SNOW DAY!!! Here in the North Georgia MOuntains we got six inches of snow in under two hours. It was awesome. Everyone was out of school. Everyone was out of work. No one was out except us crazies. There is nothing more fun than driving through fresh snow to see all the beauty it creates.

First things first, gotta eat. Hurray for Wendell's Winter Wonderland. There were blueberry pancakes and hot coffee. Who could ask for anything more?

This is the beautimous Indian Mound. One of my favorite scenes here.

This one is for Sarah. We are driving in fresh snow on an unpaved forest road out in the Chattahoochee National Forest. It is a public road that goes along the river.

The River. BEAUTIFUL!

No point in four wheeling if you can't get stuck!

Happy Couple. Our first snow.

After having such a productive day off on Wednesday, nothing has been productive since. Working has been painful because my job is to wait on customers. THERE ARE NO CUSTOMERS. You'd think my bosses would find something for us to do, but they recognize our powerlessness and don't even bother. Then on Sunday, a day off, you'd think ah! Productivity. Nope, my husband was so tired from being nuts (nuts = staying up for almost 24 hours and being 49 years old), that he slept from 11:30pm on Saturday night until 5pm on Sunday. 5PM! Can you imagine? I got lots of puppy lovin in and read my book that I was so behind on reading. We did eat dinner and go to Lowes to get a lamp shade. We hung out with friends at church and were able to get back home at a suitable hour so I could get to sleep and get up to go to work where there is NOTHING TO DO.

Yeah, can ya tell its winter in North Georgia? They rolled up their sidewalks and went home for the winter. Not to be seen until spring again .

So yesterday was an eventful day.

First things first, I was able to go to the dentist who looked in my mouth to find a gold mind. It was so bad that he said that on the next visit before any work would be done, he was going to do a comprehensive exam. That means that he will prioritize what has to be done first, how much has to be done and the time period it takes to do it. However, the hygenist was able to eliminate almost all of my smoke stains in my smile. She said that the ones in the back are permanent, but that's no big deal to me because no one can see them. Hurray, no more smoke stains! One thing down, ten thousand dollars left to go.

Then I was able to come home and nap with my husband. This is a treasure as he is working third shift now and I don't normally get to cuddle with him. A real perk to being married is a permanent cuddling buddy. It makes sleeping a lot warmer with a left over sensation of being safe.

About two I went and applied three different places for a table waiting job. Going back to school means waiting tables. This is a good thing because I like waiting tables. Amazingly John, Michelle and Mama all agree that it is a good thing to wait tables. Michelle says that I am in a different place than I used to be and waiting tables is okay. So table waiting I go. Hopefully someone will call soon. I really would enjoy not driving 35 minutes one way on a daily basis. Thirty five minutes means thirty miles up here too. So 15 to Dahlonega would be a welcome change. I miss my walk across the square from my apartment to work. It spoiled me.

Then I took the puppies in for their shots. I have named them all. There is Wolfman Jack, Jill, Rocky and Mikey. They were terrified at the vets office. All four of them crawled into my lap awaiting their shot. Luckily they didn't break the bank on the cost of the shots. I was afraid it would be like a doctor bill. Turns out it was $15 a pup. Perfect! No wonder people don't mind having animals! I have decided to keep Wolfman Jack no matter what however, the rest are to go. I put up a poster in the vet office and at Sweetwater. We shall see if anyone calls. There are not going to be any pups to the pound. I told John to suck it up on that one because all the facilities are kill and there are no non-kills. Nobody is killing my pups. If nature gets them, that's one thing, but there is nothing natural about killing them because they have been in a pound for two weeks. Stupid pound.

Then I went to babysit the Donnellys. AND wrote 45 thank you notes! Per John's request. He was so surprised that he looked at me this morning and said oh, you did them all? NO!!! There are 150 not 45. Stupid. I love him, but sometimes he doesn't get it. He cowered when I just looked at him like--stupid. He offered to do the dishes though, so all is right with the world.

Very eventful day. Hadn't had one of those in a while.

Goodness. It wears me out just writing about it. Ah well, back to the grind.

Sometimes I forget why I like the actors/tresses I like. Then I see a movie with them in it and go, oh yeah, only that part could be played by that person. That has happened to me two times in two movies in two days. My youngest step son gave me a movie for Christmas. What more could a step-mom ask for than a child who pays attention? He gave me Kingdom of Heaven. I have actually only seen this movie once in the theatre prior to watching it last night at home. In the theatre I thought it was pretty good. A-. Last night, I realized that this was the part Orlando was cut for. His constant fame of Pirates has made me forget why I liked him in the first place. Turns out the reason I liked him was that prior to Pirates, he could act. I mean convey emotions and lines without ever saying a word. That is acting. He does a lot of that in Kingdom. His character does not say much however when it does the lines are penetraing and the acting is fierce. Do I think the director almost killed the film with the length? Yes. Do I think that Orlando played his part well. Yes. Then the second movie is The Illusionist. I am a bit behind on current movies which is totally out of character for me, but I have been getting married lately so give me a break. Anyway, I don't know when this movie came out on the big screen, but it is great. Solid A. It has good special effects, a constant wanting for more of the plot without being pretentious and a great love story. Who could ask for more? The part that I like best is why I like Edward Norton. I love Edward Norton. I have liked him since he walked on the scene with Primal Fear. Gosh he's good. Kind of like Kevin Spacy and John Malcovich. Just a great actor. He makes Orlando look like a novice. The movie was amazing. The music was good, the timing just right and the cast well done. Gosh I love Edward Norton. He terrifys me and makes me want to fall in love with him. Awesome. I am so glad I am catching up on my movies.

Knock, knock on the door,
Whose it for?
There's nobody in here.

The world has come to an end tonight. Apocolypse is on the way I swear. I ate broccoli for dinner. Not broccoli like put it on my plate and looked at it, but actually digested an entire helping and had seconds. Yes, I said seconds. It had butter, cheese, was steamed in garlic salt and ranch on it. BUT I STILL ATE BROCCOLI.

Willing to go to any lengths...They told me I would have to change my whole life...does this constitute completion? Nope, but I am darn farther down the road than I was yesterday.

Carter likes to hear about life at the farm. The farm is such a new adventure for me that everyday there is something new. We have had new calves. We have had new puppies (all seven puppies have made it to their six week birthday which means they will probably make it to doghood.). There is beautiful sites to see because of the mountains. The farm house is always telling me new secrets, like it has a rock foundation around the front and flashing around the back because of the direction of the typical wind. The wind would really create a draft if there was rocks around the base in the back, but because there is flashing, the wind has less of a chance of getting through. The rocks in the front are loose and the puppies found a hole the other night, which funny enough they can't seem to find again. Wonder why? Maybe because I am smart enough to fill the gap? They are totally confused. It is very funny. The cows are that stupid too. There is a calf caught in the mineral trough today. It crawled in there for more and can't figure out how to get out. As soon as we pulled in from Sweetwater, there it was hollerin at the top of its lungs as though to say: GET ME OUTTA HERE!!!! It was very funny because the rest of the heard was down in the trees where is was nice and warm and dry. You could here the mama cow calling for it going: Come on my stupid child. John is coaxing it out with bread. Did I mention that the cows love pumpernickle bread? They step on their young, brave the electric fence and head butt each other for a single piece of pumpernickle bread.

The nice thing about the farm is that you can tend to a farm and it is not an all day job even though it is a round the clock job. Pups crying at five in the morning. Sick cows needing a shot in the middle of the night. Coyotes howling as Baby, the dog, runs a pack off the land just before you lay down to sleep. Hay in the morning for the cows. Food for the dogs before and after work. Water the cows when you come home. Coax the crazy horse into a carrot once in a while. However, you can always leave for work and know that generally, nothing will change or go atrociously ary.

Today is a sad day in new discovery at the farm. The cow that birth her first calf will have to be put down. The calf was too big and suffocated in the birth canal. The coyotes took care of it. Then the cow remained paralyzed once the whole ordeal was over. Cows have natural epidurals. Once the calf gets into the birth canal, the hips splay and pinch a nerve that creates a temporary paralysis and allieviates all pain of birth. Guess women are the only ones to suffer labor. Because it was a troubled birth, the cow was paralyzed for too long. She hasn't snapped out of it, when normally the hips go back together, release the nerve and walla! Walking cow. There was no walla. She has been leaning up inside the barn for a couple days now and the swelling has overpowered her. She quit eating yesterday. The veteranarian said that they could let her die, because that is what would happen if she were a wild cow--wild cow? Yeah, I think I might have made that phrase up. Because that is what would inevitably happen or put her down ourselves. So John has to put her down.

