Tag Archives: nostalgia

a walk to remember (NOT the book)

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Last night I tortured forced Rader to go to the Big Dam(n) Bridge and walk with me. You’d a thought I was plucking his toenails off with tweezers. It was “THE WORST THING EVER.” As a matter of fact, after the 45 minutes (remember I usually walk an hour plus–I cut it short just for his whiny butt) we got into the car and he immediately sent me a text message.

That sucked.

Good to know, but too bad.

Anyway, while I was walking and he was whining, we passed a section of woods that nearly knocked me over with memories. I smelled wild grapes and muscadines. (BTW, my spell check doesn’t recognize the word muscadine. WTF?)

Growing up, we had a small orchard with green apple, plum, peach, pear and loads of pecan trees. And we also had wild grapes growing on the fence of our property. My neighbors grew muscadines.

The smell of that wild fruit yesterday took me back to my childhood immediately. I know memories and smell are strongly connected, but it still shocks me when I’m damn near catapulted back into the 80s.

I used to walk along the fence and pluck the honeysuckle that grew among the grapes. (fresh honeysuckle is still one of my all time favorite smells) The grapes were NEVER any good, but every year I would hope they would be. I don’t know how many sour grapes I ate trying to find the one sweet wonder. It never happened, but I never stopped trying.

(Okay, I take that back, I did finally stop trying when I was attacked by a Blue Jay. That stupid bugger wanted me dead. I had to run across 5 acres of land to escape the blue devil. Totally uncool.)

Had my first sip of homemade muscadine wine when I was a teenager. It was so sweet. And my neighbors made muscadine jelly which was fantastic. After the Blue Jay incident, I would sneak over and sit beneath the neighbors’ muscadine vines and enjoy the smell because I missed my grapes.

Do you have any old memories attached to smell? Any recent ones?

totally manic

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I’m at Ficitonistas this morning talking about Dares.

Last night, my friend Jen and I met up with some friends from high school who traveled from 3 corners of the world (Seattle, Boston, New Zealand) just to visit us. (okay, maybe not ONLY to visit us, but whatever) We had a great time, and it was hard to let it go and say goodbye.

I feel very lucky these guys are still in my life after all these years.
Laughter is truly good for the soul. After last night, my soul is set.

busy day

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Getting my hair did this morning. I’m 2 weeks overdue and trust me when I say, it’s obvious. I like my red hair, except for the fact that I can actually see the gray now when the roots grow out. When I was blond, the gray kinda just blended in.

Now I have no problem with gray hair, I just have no plans to ever actually be gray. Unless it’s that pretty, soft, white-gray…but then, I’ll never know if I have that hair or not because if things go as I plan, I’ll never see it.

I’m also having lunch with my h.s. boyfriend today. Since reconnecting, we tend to meet about once a month to catch up. We missed April because of our travel schedules, so today may be a long lunch. LOL I heard a rumor he’s riding his Harley if it isn’t raining… I’ll take a picture.

Speaking of pictures….(he’s gonna kill me for this) Here he is the summer b/t 8th and 9th grade…
wasn’t he just dreamy? *snort*

Sorry dude. Couldn’t resist.

Y’all have a good weekend! Got any plans?

luck

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Before I get to today’s blog, I just want to say, that yesterday I received a lovely shipment of BUNCO BABES TELL ALL by Maria Geraci and the book looks amazing in person. I love it. Have you received yours yet? Have you bought your copy yet? Don’t make me pick up my bat…

Now onto today’s regularly scheduled blog topic. And by ‘regularly scheduled’ I mean whatever I decided to write about 5 minutes ago. Because that’s just how I roll…

See this blurry picture of a four-leaf clover? I took that pic the other day after I finished my walk. Then I plucked that bad boy and now it’s taped to my laptop.

When I was a kid, I had a knack for finding four-leaf clovers. Actually, I wouldn’t even call it a knack. It was more like I’d look down and A FOUR-LEAF CLOVER WOULD START JUMPING UP AND DOWN AND SAY ‘HEY LOOK AT ME!’ and I would.

That’s pretty much what happened Monday when I found this one. I was just finishing my walk, and was about to go up my driveway when I looked down and there it was.

