case. And that is such a hard pill to swallow.

In life, jobs, family, relationships, restaurants, and traffic- you don't always get to sit in the driver's seat. You don't always get to be chef. You don't always get to be the one calling the shots, making the plays, and creating the itenerary. Sometimes, you just have to say, "Uncle."

...."uncle."

Attracting Bees with Honey Comes Full Circle

2012-12-07T14:10:00.000-08:00

Boy, do I love it when things come full circle, or I hear that someone actually listened to what I had to say! (It doesn't happen very often. Trust me.)

You may remember my post about my life saying: "you attract more bees with honey than vinegar." (If not, you can read it here.) My mother is the most graceful, poised woman who ALWAYS (I repeat: ALWAYS) gets what she wants. Being her spawn, it has proven to be annoying from time to time, but that is neither here nor there.

I can only take lessons from the master of attracting bees with honey, so take lessons I have! But I'll go one step further, I have decided to share these lessons.

A few weeks ago, a co-worker friend of mine was discussing the woes and frustrations of moving into a new house that was previously inhabited by extreme messy bessies. She wasn't getting very far with the property management and was about at the end of her rope. I shared with her a story of my mother, just one example of her amazing ways that leaves you with the tunnel eyes you see in cartoons..."yes ma'am...I want to do whatever will make you happy...your wish is my command..."

My mother was attempting to use a flight voucher for an upcoming trip. The woman on the phone told her she needed to drive to the airport and complete the transaction there. She drove the 45 minutes to the airport and when there, the American Airlines ticket counter was vacant. Walking around to another counter, she found two American Airline workers who looked like they were about at the end of their shift.

"Can you two help me, please?"
"Our computers aren't on."
"I drove all this way and the woman on the phone said this transaction needs to be completed here. Why don't we put our heads together and come up with a solution?" (Oh, those magic words.)
After a moment of silence, "Oh, okay, I can go log into the computer. Come on."

The trick here was that she didn't raise her voice, she didn't demand anything, but rather, she formulated her request as an act of teamwork. Genius. Of course they were going to help her then!If she had talked down to them, got irritated, or started barking demands, those airline workers would have shut down and not helped her- and she would have left angry and ticket-less. By working together and keeping her cool (and always a splash of charm), she was able to drive home a happy woman.

Today, I got an email from that co-worker whom I shared this story with.

"I just had to tell you, your mom's 'get what she wants' technique is working out beautifully for me. Using the phrase 'why don't we come up with a solution together' is making my life sooo much easier!"

How great is that?! So you see, class, honey really does attract more bees than vinegar.

I, too, have recently used this technique when I picked up a pizza order only to get it home and find it cold. Apparently, they baked the pizza 4 hours earlier when my online order came through, ignoring the time i specified on my ticket.

When I called the manager, I politely asked him what kind of solution could we come up with to fix our predicament.

"I'm so sorry ma'am. I'll give you a nice credit for the next time you order pizza." (Little did he know my significant other is a Papa John's maniac.) I would say that was a score. Reheated the cold pizza, and have free pizza waiting on us this weekend. Bon Appetit.

Libby's List of Inexucusable Grammar Goofs

2012-11-30T14:19:00.000-08:00

I have, as some would say, a few quirks. They're not necessarily bad (hey, I've lived with them this long!) but some people don't get why certain things irk me, or why I do things in my own special way (i.e: food on a plate. It isn't made for touching. My green beans would appreciate not being groped by my chicken, thankyouverymuch.)

I have compiled a list of some of the biggest contenders grating on my grammar quirk. If you do these things, we can no longer be friends. Okay, that's a bit harsh, but just know I WILL correct you and you WILL fix it and like it. That's what friends are for, after all.

And, before I give you said list, just know for all you parents out there: your kid using incorrect grammar is not cute. As much as you would like to label it as such, teach them proper English! You want your kid to earn high preschool honors, don't you?

Libby's List of Inexcusable Grammar Goofs

1. Asking a question such as, "Where's the party at?" cringe.
Correction: "Where is the party?" or, "At whose house will the party be held?" There is no place named At, and if there was, no parties would be held behind it.

2. "Me and her are going to the mall."
You hit 2 whammies with this one! Not only should you introduce others before yourself, but "her" goes nowhere. "She" does.
Correction: "She and I are going to the mall."

3. Couldn't Of/ Wouldn't of/ Shouldn't of
Correction: Couldn't Have- or, could not have. As in, "I could not have a piece of candy. I wasn't allowed."
I'm shaking my head as I type this because I never would have thought I would have to explain that... but my Facebook feed tells me otherwise.

4. Unnecessary Ellipses (AKA: ...)
An ellipsis... isn't meant to just fill space... or introduce a thought... or transition into something else...
(See also: "hyphen," which people also misuse in similar contexts.)
Correction: An ellipsis is primarily used to show omitted words. As in: they were there, and now they are not. Yes, it may be used to show a pause or break in thought and context, but please... use... sparingly... and...only...when... absolutely...necessary (...)

