Divergent

The other day someone asked me if I had written anything good on my blog lately…

No I haven’t…

I can’t seem to make a single, coherent thought lately.  Of course, it could be because Duffy is whining in my ear, which means that all things must cease until I finish my best soulful rendition of Warwick Avenue. 

 

And then I think about the British...and then their shoes...and I lose all sense of decorum. 






Back to the present.

My head is reeling.

(Like that?  I’ve been reading a lot lately and that’s a favorite phrase of the author.)

My sister convinced me to read Divergent. 

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It’s kinda like The Hunger Games – just without the Hunger Games.  But if you enjoyed THG, you’d enjoy Divergent.  And although I loved Katniss, I couldn’t relate to her.  I couldn’t shoot a bow & arrow if my life depended on it.  If I was left in the wilderness for days, I maybe could survive a week without eating something poisonous.

But in Divergent, I found me - the girl who couldn’t be pigeon-holed into one type of virtue.  Candor (the honest), Abnegation (the selfless), Dauntless (the brave), Amity (the peaceful), and Erudite (the intelligent). 

I’m part Erudite - I’m pretty good at sniffing out the ending of things.  Movies, books, surprise parties.  I think the only time in my life I’ve been shocked was when I got engaged.  (The first time; not the second time.  Wait.  You guys didn’t know I was engaged twice?  Yep.  Long story.  Both were to Mr. DDA though.  I’ll share more on another day.)

Sometimes, I wonder if my brain turns off when I sleep.  I’m always figuring something or someone out.  Maybe that’s why I always wake up tired. 

If I hadn’t detested police work so much, I probably would have made a decent investigator.  But I would’ve had to go to the Feds…I couldn’t stand the politics of a small town department.  (What chain of command???)  My husband has the patience of a saint.  I would’ve been fired…oh, about day 3.  Plus, the hats are hideous.

I’m part Dauntless - My tax law professor begged me to go to law school.  The fact that I can usually tell when someone is lying (just call me Emma) coupled with the fact that I’ll argue with a camel if I know I’m right.  (I’ve argued with other farm animals and Democrats.  AHEM.) 

Come to think of it, I'm not sure I should be proud of this trait. 

 

I’m part Candor – I can be brutally honest.  I try be thoughtful and considerate, but I usually speak before I think.  But I'm working on it.

I’m a tiny little bit Amity – meaning if you catch me on a good day, in the morning, I’ll apologize for crimes I didn’t even know I’d committed...just try to keep the peace.  I kinda even see some Abnegation in that. 

(But actually, the author got that one wrong.  It’s called Southern.)

So, the next time someone calls me difficult.  I’m going to respond, “I’m not difficult.  I’m divergent.” 

Happy November

I can't believe it's November already.  I apologize for the lack of posts.  I've been fighting some wicked flu-like crud for over a week.  With all this down time you would think I would have caught up on my blog and have some amazing, life changing info.  I don't know if I have anything valuable to offer right now.  Especially since I'm heavily medicated. 

Halloween came and went with much excitement in our house.  We went all-Disney this year.  :)

The kids racked up on the candy haul.  Much to my waistline's dismay.

Oh - did you hear, Kim Kardashian is getting a divorce?  There's a shocker.  Someone who got paid to get married didn't make it.  I was stunned. 

(Told you - nothing of value.)

With all this time in bed, I've gotten addicted to two new tv shows:


Person of Interest

AND



Once Upon a Time

Both are fabulous, and I think the first non-foodie shows I've watched in a long time.

Also, my cousin's husband was featured on a video series by the NRA.  With Veteran's Day right around the corner, it nice to see a well-deserving veteran and fellow law enforcment member get some recognition.


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Thanks for bearing with me.  I promise I'll be back with more debt dumping, shoe craving, budget friendly material in no-time. 

The Difference 1% Can Make

Rather than spending precious bed time writing a Whatever Wednesday post, I'm going to post a link to an editorial in today's Roanoke Times.

I pretty much abhor this left-leaning newspaper.  (Don't you love that word?  It clearly conveys the exact feeling.)

But the editorial has it right-on.

Before you jump on the "Tax the Rich Bandwagon" read this and think about it for a minute.

They do alot for us.

http://www.roanoke.com/editorials/commentary/wb/299852

Me vs. The Machine

If you follow me (me, not DDA) on Facebook, you've been enduring my latest rants against my computer.

