I'm Ready to Go to Bed...

...and it's only 7:45pm! That was perhaps the longest, most tiring weekend of my life. I got up early Friday to get on the road by 8am so I could make the School and Community Day parade at the Buckwheat Festival. I'm so glad I did because I wouldn't have missed this for the world...


That's Lily having the time of her 3-year-old life at the "barade." By the way, that's her daddy in the background. That kid couldn't look more like her daddy if you chopped off her hair and dyed it black.


She waved at everyone as they passed by, and she smiled and danced around through the whole thing.


She even learned a new trick...SPIRIT FINGERS!


She was absolutely rapt through the whole thing...and then she cried when it was all over.


Oh, and look who else showed up to the parade...it's the Mountaineer!

After the parade, I went home and changed my clothes and then headed out to Morgantown to meet a friend for a couple of drinks. I finally got to bed somewhere around 2am. Saturday wasn't any better, but that's a story for another night because for now, I'm beat.

I'm Already Exhausted

I don't know whether I should be excited for this weekend or whether I should dread it. It promises to be an absolute whirlwind, and, frankly, I'm already exhausted just thinking about it. Not only is the Buckwheat Festival this weekend, but it's also the WVU-Marshall football game. Add to that 3 birthdays and entertaining Huntington friends in Morgantown, and I should clock somewhere between 8 and 12 hours of sleep this weekend.

It all starts with a 4-hour drive home tomorrow morning, followed by a 2-hour parade, an hour or two strolling around the fairgrounds with Lily (who calls it "the pair"), and dinner with the family. Saturday will entail more of the "pair," maybe half the parade, the game, more "pair," and (fingers crossed) a little sleep. Sunday morning, I'm sure my parents will want to go to the 8am Mass, then one of my friends is coming over for the "grand tour" of Kingwood (the "grand tour" lasts 7 minutes), then we're having a 4:30pm birthday party, and then I'll cap off the day with a 4-hour drive back here. See where I'm going with this exhaustion thing? But it'll be good. I'll have tons of fun, and I'll get to see my family.

And then I'll pass out for 4 days.

Ten on Tuesday

1. I'm still reeling over that call from TJ. I just find it all a little ballsy. I could be fine being friends with him, but I don't think friendship is on his agenda. I think he's looking for a friend with benefits, and we all know that that never works out.

2. Speaking of the old friend with benefits scheme, I did make a point of bringing up Sean to TJ. Of course, I spoke very vaguely (there's nothing to tell in actuality), but I certainly left it open to interpretation. Specifically, I left it open to the interpretation that Sean and I were seeing each other. Hey, I didn't out-right lie.

3. I am already catching hell from my Marshall friends over the WVU-Marshall game this weekend. I attended a reception for the Court at the home of Marshall's President last night, and I was made to wear a Marshall lapel pin. It was terrible, like a hot dagger through my heart.

4. Boo and Lily--and maybe Fred--are coming home for the Buckwheat Festival this weekend!

5. On top of the game and the Buckwheat Festival, we have 3 birthdays this weekend! Lily turns 3 on the 27th, Elizabeth turns 6 on the 29th, and Erica turns 21 (*gulp*) on the the 30th.

6. We had a health fair here at work a couple of weeks ago, and my cholesterol was only 147! That's amazing given the absolute crap that I eat. I credit the beer in my diet. Yeah, that's it...the beer...

7. Every morning when I leave for work, I notice that it's a little darker than it was the day before. I hate that.

8. I can apparently no longer shave my legs without cutting myself up like a chicken. I've only been doing it for 20 years. Maybe eventually I'll get the hang of it again.

9. I am thinking today of my favorite bar in Morgantown: Gibbie's. Now, when I was in school up there, I only went there occasionally. My regular haunts were Cedo's, the Sports Page, Bent Willy's, and Crockett's. As an adult, though, I appreciate Gibbie's much more. First of all, they have a huge selection of both draught and bottle beers. Second of all, it doesn't draw your typical college-age crowd. Third of all, they play pretty good music. But most importantly, Gibbie's is owned by my oldest sister's high school sweetheart, so I usually get at least a couple free drinks out of him!

