Sunday, April 22, 2018

A wall is a good thing, sometimes.

I was sitting in the backyard Saturday morning, sipping coffee, watching the dog be a happy rescued dog. So very content. And I got emotional for a minute. Tears burned my eyes for just a second. Just enough to say, aye, pay attention and acknowledge. Just enough, and then they went away. I felt so happy with what I have in my life now. The people around me, and the love that I have.

It was at the moment, I felt I wanted to write. From there, I wondered, why have I not felt like writing all this time before now?  Often, people have asked if I was writing again, or if I was working on my next book.

No, has been the answer.

Saturday morning, I wondered, why?  Why was I all about writing, and then I simply couldn't write?But, now I feel like it, again.  I'll revisit that thought at a later time. (My note to myself)

When I wrote the book, it was a 'treatment.'  It was literally a healing treatment, that I had administered TO myself, BY myself, and FOR myself. It worked, for the most part. I was able to let a lot of things go, which was pretty freaking awesome after all the years of hanging onto them. The only thing about that whole thing was, in me letting my things go, it caused others to pick it up and hold onto it for dear life as if it they were drowning in the open ocean and this story popped up to the surface and was the only thing that was floating that they could hold on to. "Open the book that they'd successfully locked away and buried years ago."  And now they had to 'deal with their own shit,' so to speak. Because I literally shoved 'their' book up in their face and said here you have to deal with this this shit, right now.

There are a lot of people that are also authors of my story, they just have a different perspective of what happened; their own perspective, and even though it's all the same story, their part just hasn't been written.  It may never be and that's okay. Everyone has to do what is best, for them.

Yeah, the book. What book? It's out there floating around in the ocean. Except now some of the pages are no longer bound and are separated. Some pages have sunk to the bottom, maybe eaten by a sea monster. Hiding in the back of a cave to never seen by the light of day again? That is totally okay, because life is so much better now, without those pages.

But, the thing is, I'm not going to let someone else's weight sink my life raft. I'm not going to let my speaking freely about my own family - my own mother and father and sister - and my own perspective, be used against me. I have let go and I am swimming freely. I have discontinued any further copies being printed on dry land.  It's still out there of course. Floating. A life raft for some. An unbearable weight for others. If you want to keep holding on, that's all you. You're not going to be able to blame me for anything anymore. You are going to have to figure out how to let go of the bad things that happened in our family on your own.

I think I just answered my own questions of why I felt the need to write again. Passive aggressive much? Totally. And I probably learned that from someone when I was five. But, I guess I just needed to get that out.

So, back to the beginning of my story! Sitting in the back yard at my boyfriends house on a Saturday morning, with his dog that we rescued from the shelter. I kind of feel like I was rescued, too. With all the bad shit from the past on the other side of this wall, and me on the good side, with those that love me, and a happy dog.

Thursday, March 2, 2017


I just found this saved in my email. I wrote it in 2015, but had never posted it. 


"Sometimes is my favorite word," a tag line I've often used for myself. Because, it holds so much truth for me and who I am.

Sometimes I am up.
Sometimes I am down.
Sometimes I am weak.
Sometimes I am strong.
Sometimes I am the confident, funny, loud one.
Sometimes I am the quiet one.

"Sometimes" is a necessity in my world.

In order to be up, and confident, and strong, I have to sometimes be weak, and quiet, and alone. I need the recharge. I need the time of reflection.

When I am up and confident and strong, I embrace those times. I enjoy it. I get everything out of it that I can. I laugh, genuinely. I enjoy the company of others, genuinely. I... Experience. I soak it up. I soak it up because I know it's not always there. I know it changes. I know it's not forever, it's right now in this moment.

Sometimes, I am perfectly content and happy with just myself. "Mistyland," I like to call it. It's not that I'm sad or depressed, I just like being alone sometimes. Well, let me rephrase that, sometimes I need to be. And I embrace those times, as well.

This is how I control my life. By my "sometimes" and by my putting my inner most thoughts and feelings out there... letting it go to float up into the universe where it spans out over space and time and centuries. This alternative is much better than it being cooped up with no place to go but my little heart.


"Sometimes," is the key.

Sometimes, I think I'll never let myself truly care about someone again... never let myself love.
Never let anyone else in enough to love me. Not really. 