As a kid (okay and as an adult, too) I would spend hours entertaining myself by hunting for four-leaf clovers. One afternoon, I found a record number of 12. That must have been my luckiest day ever–funny I don’t remember anything else special happening that day.

Did you ever hunt for four-leaf clovers? I’ll admit it, since I found this one on Monday, I’ve been wishing the rain would go away so I could get back out in my yard and look for more. They never grow alone…

Happy Thursday everyone!

The MONTH OF MEL begins today

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Technically, it began at midnight Saturday night, and I rang in the month very appropriately.

I pulled an all-nighter. I don’t remember the last time I did that…but I’ll tell you it took me all day yesterday to recover. Wow. I’m not as young and agile as I used to be.

A high school classmate got married Saturday afternoon and a bunch of old friends came into town for the wedding. Friday night we went to Cajun’s and I got smart. I drank very little, and we left before midnight. I could see where the party was headed and I knew I was going out Saturday night as well, so I was a very smart girl and left.

But Saturday night? I partied like it was the end of an era.

I’m a lucky girl. I’ve maintained a ton of relationships from high school. We don’t get together often, but when we do–wow. Amazing. These people are very important to me and I’m really blessed to have them in my life still. Let me tell you though–it’s good that we only do this every once in a while, because I’m getting too old for all-nighters.

Some pics of the weekend:






I really am a very lucky girl to have friends like these still in my life.

whoa

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So I was digging around in an old box I found in the attic last night. I was looking for an old photo album and what I found was a treasure chest of awesome.

Every note written to me by my friends and boyfriends from 9th grade on. Amazing. Wow. Seriously, Amazing.

I found pictures that were better left buried. And I found my memory book from my Senior Year. hehe. Some memories.

I also found a notebook my Drama teacher made us keep. It was filled with questions we had to answer, and letters we wrote to ourselves. We were to seal the notebook, keep it between our mattresses and then in 10 years, read it.

Well, I read it 10 years after high school. And I read it again last night. Wow. Seriously. I was obsessed with my weight! Totally freaking obsessed! I might’ve weighed 135 lbs soaking wet, but in my mind I was a total cow.

That makes me sad. Especially now, as I am working so hard to undo years of self-destructive eating habits and thoughts. I said the other day that my dad put me on a diet in junior high because I had hips and I had pretty much been on a diet ever since. Well, that was not an exaggeration. Again. that makes me really sad.

We need to teach girls to be healthy but to embrace their bodies for what they are and to love themselves for who they are. I was so insecure. I was always being compared to another girl and that’s the goal I set for myself. To have a body like her. To look like her. To be like her. Too bad nobody took the time to say, “Wrong focus. Be yourself and enjoy it.” I was well into adulthood before that dawned on me.

Another thing that hasn’t changed since 1987 according to this notebook? Two things I liked most about myself were my smile and my personality.

From the Universe today:

Are you so sure it’s not the dancer who creates the music she moves to? Or the painter who manifests the mountains he captures? Or the tycoon who builds the empire before there’s a dime?

Whatever you want, Melissa, let it exist first in your mind, imagine every nuance and consideration, let the walls have substance, the halls have depth, and the money have weight in the palm of your hand, and then all that’s necessary to bring it to pass will be drawn to you.

Sneaky, clever, foxy, wry –
The Universe

I’ll be at work. Y’all have a good one!

comfort food

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So did everyone eat their black-eyed peas and collard greens with ham and cornbread yesterday? That’s a huge southern tradition. “Eat poor on New Years, eat fat the rest of the year.”

I haven’t made that meal myself, but my mother makes it every year, without fail. She called me yesterday and admonished me (as she does every year) but I told her I was making my own traditions–which included me not cooking.

Food has always been a source of comfort for me, which is why I have always turned to it in times of emotional turmoil. Eating good food makes me feel better. Period. Now I’m trying to replace that with seventeen-million hours of exercise a week. Sure, I feel good, but damn if I don’t just want to fall into a big batch of biscuits and gravy.