10. I have a really, really, terribly cute picture of Tyler on my desk at work, but I can't take credit for it. My dad took it.

Really? Seriously?

When it rains, it pours, doesn't it? As if I didn't have enough to think about already, guess who called me tonight. That's right, "him." I was on my land line with Cheryl talking about the former situation when the latter called on my cell. I believe my reaction was something like this: *Ahem* Shit! Shit! Shit! That's TJ. What the fuck?! Why is he calling me?! Shit! I have to go! I'll call you back! Shit! Yes, I know. Very lady-like. But really, seriously...why is he calling me?

I answered the phone and immediately sensed an "Eeyore Factor;" that is, he sounded down. Self-pitying, actually. He's very good at that. He immediately started talking about a current situation of which I was vaguely aware, but which, until tonight, he had played close to the vest, not telling me the details but wanting me to know about for the pity factor. Honestly, it is a nasty situation, and I do feel badly about it. But, again, I have to say, "Really? Seriously? After everything that happened, you're calling me for sympathy?" Still, I listened and sympathized and played the part of the friend. I just don't have it in me to say, "You know what? I don't care. You were an ass to me, and I really don't care what is going on in your life now." As bitchy as I can be at times, I am not an out-and-out mean person.

Here was the really frustrating part, though -- the part where I almost told him where to go: He had the nerve to say, "You know, you could call me sometime, or stop by and see me." Now why, pray tell, would I do that? When was the last time he called me? When was the last time he stopped by to see me?

It's at these moments that I want to just run off and join a convent. Why must it all be so damned complicated? Where is my Marlboro Man? Where is my Chris? Where is my Brent? Where is my JBF? (Don't let it go to your head, JBF.) Haven't I kissed enough frogs already?

Nine Months and One Year

Today marks the nine-month anniversary of Mikey's passing. It is also the day after the one-year anniversary of my friend Scott's passing. What is so significant about those two things happening so close to one another is that, like Mike, Scott died from colon cancer. Scott was only 33, and he had only been diagnosed a few months before that. His cancer was so advanced when it was discovered, though, that he went downhill very quickly.

I remember that Mikey, who was so sick from chemo himself, worried about Scott all the time. He would literally lay awake at night thinking about Scott and praying for him. He thought it was unfair that someone so much younger than himself was so desperately ill. Even while he was fighting for his own life, he was thinking of someone else! I think that says so much about my brother and the kind of man he was.

* * * * * *

Scott grew up in my hometown. He was a year ahead of me in school, and his brother, John, was in my sister Leslie's class. Scott had two other younger brothers as well. They were all good kids, the sons of a school teacher and minister. I remember when I heard that Scott had cancer, I was absolutely gobsmacked. It felt like such a cruel twist of fate. First, my brother was diagnosed. Then his best friend (and our next door neighbor) was diagnosed with testicular cancer. Shortly after that, my cousin's husband relapsed with lymphoma. And then it was Scott. Four young men from Kingwood. Four fine men. All with children. Could fate be any crueler?

As the months passed, Scott didn't have many "good" days. He was in a lot of pain, and cancer and chemo ravaged his body very quickly. His family -- including a wife and baby -- gathered around him and tried to hold on to hope. I kept up with his struggle on a blog his wife set up to keep everyone informed of his fight. It was gut-wrenching, but I don't remember ever thinking that Scott wouldn't make it. Then again, I never thought that Mikey wouldn't make it either. When Scott passed away, I was crushed. And afraid.

Incidentally, Scott's given name...Michael Scott Argabrite.

* * * * * *

This time last year, Mikey's heart was broken for Scott. A week later, as we all gathered at home for the Buckwheat Festival, it was all Mikey could talk about. You could see the grief on his face.

That same weekend was also a chemo weekend. With drugs coursing through his port, Mikey braved the crowds and the sun to take in what would be his last parade. He was so tired, and we all begged him to go rest for a while after the parade. He still came to Lily and Elizabeth's birthday party, though. That's when I took this picture:


At the time, I know I told myself that I was just trying to get pictures of everyone at the party. Now I can admit that I was trying to capture the moment because I was beginning to wonder...how much longer did we all have together?