I have had the same work laptop for three years.  Every morning, as I walk into my office, I walk on a bridge that goes over four (or six?) railway lines.  I've really wanted to *accidentally* drop this computer off the bridge the last few months and let Norfolk Southern smash it to bits.
 
Now, you need to understand, in the real world, a three year old laptop would be outdated, but still fairly functional.

Not government laptops.

We buy outdated laptops and then uninstall any program created in the last 15 years.

Seriously, we should just carry these...


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Our computers are about as efficient.

The warranty on my laptop ran out last week. 

Ironic.

I'm fairly computer literate, so last Tuesday when my wireless capability all of the sudden was disabled, I thought, "No big deal.  I got this."  And after three hours on the phone with an IT guy (and I call him that loosely) who "fixed" my computer...I got this:

Dun...dun..dun...  THE BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH

Then Wednesday, in the middle of critical tax law research (fun! fun!) my cd/dvd rom drive decides it's not going to work...at all.  It wouldn't even read a Jason Aldean cd.   Tragic, I know.

So, after another phone call to IT, they overnight me a replacement cd/dvd drive...but no tools with which to actually replace the drive.  So after my feeble attempts with a steak knife, glasses screwdriver, and surgical scissors (don't ask), on Friday, I end up spending an hour in the office of one the best computer geeks I know just to perform what should be a fairly routine procedure.  And it ends up like this...


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 (Ok, a bit of an exaggeration, but still, it was in more pieces than it should be.) 

And today, after spending another two hours on the phone with IT, and finally getting all of my computer issues resolved, I was informed I was getting a replacement computer

Yes, this is an actual picture of my actual computer in my actual trashcan.

You think that information would've been relevant LAST WEEK!!!!

The Annual Softball Tournament

Mr. DDA is a badge wearing, hand cuff holding, pepper spray bearing, gun toting police officer.



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It creates a bit of a crazy, hectic, lifestyle in the DDA house.

Seven years ago, our local police department began the Law Enforcement Memorial Tournament.  It's a fun weekend for different departments to get together and honor their fallen friends.  The officers love it.

The spouses...not so much.

First of all, it's always in August.  And even if it's calling for 100% rain and a balmy 70 degrees, it's going to be 105...no matter what.  It's predestined.

Second of all, it's game after game after game...leaving us and our kids feeling like this...



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And lastly, even though it's a Law Enforcement tournament, it's just a matter of time till these guys show up...
   

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Yes, the rescue squad.

See, this tournament cannot happen without someone getting hurt.

We've had broken legs, ACL's snapped in half, pulled muscles, torn rotator cuffs...

I don't know why it happens, but it's like the 105 degree temps, it's predestined.

This year, I think the worst was someone threw their shoulder out.  My husband pulled a "hammy."  And after a box of Tylenol patches, an entire tube of Icy Hot, and at least one ace bandage, he's finally recovering.

He's certainly milked it for all it's worth.

Even though he got *hurt* (cough, cough) this year, I know he enjoyed the games he did get to play. 

Every year he says he's not going to play, but every year he does.   He can't resist. 

I don't know if it's the camaraderie or the competition.  And even though I dread the annual softball tournament, I wouldn't want him to miss it for the world.

It's the least we can do to remember those we've lost.



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Jason Aldean - Need I Say More?

If you know me at all, you know I love a lot of people and things.  I've talked about all of them on this blog - except one.  And to get to know me, you have to know this about me.

I try to keep it in the closet.  I like to come off as polished and professional.  And not at all the country bumpkin I was raised.  But there are very few priorities in my life that I am absolutely passionate about:

1.  My husband & kids
2.  My family
3.  My church
4.  My friends
5.  Jason Aldean

I should have been in the music industry.  Not as a singer.  Ugh.  I'm horrible.  But like a music manager or something.  I can pick the winners from the beginning.  I've always known who was going to make it and who wasn't.

And I picked him...



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 I saw him at a teeny tiny country fair when he had one single out and no one hardly cheered till he covered Guns 'N Roses and Sweet Home Alabama.  I was there on business and we stayed in the same hotel.  A Comfort Inn.  (Doubt he's staying in too many of those lately.)

I'm sorry - can we just stare at the picture for a minute?

Ok...back to the blog.

He became my favorite - which was a big deal for someone who did not listen to country music.  In fact, I detested country music. 