But, I am also big on self evaluation and I know I'm not the only one that would feel this way right now if they'd been in the same situation that I have been. I know, or I hope at least, that it won't always be this way. This is just one of the sometimes.

People tell me that I am strong. But, am I really? What is the definition of a strong person? Are they strong all the time? I am not strong all the time. Only sometimes. I don't think that means that I am strong.

I think it just means that I am human. I am human, and I have found a way to get through, and a way to be okay.


Sunday, August 21, 2016


I've had kind of a crappy feeling weekend. Finally mustered the motivation to color and cut my hair earlier. I've had the box of color sitting on my sink for weeks.

When I got out of the shower, a little yellow ribbon was laying on the rug right in front of me when I opened the shower curtain. I know it wasn't there when I got in, my rug is black, so it stands out too much to not see it.  I have no idea where it came from.

A yellow ribbon means a lot of things, but the jist of a yellow ribbon, is the general symbol for hope.

Yeah yeah, I get it... Angel, Universe, God, whoever put it there for me. Yes, I do have hope. I have hope for much, and for many things. I'm not hopeless. But, even though you are aware of something, it's still nice to hear it from someone else, sometimes.

So, thank you.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

More choices than the two political candidates

Some people love Trump.

Some people love Clinton.

I have not posted political interest posts before this because people lose their f$cking minds.

I am not a supporter of either party. I am a non-conformist and that carries over into my political interests, as well.

I'm not trying to sway anyone's views here. I'm just saying, for those that are not even aware- because many just really truly are not- there are in fact other choices available.

We all have the world at our fingertips. We should use it sometimes more than we do.

Just don't solely rely on what big media puts in your face.

That's all.

Carry on.

Saturday, August 13, 2016

A sister's memory

This year, I am captaining a team for the walk/run fundraiser in Orlando, Florida for St. Jude Children's Research Hospital that is next month.  Team Amy Sue. My family and my good friends all know why. But, if you don't know me completely, and haven't read my book, you may not know the full story behind it.

I was looking for something in my email earlier today and I came across some things I had saved that has sprouted this new post. When I first started writing Little Misty: My Big Red Button, I first wrote in my yahoo email. I would just sit down and start writing about whatever I happened to be thinking about that day, and then emailed it to myself for safe keeping. I wrote in 2008, and then created and published the book in 2010. Below, I have copied some excerpts that I had written about my sister, Amy. I think this is all in the book, but I'm not entirely sure. And if it is, it may be in a different content. This was taken from the raw drafts that I had written and saved in my email in 2008. These are the viewpoints of five year old, Little Misty.

Since I'm doing the fundraiser next month, I figured it was fitting to share my story of why St. Jude's holds such a prevalent place in my heart.

AUGUST 2, 1971 - FEBRUARY 25, 1979

I often wish that I had good memories of my sister.  But in all honesty, I do not. I have no good memories of my sister, and I blame that on leukemia. The disease robbed me of the sister that I had - a sister that I will never know.
Even still, I treasure every memory of my sister that I can pry from my brain.  And trust me, over the years I have sat and tried to remember things so hard and for so long that it literally made my brain hurt and became overwhelming.
"Happiness is... Helping St. Jude Children's Research Hospital" -- this is a phrase that will forever be burned into my memory.  Not just because St. Jude tried to help Amy, but also because I'd been told the day that our father was killed, he happened to be wearing a t-shirt with this phrase on it.
All memories that I have of my sister include her being sick and being in treatment...  the many trips with Mom, our grandmother that raised us, and Amy to Welborn Clinic... Amy's school tutor coming to the house for her school lessons because she was too sick to go to school.  When Amy was with her tutor, she was always lying on the couch and the tutor would sit on the edge of the couch next to her, I remember that very vividly.  And I was always somewhere nearby.  I was told not to bother them, but I could never be too far away.  I always wanted to be near Amy, I guess.  She was my big sister, of course.

My memories of Amy and I, together, and things that happened, do hurt my heart.  But, as an adult, because I understand the circumstances and what she was going through, I accept the way that things were and why some things happened.  

When I was young, I had long hair.  Amy, going through relapse and remission and all of the chemo, had many times that her hair had fallen out and she did not have any at all... There were times she would become enraged and pull out a handful of my hair.