* * * * * *

Nine months, and I don't feel any better about it. Thursday night, as I was getting ready for the WVU-Colorado game, I went into my closet to get something, and I found the shirt and two WVU jackets that I took that once belonged to Mikey. I grabbed their sleeves and took in a deep breath, but they didn't smell like him. They smelled like everything else in my closet. I hugged them to me and cried, asking, "Why did you leave us? Why did you do it?" Sometimes, I still get angry that he waited so long to finally get that damned colonoscopy. But then, as I returned to my search in my closet, I found some old pictures, and I saw this face...


The anger melted away, but the grief...the grief will always be there.

Can You Hear My Poor Little Heart Breaking?

What a terrible, horrible night. The defense finally started to gel after 2 dismals performances, but then the wheels fell off the coaching bus. I'm not sure what was going on in the box or on the sidelines, but it was disasterous. Even Erin Andrews said at one point, "I'm not sure what's going on down here. It's chaos right now," or something to that effect. As much as I loathe the very idea of Erin Andrews, she was right.

Once again, Pat White had to step up and save the game, scoring WVU's only 2 touchdowns. He rushed for over 100 yards, as did Noel Devine. But even when the defense produced 2 big turnovers (a Reed Williams interception and a fumble recovery), the offense couldn't capitalize, going 3-and-out after the interception.

Still, at the end of regulation, the game seemed to be WVU's to lose. They had possession of the ball with around 2:30 to play. All they had to do was get into field goal range, and Pat McAfee could step in and bring it home. With the clock winding down, WVU struggled to pick up a first down to stop it. Then when play resumed, and with the ball still out of field goal range, the coaching staff let the clock wind down to 4 seconds before finally calling one of its 2 remaining time-outs. A Hail Mary pass fell incomplete, and the game rolled into overtime.

Alas, Pat McAfee's overtime field goal attempt bounced off the upright, and Colorado connected on its own attempt. The game was over. The Mountaineers had lost. Again.

It's not the defense's fault. It's not Pat White's fault. It's not Pat McAfee's fault. (Let's face it, 3 points wasn't going to be enough to win anyway. Colorado would likely have punched in a touchdown on their possession.) I lay this one at the feet of the coaching staff.

I like Bill Stewart. I like his attitude. I like his style. And I truly do not mind to lose. Like I've said before, this is a year of adjustment. But this one stung a little.

In-Game Pat White

Have I mentioned today that I love Pat White? He just saved our collective Mountaineer ass with that second touchdown.

I'm So Nervous!

T-minus 30 minutes and counting! I really hope that this is the night the Mountaineers get their feet under them and begin their reign of terror on college football. I hope they play well. I hope they win convincingly. And I hope they never look back.

Gameday Pat White (24 Hours Early)

Tomorrow, my beloved Pat White and the rest of the Mountaineers take on the Colorado Buffaloes in Boulder, CO. The LawChick has vowed to kick me out of our carpool because -- as much as I hated to do it -- I picked Colorado to win in our office pool. I love Pat White, but I also love picking the winner. Now, I hope I'm wrong and that it all comes together for the mighty Mounties tomorrow night, but the first two games just weren't pretty. At all. You know who is pretty, though? My secret boyfriend Pat White...



Tune in tomorrow night at 8:30pm on ESPN.

Ten on Tuesday

1. I'm having another blue period. I need to start marking these down on my calendar so I can figure out what the pattern is. I don't think it can be qualified as depression since (a) it's not that frequent and (b) it doesn't interfere with my daily living.

2. Kroger is a veritable gold mine of good deals this week. If you have a Kroger nearby, you need to check out the 10 for $10 deals.

3. Sweet crude oil is down to $91 a barrel, yet regular unleaded is still $4.05 a gallon around these parts. How is it that gas is more expensive now than it was in July, when crude was $147 a barrel? And do not say "Hurricane Ike." It's not Ike. It's a con job. Just wait until the oil companies report their profits for the quarter...they'll prove me right.