In the past five years, I've seen Jason Aldean more times than I can count.  (Really, I have lost count.)  And I don't even attempt to add up the money I've spent on tickets & gas to his concerts.  (I could have probably bought my Christian Louboutin's with that money.)

But I love the artists when they're brand new and they'll sign autographs for hours.  They're thrilled when they're recognized in Walmart. 

He's a big boy now.  Selling out arenas and amphitheaters once reserved for only the biggest names in the music industry.

So proud, but kinda sad.  Like how I felt about watching my big boy going to preschool today.  (Yes, this is a shameless plug to show off my kiddo.)

Jason Aldean single handedly turned me back on to country music.

And empty's my wallet twice a year!

If you ask anyone who knows me what's on my iPod - they're going to say Jason.  All four albums. 

Just thought I'd let you in on my secret.

My Favorite Place in the Whole Wide World

I have zero motivation today.  I just don’t want to be at work.

I want to be here.

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Yesterday, I made the comment that Mr. DDA & I weren’t poor, we were broke. 

Well, I grew up POOR.   

Not like 3^rd world country poor, but poverty level poor. 

I never knew it. 

Not till I became an adult, did I really realize how tough my parents had it.

But if my dad had sold enough wood, and my mom had saved every penny from painting Greek letters, we got to go on vacation. 

And we usually went here

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The most magical place on earth to us.

Daytona Beach Shores

You drive to Daytona Beach and you go over the bay bridge and THERE IT IS – the Atlantic Ocean, glistening in the morning sun.  (I can say that because we always drove overnight.)  You can smell the salt air and it just feels perfect. 

It is hands down, still to this day, my favorite place on earth. 

It helps that it’s-no-secret my favorite great aunt spends her summers there.  (Literally, her name is was the 2^nd word I ever spoke.  When I was about 6, I ran away from home – to her house.  I didn’t make it, but that’s where I was headed.  And you know what, it’s no secret, she kinda likes me too!)

She would graciously, and still does, let our family use her condo.  And while most people spend every vacation night wining & dining - not us.  We ate in.  We had Mexican night, Italian night, and lunches were sandwiches and ramen.  But it was vacation.  And it was awesome!

Once we got lucky and the family staying next to us had Disney/Sea World connection and we got to go to both parks FOR FREE!! 

It is where I spent part of my honeymoon. 

It is where my mom taught me how to make “witches’ castles.”  If you don’t know what a witches’ castle is, it where you make walls and towers with wet dripping sand. 

And in six weeks, I will be there.  Or more specifically here.

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Tips for Newlywed Husbands

Whatever Wednesday is here and with all this talk about fashion, hats & shoes, I probably have no male readers left.  So sorry.

In apology, this article is just for you - the men - out there.

I know you think we women are impossible to figure out, so I’m going to give you some extremely valuable tips.

More valuable than tax tips.

These are the equivalent to share-a-cell-with-Martha-Stewart insider trading tips:

1.                  Everything in a trash bag is not trash.

Yes, I know it’s a bag of clothes in a trash bag.  Does not mean it’s trash.  We use trash bags for lots of things.  Trash is simply one of them.  If it’s not in a trash can, do not take the initiative to throw it out.  (Or worse – burn it!)

The guest book from my wedding went missing this way.  You can tell me you attended and I’ll believe it. 

2.                  Don’t make me buy my own gifts.

“Here’s $50.  Go get yourself something nice for your birthday.”  Not a gift.

$50 visa card – is a gift.

3.                  Invite me.

I don’t care if you’re 99.99999999999998% sure I don’t want to go to your office Christmas/Retirement/Whatever party, you need to invite me.  Period.  Because then we wives get asked, “Why didn’t you come to…?”  then feel extremely stupid when we get that “Oh-he-didn’t-tell-you” look perfected by the Desperate Housewives generation.  Trust me.

Let me ‘splain something.  (Ala Ricky Ricardo.)  This is how it translates to us.

Her Mind                                                             His Mind

You didn’t tell me.                                                I’m not going to tell her.

Because you didn’t want me there.                   Because she hates my boss

You must be ashamed of me.                            And I don’t want her to feel obligated.

I know – total opposites, but like I said these are insider tips.  Take notes!

4.                  “Time off” to get groceries is an oxy moron.

