tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25553933353216897472012-01-30T19:34:02.675-05:00Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.comBlogger251100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-68273954438390610672012-01-25T00:12:00.000-05:002012-01-25T00:12:59.864-05:00

It's so strange how days that begin so ordinarily can so very suddenly become the exact opposite. And how later every moment of that day, even the things that happened before whatever caused a paradigm shift in your existence, remain locked, with a sometimes obscene clarity, in your memory. I can't think of a more ordinary day than a Wednesday. No voice lessons. No gym. Unless I'm in tech week

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-53486098278817733162011-11-28T21:24:00.004-05:002011-11-28T22:26:11.324-05:00

In case you are all wondering, and I know you are, I cooked the SHIT outta some Thanksgiving. Between Tuesday and Thanksgiving dinner starting at 3 on Thursday, I prepared the following: a turkey breast, a 24-lb turkey, dressing (and I mean homemade, y'all, not that bought bread crumbs crap), giblet gravy, green bean casserole, sweet potato souffle, hot sherried fruit, corn pudding, a winter

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-56430712820815126232011-11-22T22:24:00.001-05:002011-11-22T23:17:36.235-05:00

I've mentioned before that I'm pretty sure Gina is absolutely mental. Her random and sometimes unprovoked barking fits are gonna eventually result in one of us needing psychiatric drugs. Take tonight. Now, look, I realize it feeds every one of Gina's neuroses to be left alone for any length of time. Today, Barbara headed to the train by 7:30. I left to go to the gym by ten 'til eight.

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-35335587252633511582011-11-21T22:45:00.003-05:002011-11-22T00:30:15.953-05:00

So, there's this episode of Designing Women where Bernice's persnickety niece wants to have her committed because she thinks that Bernice is quite obviously off her rocker. The episode culminates in one of the more hilarious moments in the entire run of the show, when everyone from Sugarbaker's is called to testify on Bernice's behalf at her competency hearing. Earlier in the episode, Julia's

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-79880729071838234692011-11-20T20:22:00.003-05:002011-11-20T21:33:07.562-05:00

I should have known it was going to be Trouble with a Capital "T" when we walked into the theater. Because nothing makes me leery like pre-schoolers sitting behind me at a most decidedly un-preschool show. One of the local community theater groups was producing Aida. Not the Verdi opera, but the Elton John/Tim Rice Disney-produced Broadway musical which premiered on Broadway when I was in law

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-33189902474412185142011-11-14T22:45:00.002-05:002011-11-14T22:55:25.548-05:00

A couple of months ago, maybe back in the summer, I noticed that several of my Facebook friends were posting frequently and almost obsessively about Pinterest.com. At the time, it was one of those things that I noticed, but didn't really look into. As such, when they were asking if people wanted an invite, I didn't take anyone up on the offer. And then a couple of weeks ago, I was bored at the

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-60135724764971535552011-11-14T22:27:00.002-05:002011-11-14T22:44:42.642-05:00

When I was a kid, my mom cooked dinner pretty much every single day of my life. I'm not kidding. The woman was a cooking machine. And that was in addition to working a full-time job AND taking care of three kids. We ate out on occasion, but it was a rare enough event that my siblings and I considered it to be a big, huge treat. My mom is an amazing cook and has a huge collections of recipe

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-13077001785343533012011-10-13T22:13:00.002-04:002011-10-13T22:38:18.255-04:00

I have found my absolute favorite thing in the history of the internet. A friend (and I don't remember who, so sorry to the awesome person who posted it first) posted this on Facebook. And I reposted. And I can't stop watching it. Because I'm a dork and also easily amused by the shiny.Same house, different song, still awesome.Or how 'bout this? THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS??!?!?!? I WANT

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-67824490514903920772011-10-13T21:16:00.005-04:002011-10-13T22:12:11.944-04:00

So called because, let's get real, y'all...THIS?Still one of the funniest things ever on YouTube. Even five years later. Even after Antoine Dodson and the "Bake a Cake" song. (If you don't know who or what those are, get thee to YouTube now and start a-searchin'.)Anywho. Socks. I have all these rules about socks. I mean, first of all there's the whole rule that I can NEVER, NEVER, EVER wear

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-57279596262667810112011-10-12T15:27:00.004-04:002011-10-12T16:08:10.367-04:00

I am pretty sure that I have some sort of fashion-related Season Affective Disorder. I'm not depressed or anything like that. I actually feel pretty great. It's just that with the whole summer-to-fall change, I have as usual, undergone this bizarre about face in my overall fashion outlook. I know that pretty much everyone has to change out their wardrobe to some degree. I mean, unless you

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-16320814235145126162011-08-17T23:32:00.003-04:002011-08-18T00:06:07.348-04:00

Swearing ahead, so consider yourself warned: Oh. My. God. No...this goes past MY God and necessitates me calling on all the gods of all religions ever. And also angels, magicians, and someone who can prescribe whatever drug can make me forget that this happened: Holy. Shit. Y'ALL HOLY SHIT. I thought about writing about this last night, but there was a lot going on, not the least of which

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-65202171584676833132011-08-17T22:10:00.004-04:002011-08-17T23:24:29.221-04:00

If asked to identify the things about Walt Disney World which I find to be awesome, my answer would be quite simple..."Uh, EVERYTHING." Sometimes someone will say something about not liking WDW that much or, worse, liking something like Six Flags better. I try to be forgiving because obviously these people have suffered some sort of blunt force trauma to the head. I have actually heard

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-8937311772097723732011-08-16T19:09:00.004-04:002011-08-16T21:49:26.119-04:00

Let's say that I am given the opportunity to choose to go anywhere on the planet. Cost is not a factor. I would choose Walt Disney World. I'll wait while you finish laughing hysterically. There it is. I don't know if it's sad, but it's true. Disney is a HUGE thing in my family. My parents went there in 1972 for their honeymoon. My grandparents went almost every year for MANY years

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-55152815029114113902011-08-16T18:51:00.003-04:002011-08-16T19:08:58.378-04:00

So that's a big question...do you dress for the weather? I mean, I KNOW you dress with regards to the temperature (although there are times, especially formal-ish occasions, where you have to let that fall to the wayside), especially when said temps are extreme. But aren't there just some times when you just want to ignore what's happening outside and wear...whatever. Take today for example.