Somehow this is sad to me. I don't know why exactly, perhaps because there was hope that she would get better? Perhaps because it is a $3500 throw away cow? Perhaps because it was her first calf and it was a horrible experience and she will never know that it doesn't always have to be that bad? Perhaps because I don't know how to not project emotions on things that don't have them? Although, I am beginginng to find that they do have some inclination of emotions. For example, Baby doesn't care for men. Legend, the horse, doesn't trust women and when there is enough people around will show off as though he were five instead of 25. That the pups cry for their mom and cows scream for their young when they are being weaned. Surely, this cow that can't move because its entire hind quarters won't move understands a loss of hope. Surely? I mean a cow is not something to be hunted. It is not something to be petted. It is not something for sport or luxury. But it is something of use. The cow lost its use. We all have a use at the farm and the cow lost its use.

That's sad.

I love this farm. Even the sad parts. It is such a good representation of life. Sometimes things lose their use. I hope I never do. God knows, I just became useful again. Hopefully, nursing school will increase my use. I sure don't want anyone to put me down!

John just came back in--the sick cow ate pumpernickle bread. Walla!

I got in. I am officially a North Georgia College and University pre-nursing major. I have an advisor and have to meet with a financial aid officer as soon as possible. I start Summer 2007. Who would guess?

Maybe I will be a nurse?

OKAY! OKAY! OKAY! I GET IT! I was a horrible daughter to sort of, kind of, not tell the truth about how much homework I really had! Maybe not a horrible daughter, but a real pain in the neck. I can't believe the sins of the daughter are revisited on her by her girlfriend's kid. How is that possible? Grace had typed notes that had to be turned in tomorrow and she has known all week about it. How do I know that she has known all week? It is on her agenda that they send home at the end and beginning of every week. Craig went out of town as planned and they needed a computer. John let them borrow the home computer and for no apparent reason I am the one up at eleven o'clock at night after just packing up the computer and printer to ride home for twenty minutes to my house. Grace is asleep by now. This is what I get for saying sure, you have a few notes to type up, no problem. A FEW NOTES? It was four pages long, single spaced! On Dickens no less. DICKENS. That is hard stuff for a twelve year old especially when she is wicked smart like Grace. She has sentence structure that would embarass freshman at UGA. There are no such things as notes to her. All at once as I was printing up the notes and Sherry and Craig, who came home at the end of the process, were desperately looking for paper to print on and all I could think was of being up at two in the morning with my Dad trying without succeeding to finish a social science project when I would never make an A. But it wasn't two in the morning, I am here at home by midnight blogging about child hood flashbacks that could righteously be construed as nightmares for my parents. Thank goodness for it only being notes. Thank goodness it is not quite midnight. Thank goodness I am no longer twelve. Thank goodness. Just thank goodnes...

There is nothing like a good piece of clothing to make you feel better, give you encouragement and lighten the spirit. Yes, I am giving a lot of power to something as material and trivial as a cashmere, longsleve, black sweater, however, sometimes that is all it takes to make me happy.

Actually, John took me shopping on Sunday. My love for John is what really makes me happy. He thought that I would like something from Sax because I have found a couple of things there before at the 400 outlets. Unfortunately, there was nothing at Sax. Well there might have been but due to the chaos of new management, there was no way to find anything. It was about like shopping at the Salvation Army. For Sax, that is saying something. So I went to Ann Taylor and LOVED the whole store and went to Brooks Brothers for women and LOVED the whole store. I found about several hundreds of dollars that I would love to dress in on a daily basis. Instead I got three pieces. I still managed to leap over the first hundred dollar mark. John didn't seem to care how much I spent. I think that is a guy thing. Guys like to buy pretty things for their gal. I watched my Dad buy pretty things for my Mom all my life. She lights up similar to the way I light up when John gives me something. I picked out a PINK--I can't believe that it is pink--button down, tapered shirt and a set of grey pants. The pants that I picked out are slightly too tight. They fit perfectly. They are the size I want to be too--well actually I want to be a size smaller, but I really hate buying a size bigger. They fit in the legs, the waist and the length, but there is that line...you know the line, around the pockets and highlighting the panties. ERG. So I bought them anyway and am determined not to wear them until I can.

It is amazing what a little motivation can do for a gal: as a result, I dropped dance due to assessment that 1) I have not lost any weight rather maintained the weight I had; 2) It is getting expensive on so many levels: money, time, miles on the car; finally 3) if I am willing to drive all the way to Athens to dance, then I am willing to stay at home and run. So I ran. Monday I ran a mile and walked a mile cool down. Tuesday I ran a mile with only a lap cool down due how dark it got because of snow clouds and that my friend was in the hospital and I needed to go see him. Today, I will probably do the new pilates dvd that my Mom gave me three months ago. Don't get me wrong, I am not doing this on my own. I am running with this chica from work. She is eighteen and a senior in highschool. She is the one who turned me on to nursing. She is positive and helpful as she used to run cross country and can remember what her coach said to her where as I cannot to save my life. She also loves to run and had been upset that she had to quit competitive running due to a heart murmur. I asked her if I was running fast and she smiled. I asked her what her miles were when she was running competitively, she said six minutes and under on a rare occasion. Now I know why she smiled. Her mother and brother and boyfriend think that it is nuts that we are running in 32 degree weather. I think it is exciting that I have FINALLY become willing to go any lengths to become happy with my body and my wieght. I am also excited that God sent me a running mate. We dress in three layers: long johns, extra t-shirt and sweats. By the time we are on our second lap we are warm and she is sweating. It takes me to the third lap to break a sweat. We are running in Pitts Park and you'd think that we'd be the only ones out there, but there is a soccer fiend from the highschool boys soccer team who is out there, an older man who is probably on a health watch and several teenagers who have the words I DO DRUGS stamped across their forehead cuddling together as though it is romantic to be at the park with their s.o.'s in freezing temperatures. Whatever! Did I mention my running buddy's name? Angel. Funny huh? She is my running Angel.

My guess is that the lovely black sweater, that was the third piece of my purchase on Sunday, is not the reason I feel good today. My guess is that it is my spiritual experience in becoming active in my life again. I have wanted for a long time to be willing to lose weight, to be willing to do what it takes, to be Rocky and overcome the odds of me growing into a plump American. I have known for years the most successful way for me to do so is to run. I have not been willing. I have been praying for months to become willing. My first step was becoming willing to dance.

In the process of dancing in the past four months, I have found that I am completely powerless over what I eat. If you say icecream, I scream until I get it. If you say chocolate, there is no help for me, my body will obsess over it until it is in me. The only relief is it being devoured. In the past three days, there has not been a craving for either. I have eaten well and not obsessed. I have been praying for a while: God please remove the obsession to eat more than I need and in the past three days that has been true. Michelle says that it is a process and that faith in God will ease the way and give me strength to do the things that are best for me. The prayer is something she suggested and it seems to be working. I feel better today. I have hope that I will continue to feel better about myself from here on out. I don't know what is on the horizon for me, but I know that as long as I keep taking care of myself, it will lead to God's will.

This scripture comes to mind: Trust in the Lord with all your heart, mind and soul, lean not on your own understanding. I would tell you the book, chapter and verse, but I don't know it. Maybe Corinthians. I don't think it matters, it just matters that I know the word of God.

I am grateful today. I am grateful I know my God. I am grateful I know his Word and can apply it to my life. I am grateful to be willing today. I am grateful for cashmere. I am grateful for powerlessness and the power of prayer. I am grateful for my running Angel.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

I want to be a teacher....well, it would mean that I would have to get a masters in teaching because my degree does not qualify to teach.

I want to be a lawyer....except I don't want to have to take an LSAT or a bar exam. Both are large and frightening to a point of paralysis.

I want to be a nurse. Maybe. I am gathering information. So far I have found out that I cannot get into nursing school because my GPA is too low from college. What does that mean? Once again, I have spent $80k on an education that is worthless. BUT, she says. The lady at the admissions office for the school of nursing, I couldn't get in anyway for fall of 2007, it would be at least fall of 2008 so I could go ahead and take the courses in the general college, raise my gpa and have the qualifying courses I would need anyway and take less when I get accepted to the school of nursing. 5-600 apply every year to the school and they only take 100 students. And Georgia wonders why we have a nursing shortage? So you might very well get in, just not this year. AND, she says. The lady from the nursing school, that I have to get into the undergraduate program at the college first before the nursing school will even consider me. So what does that mean?

I applied today for the undergraduate program at the college. I sent in an application, $25 check and had my transcripts faxed for what it is worth. The deadline is January 9, I just made it. They asked me for extra-curricular activities, I said Quilters and Godspell, growing up and becoming an adult. I hope I get in. I meet all the requirements for the undergrad program. Who knows. Maybe. I have to make A's to bring up my gpa. A's in Anatomy, Physiology and MicroBiology. Just saying the course names scare me. Maybe.

What do I want to be when I grow up? Something. God please tell me what, but something.

So, how's married life?