This has to be one of my favorites.  A night off does not include trekking to 4 separate stores and bargain hunting for the cheapest ketchup.  If you want to eat and you want to save money, we (usually) must do the grocery shopping. 

If you want to stay married, women need a night or two “off” every once in a while without having to do anything domestic.  So never say, “Honey, take the night off.  I’ll watch the kids….we really need groceries.”  Try something like, "haven't you been wanting to see that new Chick Flick?  You should call your friends and go.  I can put the kids to bed."

You won't be sorry.  Trust me.

5.                  Just pick a place to eat!!!

When chaos strikes and Mother’s Days across town are ruined and you have to make up for it and pull off an amazing dinner – pick the restaurant!

Please, if I am craving Outback’s Cajun jumbo shrimp over fettuccine in a garlic cream sauce (aren’t you hungry?), I will tell you.  Otherwise.  Plan it.  Pick it.  I don’t want to do the “I don’t care.” game all night.

We hate finally picking a Mexican restaurant and you saying, “Awww…I kinda wanted a buffet.” 

Visa gift card – bonus points.

Complaining about our restaurant – negative points.

Hopefully, this is all clear as mud for you! 

Mr.  DDA Warning:  This post is entirely fictional.  Any representation that could be mistaken for any person known or unknown is entirely coincidental. 

What I Learned from Camp

It’s Whatever Wednesday so here’s my random thought from the day…

When I walked in the ladies restroom at work this morning, the lingering smell of Aussie hairspray brought back a very distinct childhood memory.

Camp.

Camp Tuk-a-Way, to be exact.

Located approximately 27 miles from anywhere notable, it welcomed us church campers one week, every summer.  We girls stayed up on the hill (which felt like it was a mile long walk) with four cabins and a shower/bathroom house.  At any given time, you could walk into the girls’ bathroom at Camp Tuk-a-Way and find any number of girls spraying their Aussie hairspray while getting ready for the day, cleaning up from the pool, restyling after FOB (flat on back) time, primping for the evening service…There was a constant London-esque fog of Aussie aerosol hairspray in that bathroom.

Camp Tuk-a-Way was where I honed my mad checkers skills. 

Also where I learned to dive like a fish.

And what Snickers bars were really made of…

For those of you who did not have the luxury of Camp Tuk-a-Way, I will try to recreate some of the very vivid scars memories and relay what I learned from those irreplaceable weeks.

1.                  Even though it was the longest walk, Cabin 4 was like the Ritz Carlton. 

I believe I stayed in every girls’ cabin there.  (Didn’t they go by like 1G, 2G, or something like that?)  1 was the shortest walk and wasn’t that bad, 2 was the camp equivalent of the slums, 3 (I’m pretty sure) was haunted and/or infested, but Cabin 4…you spent weeks praying for that cabin. 

2.                  When playing Tug of War, do not tie the rope around your waist.  You very well may die.

While I don’t remember her name, I have a very vivid memory of some very large teenage girl, tying the rope around her stomach and then almost dying when her oxygen supply was cut off.  And actually, I don’t recall playing Tug of War after that.

3.                  The best don’t always win.

Every cabin competed for the cleanest cabin, the best decorations, etc.  After about two days of complete domination, our church was shut out of all awards.  Happened every year. (I still remember putting up a traced image of Grandma Dean – who was actually only one girls’ grandmother, but still, to this day, is called Grandma Dean by everyone.  I do believe we still won that day.)

4.                  Don’t spend all your canteen money by Tuesday.

Being from the ridiculously wealthy family I was, (ha!) I was given usually $20 to make it through the week.  Shouldn’t be hard since all meals were provided.  The only place to spend money was the canteen.  You could always tell the first year campers because by Wednesday, they were out of money.  I think each year, I learned to make my $20 last just a little longer.

5.                  Tang can be substituted for orange juice.

I loved Tang as a kid.  It was the best OJ that I knew of.  Not till I became an adult did I realize there probably isn’t one speck of real fruit in that stuff.  Especially when it’s diluted four to one.  I didn’t even know they still made Tang till some of our church nursery workers bribed my 2 year old daughter with it.  (I had some.  Tang is still pretty awesome.)

I don’t know what ever happened to Camp Tuk-A-Way.  But I sincerely hope that one day, I can ship my children off for week of torture character building experiences. 

So there you go...the lessons (and smells) you learn at camp will stay with you forever.