I will never forget the night that I was awakened by my Aunts, wearing my favorite pink "footie pajamas."  It was the middle of the night and I wondered why we couldn't wait until the morning to go to the hospital.  We drove from Evansville, Indiana to  Memphis, Tennessee to St. Jude.  I  was overjoyed to see Mom and Amy when we got there.  And then I was sound asleep again.

Waking that morning in the family room that adjoined Amy's hospital room, I sat observing my surroundings for a while before doing anything else.  In the room was a couch, a cot, and a big yellow chair.  The yellow chair is where I'd been sleeping.  There was a big window that a curtain covered.  After making my observations, I went to the window to see what was on the other side.  I was looking for Mom.  As soon as I'd gotten in just one little peek of the other side of the window, one of my aunts told me close the curtain.  The window is what was in between the family's room and Amy's hospital room on the other side.  The doctor was in with Amy and Mom and my Aunts told me to wait and that I could see Mom when they were through. 

When it was time for Amy to go downstairs to the treatment room, I would go with her and Mom. There were always a lot of kids down there, lots of them would cry, some of them would smile, but the nurses that were in there were always very pleasant.  

During my times in the treatment room, I would sit quietly next to Mom and simply observe what was going on around me.  I noticed the big toy box right away.  After the kids were finished with their treatments, they got to pick a toy from the toy chest.  And let me tell you, this wasn't a box full of the cheap stuff, these were good toys that I saw being pulled out.  After Amy was finished with her treatment, the nurse told her she could pick a toy from the toy chest and she happily sat on the floor in front of it, scoping through the contents before making her decision.  I was very surprised when the nurse then turned to me and said, "You can pick a toy, too."  I was in dismay.  It literally shocked me. 

Sure, I wanted a toy... I was five.  But, I wasn't sick and I hadn't been poked with needles like all the other kids around me had.  I apprehensively went and sat beside Amy on the floor in front of the huge toy chest.  I couldn't do anything but stare for a while simply because, like I said, this was some good stuff in here! 

I took my time to select the perfect toy that I wanted, but as soon as I touched it, Amy immediately grabbed it from my hand.  So, I sat for a moment and looked for another one, picked it up, and again, she snatched it from me. I knew that she didn't really want the toys that I'd picked and that she just didn't want me to have them.  And it was confirmed when she ended up tossing the ones that she'd taken away from me and picked something completely different.  When she had selected the one that she wanted, she picked it up and walked away. 
I still sat there on my knees on the floor in front of the chest for a few minutes.  Fighting back tears as I kept looking at the original toys that I picked.  I really wanted one of them, but I knew if I came back with it, I would be rocking the boat with Amy.  And I'd learned it was just easier for everyone if I didn't do that.  So, I dug through all of the good toys to the bottom of the chest and picked up a small plastic alligator that resembled something I'd once picked from the small treasure chest at the dentist's office after a teeth cleaning.  I didn't want it, but I knew Amy wouldn't want it either.  I didn't think I really deserved the good toys, anyway.  The other kids did, but not me.  

After that time, if I was told that I could get something out of the toy chest, too, I politely declined.


The last vivid memory I have of my sister is the day that she died. For a moment, I thought she was sleeping. There's more to that story, of course, but tonight, I choose to end the excerpts here.

Are these good memories? No. Of course not. Are they happy stories? No. But, maybe these are the stories that people need to hear sometimes. These stories, these bad, hurtful things this... THIS is why I help St. Jude. So others can have the good stories.... the happy stories. The stories about survival. The stories about their children, their siblings, their friends, their cousins...their niece or nephew BEING there... because they are still here, living, because of the research done at St. Jude.

I encourage you to share the story of St. Jude and what they do. Donate. Or join Team Amy Sue.

Monday, May 2, 2016

Painting with a Twist - Evansville, Indiana & Altamonte Springs, Florida

Well, you already know I like to paint. I've posted multiple times about going to the paint nights at my favorite local Bar that's right near me here in Lake Mary, Florida - Cheers. I've done four paintings at Cheers. Five? Well, four or five. It is lots of fun there, too, with Kim from Cheers to the Brush (which I just saw is going to start doing WOOD art, too! yay!!!) it's just a different atmosphere.  (And Cheers to the Brush can also come to youuu.) I will for sure be back to Cheers for some paint nights, as well.