4. My celly has only rung once in two days. Has everyone forgotten about me?

5. It is entirely possible that in January, there will be 3 women on the West Virginia Supreme Court of Appeals. There are only 5 justices on the Court! Can you imagine? But with 2 of the 3 candidates for the 2 open seats being women, it seems fairly probable. Of course, on the other hand, the very thought of 3 women on the Court probably strikes so much fear in the hearts of West Virginia men that they will be pushed to vote for Menis Ketchum, if for no other reason than to preserve the balance of power. Even 2 women on the Court are 2 too many, right fellas?

6. My car is infested with spiders. I have seen 3 in it in the last 2 days! OK, so 2 of them were rather tiny, but what...the...junk?!

7. I bought 2 big rust-colored mums for my front porch tonight. I'm determined to make myself water them faithfully and not let them die this year.

8. Did you know that navy pants are even more difficult to find than the elusive gray pump? Apparently neither exists in nature.

9. I have decided that I am no longer sending my nieces and nephews birthday money and/or gifts after they turn 22 or graduate from college. That may sound harsh, but please appreciate it from my perspective: I currently have 12 nieces and nephews. I currently have 1 single, almost paltry income. I currently have both a house payment and a car payment and a rather expensive beer habit. (I'm kidding about the beer habit. Sort of.) The "kids" are officially adults when they either graduate from college or turn 22, at least in my book. I certainly don't get birthday gifts from my aunts and uncles anymore. So I think it's perfectly fair to draw a line, and I'm drawing one.

10. OK, OK, I have procrastinated long enough...I'm going to clean my house now.

UPDATE: Tough Call

I'm still alive! It must have been chicken. Although, I did panic a little when Jaye mentioned that I'd just get used to the smell if it was gas. So I would make myself breathe through my mouth for a few minutes at a time to give my olfactory senses a rest, then walk back to the entryway and take a deep breath in through my nose. Naturally, I kept thinking I caught a whiff of gas, but I'm convinced I was just psyching myself out. I have a tendency to do that. The important thing is that I didn't die in my sleep.

Would You Have Been a Nazi?

So Laurel had this very interesting quiz on her blog this evening, and I took it. Really, I wasn't that worried about what my result would be. I was pretty confident that I wouldn't have been a Nazi, and, as it turns out, I wouldn't have. No, I would've been worse than a Nazi...I would've been a person who stood by and did nothing. It's frightening and eye-opening, and it makes me want to re-evaluate the way I look at the world around me. What about you?

Your result for The Would You Have Been a Nazi Test...

The Everyday German

Achtung! You are 54% brainwashworthy, 36% antitolerant, and 33% blindly patriotic

Had you lived in Germany in the 1930s, you'd have probably just gone along with the flow. Men with guns are surrounding the house next door? The bagel place on the corner's gone? Hmm...whatever.


The data show you're a decent person who's willing to listen to what people of authority tell you. That's what most people are, and in most times and most places, that's ok. But not then; not there.


The sad conclusion: you would've missed your Jewish friends, but you would've done nothing about it. Seriously. But rest assured, you would've forgiven yourself eventually.






The Would You Have Been A Nazi? Test

- it rules -

Take The Would You Have Been a Nazi Test at HelloQuizzy

Tough Call

When I walked into my house a little while ago, I thought it might smell like gas. But then I thought maybe it just smelled like rotten chicken. I couldn't really tell. I did have a chicken tray and a pork tray in my garbage from last night, and though they were wrapped up in two grocery bags, they could well have been the culprits. So I took them out to the garbage, but I'm still not sure...is it gas or chicken? I do feel a little nauseated, but that may be from the anxiety of trying to determine if it's gas or chicken. How embarrassing would it be, though, to call out the gas company and have them say, "Lady, you don't smell gas, you smell garbage!" I'm going to give it a few more minutes and see if I can figure it out.

You Knew SNL Would Begin This Way...

...and it didn't disappoint.

It's Official...