Some of my favorite comfort foods growing up were (and still are)

  • biscuits and gravy
  • fried apple pie (my Mema lived with us for 9 years, this was our after school snack almost every day. It was a seriously good thing I was an athlete)
  • smothered steak
  • salmon patties
  • mashed potatoes
  • fried fish, hush puppies and french fries

Every food listed is accompanied with a great memory. And it is still so tempting to fry a mess of fish, etc when I’m feeling low. Because I was never happier as a kid, than the 2 weeks out of the summer I was at the lake with my daddy: camping, fishing, reading, swimming and flirting with all the boys. I was almost always the only girl there. It was awesome. Also, it was the only time I had my daddy’s undivided attention, which was also awesome.

My favorite memory associated with smothered steak has to do with venison. I hate venison. Have never liked it. And everyone always says it’s because the person who fixed it for me didn’t prepare it right. All that means is that obviously nobody can fix it cuz I still don’t like it. Well, my Mema decided I would like it if I didn’t know it was venison. So she made me smothered venison steak and didn’t tell me. I came home after a basketball game, starving to death. She had my plate already fixed and I sat down to eat it. I nearly threw it up on the spot. It tasted awful but I didn’t know why. Now, I didn’t wanna hurt my Mema’s feelings so when she left the kitchen, I dumped it all into the trash. She came back in and was as giddy as a school girl. She confessed her deed to me with a giggle and claimed victory! I sighed a huge relief and said, “Mema, I just didn’t wanna hurt your feelings. It was the worst thing I ever ate.” Then I pulled out the trash can and showed her. I had finally convinced someone that I did not, nor would I ever, like venison.

What are some of your favorite comfort foods and why? Are they associated with a specific memory?

The Universe has been on fire lately. I’m totally digging the dude right now.

Melissa, today, be the person of your dreams.

See life through THEIR eyes.

Make decisions with THEIR mind.

Let every thought, word, and action come from THEIR perspective, as if you had already arrived, and just watch how 2009 warps into the kind of year you talk and laugh about forever and ever and ever…

Peace, love, and green M&Ms –
The Universe

He even knows I love green M&Ms!

finding your way

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When I was 18, I wanted to become an actress. I wanted to follow in Meg Ryan’s footsteps and go to NY first and land a role on a Soap Opera, where I could kiss all those hot actors (of course, I would’ve probably been cast as the maid LOL), get famous for being so cute and land a great movie role.

I daydreamed that a lot, but I didn’t go for it because I was too scared. As oppositional as I was (okay, still am) in nature, hearing my mother explain to me in practical terms why it was a bad idea and I would never find the success I was looking for seeped into my brain. I went to college and got a job delivering pizzas instead. (Still one of my favorite all time jobs to this day.)

It took me a long time to find my way to writing. I worked in Daycare for 10 years off and on, thinking one day I would become a teacher. I managed a Bath and Body works for a couple of years, I was a fraud analyst at a telecommunications company where I caught bad guys who cloned phones (this is before digital) I’ve served enough food and drink as a waitress to feed a 3rd world country. We moved to Oxford and I fell into a job doing HR and Travel, and that eventually led me to a job in Accounting. (Yes, accounting. Stop laughing. Seriously. Stop.)

By the time we moved to Oxford, I was writing. I had started 2 books, both that should and will remain unfinished. Very. Bad. Stuff. But writing them gave me the fever. Because of the way I write, I see the books as movies, so I’m kinda getting my acting fix. And I get to daydream all day. Which I’ve always done anyway. Bonus!

This was the first time in my life that I pursued something I wanted to do. On my own–with no real idea if I would be successful. Fishdog would work long hours and I would write after the kids were in bed. I wrote on the weekends a lot. It became a passion. I got better at it. And in 2007 I sold my first book. (BITE ME! hits the shelves Oct. 2009. Don’t forget!)

It took me a long time to find my path. I was 29 years old when I started writing. I have no idea if I should’ve gone to NY and pursued my acting career. Maybe my insecurities then were in place to keep me searching until I could find my confidence and find my path. I’m glad I finally did. If you haven’t found yours yet, the good news is, it’s never too late to start looking.

BTW: The Universe was deep again today:

Melissa, nothing is ever lost. Not time; for what seems to have passed, lives on in the wisdom of future decisions. Not money; for what seems to have been spent, was only invested. And not love; for what seems to have vanished, has only moved so close you must look within your heart to see it.