Painting with a Twist: Evansville, Indiana

We did a paint night while I was visiting home in Indiana. My sister set up a private party since we had enough for a class to ourselves with the family. Before my trip, my sister sent me a link that they had sent her where we could pick which painting we wanted to do. There were, literally, over four thousand paintings to choose from! It was hard to pick one. But, I wanted to do something "country," so we ended up agreeing on this one...

This was my first experience at any Painting with a Twist location, and it was a private party, rather than the normal seatings that they do daily/weekly. They sent my sister a link that she could forward to anyone that we wanted to invite to our party. It included the code to put in that allowed them to reserve a seat for our particular private party. I am unclear if it was mandatory for you to pay in advance with a credit/debit card. I think most of us did, but I believe some that attended had not reserved online and just paid when they arrived. It may not have been a huge deal as long as the amount of people that was required in order to have the private party did reserve and pay in advance.

[Their Facebook page]

We had the smaller back room and our party was scheduled for a Wednesday from 4pm-6pm. Nothing else was going on in the front bigger room at the time of our party, but if we had ended up having more people than the smaller back room would hold, they said they could move us to the bigger main room. I'm sure some advance notice was required for that, as they had to set up and prepare for the amount of people.

When we arrived, we checked in with our name at the front desk, they gave us our canvas and directed us to the room we were to go, and could sit where ever we wanted. 

We were able to bring in any snacks and non-alcoholic beverages that we wanted for our group during our party. If anyone wanted an alcoholic beverage, you were able to purchase beer or wine at $4.00 each.

It was a very nice gathering for our group. We all enjoyed ourselves and had a lot of fun. I don't remember the name of the artist that was leading our class, but she was very nice and she was very entertaining.

The only thing that me and some others didn't like about our party was that we just wanted more wine than was offered and the servings were very small; not the normal amount of a regular glass of wine. The person that had been at the front desk came around once at the beginning of our class and took orders from everyone and then brought the ordered drinks. And then half-way through, only after we asked about it, the artist that was leading got a second one for anyone that wanted one.  

Since this was my first time at this location, (none of us had ever been there before), I have no idea if that's how it always is, or if it was just because we were a private party and there wasn't as many staff on-site than if it was a full big room, or if it was just a one-off.

Our group picture...

A few more pics that I snapped while we were there...

Me with my sisters... 

And a close up of mine...
(I wasn't going to try to bring it on the plane with me, and it was too big to try to pack, so my sister and her husband shipped it to me after I was back home in Florida.)

(Now that I look at this picture of it again, it looks comparable to something I probably did with crayons when I was 7. haha But, it was fun doing! That's all that matters.)

And, one with my cat, Dice... (he wasn't impressed with my 'human shenanigans')

After I had been back home a while, I just wanted to paint something again. I looked up my local Painting with a Twist in Altamonte Springs, which is near where I live in Lake Mary. I was just browsing around one morning on their Facebook page when I came across an elephant painting that they were doing at a class that very evening. Well, I'm a big elephant lover. (Especially right now in celebration of no more forced performances at the Circus! yay!) 
And, I like wine. And this particular painting incorporated the two. How could I not like it? So, I went ahead and paid for my seat for that class on their website. With such short notice, I didn't have any friends that were free to go with me, so I went by myself.

Before arriving, I did see on their website one main and big difference between the location in Altamonte Springs, Florida, and the one I had just been to in Evansville, Indiana. In Altamonte, you brought your OWN wine or beer. (Hard liquor is not allowed.) They would even open your bottle of wine for you, and also provided glasses to you if you didn't bring your own. (Many people did bring in their own wine glasses.) Like the other one, you could also bring your own snacks in.

I hadn't realized it before I got there, but when I checked in at the front desk and the girl asked me if I was doing the elephant or the giraffe, I realized you had your choice between two different paintings. I said the elephant and she handed me a canvas that already had the outline of the elephant sketched on it. 

(SWEET!... I thought to myself. I had been wondering how that was going to work out for me.)  

Those that had picked the other one to do also had their giraffe already sketched on their canvas.  