...I am allergic to Marshall. No, really, I am. I got hoodwinked into going to their football game yesterday, so I borrowed a t-shirt from my friend, Cheryl (the hoodwinker), which I wore to the game. This morning when I woke up, my chest was completely broken out in a rash! There you go.

* * * * * *

In other Saturday evening news, TJ sent me a text message last night to tell me that he had gotten a new tattoo. Why he felt compelled to tell me, I don't know. Of course, I bit and asked what the tattoo was, and he said it was his last name and that it is on his right arm. My response. "Very original. And safe." Do you think sarcasm translates in a text message? More to the point, could he love himself any more?

* * * * * *

I have spent the last two Fridays and the last two Saturdays as the sober, responsible member of my drinking group. I have severely limited my beer intake and have stopped drinking early on in the evenings so that I am in full control of my faculties when I leave. I have also been leaving the bars early...ish. (Earlier than I used to anyway.) At about 1:15 this morning, after I had left the barroom drama behind and dropped off my drunken charge, I had an epiphany: I don't ever again want to be in the mix of the barroom drama or be the drunken charge. The best way for me to stay out of those positions? Extract myself. Obviously, these people are my friends, and I do genuinely have a good time when I'm out with them, so I probably won't stay away completely. However, I can have a good time and still only have a couple or three beers; and I can have a good time and still be home in bed by midnight. I wonder why I didn't think of this months ago?

Voting Issues

I'm always fascinated by what issues people choose to turn their votes on. I don't mean that to be as condescending as it sounds. I don't mean that I think other people are idiots because they base their votes on things that I find irrelevant. I don't believe that at all. I mean that it is truly interesting to me what issues can turn the tide. I was having an e-mail discussion with a friend of mine the other day, and her voting issues were abortion, gay marriage, and embryonic stem cell research. For me, those are not voting issues, at least not for the office of President.

When I vote for President, I think of the broader spectrum issues: What will impact the very governing of this country? What will impact our relationships with other nations around the world? What will bring an end to war around the globe? What will improve our economy? What will impact the planet itself? What will benefit the greater good? I focus on social issues, like poverty, war, disease, and cultural issues. I focus on economic health and strength. I focus on the planet. And I focus on how we can best mend fences and build bridges around the world.

Abortion is not a voting issue for me at all. It is something that will never again be illegal in this country (not that I think it should be). I believe in regulating abortion, and our government is doing that. But we will never again live in a country where abortion is illegal. Hell, George W. Bush appointed two justices to the Supreme Court, and abortion is still legal. Granted, the "right case" hasn't come up to test Roe v. Wade under this new Court, but I think that, if anything, any changes to Roe v. Wade would be minor. Do I like that abortion exists? No, I don't. To my mind, there is not a single scenario that justifies ending the life of a child; and I believe that life begins at conception. I could never have an abortion myself. However, I am so grateful to have the right to make the decision to not have an abortion that I could never justify denying another woman the right to have an abortion if she feels it is necessary.

Now, I suppose one could argue that abortion, as a medical procedure, has an impact on the economy, especially in an environment of increasing talk of socialized medicine. But the opposite could be said, too: If unwanted or gravely sick or disabled children are born into the world, there is an impact on society and the economy. But back to my point, at its very base, abortion is a personal choice issue. It is not an issue that effects global interests or even the daily governing of this country. So, for me, it is not a voting issue.

Likewise, gay marriage is not a voting issue for me. It is a moral issue for some, but not for me. Love is love is love is love. Homosexual couples have just as much right to express and live that love as heterosexual couples. Besides, what is the difference between Bob and Bill living together as "partners" or as a "married couple"? Are they still not living together as a homosexual couple? It is a simple matter of semantics, and semantics -- in this case anyway -- do not effect the greater good or the governing of our country. If Bob and Bill get married, will global warming increase? No. If Sue and Jane get married, will the war in Iraq drag on longer? Of course not. If Andy and Jim make it legal, will the economy tank? Absolutely not. The world will keep turning, the country will not fall into total disarray, and we will all go on living our happy little lives. Why? Because, again, it is a personal choice issue that really only affects those people involved in the relationship. I appreciate that some think that homosexual married couples will put a "drain" on the insurance industry, but if Bob married Sue instead of Bill, the insurance company would have to pay out to Sue, right? So what is the difference? Again, it's not a voting issue for me.