This is the question that everyone is asking me these days. The reality answer is I DON"T KNOW. The answer I give is, "Well, it's different." Typically, I get a good chuckle or a smile. It is the correct answer. Marriage is different. Mostly change is the difference. Most people have about one major change at a time. I had four out of five. The only other person I know that this has happened to and survived is my mother. I had a instrumental person in my life die. I moved to a new home. I got married. I got a new job. The only thing left is to get a divorce. So when I answer different, I mean really different. There are days when I am overwhelmed with joy and have no choice but to cry, like the day John brought home a Christmas tree, or the day we picked up our new cabinets that our friend gave us, or the day the puppies were born. Then there are the days that I am overwhelmed with the differences/changes and I have no choice but to cry, like the day I realized that I only got to see my family for ten hours for Christmas instead of four days or that I have more my family than I can ever imagine, or that I can't imagine my life without John or that I don't know why everyone doesn't live on a farm. Married life is confusing. I have found some benefits to married life: John loves doing laundry and vaccumming; heavy lifting, bugs and nastiness is no longer a problem; coffee is always made for me in the morning. There are some not so good things too: Some of my clothes have shrunk; there is no dishwasher other than myself; computer time is limited because I don't have priority to the computer because I am not working only in entertainment and finally, there is NO ROOM in the home.

All that being said, we have puppies. Puppies make the world better. There are somewhere between four and six of them. The stongest toppled out the other day and John loved on it and tossed it back under the house with the others. I saw them for the first time today. They are in a pile under the house and are black and white and brown. They are all Baby's puppies. Beautiful. We also have four new calves. And there is a new butter dish on its way. There are new things everyday and much like the puppies, they make me happy. More than anything, married live is happiness at this point. I can't imagine a more loving husband or a warmer home. God knows what's next in my life, but right now, I'm happy.

Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday dear MOOOOOMMMMMM!
Happy Birthday to you!!!!

I have learned a new facet of life at the farm. Two facets, actually: family and death. Both of which I have been introduced to in the past 24 hours. There are several who live in Gilelland: Doyle and his wife (Albert's Brother), Gerald and Shelby (he is a man a lot like John...considered family without blood relation), Bert (Albert Taylor, Jr.), Albert and Martha Jean aka Papa Bud and Mama Jean, John and Myself and Paul (he is an ex-son-in-law). In this family of sorts, death has cast its shadow: Albert Taylor, Jr. had a heart attack yesterday morning in his home. I had not been exposed to this family other than Mama Jean and Papa Bud. I do not know dynamics or stories or how people act or don't act. It is a new family to me. I aslo do not know my role. I am the newest in this family and while I am not a new baby, I recieve as much love and acceptance as one even though there is someone missing. I have never met Bert. I invited him to the wedding, unfortunately, he works in the funeral business and was called away. Odd, I never think that a funeral man would die. Irony about it was that the night prior, he was showing his parents the way he wanted his funeral laid out when he died. He loved being a funeral assistant so much that he'd applied to apprentice for a director, a morticianer. And now, he's dead. Just odd. Turns out, just like everything else on the farm, I have a use. I have special use in this time of grieving: listening. I am the listener. All the stories that I have heard and can tell in my own family like Uncle Bobby riding the bike through the dining room and cutting his hand up through the glass door, 'the boys' dismantling my grandmother's car the same day grandaddy bought it or mom screaming out the window for some boy to go away; I have never heard in this family. There are many of them, like how Albert Sr. and Martha met, how Bert caught a timber rattler and was on tv, the scandal between ex-s, the beauty of daughters and the achievements of sons. My other responsibility is to comfort. I am comforting Albert and Martha Jean, anything that needs to be done, I do. John does the heavy lifting stuff, emotionally hard stuff and the just plain things that have to be done stuff and I do the comforting,tending and listening. I have use. I am finding with each minute that I listen that it is more important that I keep listening.

Tonight I listened to the big house (Albert and Martha Jean's) and the fire as it breathed while we waited for the family to return from the visitation. Mama Jean wanted someone at the house so no one would steal anything and to recieve visitors in case they stop. That is what we did, John and I. Once the family returned I went back to listening to them. They said there were 896 names in the book at the funeral home, probably 1000 that came through the line and that there was a two hour weight just to see Papa Bud and Mama Jean.

Tomorrow, I will go and listen again. I will listen to a preach I don't know preach about a man I have never met. I will listen to the family I live with tell stories I have never heard. I will listen to the sounds of silence that hold the greiving hearts of my family.

I couldn't be happier....
Right dear?
I couln't be happier...
Right here!

I have come to find that there is only one reason for a farm: work. If it ain't working, it ain't a farm. The cows work. The dogs work. The house works. The people who live in the farm house work. The clothes that we choose have to work. There is something about the farm that makes me feel like I am in the right place. I guess it is because I have a role to play. I am a part of something that is useful and productive just by living. I feed and water cows and dogs. I pay bills. I cook and clean. I play outside to train the dogs. I walk the pasture with John to count cows (if one's missing, well, something is just wrong). I am part of and useful. If for some reason something is not working, like a cow, then something is wrong. It is of no use and it is no longer a part of the farm: cow goes to market or is buried. Hopefully, that won't happen to me. There is something fulfilling about being a part of a farm. Well, being a part of anything really. It makes me feel good inside. I recognize this is more about God than anything. When I am full, generally I am connected with God. In this crazy marriage that is completely based in the Holy Spirit, I recognize that the contentment comes with that primary basis. I wouldn't feel so good without it. Sundays have a part at this farm too. They are the day we go to church, and to be frank, I think the farm knows that is what Sunday is.

This new life that I am living, is working into me. It is working into my heart.

There's nothing that can stop you from being populer--lar,
LAAAAA-LAAA-LLLAAAAA-LAAAAA

I have several blogs in me and haven't had time to get them out so I am determined to write all of them today since it is my day off. I don't know that I will get them all out in one publishing, but I am going to get at least one of them out.

Cowboy Boots

I see little girls in pink and red cowboy boots with their church dresses on Sundays at the Sautee Trail Cafe where we have breakfast with the boys all the time. It is apparent that their mother's know to pick their battles and red or pink cowboy boots are not a real battle to fight. The little girls are so happy to be in the boots they don't even notice the frills of the dress or the curls in thier hair. They just like the boots. They are little cowgirls just like their Daddy's are cowboys. Mom is just glad they got to church on time and are grateful not to make Sunday brunch but rather have it at the cafe.

I don't remember if I had a pair of cowboy boots or not. I can remember wanting some but not so badly that it made a difference. I guess that is a difference of growing up in the city and the country. I wanted to be like my parents and I can't say that I have ever seen either of my parents in a pair of cowboy boots. It seems like being a cowboy would be a good costume for halloween though. It was that type of thing. Cowboys weren't real. They were something that happened in "the Old West." They sure didn't happen on Lakeshore Drive in Avondale Estates or in Stone Mountain at Howell Mill Rd or on Ponce De Leon and College Avenue. That just wasn't something I knew much about. I have never had a reason to want boots.

When I went to college we used to go to the country bar called Mama's which I found ironic in its placement because it was located smack in the middle of the hood. I am not sure if it is still open, my guess is yes. It was an amazing place. Big as a warehouse. On Thursday nights they gave free line dance lessons and Vicki and I would go to learn the line dances. I can remember going back on Fridays a couple of times to dance and drink. It was great fun. I don't know how much I drank because dancing was available. It was hard though when there were so many people because then you'd get asked to dance by men on the slow dances and that for some reason was so uncomfortable. I was not good at that. But I do remember boots. I mean LOTS of boots. The folks there had pride in their boots, their jeans, their skirts, their outfits, their button down shirts, their look. It was all about being country and having pride in the fact that you were country. It was really about the boots because they made it easier to dance. I wanted boots so badly. I came close enough though by having these short healed pretend boots that worked enough to dance. I wanted a pair so badly and couldn't afford them to save my life. I was in college. I was drinking. I wanted and was denied!

At my last job, I finally found a good enough reason for this city gal to buy a pair of boots. One was because I had the money and two was because of image. What more reason does a city girl need than image? I had been in these mountains now for six years and boots were common to a lot of folk up here and while they all required boots for most of their lives, but not me. I was still a city slicker and living on the square in my city apartment. But image for a country concert--I had to look the part. So I bought a pair of really nice denim jeans, a pair of new boots by Dan Post and a Stetson. Now, I would have never chosen the pair that I picked. I went through pair after pair with this gal in the store. I don't know the first thing about boots and she was just trying to help me make up my mind. She knew it didn't make any difference which pair because it would be for looks. I put on the pair that I bought and this man walked around the corner and looked at the boots on my feet and smiled. In a slow, comfortable pace (which at the time I was not in, I had an overwhelming sense of urgency), he stated in that family oriented, southern draw: That's a nice boot--with that, I bought them. The guinuine way he made the statement, I knew I had stumbled onto something good.