5. To/Too
Correction: If you have too much fun, you might forget to use the correct word. To me, that would just be too preposterous for words.

What are some of your grammar (or unrelated) pet peeves and quirks??

A Military Affair (The Dancing Kind)

2012-11-19T09:00:00.003-08:00

Shane works in sports medicine and athletic training for the Marine Corps. He is great at his job and the people he works with really appreciate him.

This weekend, I was able to experience one of the job's perks- attending a military ball!

I love getting dolled up and fancy for a night out. Shane, well, he just loves appeasing me and my thrill of the frills! Like I said, the man works in athletics. He is used to wearing a t-shirt and shorts. Tuxes just aren't really his thing... but boy, does he look great in one!

We danced, we ate, we met some really cool people. The world of the military is really fascinating to me. They have so much structure, uniformity, pride, and camaraderie. Somethings you just don't see everyday. And of course, they love to have a good time! Yep, count this girl in!

Reading Is Sexy.

2012-11-13T12:18:00.000-08:00

There's a feeling I really can't describe after finishing a newly-beloved book. I find myself reading the last line over and over again, as to prolong the inevitable divorce I feel of these characters and story lines I have grown so familiar of.

My earliest memories of this draw to books were in the American Girls book series. I began reading when I very young, but these books were the first I couldn't put down. Each birthday and holiday, I had to get the next books or a new girl's series. I read each and every one... multiple times.

My mom and I spent hours and hours of my childhood nestled between the shelves of the Lakeland Public Library. I loved the smells, the categories, the big circular desk, the dewy decimal system that I have adapted on my own bookshelves. Stacks of books piled around me, hearing my mom say, "you can only pick one," and feeling as if that would be the hardest task I would ever tackle. How could a person pick just one when there are so many wonderful stories to get involved with, characters to fall in love with, fictional places you wish you could visit outside just your mind?

There are emotions attached to your favorite books, characters you relate to, enemies you despise, families you grow to love, hate, and be annoyed by. Cities and restuarants that make you feel as if you are sitting in their red patent leather seats, with the smell of fresh coffee and scrambled eggs wafting underneath your nostrils.

The ending of a great book is the most bittersweet of moments. You can't wait to find out how it ends, if your questions will be answered, but you also just wish the story would linger a few pages longer.

The most recent book I felt this type of connection with is Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay. If you're looking for a good book to delve into, this is the one.

What book have you read recently that affected your emotions? I am always looking for new books to purchase!

The Celebratory Train's Last Stop (For Now)

2012-11-08T10:24:00.001-08:00

Choo Choo! After two weeks, the celebration train has been tuckered out with all the fun stops it has made. This past weekend, the stop was for Shane's 27th birthday, and what a fun day it was! The first stop of the day was breakfast. I made homemade crepes (my mom/Betty Crocker's recipe) and filled them with fresh strawberries and cream cheese, and topped with powdered sugar.

I got a real crepe pan for my birthday (as apposed to a normal cooking pan you would use for eggs, vegetables, grilled cheese...), and it truely does make a difference. These things were to-die-for, the recipe was simple enough, and the birthday boy ate about 6 or 7! I would say that means breakfast was a success.

Throughout the day, Shane was presented with gifts at random times, without warning. This was really fun for me- especially when he started going over all the projects he wanted to do with the house but needed to choose one to do at a time.

"How much do new blinds cost?" I asked.
"For the two windows I want to do right now, about $75," he replied.

I sure do wish my poker face was better. All I could do was giggle as I walked to get his next gift from its hiding spot. At the bottom of a sea of tissue paper in a big box, Shane found a Lowe's gift card. And oh yes, for the amount of $75.

After his many random gifts, I surprised the Birthday Boy with dinner at Rodizio Grill in Pensacola. Shane has been to a few Brazilian steakhouses like it, and when this one opened not too long ago, I knew it was where we had to eat! The food was amazing, there was so much to choose from and it all came right to your table to be carved and served. Some options were a little crazy- rattlesnake sausage and chicken hearts- but overall, it was a fabulous dinner!

Question: What birthday would be complete without a cake? Answer: None!

I must say, this cake was absolutely delicious. I used a cake-mix-on-steroids recipe I found on Pinterest, and baked in an awesome three-tier cake pan that takes away the hassle of dental floss, slicing, having enough counterspace, and making sure your layers are just right. Shane loved it. (And ate it for breakfast the next day!)

I am so grateful to have such a wonderful man in my life that I get to celebrate all of life's joys with. On this day, it was great having him let me dote on him and have all the attention on him (even though it is so not his thing!).

Happy 27th birthday, Shane! I love you, and I hope this year knocks all its predeccesors out of the water!

A Few Stops on the Celebration Train

2012-10-30T11:32:00.001-07:00

The life of Libby has been a wee bit exciting as of late! Between my 2-week long birthday celebrations, events at work, and other general fun times that needed to be had, October is shaping up to end on a pretty good note.

My birthday was October 20, and Shane's is exactly 2 weeks after on November 3. This year, our birthdays fell on Saturdays which make celebrating a cinch! Last Saturday (the in-betweenie) our good friends took us out to celebrate, double-duty style.