After I got my canvas, I was told that the seating was assigned, and which table I would find my name.

I found my name written in marker on a paper plate that was turned over to sit atop another plate that had my paint ready to go.

The Altamonte location had the same set up and format as the Evansville location. This class was in the main, larger front room and it seemed to be a full house with all seats taken by the time everyone had arrived. I noticed there were a LOT of couples in attendance. Which made sense since you had the options of the two different paintings to do. Neat and different date night, for sure. Everyone seemed to have a very good time, and even though I was there by myself, I also did have a very good time.

They did more breaks than the other class, (but this was also the biggest class I think I'd ever been involved with) and the artist/leader came around and helped anyone that needed assistance on certain things, which is the norm in any paint class that I've been to anywhere.

One thing that I liked ALOT, and had never encountered before at a paint night, was when doing this we were all given a little piece of white chalk when it was time to draw our wine glass (or wine bottle if you were doing the giraffe one.)  So, we could lightly draw with the chalk the outline we wanted for it, and could easily erase it with a damp paper towel if we messed up and needed to re-do it. Awesome idea! And then once you got the outline that you were going to go with, you could simply go over it with the brush and paint.

The people that worked there were very nice and the artist that lead the class was very good.

Again, there was only one thing that I thought could be better out of everything and that was that there were some single people like me that were by themselves, and we were seated in between larger parties. Since we weren't there with anyone else, I think it would have been ideal to have sat us together.  We could have maybe chatted amongst ourselves since none of us were there with anyone else. When I received the thank you for attending email from them, I did email back that I had a very nice time, but suggested that about the seating. They replied very nicely and said they would forward the suggestion to whomever does the seating.

This was my finished product...
[The way the eye looks, was my own twist. I like it a lot and have it hanging above my kitchen bar. I think later on I'm going to get some paints and brushes and add something additional to the outer gray portion and then maybe also add something to my Martini glass one that I previously did at Cheers with Cheers to the Brush, to incorporate the two to kind of go together since I have both of them hanging in my kitchen.]

I will be back to the Altamonte Springs location again! Hopefully not by myself next time. :) There are other locations in the Orlando area, but I think Altamonte is the closest one to me.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Birthdays, The Crooked Tree Gallery, New INK! (and, is that a Vagina?)

About ten years ago, [Edit - now that I think about that more, I think it was more like 12 or 13 years ago] shortly after we'd moved to Orlando, I got a tattoo on my arm sporting mine and my ex-husband's names. Seemed like a fitting idea at the time. I think that I got it on my birthday weekend back then. It seems so long ago now.

I got a cover up tattoo for it on my birthday week this year while I was visiting home in Indiana. It wasn't until I was in the chair having it done that I realized it was also the week of the one year anniversary of the finalization of our divorce. I didn't plan any of that, but after I realized it, it also seemed very fitting that I was getting it covered up in Indiana where it had all began.

A good friend of mine had gotten work done at The Crooked Tree Gallery. I like going to a tattoo artist that has done work on someone that I know personally, so that is why I decided to go there while I was in Evansville. A married couple, Samantha and Jarred Scott recently opened this shop, and I highly recommend this place if you are looking to get some work done in Evansville, Indiana.

I did not have a specific tattoo that I wanted to get over the original tattoo. I just knew that I wanted pretty, colorful flowers, and that I wanted a sunflower in it. I set up my appointment a few weeks before my trip. I called them and they had me send them a message via their facebook page with my information including a picture of my original tattoo and a few examples of different concepts that I liked for the cover up. Samantha was the one that my friend had went to, so I set my appointment with her.

Below is my original tattoo that I had done at a place on Orange Avenue in downtown Orlando. I don't think it is there any longer, I think it's now a restaurant. It was not the greatest of work, by any means. I did love it, at one point in my life, none the less. But, over the years it had faded and become distorted and it was hard to even read my name on it. Over this last almost two years, I'd grown very tired of people asking what it said. I was very glad to finally be able to have it covered.

I had sent Samantha three examples of different concepts that I liked. Once I was there, after evaluating the original tattoo in person, while looking at the three different examples that I had sent, she drew my new tattoo on my arm, free-hand, and she incorporated everything that I liked about all 3 of them.