The concert was great and I loved the look I had created. Somethings I didn't know about boots that I found out quickly was that they have to be broken in. I broke them in all right. I had more blisters on my feet the next morning, I almost couldn't walk. Since that time, I mostly couldn't find a reason not to wear them. I loved the feel of them. I loved the way they went with every outfit. They made this city slicker into a cowgirl. Although, I didn't really have the experience to be a cowgirl, but I felt like one. I love them. I really wanted to wear them under my wedding dress, but I am sure that my Mom would have stroked, instead I wore them to the dress rehearsal. Hey they matched my outfit!

I have had people come up to me and ask to see the boots that I have on because they recognize the quality of the boot. They ask if it is a Dan Post boot. Who would know? Not me. They will give me this look...it is like how would someone like you have such good taste in country? Country, like I know anything about country? NO. I know people who tell me the truth and that man told me the truth: it was a nice boot.

When I moved to the farm, Gilleland, I thought I was moving to a house. Turns out I was not moving to a house, I was moving to the country. Things at a farm are different than a house. For starters, there is not a driveway or a place to park, cows will spy on you all the time and mowing the front yard is an all week affair. I found more use for my boots than I have ever imagined. For example, it is really hard to get to my car in heels, but in my boots, oh, what a good thing. My love for my boots grew the most when it rained for two days straight here not long ago. I wore my boots and a pair of black pants one day for work and the next day was my day off so I wore the denim boot cut jeans I bought for the concert. There were lots of errands to run and I was out in it, I tell ya. When I finally tracked through the rainy, muddy spot that I park my car and into the mud room, I stripped out of my soaking jeans. I found that the whole bottom six inches of the jeans were just wet, not dry, just wet. Once I was into my snuggly pair of flannel pj pants, I realized, my feet were dry and warm. Not a single bit of my feet were cold or wet. The boots had protected my feet. They kept the jeans from soaking me to the bone. I was warm without having to do anything. I threw the jeans in the dryer and smiled. I was warm. Gotta love boots when they are working. Out I went again to do more things, but I wasn't worried because I had on my boots and knew I would stay dry and warm.

I have found other good uses for them like when I go out into the pasture or out into our yard for that matter. They are protective and comfortable. I had no idea I would enjoy my cowboy boots as much as I have. God knew what he was doing when He moved that man to come around the corner lean on the boot rack and smile. I have never seen that man again, but I know that if I ever buy another pair of boots, it will be on his recommendation. My boots are broken in and are teaching me what it means to be country. I love my boots and I am beginning to love being country.

How do you know that you live in a small town?

When you go to the movies and the owner of the theatre sees you to say, "Where have you been? We haven't seen you in six months!"

When your girlfriend cancels your date because her chicken house alarms have been going off all day.

When you understand the difference between a frost and a hard frost.

When you judge planting according to a blackberry winter.

When you say things like, the amount of fogs in August are the amount of snows in winter, and you are right.

When you describe where you live according to the river: I live of Town Creek, btw.

When it is acceptable to be late to work because you overslept due to the calves being weaned from their mothers and crying all night.

When there is no question to missing work to take a family food because there is a death in their family.

When the big night in town is to go to the auction.

When people think that driving more than ten minutes is too far unless you are going "into town".

When the guy who drives the tow truck is the guy who gets you out of jail because he is the family friend that does that kind of thing.

When the best time of the year is when the rodeo is in town.

When everyone knows you your mom, your grandmother and your great grandmother and you are related to half the county. (In case you are wondering, I had a customer who came in today and went to church with my Great Aunt Nenny and knew well my cousins Witt, Bruce, George and Lane--small town.)

We are hand in hand,
The wizard and I!

It occurs to me that I haven't said too much about living on a farm. The farm is how John and I refer to our home. Papa Bud & Mama Jean aka Albert and Martha Taylor, who own the farm refer to it as the Honey House because Papa Bud used to make honey in the barn. There are approximately 80 acres that the farm sit on. These acres house the farm house built in 1845, the barn that was built after that, about 32 hefers, 16 calves, 1 bull, 1 horse, 1 donkey and two dogs. There is a joke that Papa Bud names the cows. He does, actually name the cows, however John doesn't know their names so he calls them hamburger, ribeye and new york--strip for short. They are beef cows. There are two ways for the cows to make it off the farm, first, they can be a bull or they can be mean. If the calfs are not broken of their tempermant then they go off the farm. No mean cows here. Nope. There is one other way, now that I think about it, they can be old. Otherwise they stay on the farm. The horse is John's and although the horse, Legend, is 23, he is healthy. The vet said he will live to be 40. Who knew that horses lived that long? The bull is an interesting creature. He is not easily excited, unless he smells rye or pumpernickle bread. He will eat your arm for rye and pumpernickle bread. The jack ass is for purely working reasons. An unfortunate side effect of living in the middle of a pasture is coyotes. The Jack Ass is allergic to dogs. By this I mean he will stomp a dog. He has no use for them. Every once in a while Red Dog will get too close to him and get kicked, but as a result, no coyotes bother the heard. In case you are curious coyotes is pronounced KI-yot-s. Not ki-yot-ees. No such thing. The two dogs are Red Dog and Baby. Red Dog is a sooner dog. The sooner dead the better. He is a tough mix of hound and charpee. When he barks, the bark is so lound in his head that he barks and shakes the ringing out of his ears. Wooooof shake. Wooof shake. It is very funny to watch. He is a very old dog. Every day John and I come home expecting him dead. He has been shot three or four times through his back hind leg when he wanders off the property. It is amazing he is alive. Then there is Baby. Baby is a black and white austrailian sheperd, a cattle dog. Her favorite thing in the whole world is to out wit cows and swing from their tails. However she is a naughty dog and has gone off and gotten knocked up. She will be having puppies around the new year. She is the smartest dog I have ever dealt with as far as dogs go. She heals, sits and all for a little loving. Amazing.

The farm is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. It is completely surrounded by National Forrest. There is nothing but God's beauty in 360 degrees. Amazing. I love living here.

All I've ever wanted was a love to be true,
Not enough to by,
Enough to see me through....

Today has been a tough day. This morning came early. It came earlier than I was done sleeping. While I had yesterday off which is unusual and ended up doing completely different things than planned, I still managed to wake early without due amount of sleep today. I find it interesting that Carter's non-litugical sermon was on the gospel read in all the Episcopal Churches across the Atlanta diocese. While Carter's sermon was on giving to the chuch, ours was on God's ability to hear a pure heart. In Sunday School class this morning we took a closer look at the passage in Mark and compared it to a passage in the old testament, Kings, about Elijah and a widow and her faith to make bread for him and have oil for eight days. They were both widows. They both gave of their faith because they had nothing left to give. They were obedient to God and gave with a faithful heart knowing that He would take care of them. The ulitimate sacrafice. Thusly leading into the ultimate sacrifice of Christ for sins. This was quite a piece to swallow. At the same time, John and I were trying to figure out what to pledge to the church--not because that was the sermon but because that is what we are doing as a new couple in the church. We decided to give some and then keep some to give to other organizations with similar Christian aligned purposes.

From there, we went to breakfast with the boys without going home to change and from there we went out to the farm (WHICH WAS A WRECK) because my father-in-law was coming to cook for us. I cleaned the house as the boys showed up and the kitchen was slowly destroyed from having a big meal cooked in it. Before the boys showed up and after Papa John showed up my John got a very disturbing phone call. So now I am worried about the phone, worried about the fact that three giants are about to descend (that would be the boys) and worried that my house is a complete wreck. Once I came to a place where the house would just have to do and the phone call went out of my head and the giants arrived, I settled down a little. We used the new crystal sweet tea goblets and the new spode italian china. There were things missing like linens and things to sit a casserole dish on the tabe with, but there was family and laughter and love. There was no laughter however once the giants began to eat. There was no noise at all for that matter. There was some scaping of plates once they were done, but that was about it. As quickly as it started it ended--not before I got a picture of everyone together. They hate pictures, but they will have to get over it in my house! Whooshe out the door they went...hugs, good to see you and gone waving down the driveway. There was nothing left except a kitchen full of dirty dishes and a beautiful sunny day.

I don't know if this is what God means by sacrafice, but that is how I felt once the day was done. I felt like I had given every thing I had. At least that is true emotionally. Family while being a great thing can be totally exhausting. I don't do well under unplanned events either. Not to mention the fact that my house is so not in order. I mean physically and mentally and emotionally. I was totally not ready for that. I was totally stressed out.

I am ready for God to just take away the stress and give me some easy down time to work in the house and take care of me for a little while and then it happened.

John and I went and walked the property. This is quite a venture. There are about 80 acres. We didn't walk the whole thing, but we walked to the river and walked up the mountain to see the 360 degree view. It was breath taking. The cows just stared at us like what are these humans doing in our yard? But it was calming, welcoming and healing. The stress left. The day closed with a beautiful sunset like the close of hard days often do.

If your tired of being lonely,
Beat up and confused,
Dariling there's only one thing you can do,
Come with me,
Well I got what you need...

Nothing's quite so clear now
Do things, fight things,
Feel you've lost your way?