As for embryonic stem cell research, it goes back to the abortion issue. But here's what I think about it: If there are 100,000 embryos out there that were created by infertile couples who no longer need or wish to use them, and if they're going to be destroyed anyway, then why shouldn't the greater good benefit from them? Now, don't get me wrong. I would hate for embryos to be created for the sole purpose of testing; but if they already exist and are going to be destroyed, then why shouldn't people like my cousin Danny, who is suffering from ALS, benefit from the life they could potentially bring. Isn't it a greater sin to waste that microscopic life altogether than to benefit mankind from it? But, once again, this is not an issue that affects international relations or global warming or poverty, so it is not a voting issue in my mind.

So what are my voting issues exactly? Well, first, taxes. Call me crazy, but I don't mind paying them, and, frankly, we cannot function as a nation without them. How would we support this multi-trillion dollar war without tax revenue? How would we maintain the infrastructure without taxes? How would we subsidize alternate energy research without tax dollars? We wouldn't. And "user fees" are just taxes that get passed on to the poor and marginally poor. Do you think Donald Trump would be contributing any of his billions of dollars in a "user fee" system? No. He wouldn't be using public transportation or other public systems because he already owns everything he needs. It would be the poor, minimum-wage dad who is trying to feed four kids and keep a roof over their heads who would be supporting the government. So to me, it's important to vote for a candidate who recognizes that taxes are a necessary evil and that they should be paid based on what you can afford to pay.

Another voting issue for me is the environment. I'll make this short and sweet: I don't want to leave my grandchildren a planet that has been destroyed by our greed.

I also focus on social programs. I won't dwell on that one because I have already discussed my feelings on social programs. Suffice it to say that my ideal candidate recognizes his responsibility to his fellow man.

And I vote for peace. I suppose there are times when war is necessary. Certainly, if you are attacked, you must defend yourself. But I don't ever believe that we should be the aggressor. And I don't believe that war should be on-going and unending. Drawing war to a close is not an admission of defeat. We aren't talking about a blinking contest here. We're talking about the lives of hundreds of thousands of service men and women, not to mention the lives of hundreds of thousands of often innocent civilians.

So that's it. That's what is important to me: The greater good. That is my voting issue.

Ponder This...

All pro-lifers are anti-abortion; but not all anti-abortioners are pro-life. I'll send a $10 Target gift card to the first person who can explain why this is true. And it is true.

(Pardon the political posts. You know I don't generally post about my politics, but an e-mail I received yesterday got me thinking about all these things.)

Quotable Quotes

From a comment made to a recent post:

"I am the reason the phrase, 'A little knowledge is dangerous in the hands of an idiot with a web connection,' was coined (just 10 seconds ago). JBF, Son of Patricia and Giulio, who with Jonathan's Mommy, begot Jonathan."

Now, I'm not sure, but I imagine Jonathan't Mommy is sighing heavily and shaking her head right now. Hey, I thought it was funny!

Hmmm...What Do You Think?

I am forever getting junk e-mail from companies trying to sell me things to better manage my "law office." I just received one about the BodyBilt Attorney Ergonomic Chair, which, apparently, lawyers in my area are swarming over. (Right.) To try to attract even more business in the area, BodyBilt is offering a special price on "a custom built high back executive chair, with neckroll and memory foam in the back and seat, for $ 1199.00 (man made leather), which includes shipping to your office in Charleston." Hmmm..."man made leather," you say? Is that what we here in Charleston like to call VINYL?! Thanks, but I think I'll pass on your $1200 pleather office chair.

I Was Able to Mow...At Last!

I mowed tonight for the first time since I sprained my ankle 7 weeks ago. I feel so incredibly accomplished right now. And Lord knows my lawn looks better! I was really beginning to feel bad about my neighbors having to look at it in the state it was in.