Here we are blowing out our candles and masking the overwhelming feelings of suddenly feeling old. (Yes, it happened. The day I turned 24 felt like I jumped off a cliff without a harness...even though either way would have hurt my toosh!) I love this picture of us- it is so accurate to our relationship. Shane calm and composed, while I am just eager to celebrate!

While on the celebration train, we made a stop at our one and a half year anniversary! Choo Choo! (Hey, any excuse to celebrate our love, right??) Our children were so wonderful, they even made us a card! Aren't they thoughtful? Managing to write in cursive is no easy feat without opposable thumbs.

It is nice to feel the love coming at you from every angle. Birthdays are a great reminder of who really cares about you. Tune in next week when I reveal all the surprises I have up my sleeve for Shane's birthday! Can't share them here yet- he subscribes to my blog, you know. What a supportive Significant Other I have! I do think I will keep him around. (Thanks for supporting my dreams, honey!)

Life, Birth, Death (Whose Hands are They in, Anyway?)

2012-10-25T08:50:00.002-07:00

This isn't exactly an easy post to write, certainly not one that will make me very popular with a lot of people, but it is a subject that I feel indescribably strong about, and therefore I am going to be blunt with my opinions, no matter the kick-back.

Life is a gift from God. Period.

If only it was that simple, right? But unfortunately, it isn't. People seem to think they can take the sanctity and blessing of life out of God's hands and into their own. And listen, I'm not excluding anyone here. I don't frankly care who you are: if you aren't God, you don't get to make those kinds of decisions.

So why is it that so many people are calling the comments of people against abortion "ridiculous" and "crazy"? Rape is a horrible, unimaginable, hellish crime, and the people who commit it should be behind bars for life, I would even make the "let the punishment fit the crime" argument here and say castration wouldn't be a far-fetched punishment.

I believe that life begins at conception. There is a living organism inside the womb with a heart beating at just days. (If you want to see a truly remarkable presentation on this, and a scientific one at that, click here. It is a fascinating mind-blower.)

I know that a pregnancy as a result of a horrible rape can be unimaginably devastating, a 9-month long reminder of the crimes committed against you and your sacred body. I do not believe though, that a crime committed against you gives you the right to commit one against another human being. Specifically one that shares your DNA.

I can not imagine how tough a decision process like this is. I do not wish it upon anyone. Who knows, though, what and who that child could grow up to become? You don't feel comfortable raising it yourself, I get it. Really, I do. If you knew the number of couples in our country alone who are unable to bear children of their own, and would give anything for the chance to raise the one someone in considering aborting... I would hope that would change your mind.

I understand that in the world of politics and news, things people say will forever be misconstrued and taken out of context. I do not believe that the comments given recently by Indiana Senate Candidate, Richard Mourdock, were meant out of malice or insensitivity to victims of rape.

It isn't the RAPE he was saying was in God's plan, but LIFE. Life! Life in general, life planned, and life unplanned. Your life, my life, future life, your children's life. Rape is, was, and will always be one of the most evil acts anyone can imagine. Life as a result of that rape is not the crime, though. I think that is what he was ultimately trying to communicate.

Giving birth to a child as a result of rape would be one of the hardest things a woman would have to go through. But maintaining the sanctity of life is something we HAVE to do. A woman doesn't choose to go through these awful times, but she can choose to do something good with it.

And if you don't think you can find someone who will take care of that baby for you, give them to me. I'll take care of them.

Home is Where Your History Begins

2012-10-23T13:16:00.001-07:00

The place I call home is a city smack dab between Tampa and Orlando, Florida. After the Republican National Convention, Mitt Romney and Paul Ryan made a stop here before they flew to their next destination. A few years ago, a group of girls beat their peer up and video taped it to put on Myspace. A while before that, a police officer and his canine counterpart, Diogi, unjustly died while serving, creating an uproar of support and encouragement from people around the world. It is a mecca for retirees, snowbirds, and those who work in the big city but do not see the appeal in living in it.

My home is Lakeland, Florida and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I have always loved Lakeland, but I knew in order to "do my thing" and really appreciate my hometown, I would have to leave. After high school graduation, that is just what I did.

Do you want to know the first thing I did when I drove home after being at college for just 2 months? I bawled. Oh, did I bawl! As soon as I pulled off of Interstate 4 onto familiar roads and started making my way down the roads to my house, there was just no stopping those good ol' female floodgates of tears.

I don't cry every time I go home now (Thank the Lord!), but I do look forward to my trips for about a month leading up to them. Last week, I was able to spend a few days at home prior to my birthday and it was a great time. Both of my brothers were there, got to see my new niece again, and of course partake in lots of celebratory things to ring in my new age [read: I am finally starting to feel old and need distractions!]

And now, enjoy an influx of photos...

I am glad to be back to my "new" home and into my daily grind again, but I always welcome a great break to my tried and true.

I am reminded of a quote from one of my apologetically favorite movies, Where the Heart Is:

"Home is where your history begins. Home is where they catch you when you fall."