Tuesday, July 27, 2010

CB cooked dinner for me last night. French toast and bacon, which I'm sure were absolutely delicious, but I will never know because here's how the evening went:

Col. Brandon: Why don't you come over to my house and I'll cook dinner?
Me: Aaaawwww, okay.
45 minutes later
Me: Ummmm...my car won't start. Again.

Sweet Col. Brandon, of course, dashed over astride his white horse (well, in his Altima which is much more practical when one's car needs a jump), sword drawn (well, he had jumper cables) and played the part of the dashing hero*. After jumping the car and letting it run, CB treated me to Waffle House, dragged my sorry butt to Wally World for a new battery which we were unsure of as the funny little letters and numbers did not match the one in my car. Upon getting home to jump the car once more, we found it blocked by an unknown neighbor. At this point we just had to laugh and call friends to help us push it out of the parking spot. I'm pretty sure CB could've done it himself had it not been uphill. We jumped it again and drove it straight to the mechanic where I went this morning. Apparently the battery is dead...duh. For the record, we did purchase the correct battery because we are winners like that. It is currently being replaced by a mechanic. In the meantime, I hope CB isn't considering running away in a hurry after finding out about his impoverished girlfriend and her high-maintenance car.

Fondest regards and happy driving,
The Lady

*For the record, every good LOL should own her own jumper cables and know how to use them. She should also be able to check the oil, change a tire and, if necessary, utilize public transportation. I have never actually needed a White Knight to help me with car troubles, but it is certainly nice to have one.

Monday, July 26, 2010

I'm not generally one to complain about the heat. In fact, summer weather is one of my favorite things about the South. Everything just seems to slow down a bit from June to September as folks do what they can to stay cool. I used to have this Romantic idea that pre-air-conditioning southern summers must have been absolutely wonderful. I'm pretty sure the world just stopped and people lived out on the wrap-around porches sipping tea and fanning themselves while waving at the neighbors who were crazy enough to walk down the street. One need only go inside to refill the tea pitcher or take a mid-day bath. It all sounds so delightfully leisahly. Well, it sounded delightfully leisahly until I moved to an apartment without central air. It was so hot this weekend that all I could do was lay on the floor in front of my window unit. Getting dressed is a chore. Forget blow drying my hair. I didn't even have the will to go get my nails done yesterday! Thankfully Col. Brandon (I believe this is how we shall refer to "Boy" on this blog) came over for dinner (at some point I managed to peel myself off the floor to cook) and rescued me from the oppressive heat.
Speaking of Col. Brandon, I've come to the conclusion that dating nice boys will ruin one's life. I have become lazy, lazy, lazy over the past few weeks. Spoiled by meals out, I've almost forgotten what my kitchen looks like. When I do cook, I get flowers. This morning I had to remind myself how to open a car door...that's an exaggeration, but it did occur to me that, in 2 months, I have not opened the door to his car. I have become completely worthless, but I've been loving every minute of it.

Fondest regards,
The Lady

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Dahling readahs, I just got home from my third beach trip of the summah. My life is so hard. We took the middle school kids on a mission trip to St. Simon's and I have decided, for real this time, that I have to live there. When I close my eyes and imagine the perfect Southern beach town, this island is what comes to mind. Don't mistake me, I love the Outer Banks and plan to continue summering there, but I'm pretty sure St. Simon's is meant to be my home. The whole island is covered in trees draped in Spanish moss, there is an adorable little downtown area, and historical tidbits everywhere you turn. I even have a church already picked out. We worshiped in what may be the prettiest building I've ever been in Sunday morning and there were LOLs everywhere. I think the island may be filled with my kind, folks, and why wouldn't it be? This place is an LOL's paradise (maybe right behind Charleston, except SS is way less crowded).
Here's the challenge, now that I have found the place I am destined to live, I need to find someone to pay for it. Unfortunately, aspiring LOLs with part time youth ministry jobs don't make enough money to live at the seaside. Time to find that nice boy with his JD from a respectable Univahsity...

Fondest regards,
The Lady

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

The trouble with being a sporadic blogger is that there is so much to update when I have time to post that it's almost too overwhelming to bother. I am back home now (for a few days) and kind of appreciative of a break from the travel. I missed the kid and my friends; however, I do occasionally (i.e. every 2-3 minutes) slip into that fantasy day-dream where I'm on the beach with a book in one hand and a coro...ahem...coca-cola in the other. Much as I love my friends, I'd probably give them up for a leisahly life at the seaside. I do get to go back to the beach this weekend, the catch being that I'll have 40 kids in tow (that includes the 3 "adult" male chaperones)...NOT leishaly.
Getting back to normal life has been pretty good, though. I have had the help of a new friend for whom I am trying to think of a good blog name. Time with said friend has been delightful and I do think I shall continue to spend it with him. The only problem, reader, is one conversation we have had of which I will relay a snippet:

Boy: When I'm retired you'll still be working your butt off at your job.
Me: (nervous laugh/confused look) Ummmmm...ahhhhhh...yeah.

You see the problem. I'm sure it can be easily fixed ;)

Fondest regards,
The Lady

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Every good Lady of Leisah should have a house on the beach. Not the kind where you have to worry about tracking sand in or keeping wet towels off the furniture. Worrying is not very leisahly. I mean the kind where the beer stays readily available in a cooler on the porch, the breeze gently, but constantly blows through open windows, and one's feet always get exfoliated by the incidental amount of sand tracked in from the beach.
That said, I have decided to stay here at the beach. Not only do I love it, but I feel like it would be a wise career decision at this juncture. It's possible that I should wait until I find my trophy husband to take care of me (trophy husbands are hard to come by on the island), but I'm scrappy, so I'll find some way to take care of finances and such.
Perhaps I will change my mind come the winter months, but right now, this is perfect.