I feel like I have had the rug yanked out from underneath me. Two Friday's ago everyone who is close to me was at my side treating me like a princess. That is a PRINCESS. As in no matter what I said I was right. I had seven ladies in waiting and a queen mother hovering making sure I was getting my way. I wasn't marrying a prince, rather a prince mixed with a knight in shining armor. I couldn't believe it. It was amazing. Everyone was there.

Earlier last month I bough tickets for a production of Into the Woods. I mean what better tickets can you get? It is the best of the best productions. I wasn't sure how best of the best the acting would be, but I was willing to find out. John was working so I asked out girlfriend set #1 and once it was time to go to he musical, they back out. Ask back up girlfriend and daughter, they decide to go to Family night...erg. Call every girlfriend in the phone that lives in the tri-county area. Nothing. Call my brother! Ah, He'll go with me. It is too late for him to be able to get there and be on time. Who would know? No one will go. This happened once before with a ticket to see BBKing at Chastain. No one will go. I have to go alone.

I am alone.

Why does this bother me so much? I used to go to the movies by myself. I used to eat dinner by myself. Why am I so worked up over a couple of folks saying no thank you? They are not rejecting me. They aren't taking their love away from me. They aren't breaking up with me. They are just saying, sorry Charlie, I am not available. Erg.

Two weeks ago they were ladies in waiting. This week they have their own lives. What the hell happened? I still have a tiara!

So I go alone. I am alone.

You decide, but
You are not alone.
Believe me,
No one is alone.

I gave my two tickets that I already paid for to the box office to see if they can sell them. They can't. A refund requires too much paper work which is why all sales are final. So I give her the tickets anyway and tell her to give them to someone who could use them since I have to pay for them no matter what.

I go in and sit down. I read through the playbill. Hmm... broadway experience, hmm...teaches drama at the college level...sounds good. The director gets up at the beginning to raise more money. And then introduces the musical conductor in the pit and ....ONE-ce upon a time, I wish...There is my friend. He is on stage. He is Jack, the dreamer, pouring over milky white. He was in Godspell with me and is a total dreamboat of a kid. He is also a tremendous performer. Ahh...I am comfortable. This is pretty good...AGONY!!How it cuts like a knife!!!! Yeah those guys were BROADWAY WORTHY, they were so good. They stole the show from the Broadway veteran who was the witch. She was good too. Really good. The baker just didn't cut it with the rest of the cast. He had the super lead and dropped it in his singing. His voice didn't have the power and unbalanced the whole cast. Every other performer matched up with him was a stronger voice except the narrator/mysterious man/his dad who was worse at singing than him. He never sang out of tune, he just couldn't do the big voice like the rest of them. I was worried about Will playing Jack because there are some big voice parts in Giants in the sky, but he has been coached and instead of pushing the notes and making the slide of key, he was actually singing them and brought the volume with them naturally. I was very impressed with his growth. The baker's wife, cinderella, red riding hood and the witch all had GREAT voices, however Repunzel was the best. She sounded like one of Dad's girls. Unfortunately, she was not as stong an actress as the rest, thus her placement in the cast. The effects were well done, the set was beautiful and well thought out. It was a really good production for $22. Well, I paid for $63 but everyone else paid $22. The seats got used though by Cinderella's Phi Mu Sorority Sisters who felt like oh my gosh, so lucky, huh? They were nice. I am glad they got to see their sorority sister knock my socks off. They probably don't realize that she could, with more experience (she is a sophomore in college) a little more training go on to the Atlanta productions at the Fox and at the Alliance Theatre. Although, it wouldn't surprise me one bit for her to get in like she is. She was pretty good. You know. I am not so alone anymore. I am also not such a princess anymore. Sometimes I think that God just lets me know that I have to get back to being right sized again. I am not a princess. I am not a loner without friends. I am just me. And I like just me. A lot. I love going to good productions of art. Into the Woods was done very very very well.

Witches can't be right, giants might be good
Just remember
Someone is on your side

Last night was a time of family. I had dinner with the Donnelly's. I might add that Sherry makes the perfect pancake. I am not sure how she does it, but they are perfect. We had pancakes, talked politics and looked at wedding photos. Craig burned me a cd of his photos so I begin my collection. Grace had pre-algebra homework last night that needed help with and since Craig (he is the math, Sherry is the english) was burning the cd for me, I went to see if I could help. I didn't think I could do math any more, but as soon as I saw the homework and the math problem, I knew how to do it. Can you find the least common multiple of 8x and 40? I can. AND I taught Grace how to too. I really like hanging out with Grace. She reminds me of me except with out the back talk and with out the smart comments. She is so smart and atheletic. She is kind to others and bossy to her little brother, but she loves him. She makes better grades than I have ever will. I think it was the right decision making her a jr. bridesmaid. It was nice having dinner with the Donnelly's. It makes my life feel back on track again.

I have never had a job where it has been great to be fired from it. This last one, I was fired and hired all in an hour. Granted the job that I was hired at was hourly and had nothing to do with the last one which typically is the case for me, it never occured to me that the job I was fired from was not a job, rather a career. You know, like when you had career day in seventh grade and a fireman came to speak to your class or a doctor or a lawyer? A Career. My parents have careers. My Dad has actually had two careers, one of which he is so successful at that he will actually leave the world a better place than when he found it as a result. Mom has been a teacher for-EVER. I am not sure if that is what she wanted to be when a career day person skipped out on presentation time so her teacher just stood up and gave a speech in their stead and Mom said, hmm, I think I will be a teacher, but that is what she is. She is great at it too. I do believe that Sarah has always wanted to be an astrounaut and Carter has always wanted to be rich. Me, I have never known what I wanted to be when I grew up. I remember in sixth grade wanting to be a lawyer because someone told me that I argue with people so much that is what I would be good at and when I found out how much they made, I said yeah, that is all me. But really I thought I was going to be dead by 21. It never occured to me that I would have to DO something. Turns out in my life there are a few things I am good at: talking, loving and driving (just kidding about the driving!). Anyway, the last job I had wasn't a job. It was what I wanted to be when I grew up. The concept of promotion, design, economic development and organization to revitalize historic downtowns is awesome. Working with people all day to make their community a better place to be just rocks. It is as though I might be able to leave a place better than when I found it. I hated that I was fired, but I was defeated in all corners to help a downtown that wasn't to be helped and as a result I was miserable. MISERABLE. I had been beated and broken by other people's greed, politics and selfishness. There was nothing that I could do to make that place a better place, maybe someone can, but it wasn't me. So they let me go and I had benn praying for that for a while. But who would know that other people would want me after being fired? Doesn't being fired mean FAILing a something? Doesn't being let go mean scat cat? Doesn't being fired mean I am terrible at my job? Is that what America is saying to Don Rumsfeld? You stink at your job now leave? Apparently not. At least not in the work of politics.

I went to a class today because it was the last class in my training. The woman in charge was upset that I had missed the last class and upon calling my previous employer found a dead end. She found out that her counter part in another region of the state was my oldest and dearest girlfriend's dad. He got my personal cell number from my girlfriend and gave it to this lady, thusly calling me. This lady who is a state employed person and works with lots of me's took the time to call and convince me to finish the class. She aslo gave me contacts in the county which I live and the next county over. She said that now that I have the experience, I can work anywhere. There is a city about twenty minutes from me: "over the mountain." It needs a director. She thinks that I would be perfect for the position. It is in the most beautiful city in the state. I stoped by to see my old state supervisor and asked for a reference and he said without hesitation, of course. He thinks that the political climate in that city would be better for me and a result would be a less stressful position.

He said without hesitation, of course.

Someimes I think that when Michelle tells me that God is my new Employer I think that she is crazy. The Serenity Prayer states, God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the Wisdom to know the difference. God knows that I could not change the last city. I can change my attitude towards the possibility of a new job being now instead of after the New Year. I can help these citizens to have the courage to change their city. I can have the courage to submit my resume and know that it might be rejected. Wisdom...wisdom comes with the knowledge that even if I get fired from another job in another city or decide to change my career (because obviously that is what this is) or if I decide to be poor and live on a park bench, God is my new Employer and that has made all the difference.

I'm a Georgia Voter!

On a lighter note, I almost burned down the house last night. (Here is where my brother starts to laugh and mother is aghast and one of my best girlfriends says to John, welcome to married life with Rae.) Luckily, the heater that I killed we were intending to replace anyway and I am alive. We are going to use part of our marriage money for the new heater, it just turns out that we will be getting it this week instead of putting it off until whenever. Unfortunately, there is not a lot we can do about me being stupid.

There seems to be a confusion in our area. As I rode through Helen today to get to my voting place...whatever it is called, all the city stuff was decorated in Christmas, however, all the hotels and restaurants still have out their harvest/Thanksgiving day stuff. The whole city looks like they are drunk. The trees are changing too. They are no longer that brillant colored leafy look. They are muted greys and falling off at a rapid rate. Maybe they are drunk too.