I loved it. And I loved it even sooo much more after it was filled in and complete.

Here is one I took myself one morning a couple of days later after it had healed up a bit..

One of my sisters went with me when I went to get it done. [It was her first 'tattoo experience,' ever. And I'm so glad that her first experience was at the Crooked Tree Gallery!] Samantha and Jarred are both great. And, like I said, I would highly recommend them to anyone looking to get any work done. Their personalities and the overall experience, cleanliness and atmosphere of their shop is a big THUMBS UP!

While I had been sitting in the chair after she'd been filling in the color on my new tattoo for quite some time, I finally asked Sam, "Is that a VAGINA?" I was referring to a framed picture that was hanging on the wall in front of me. (It was a simple outlined sketch.) She confirmed, Yes, yes that is a vagina, and went on to tell of a story of some friends of hers that had visited the Museum of Sex in New York. In the gift shop, there was a coloring book of nothing but vaginas. And for whatever reason, they thought it fitting to get one for her. She'd decided to frame one of the pages and hang it up on the wall. [A great conversational piece, I must say!] My sister then said she had also been looking at it, wondering if that's what it was, but that it reminded her of when she was in the girl scouts. [Que uproarious laughter from Misty.] (It looked like two caves, and a person peeking out of the cave, or something to that affect, which is what reminded her of girl scouts... the "CAVE" part, not the vagina part.) The conversation was very funny. (I'm not going to link the Museum of Sex, but if you are so intrigued, I'm sure you know how to use Google.)

Needless to say, the vagina conversation made the man that was getting some tat work done by Jarred nearby rear his head up to see what the heck all this talk about vaginas was all about.

Check them out!

The Crooked Tree Gallery Facebook Page

The Crooked Tree Gallery Official Website

If I ever want to get some more work done, I will make sure to plan it during a trip back to Evansville!

Fried Chicken Livers, a "REAL" Stromboli, and a SKI Margarita? Yes, please.

I had such a good trip home to Indiana a couple of weeks ago. My youngest son, Chance, and I had went for a visit back in September last year over labor day weekend for just a few days. It was a nice trip also, but it was very short, so I didn't get to spend a lot of time with my family. But, Chance got to visit with his Dad and that side of the family for a few days, and I did get to see my family, so it was still all good.

Just days after we arrived back home from that trip, I bought a ticket for me to go back in April for the week of my birthday. My Mom who raised me is getting up in years; she turned 88 in January; and I'd resolved to try to go back and visit at least twice a year if I can. And, it was my birthday present to myself. An entire week this time; I flew in on Friday, April 8th and flew back on the following Friday, April 15th. Though it was a full week and I got to spend a lot of time with my family, it still went by very fast (as I assumed that it would.) Even so, it was time well spent and a very enjoyable seven days. I even got to have a nice lunch with my former Mother-in-law and Aunt-in-law. I had missed them greatly, and It was very nice to be able to spend a little time with them.

I met them at the beginning of my visit at place called the Crossed Eyed Cricket in Evansville. I had never been there before, but I liked it so much that I ended up going there two more times after that during the week, with others. When I was there for lunch with them, I got the fried chicken livers. Another day, I met my two sisters for lunch, with my Mom. I, again, had the fried chicken livers. What can I say, I like fried chicken livers. They. were. fantastic. I am a country girl, after all. They had a very wide menu available, however. My one sister had meatloaf, the other had chicken teriyaki. The last day that I was in Indiana, before flying out, my long time friend, Stephanie, and I went there again for breakfast. [No, I didn't get chicken livers for breakfast, but my eggs and hash browns and bacon were delicious.] It happened to be Stephanie's wedding anniversary that day. She remembered while we were eating that she had been there ON her wedding day. Though, after they'd ordered food, her Mother told her they had to leave to get to Stephanie's hair appointment on time, so she didn't even get to eat that day. (I think we made up for that day during our breakfast, we were both stuffed when we left.)

Another family dinner that we had with some other family members was at The Log Inn. Yes, I got fried chicken livers, again. And, again, they were delicious. I also got their fabulous strawberry pie. (And the helpings were so awesome, the next morning, I had fried chicken livers and strawberry pie for breakfast.) You can't order fried chicken livers just anywhere here in Florida, so I was just trying to get my fill while I was at home.

