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

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

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.

"Do not take a big trunk full of all the things you don't need." Etiquette. 1922

Ten to one Emily never had to pack for a mission trip on the other side of the world. I'm a home body, but every now and then I'll have a month or so of traveling every weekend. Ususally jet-setting off to chic places like Columbia, Atlanta, or various Christian retreat camps. I've become adept at tossing things into a bag and leaving on a moment's notice. However, I think I may have bitten off a little more than I can chew this summer. Here's the rundown:

Got back from Durham a week ago. Leaving for Columbia Thursday. Back Saturday. Atlanta Sunday to Monday. Manila...yeah, Manila...the following Monday. Get back from Manila with one day to unpack, clean clothes, kiss some babies, repack and head to NC for *hopefully* some R&R.

Are you exhausted? I am. And, to top it off, in true LOL form I have told everyone that my schedule is wide open because I won't be babysitting. Hence, I have volunteered at church, committed to dinners and lunches almost every day next week and told a boy I would cook for him. Why do I do this to me!?! You may want to stop by my apartment at some point to make sure I'm not sitting in a pile of shoes crying helplessly as I look on at a suitcase that won't zip up. Bring...um...chocolate milk* just in case.

Fondest Regards,

The Lady

Coffee free. Day 3. Life sucks a little bit right now as I have had a persistent headache since about 1 pm June 1, not-so-coincidentally the day I decided to begin my month sans coffee. Needless to say, I do not feel very leisahly at the moment. Why would any self-respecting LoL do this to herself?! I figured that with my trip to the Philippines looming, it would probably be wise to kick the addiction and face the withdrawals now as I do not know what the coffee situation will be. Severe headache+24 hours in a plane/bus+30 people I can't escape=headlines. I'm sure sure there will be coffee available, but I figured better safe than sorry, right?

Problem. This was the first week of summer vacation for my 6 year old charge. No headlines yet, but she does keep asking why Miss Daynes is so sleepy and doesn't feel like playing. At what age do kids just pick up a book and spend the whole day reading? Quietly?

On another note (which could possibly be related) I have not been to the gym this week. I thought about going a couple of times. At any rate, it is the thought that counts, so I guess, technically, I've been to the gym a couple of times this week.

I cannot wait until July 2 when, upon return, I will down the first cup of coffee I see. It will in no way help keep me awake I am sure. Until then, I will sleep soundly with the dreams of promised Fresh Market Summer Breeze coffee sipped on the deck of the beach house. Bliss.

It's quite possible that I am the worst blogger ever. I considered just giving up, but then all 3 of you that read this demanded a new post. I'll try to be more faithful. Here goes.

First, I have moved to a real-life, big girl apartment with a bedroom that is separate from the living room. The kitchen is also twice as big as the one in my former studio apartment and features a full size stove and oven plus drip pans for the burners. That's right, folks, no more rigging tinfoil drip pans! Isn't my life glamorous?! There are only three down sides to this apartment over the other: 1) My new upstairs neighbors are very bad insomniac musicians. I miss the awesome bass player who only practiced in the afternoon. 2) I now have way more wall space than I know what to do with. I'm sure American Express will be more than eager to help me out with this dilemma. 3) My bedroom closet is half the size of my old one. No lie, this sent me into a bit of a panic attack at first; however, my friend B- found another closet that had been hiding from me. I now have 2 clothes closets, but I am still unable to fit all of my clothes in. It's possible that I have

too many. All that said, I love my new place and am eager to get all the furniture and decor necessary to make it feel a little homier. The kitchen is finished and is by far my favorite room. It has blue laminate counter tops.

Second, I played a game of muggle quidditch yesterday for my friend J-'s birthday. Of the three girls there, I was the only one without a husband. Of the 12 or so boys there, I'm pretty sure their husbands were the only ones with wives. It may just have been me, but I felt a little bit like it was a meat market and I was the cow. Part of this had to do with the fact that B- is trying to set me up with one of the people that was there. This was particularly awkward as both parties were aware of her intentions; however, we cannot admit knowledge of this plan. I felt a bit like I was auditioning for a date or something. I will, of course keep you updated if anything hilarious comes of this.

Last, I found this at the store. It is wine from Cupcake vineyards. It is also sideways because I am dumb and I don't know how to work a computer. Exciting, nonetheless.

Fondest Regards (with promises of more blog to come),

The Lady

"In olden days...a young girl’s social success was invariably measured by her popularity in a ballroom." Etiquette. "The Debutante." 1922.

It's been well over a year since my last date. This is a phenomenon I haven't really figured out. True, I'm not so great at flirting or sharing my feelings, etc.; however, I am smart, funny, I love sports, and I'm pretty cute. Basically I'm the best catch I know, so it's beyond me that every guy I meet doesn't want to date me. Maybe someone can give me some insight or deflate my ego a bit, but I'm pretty sure my confusion is justified on this one.

Needless to say, I was pretty excited the other night when my neighbor told me he's been wanting to ask me to "coffee or something" for months now. This neighbor looks a little bit like Paul McCartney circa Yellow Submarine and I've kind of been hoping for a while that something like this would happen. so Yay!, right? Wrong. Here's how the whole conversation went:

Me: (watching him load boxes into his car) You're moving?

Paul: Yeah, back to Charleston.

Me: Aww...well...bummer.

Paul: Blah, blah blah...

Me: Meaningless chit-chat

Paul: So this is kinda silly, but I've been wanting to ask you to get coffee or something for months now, but every time I see you I get tongue tied.

Me: Really? Are you kidding me? I've been waiting for this for months and now you ask right before you FREAKING MOVE 5 HOURS AWAY?!?!?! Way to go!!!

Okay, so I didn't really say exactly that, but it's definitely what I was thinking. We are talking about 2 grown-ups (do grown-ups say grown-ups?) and a simple cup of coffee. What the heck do you have to lose? Oh, yeah...8 months of getting to know me, THAT'S WHAT! I gave him my number anyway, but something tells me this isn't going to work out. Oh well, he's a cat person anyway.

To cap it off, my friends came to pick me up for dinner as I was giving Paul my number. When I say, "My friends showed up," I am referring to 4 boys donning sunglasses with windows down and early 90's rap blaring. I looked at them and back at Paul. Paul looked at them and back at me. "Well, that's my ride," I said, and I'm pretty sure that was that. Here's to another dateless year, folks! If you need me, I'll be hanging out with my friends who always reassure me that I am, indeed, as great a catch as I believe myself to be.

Fondest regards,

The Lady