These past couple of 24 hours I have been really confused--but luckily, I am not drunk. Adjustments to living with John. Adjustments to working here in a new environment. Adjustments to moving in general. Adjustments. Change is so confusing. Is it Christmas or is it Thanksgiving? Is it engaged or is it married? Is it Clarkesville or is it Cleveland or Dahlonega? Did I leave a candle burning somewhere like ON TOP OF THE HEATER?!!

It is like a whirlwind just hanging out over top of my head. I hope it stops soon so that I can live.

When I graduated high school and people gave me gifts, you had to pull my teeth out in order for me to write a thank you note. College was ten times worse (of course I was a bit tipsy then). I couldn't imagine why I was supposed to write a thank you note. I had a party. You were supposed to give me a gift. Should I thank you because you did your job? Yeah, that was t the old way of thinking. As I go through and do my thank you notes today, it makes me cry to think about the gifts that were given. I am so full of gratitude and the ability to recieve the love with which the gifts were given. It lets me know that people love me.

John thought that when I bought the 70 thank you notes that we purchased one too many. I have done about thirty maybe forty so far. I have completely run out of one pack and cut way into another. It is hard to keep writing. None of them have an address on them yet, but just doing the composing. . .

Dear You,

Thank you so much for the thirteenth salad plate that I have recieved...

Thanks,
Me

That is not nice. So needless to say, writing the thank you notes takes lots of work to be creative and nice and let the person know that you appreciate the gift. No one wants to think that they gave an odd thing or a duplicate. They want to know that it is personal and well thought out and for us. All of my creative juices are spent three lines at a time. It is amazing. The new way of thinking in me though wants to use everything I've got because I really do think its wonderful that you gave me a second crockpot. I do. I know that mostly you love me and that is the point. Thanks for the love. Maybe I should just write that in everyone.

Dear you,

Thanks for the love.

Love you too.

love--Rae

When the train rolls by,
I'm gonna be ready this time,
When the boy gets that look in his eye,
I'm gonna be ready this time. . .

Well, I am not interested in running away, but the Dixie Chicks are one of my favorite sing-a-long cds and when I clean house, singing is important. Music is important. I have been operating off of John's computer cd player because mine is still not hooked up. When it is though, I will blow the doors off this farm house!

All that being said, I have been cleaning the farm all day almost. John and I wanted to go to church this morning, but the sleep over slept and church became ousted due to the list of other things going on. Breakfast with the boys was also cancelled because one is working and the other is doing his family stuff and the third is hunting. This was perfect for me because I am more interested in getting the farm in order in stead of its current state of disarray. All of the gifts have been opened and now they are put away after all the cabinets were cleaned and the china cabinet dusted. All that is left is a stack of boxes for John to take to the dumpster at Linda's. He has already made one trip and will make another when he gets back from district. I am grateful for district because it got him out of the house and let me work. He went with Sebastian and shortly after he picked Sebass up, Megan called. She is lonely and wants to play designer so she is on her way over.

Last night I made dinner, well part of dinner. I made a chicken dish perscribed by Mom and wassail. I forgot to pick up salad and dinner rolls so we ate the chicken dish. We used our new china and new sweet tea glasses that Carter gave us. I know they were from Carter because they came straight out of the box with the card. The dishes were out of Mom's set. The ceramic bake wear I used was from Donna and Skippy and the utensils were from Michelle Wilde. The cake plate that held John's birthday cake was from Mrs. Kahle and the crock pot was from Bobby and Meloday (although they gave it to me several Christmas's back and I have never used it until last night) that holds the wassail. My timing is off too because we were late to the meeting by about forty-five minutes! But we went anyway.

I don't know what happens as a result of marriage. I have never cleaned my apartments as much as I am cleaning this old farm house. I have rarely made dinner. I tried once at the Sautee apartment and would invite different people over just for dinner. I think I had he same sensation that I have now. I just am ready to have a family. I am ready to have friends over to hang out in my house, watch movies, play games, share their lives with my family much as others have done for me. Megan says that I am nesting. That is something I have normally taken offense to, but today it seems appropriate for where I am in my life. I think when I nest is helps me feel more at home. I also think that the nest here at the farm is getting more homey by the second. There are some big things left to be done, but they will happen with time.

Home, that is the name of the second Dixie Chicks cd. Maybe I should put that one in next.

For the first time in a while, John and I had a real date. One of those dates where you go out to eat and are happy, joyous and free. You know, he's funny and you are beautiful and all is right in the world? Neither of us were stressed or tired or haggard. We were easy going, happy, fun to be with people. We had stories and interesting tid bits about each other to share openly without fear. It felt like when we were first dating. You'd never know we were married. Or better yet, you'd never know that we had just gone through the wedding of the century. We held hands, prayed over dinner, and laughed at key moments and told jokes that went over our waitress's head (she was a bottle blonde, what do you expect?). Then we went to Wally World afterwords where I bought 70 Thank You notes and he thought it was too many (Little Does He Know...) a Tide Pin to get out the marinara stains from dinner and memory foam for our bed. Oh...memory foam...softness....I can't remember having that good of a date in at least six months, maybe more. The memory foam was the icing on the cake for a good night with my husband.

On the twelfth day of my wedding my family gave to me,

Twelve plates for dining,
Eleven checks for cashing,
Ten tea-cups steeping,
Nine knives for carving,
Eight antique goblets,
Seven sets of china,
Six sweet tea glasses,

FIVE COFFEE MAKERS,

Four napkin rings,
Three table cloths,
Two sets of sheets,

and a gift card to the OUTBACK!!!

I came home last night. Although, it was not a home I grew up in with my family. It is not a home I have worked for to be a part of a community. It is a home that is given to me. It is a home that I share. There are no strings attached. It is a home with a name, the honey house of Gilleland. Gilleland is the farm. The Honey House is the name of the home that has been given to John and I. There is nothing there that is mine except boxes upon boxes of stuph. I am in this strange yet familiar place and my perspective seems to be changing second by second. When a customer comes in they ask my name, I have to pause before I say, Kahle. When I put something away on the shelf, my rings clink against it. When I refer to John, he is no longer my fiancee but my husband. John and I had been seperate for about three hours when I left for work and he called. Not for anything of emergency, just to catch up over the last three hours. That's strange.

I have seen everyone from every aspect of my life in the last week. I saw Midge Godfrey from Virginia (now Snellville). I saw the Dr's Brown with their children from Decatur. I saw my long time girlfriend from when I was eight, Lea Anne. I saw every cousin, uncle and aunt I have. I saw my girlfriend Megan from Agnes Scott and I saw my best friend Megan from North Georgia. AND I saw them all in three hours!

Now they are gone. Poof! in a puff of smoke. Left behind in their stead is a gift of some kind and a memory that includes a whirlwind. Boxes upon boxes of stuph. And just as they have been here and gone, I am married with a home. My perspective has changed again. I live at Gilleland. I am Mrs. John Kahle.

4 days

Jack Frost was nipping at my nose this morning. For some reason my insides thought it was Christmas. The house was warm and cozy with soft lights on in the back ground. The air outside was crisp and a hard frost covered everything. It was like snow but not.

I was supposed to go dance last night and instead went to the Donnelly's for family fun. Maybe I will go tonight. I am so nervous, I can't stand doing something normal. I want to do fun exciting things to go with my nervouse energy and dancing seems mundain. I can't believe that something I enjoy so much, my mind would consider mundain. So last night I went to the Donnelly's. Grace has been asked to take the SAT. Both Grace and Cooper got their quarter one grades: All A's. Cooper had the lowest grade in Science: 96. Then once the kids went off to do homework, we adult folk talked politics over coffee. The Donnelly's make it interesting because Craig is republican and Sherry is a democrat. Fun. We had great political debate until finally Sherry asked if I studied political science in college (I should have). I told her my parents are that political. I pay attention.

My house no longer looked barren when I got back to it last night. It did however look like a wreck. So tonight, if I don't dance (probably won't dance) I will clean it up and finish the last few boxes worth. I would rather talk about politics with my family, but I guess I will have time for that soon enough. There is so much to do tomorrow: marriage liscence, post office, move out, bank accounts, insurance, flowers, goodies for guests, programs for ceremony, pay the priest, clean the apartment, so many things. Today seems to be traveling at a great rate of speed. I could have sworn it was Christmas morning just a second ago.

5 days

My apartment looks like someone has robbed it. It is less a dresser and bookcases and pictures on the walls. It looks crazy. I didn't realize in moving so much yesterday how honestly barren it would be, but it is bad. Tonight is clean up night. Normally I would go dance, but I am too much...a bit too nervous. John says I should dance, but what does he know...

One more day of work. I can barely stand it.

The organist called and is ready. The man playing at the reception called and is ready. The priest spoke with John & I yesterday at church, she is ready. The tuxes are ordered. The food is ordered. The flowers are ordered. The friends are invited. The family has booked hotel rooms. The flower girl has a dress. The ring bearer has a tux and boutineer.