It wasn't so bad for the first couple of weeks after I got back from Boston. We hadn't had rain in weeks, so the grass really hadn't grown much. (Brown grass tends not to grow.) Then Rod came over one day about 3 weeks ago and ever so kindly mowed my lawn for me. Again, it didn't rain for a couple of weeks, so it was slow to grow back. But then it rained over Labor Day weekend and again this week. The grass began to get a little unruly, and I knew I had to do something. I hated to ask Rod to do it again, and I couldn't justify paying someone to do it. My ankle doesn't really hurt so much anymore, so the only question was whether the swelling had gone down enough for me to get my tennis shoes on. I may not be the most mechanically inclined girl in the world, but I know that you can't mow in flip-flops!

Well, I was able to get my tennis shoes on (although twisting my foot into them hurt a little), so I grabbed my iPod and dragged out the ol' lawn mower. Sad, neglected thing. I think I heard it weeping as I pulled it out. (Actually, I think what I heard was my neighbor's geriatric shitzu attempting to bark at me.) I managed to finish in under an hour. I was so proud of myself and my freshly manicured lawn that I hardly noticed that my ankle was throbbing...and that I was limping...and that my foot was swelling against my tennis shoe. I think it was pushing the mower up the incline in my front yard that did me in. But at least my neighbors won't be throwing rotten tomatoes at my door any time soon.

I'm a Christian and a Liberal. Go Figure.

* I don't mind social programs. One of the tenets of Christianity is "Feed the hungry, clothe the poor, shelter the homeless, and tend to the sick." I don't remember there being a caveat that said, "Unless, of course, it costs you. Then let them fend for themselves."

* God said that if there were even just 10 righteous people found in Sodom, he would not destroy the city. Surely there are at least 10 worthy people on the welfare rolls, so why should we scrap the whole program?

* Jesus taught us that we should forgive those who trespass against us. I don't believe that he said that we should forgive those who trespass against us...unless they commit a capital crime...and in that case, we should strap them to chair, put a wet sponge on their heads, and send electricity coursing through their bodies until they stop breathing.

* It's very kind of you to donate a bag full of canned corn to your local food pantry. However, it's truly noble to offer your tax dollars so as to provide educational and vocational training to the people who come to that food pantry. Then they can get a job, feed their families on their own, and make their own donation to the food pantry. "Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for life."

* Even Jesus shared a meal or two with the tax collector. Why should I slam the door in his face and curse him?

* "Love your neighbor as yourself" -- that teaching makes no distinction as to what kind of neighbor you should love. Black or white, Christian or Jew or Muslim, Republican or Democrat. They are all your neighbor.

* Jesus was the Prince of Peace, without qualification.

So see? Being a liberal is just as much in line with Christianity as being a follower of any other political philosophy.

Would It Be SO Wrong?

A friend of mine said he was looking for a house, and I was bored one day at work, so I went online and started looking at some of the local listings. Lo and behold, I saw that Brian's house -- my old house -- was on the market. Naturally, I pulled up the listing and started looking through the pictures. He had painted some of the rooms, had pulled up the carpet, had replaced light fixtures, and had re-done the landscaping -- all things that I had wanted to do when we lived together because they desperately needed to be done. Lazy ass that he was, he never wanted to tackle any of them. And by the time I decided to take on a few things myself, we were about 6 weeks away from breaking up (unbeknownst to me).


I was curious to see just what and how much he had done (it's hard to tell in those pictures), and his asking price was so high that my curiosity was peaked. Listing it at $15,000 more than he had paid for it, he must have made some real improvements. So I called a realtor friend of mine, and he set up an appointment. I knew from the pictures that the house was practically devoid of furniture, so I knew there was no chance that I would run into Brian. It seemed perfect, so Rod and I met up at the house this evening to take a look around. All I can say is WOW! Brian is a bigger lazy ass than I ever knew!