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-3068322743849739612011-08-16T18:18:00.007-04:002011-08-16T18:50:48.050-04:00

I lasted a whole three posts before I didn't post. Most of that is due to our somewhat delayed move to the beach. We generally spend the whole of August here. However, this year there were kids visiting colleges and kids on trips and kids at summer programs and kids getting ready to go to college. It was crazy. So although portions of us had been spending at least the weekends here since

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-59064762597903278452011-08-16T16:57:00.004-04:002011-08-16T18:18:03.258-04:00

I hate wearing a bathing suit. I mean really, really hate it. And although part of it IS the whole "Does this make me look fat? OMGILOOKFAT. FATFATFAT. IS THAT CELLULUTE??!?!?" thing, the bulk of it is thw whole white thing. I am white. I mean, obviously, I'm white. When requested by standardized forms, I mark white/Caucasian. 'Cause there's no getting around it. I was born with

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-85427580251214373242011-08-09T20:58:00.005-04:002011-08-09T21:49:50.277-04:00

I am convinced (and remember that my opinion is actually worthless) that there are three things you can never have too much of. At least with regards to your wardrobe. 1. Jeans--not just blue ones. Jeans are...awesome. I know that they tend to be the easy way out for a lot of people. But for me at least, jeans are my most difficult and thought out purchase. I remain giddily excited that

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-49467402065137591152011-08-09T19:38:00.012-04:002011-08-09T20:07:50.277-04:00

This is Gina: Gina is a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. That's the kind of dog that Charlotte had on Sex and the City. Gina spends the majority of her time sitting on the bottom shelf of the front hall table. Like this: She likes it because she can see out the glass door. Which is convenient for her, since we keep the solid, view-blocking door open most of the time. But it's pretty

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-11105965563056701222011-08-08T21:02:00.005-04:002011-08-08T21:44:23.736-04:00

I honestly think that for the rest of my life, I could happily shop for all my clothes at only two stores: Anthropologie and Target. If not for one little thing... Lilly Pulitzer. I love it. I love it so, so much. I love it in a "troll eBay for vintage Lilly" kind of way. I love it in a "participate in a celebratory dance when they open the new Palm Place in Palmer Square" kind of way. I

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-40598130937019772332011-08-07T20:57:00.006-04:002011-08-07T21:32:54.172-04:00

Several years ago at another blog I had...LiveJournal, maybe?...I had this thing where I posted a picture of what I was wearing every day, talked a little bit about it, and then talked about fashion in some way--fashion history, MY fashion history, some really nifty trend that was up and coming. And you know, I kinda miss it. If nothing else, it made me accountable. I mean, if you're posting a

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-29706763700861574952011-08-07T19:33:00.001-04:002011-08-07T20:55:58.106-04:00

Since I am a cheerful and loving person and I live to make people happy (you can TOTALLY stop laughing), I thought I would tell you a few of the things that are happy-making in my world. Now mind you, I am a big humongous geek with a sick, sick sense of humor so don't, please, get your lady pants in a twist over anything I praise here that you might find...disturbing...offensive...sacreligous...

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-69883891184579804242011-08-07T17:50:00.004-04:002011-08-07T18:25:39.720-04:00

Welcome to New York City! Thank you for bringing your Euros to our floundering economy. Times Square is super-neato, right? And it's fun to see Broadway shows!!!! Now, while I can see that it's easy to confuse THIS:With THIS:The former is your quaint European village. The latter is 8th Avenue. Please note that we, the indigenous population, prefer to move at something slightly quicker than

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-90025331684898897062011-02-21T22:14:00.003-05:002011-02-21T22:31:49.169-05:00

Don't get me wrong. The big holidays? Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Independence Day? Love 'em. I do. It's these little ones, where the world still goes on full tilt with the holiday incorporated that make me want to kick people. I'm pretty sure that this is a learned behavior. Specifically learned from my time spent on the Walt Disney World College Program. You see, on the big

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-13856231076987999252011-02-20T20:33:00.003-05:002011-02-20T21:08:00.137-05:00

I was in my first theatrical production--it involved the children's choir of the First United Methodist Church of Gadsden, Alabama--when I was six. By the time I was ten, I had moved on to the local community theater. I have dabbled ever since.Okay, "dabbled" isn't the right word. "Dabbled" implies that I did it casually or on occasion which while true for some years, doesn't even begin to

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2555393335321689747.post-52447529099645850202011-02-20T20:11:00.002-05:002011-02-20T20:16:16.599-05:00

I actually started this blog about three years ago. And I must admit I did one hell of a piss-poor job at it. You see, my general practice is to have some crazy awesome idea about a topic to discuss. But it's always when I'm in the produce section of the grocery store or the waiting room at the orthodontist or some other place equally unsuited to doing something about it. And then I get

Southern Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04337245660765765487noreply@blogger.com0