All that's left is the party.

Whew.

So I feel more like an Agnes Scott woman this morning than ever. I don't know if it is the black turtleneck I put on that matches the onyx in my ring, the Main Events that I recieved in the post this week or the salad I had for lunch yesterday making me feel good about myself. Or maybe it has been hanging out with Grace and talking about school and having excitement about learning.

In the Main Events there was much more about our class than normal. I don't know why that is that we are re-bonding again. We were a pretty close class for being the largest graduating class (125 people, which of course is no longer the largest class). I was reading over it with Grace the other night in awe of the women I have graduated with: Mandy married an f-15 pilot in the AirForce and is a stay at home mom; Laura has been studying public health in New Mexico while getting a masters in epidmeiology and getting married, dealing with her father's death; Bonnie composed a piece that is being played in Carnegie Hall; Michelle is in Dublin working for the bank; Anna is getting a masters, married, raising a youngin and working a full time job; Erica had a baby girl; Giselle is a recruiter for GT, while being in charge of all kinds of things; Charissa is married, raising a little girl, and being an artist; Jessica graduated from Harvard; Sarah, Dinah & Ginny are married; Le'Aqua is raising a junior olympian; Kim is establishing non-profits....THESE are the women I graduated with! They are amazing and productive and make me amazed that I was a part of them. When I asked Grace who they sounded like, she said "me." Yep, I am groomin Grace for Scott. I told her the only exceptions to the rule would be if she went to Wellesley. I told her these are your peers my dear. She loved it.

So why is it that I feel more like a Scottie than ever? I don't know. I think it was because of this mornings time of meditation. I thought what do I have that they have that would make me a part of, what can I contribute? I have something that they don't nor could they ever experience, nor do I lend so much information when it comes to print: I am recovered from a seemingly hopeless state of mind and body. I am six and a half years without a drink or a drug. I am four years without a cigarette. I am fully self supporting. I have a strong belief in God that fuels me daily. I am about to marry a man who shares my spiritual beliefs. I have all new oak raised cabinets with curios shelved tops and a new stove. Only Scotties can do these things. Much like our class mascot, we are Wonder Women. I won't ever be able to print any of the grand things of my life, but I am forever tied to my alma mater. I don't know that I could say the same if I had gone to a big school. I have a fresh understanding of who I am today that I didn't have yesterday. I am a woman of Agnes Scott College. I am a graduate of the class of 1998. I wear my Agnes Scott Ring with pride and knowledge that I am worthy of it.

How do you know that you have the best man in the whole world?

When the first phone call you get is I start my new job on November 6.

When the second phone call is I got you all new counter tops, cabinets and a stove and they are free!

I think I am in love with Gene Kelly, who could ask for anything more?

8 days..

How do you know that you have the best man in the whole world?

When the first phone call you get is I start my new job on November 6.

When the second phone call is I got you all new counter tops, cabinets and a stove and they are free!

I think I am in love with Gene Kelly, who could ask for anything more?

8 days..

Dance is such a wonderful thing. Last night's dance class was just great. I mean, great. Had I had a choice, I would have let it go on for at least another hour. Then I talked to my girlfriend Debbie all the way home. I am a phone talker. Some people are not phone talkers, but I could talk on a phone all day long. I like to talk and work on my house at the same time, however, it is also a good way to pass along the commute back from Athens. Last weekend I talked with Aunt Bonnie for over two and a half hours on the phone. Can you imagine? I didn't realize it until it was almost ten o'clock and was ready for bed. Strangely, my phone bill has increased last month, not in cost, rather in minutes on that Sunday night commute all the way back from Athens (weekends are unlimited free minutes and man do I use it). On nights and weekends I am talking 1380 minutes, that means I am talking for almost a WHOLE DAY on the weekends. Pretty impressive my friend. Mom holds the title for longest phone call which is a total of 72 minutes. Mom is a total NON phone person, which means it must have been important. It was a Sunday. Something about Sundays. Mom has always said that I could make friends with a brick wall. Maybe that is who I have been talking to on the phone. My total phone talking comes to forty hours...a month. It is a part time job. I love it.

Sometimes all it takes is a little bit of fun tomake life better. Friday night went to OUtback in Commerce so as to meet up with Megan and hang out. I had a bit of shopping to do for the wedding too so and it is half way for both of us to drive. Perfect! We get to Outback and to make things better, two of our friends are already there, Patrick and Carlton. Patrick and Carlton are like hanging out with the Blue Collar Comedy tour so needless to say, there was great merriment. Even better, while we waited for our table, they ate dinner. While we ate dinner, they had coffee and hung out with us! It was great fun. So instead of having to wait on our good time in line, we had a long happy, familiar evening. Saturday night, Martha threw a party and with a whole separate group of friends (although the comedy tour was there initially, but left to go to a movie) John & I had another great evening. It was like family. Unbelievable. Martha has an awesome bonfire/chimenea/mesh wiring type thing to burn wood in and everyone brought snackables. We sat around that fire for HOURS, talked about studdering country stars, Henry V, brawlhead and laughed until we were so tired, we weren't sure we would make it off the mountain. Finally, Sunday breakfast with the boys was the best so far. Today it was an honest family. It was apparent that everyone was honestly trying and enjoying their efforts in being a family. David is going to apply to Winthrop University, North Georgia and Young Harris to begin his stint in college looking realistically because of his grades (he has a 3.6 and is not sure that will fly at the big schools). He is making all A's except for chemistry which is an 86 because of his first test. Joey is doing great at work and buldging out of his clothes because of his new workout schedules being so productive. He is very excited to increase his body size because this way he is less like his brother Eric who is a sissy boy. Eric, unfortunately wasn't there, but Timbo, a good friend, was. He looked about like me because there was no water and Clarkesville thus no shower, however, happy because it had been a good weekend. It was a great weekend. I finally feel like I am back to normal. I finally feel like I am happy again. I get to go to dance tonight just to add to the good things that are happening. Sometimes my life is a Gene Kelly movie. Who could ask for anything more?

These are the days when anything goes,
Everyday is a winding road,
I get a little bit closer,

I don't generally like Sheryl Crow, but she is what is on the radio and this particular song is one of the few that show off her ability. It also is more applicable than ever. Each day I have been away from my old job the more I heal and I get closer to feeling fine. People have been telling me that they have noticed that I have been sick because I share WAY too much information instead of keeping it short and simple: KISS--keep it simple stupid or simply simple or simple silly, just depends on who you are and how badly I want to call you a name. But I have not been simple. I have been complex and extensive. Last night I was able to share, be poinant and simple. It was nice. I felt good about myself. Capable. Like I had healed a bit. It was nice. Today I feel great too because I actually got a full night's sleep which makes me feel even better. To add icing on my cake for the day, John went to pick up our new washer and dryer that Mom & Dad gave us as a wedding gift. Sorry folks, but no matter what you give me, Mom & Dad have out done you with that one. I did that to Carter once on Father's Day. Some gifts are just mind blowing *I gave Dad a Homer Hickum signed copy of Rocket Boys* and there is no attempting to give as good a gift. THANK GOODNESS for a washer/dryer. Hurray. I have never owned one before and it makes me feel like a real adult owning something so big and domestic. I will start packing this evening too. Hopefully, that will be like adding an icing yellow rose to my cake!

Everyday is a fading sun,
I get a little bit closer to feeling fine...

16 days

Little ditty about Jack and Diane,
Two American kids growing up in the heartland...

Wierd things are happening to me lately. I am noticing unrighteous things such as...

I purchased my last 1/2 gallon of milk as a single person.

I am saving boxes at work to move into my fiance's home.

I am having conversations such as "We should get a Christmas Tree and put it in that corner."

These are weird things. These are not conversations or events that I have ever run across before. Not to mention, never will again. I have been really tender lately. I have a tendency to cry even when people aren't being mean to me. Michelle says that it is because of losing my job and getting ready to be married. ??? Which is it I wonder. I almost cried when I bought the milk. I have worked hard to be an independent female, capable of self support, nested well into a homey apartment with all acutraments screaming you are in my house...welcome. I am going to have to start over again accept instead of me it will be we.

Oh yeah,
Life goes on,
Long after the thrill of living is gone....

One of my coworkers, who is much younger than I, had to make a decision that I don't know if I could make. His wife was taken to the hospital due to complications with her pregnancy. The doctor looked him square in the eye and said you have a decision to make. You can lose the baby girl or you can lose the mama and the baby. They took the baby girl. She was twelve ounces and completely formed, however was not able to live. His wife is still in intensive care and there is a risk of a stroke. I think God knows who can and who can't. I mean, this guy is twenty-one. 21!!! I wasn't even capable of a relationship at twenty-one, not to mention making life altering decisions in a relationship. It makes me think about John. Will he have to make these types of decisions with me? Will I with him? The answer is yes. I just hope that it is not within the next couple of weeks. I have made enough life altering decisions just for myself for one year. I don't know that I could handle for John too. Growing up has great pains. I have definitely experienced my share and exactly when I could handle it. God just knows.