Here and now, Melissa, whether or not it’s obvious, you are the best you’ve ever been.

So proud,
The Universe

lady in goooooold

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Thank you, Colleen Gleason, for being the reason I can’t get that awful Chris de Burgh song out of my head.

I went to prom with a good friend. We tried dating once, but it just didn’t work. No chemistry. But we remained really good friends and I would hang out with him a lot.

There was a boy I really wanted to go to prom with, but by the time I worked up the nerve to ask him, he was already going with someone else. SC asked me the next day and I said okay. We were going with a group of friends so I knew it would be fun.

I don’t remember who drove, but I know it wasn’t SC, because we sat together in the backseat. That Lady in Red song came on the radio and SC pulled me close to him and started singing in my ear…only he changed the lyrics to match my dress.

“Lady in gooooooooooold, is dancing with me, cheek-to-cheek”

Ugh.

You know, I give SC credit for a well-intended move. But it backfired, big time. I had no romantic feelings for SC at all, but it was evident he wanted to test the boundaries of our friendship that night by ‘wooing’ me. (okay, wooing is just the most awful word. But seducing certainly doesn’t work here. We were in high school and there was no seducing going on in my world, let me tell ya. so wooing it is)

Anyway, Colleen posted about the top 10 songs she never wants to hear again…and Lady in Red was on her list. Yes, this is a good thing. However, I haven’t been able to get that song out of my head since yesterday, and now I’m thinking I need to pay Colleen a visit so I can smack her around.

Yes, I’m wearing black-lace, fingerless gloves. Yes, my dress is a gold bubble. Yes, my hair is poofy and I’m wearing tons of make up. You should’ve seen my shoes though. They were HOT.

It’s okay to admit that you miss the 80s. And for those of you too young to remember, it’s okay to wish you could’ve been a teenager then. (I still have those gloves…)

You know what would’ve made this even better? If I’d had my awesome Prelude back then…

Of course, that would also have been impossible since my awesome prelude is a 1990 model and I went to prom in 1987…but whatever.

8/15/05–another big day

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My sweet little Tree Frog is a high school Freshman as of today.

Really.

When I woke up this morning, I was flooded with memories.

The day he was born, when I had to have an emergency C-section because my blood pressure was stroke level. I was awake but high as a kite. I thought I was talking non-stop, but apparently the conversations were all in my head. However, when they pulled him out and showed him to me, I did manage to say, “He looks like a grape.”

His first Christmas that I missed because I had to work. He was 9 months old and trying to walk. He was still bald but he had a mouthful of teeth. I treasured the pictures from that year for a long time. He didn’t know I wasn’t there, but I knew it and it broke my heart.

His first REAL Halloween costume. He went to Daycare as a Fisherman. He wore overalls and a matching plaid shirt and hat that I got from BabyGap. We tied a fish potholder to a string and a stick and he drug that around with him for a week.

I remembered his first real projectile vomit. He wasn’t quite 2 years old. I was taking him to daycare. We were at a stop light, I turned around to admire him (as I always did) he smiled and flooded the car with his breakfast. It was horrifying and funny all at the same time.

The cowboy boots he wore EVERYWHERE with EVERYTHING.

How much he loved playing in the ‘sock basket’ and playing inside boxes or baskets in general.

After his brother was born, he named my breasts ‘Milk and Lunch’.

Of course, there are other memories, but for some reason, the baby years are the ones I’m holding on to the most today. Maybe because now he’s only 1/2 inch shorter than me when we’re barefooted. Maybe because his voice is deep and scratchy now. Or it could be the fact that he has to shave sometimes. I dunno. He’s growing up and I want to remember the 5 lb. 6 oz Tree Frog who was born almost 4 weeks early and looked like a grape. I wish I could hold his tiny little naked bottom in the palm of my hand again. I want to feel his long , flexible fingers wrap around mine and see his tiny, dark blue eyes stare at me with love and adoration.

Cuz I promise, when they stare at me now, there is nothing even close to adoration in there. Love, yes–irritation, yes–adoration? Hah.