Me, baby Lydia, my cousin Erin (Lydia's Mama) and my Mom, at the Log Inn.

Another place I met family for lunch while I was in town was St. Phillip's Inn. I was a cook at St. Phillip's Inn many years ago. I started working there as a cook right after I went back to work after having my oldest boy in 1993 and worked there for three years until I was four months pregnant with my second boy. In Florida, you just can't get a "real" stromboli. (They also have great fried chicken livers, but not on the lunch menu or else I probably would have gotten them, too!) I ALWAYS have to go to St. Phillip's Inn at least once while I am at home visiting. It never seems to change, and I love that.

Another thing I had while we were at St. Phillip's Inn was a SKI. Unless you are from the southern Indiana/Tri-State area, you have probably never heard of a Ski, but it is a lemon/lime soda that is only distributed in this area. And, like fried chicken livers and strombolis, it is something that I have to have while I am back home, simply because you just can't get it in Florida.

Oh! and the Hacienda on the west side of Evansville has SKI MARGARITA's! We went there to eat one day, too. Good Lord. Yes, Please. My sister and I shared a pitcher. The food was very good, also, of course.

I ate at some other places, too, but these are the places I went to while I was visiting home that stand out in my mind.

Evansville, Indiana...
Good times. Good food. Good drink. Good memories.

Saturday, April 16, 2016

Flying thoughts

I briefly popped out my Chromebook towards the end of my flight home yesterday...

I’m having a fabulous flight going back home.

Though the can of Bud Light - a brand that I normally don’t drink - cost me six bucks, it is very complimentary to my very relaxing flight. There's something about slightly filling my dainty little plastic airplane cup; pour a wee pit, sip a wee bit, and so on and so forth, while reading about the mellowness of the true Italian’s spirit in my current reading of “Eat Pray Love.”

I would also like another beer. Even though it is six dollars. And even though it is a Bud Light. But, alas, they only come through one time. Do they allow you to buy more than one alcoholic beverage at a time when they come through? I’ve never tried. When I'm on a plane I never think, “Well, maybe I’ll want a second one... later.”

My ears have begun to pop, so I assume we are beginning our decent.

I had a middle seat on the flight home [to Indiana.] I have a middle seat on my flight home now [to Florida.] On this one, no one came to sit on the other side of me. So, I got to pop over to the window seat. Another attribute to my very fine flight.

My week-long visit to one of my two homes, Indiana, was a very good one. When I refer to Florida, I refer to it as home. But, I also do this with Indiana. I am very lucky in that I have not one, but two places that I can call home. Not everyone has that. It is both a blessing and a curse, however. 

For no matter which “home” you happen to be located at any given time, you are always leaving the other one, and the people there, behind. 

It is an endless cycle of being at one, while missing the other; always.

Monday, March 14, 2016

Dresses received. Tiny. Tiny. Dresses.

Update to the Meh. No packages... again. post

No one ever did respond to my email that I sent to the email address that's on their pay pal account. And I am still not a fan of how their website (Rose Wholesale) is as far as contacting them. I did receive the dresses in the mail the very next day after I posted about them.

My son asked me if I looked at their sizing chart when I ordered them. I don't remember seeing one. I've since looked for one on their site and I wasn't able to find one at first. But, it was down at the bottom of the page on the item page. I had ordered XL in both dresses. I gave them to a friend at work. She wears a size 3 and she told me today they fit her perfectly. (See my friend, Kristin, below)  I wear a 10-12.... So, obviously I did not size it correctly. haha

If you can get the sizing right, I think it's worth the money; it would be a good site to buy cute and inexpensive things. That is, if you don't mind waiting a while to receive them just because of where they're coming from. But, I don't know how they will hold up after some wear and washing. They are inexpensively made with very thin material. But they were both less than $7 each with free shipping. How they hold up after a wash or two, who knows. I'll find out from my friend. They should probably be hand washed, though, they probably will not hold up long at all if you put in the washer with other clothing.

One of the dresses currently shows as Sold Out as the picture on their website now.

Just giving you my experiences! I probably won't order from them any more in the future. I don't like having to do sizing charts and figuring out what size I would need.