18 days

I think I just got taken by a cheerleader. She was blonde haired and blue eyed. She had a nice smile, bows in her hair and a yellow cheer shirt on with black cheer shorts. Everything about her said rah! rah! shish boom bah! She explained it all quite clearly. She said that she was looking for sponsors for her first year in cheer and that I could give on any level. There were three levels (bronze, silver and gold) and that even if I couldn't give on one of those levels, I could just give a few dollars to help out. So I gave on the silver level and began to fill out the form. She quickly yanked the form out from under my pen and said, oh no. You don't have to fill this out it is just to explain it. She then accepted politely the money, turned on her heal and zip out the door. Thank you! She cried as she took off to meet up with her cousin who had come in with her to use the bathroom. No more than ten. She was a con that was no more than ten. She gave no receipt. I can't even remember her team name or cheer association. AND I don't get credit for being a silver sponsor. WHAT IS THAT? I just got scammed by a cheerleader! Who said these chicks were stupid? That was the slickest thing I have ever seen. Amazing. I should write a movie script or plot about savage, manipulating ten year old cheerleaders who con folks out of money.

Friends with shadows on the wall
All night hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep

So I haven't been sleeping lately. I have been reading. I am reading a horrific, surprisingly funny romantic comedy that qualifies under harlequin. I could have sworn that Harlequin novels were marked through their covers of fabio men and beautiful women, however this one came with a listing across the top as on the New York Times Best Seller list for x amount of weeks. My thoughts were that it would be a good read if it were on the best seller list. It has two scenes in it that made me look around to see if anyone was watching me read this book. Outside of those two scenes, one of which, if I had been the editor I would have cut because it has no impact on the plot, it is a very funny little novel and much like the Meg Ryan good girl movies has captivated me. I can't put it down. I read at night before I go to bed and I CAN"T GO TO SLEEP. I am up every night until midnight. This isn't so bad because I don't get up until seven, which gives me seven hours of sleep, but that is one hour too short. Each day I get one hour closer to total exhaustion and complete mental break down. You think I am kidding you. My friends call it pumpkinizing. Rae turns into a pumpkin at ten o'clock. I become an evil, ugly pumpkin that haunts people in dreams. A pumpkin that people write about in stories like Icabod Crane and the headless horseman! Oooh. Aahh...HOLY SNIKIES. This month being the month of fall and Halloween to top things off, I don't really need to add to the air. Hopefully, tonight will be the end of this monstrous affair with this book. Hopefully, all 600 pages of it will be completed in only seven days. Who would guess that I would read a book in seven days. I am the slowest reader in the world.

I need my sleeeeeeppp.......got to function....

Waiting round the bend,
My huckleberry friend,


It is harder to keep up with people without the luxury of a computer. The first thing I have done this morning was to put in my contacts so I can read my brother's blog. I actually called him last night because I didn't know how he was. I needed to ask. I missed him. My life is gaining momentum. Now that I have a new job (which is easy and amazing! People are nice there! Who would guess that God had that planned for me?) it is not as fast paced as I had expected it to be, but it is still faster than I want it to be. Each day off I have until the wedding is filled with tasks. I have Sundays, which entail church and moving. I am not willing to move in one big ta-da. I am willing to move several days with small loads and perhaps one big day for things like a dresser. Wednesdays...well here is my current Wednesday: Tuesday morning, pack for Tuesday night, not forgetting lunch for work that day or dinner for that evening, go to work, go to dance (thirty minute prep time to leave before dance and make it on time), go to Mom's (where I get to see my parents for thirty minutes, which makes me want to stay for longer), sleep(which hasn't been coming easy lately so mostly I am tired all the time....ALL the time) get up, read blogs, go to dress fitting, leave for N.Ga, meet with priest, down time of two hours, pick up Grace & Cooper for a night of family fun (strangely they consider me family which is good because the rest of their family--Mom & Dad-- are working tonight, one in Japan the other in Gainesville. Grace was upset that I couldn't come on the regular game nights, which are Wednesday nights. She said that I was like an aunt or something. That was very sweet. When they had a family meeting they voted to have me as a substitute player when a parent couldn't be there. So I am either some weird aunt or a substitute parent. Hmm...) until ten tonight where I come home finally and sleep so as to go back to work. Not much of a day off. That is the way my life is this month though. Wedding, wedding, wedding. Finally...I have all the invitations out! Ha!

I have several beginnings of blogs in my head that I figure I can get out since I am here at the folks.

I saw the new teenage volvo the other day in Athens. I was sad. Gone are the boxy wagons of the eighties for the kids to drive off to college. In are the new triangular 720 models. I remember thinking when Mr. Scott got his what a nice vehicle it was. Appropriately, the tradition of covering the back hatch with liberal bias bumper stickers is still in fashion. Things like kerry/edwards stickers, i brake for animals, look twice for motocylces, two college loyalties and several haphazard bands such as panic, dave matthews and the atlanta symphony. The conservatives may have us on the fact that no matter what ribbon is stuck to your car it is a sign on your car that you voted for bush like the families who have a crazy number up front in the window for the parent pick up at the elementary schools. But we have them on the covering of the back of vehicles. Screw ribbons, we are liberals. We are more imaginative than that. We make the whole back of our hand me down cars look like the vw busses of the sixties. AND everyone can read what we stand for, unlike the ribbons which you have to get really close to in order to find out what it says and who is stealing their money. Although I find it interesting that there is never a solid red ribbon on the back of people's car. That would be AIDS research. Interesting.

Is it just me or should police follow the same laws we do? I mean, I get it if there is an emergency of some kind. No lights. No sirens. Stops for red lights. That indicates that the police officer I was sharing the road with was not in a state of emergency. #121 car from Gwinnette County Police was on highway 316 at nine pm last night. I have never actually driven 316 before last night. Calling the 'rents to find out that I should be careful because there are LOTS of stop lights on 316. That tells me that you really can't go all that fast. This guy ran up on me in the left lane with a clear right lane. He was so close to the back of my car I could only see his headlights on occasion. I didn't know at the time it was a cop so I politely, tapped my breaks to let her know to go around. She didn't budge, rather chose to attach herself to my bumper. I was so tired from dance, I just arranged the mirrors so they didn't blind me. Then, for no apparent reason I was passed on the right. Luckily she left my bumper on my car. Then took off with a high rate of speed at which time I noticed it was a cop, but couldn't tell from where because she was going so fast. So I sped up. I turned on my Saturn booster rockets to go from 65 (the speed limit on 316) to 80. I COULDN"T CATCH HIM. I thought to myself, well, now they are allowed to go quickly in case of emergency. She will run the red light if it is an emergency. Flash the lights, go through. So I kept up as best I could to the next stop light. Nope. He stopped. It took several stoplights before I caught up to her to get the number and jurisdiction of the car. #121 in Gwinnett County: SLOW DOWN.

I am taking Jazz and Ballet at this dance class in Athens on Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays. I have to drive an hour to get there and I don't care because it makes me feel good. On Sunday, I got a good Rachel, from the teacher while doing jazz walks. Then on Monday (which is so much harder) in ballet, I have a dance teacher who is the epitome of ballet teachers. She is kind, soft, older, body out of shape, but don't underestimate her ability to show a trick or two. She is stern while uncaring about our dance. We are beginners so there is an understanding of patience that she has. There are two gals in the class who are teachers for the school who are amazing dancers and I can't figure out why they are in the class other than they recognize that ballet is the fundamentals of dance and it is good to take as much as you can. They are typically used to demonstrate a hard new excersize the teacher wants us to do. When it comes to hanging with these two gals, I hold my own. I am twice their size, but I get the moves correct. On Monday, the teacher used me as the demostration of a new move. Developes. They are not easy when you do them from passe. She stood next to me and spoke the commands: Passe, develope an de dan, passe, develope segunde, drop the hip, passe, develope on reaire, back straight up, passe, develope segunde, passe, releve, hold...hold...hold....And they clapped. The class clapped for me? Yes, they applauded for me. Even weirder: the advanced girls started the applause. Who would guess you get brownie points for trying? There is something special about getting praise from a teacher. It makes you know that you are doing well and achieving a goal. There is something else that happens when you recieve praise from the students in the class with you. I want that to happen again and again. I want that everyday and every moment of my life. I am selfish like that. I am grateful that it happened once in my lifetime, my guess it is something to be cherished, something to be considered a treasure, something rarely attainable. I am so grateful, it made me cry when I got home for joy.

Okay, I am going to be late to the wedding dress fitting. THUSLY, the rest of my day.

Until next time, from the Sautee Valley, where the men are strong, the women are beautiful and the children are above average. Here's saying goodnight....morning.