While he had ripped up the carpet in 2 rooms, he hadn't bothered to refinish or even wax the floors; and they desperately need to be refinished. He didn't repaint the living room, dining room, or one of the spare rooms, all of which needed painted. The rooms he did repaint, he painted this horrible pale greenish-yellowish color...and he did a really, really crappy job at that. He hadn't done any work on the bathrooms, nor had he bothered to rip up the hideous bright blue carpet in the office. The landscaping was strange -- hostas along the wall of the house with boxwoods planted in front of them. The boxwoods are too close together and will be overcrowded in about 3 years. The only positive changes he made were in replacing a few light fixtures (and they really were an improvement), replacing the stove, and covering the old asbestos tile in the basement with vinyl tiles.

As we walked through the house, Rod started opening cabinets and closets and such. I began taking inventory: "Those are my old dishes. I left this stepladder; my parents bought it for us. That's my trashcan. I bought that electric broom. That's my toolbox. I bought the hose. I bought the lawn chairs..." I had left all of those things behind because when I moved out of the house, I moved into a 2-bedroom apartment, so (a) I didn't have need for some of them and (b) I didn't have room for some of them. Of course, now I do have a house, and I could use and store all of those things. I looked at Rod and said, "Would it be so wrong if I took these things with me? They are mine, after all." (Hey, I didn't even think about touching the $100 or $200 of change collected in the Glenfiddich box in the top of his closet, so don't judge me. Besides, I didn't actually take any of those things that I was rightfully entitled to.)

As I took one last spin through the place, I was underwhelmed...and oddly disappointed. I had almost wanted to be blown away. I had almost wanted to think that Brian had somehow become some really incredibly motivated person and that he had taken life by the horns after we broke up. It's strange, but I thought that maybe I had been stifling him all those years, and maybe he had finally started living life with some sort of gusto. He hadn't. He hadn't changed at all. How do I know? Well, one of the things that we had bickered over were his tobacco spit cups. He would leave them lying around on the floor, by the couch or the bed, and I was always tripping over them. One night, I had had enough, and I went off like a firecracker. The cups disappeared...until they reappeared...tucked away in the built-in cabinets in the den. What. The. Hell?! THROW THEM AWAY!!! WHAT ARE YOU SAVING THEM FOR?!?!?! Fast-forward to tonight, and there in those same built-in cabinets...spit cups! (How's that for a selling point?) Yep, absolutely, positively no feeling of loss or regret at all.

Ten on Tuesday

1. Wow. I'm just...I'm so...shocked. I mean, here I am, up and practically ready to go to work with time to spare. Mark your calendar, folks, because it'll be somewhere around the 12th of Never that this happens again.

2. I have discovered that it isn't alcohol that makes me do incredibly stupid things. (Shocker.) Apparently, I am capable of doing really regrettable things even when I've hardly had anything at all to drink, thank you very much.

3. Facebook: the new crack. Just say no.

4. I still love my side-swept bangs. I thought I'd hate them by now, but so far, so good.

5. I have to go grocery shopping tonight. Real grocery shopping. I have run through my stockpile from my last "real" grocery shopping trip. I hate it when that happens.

6. The new Junior League year has started, and I'm afraid. Very afraid. Lack of leadership at the top = disaster. I'm sorry, but when the second word of your "President's Message" is misspelled in the newsletter... (We won't even talk about the misplaced punctuation, the run-on sentences, and the other misspellings.)

7. I am wearing my new favorite dress to work today. It's an Ann Taylor LOFT dress that I bought at Gabe's a couple of weeks ago for $25. LOVE. IT.

8. All the morons on my WVU sports chat board are calling for Coach Stew and his staff to be fired. Um, hello! How is that a solution? The problem is that we have a new coach, a modified offense, and a young defense. So you want to bring in another new coach with another modified game plan who will have to work with the same young defense? And this would help how?

9. My new favorite song just came on VH-1 -- "Closer" by Ne-yo. I love it. Don't know why, but I do.

10. The LawChick and I got to watch a little bit of the World's Strongest Man competition yesterday. They are taping it in Charleston, and they made a stop at the Capitol. It was absolutely fascinating.

Barack-Rolled!

If you haven't heard, there's this little game out there called "Rick-Rolling." Someone sends you a link for a clip or a picture that is purportedly about something benal -- say a photo of Angelina Jolie holding her newest geographically diverse child -- but when you follow the link, you find Rick Astley super-imposed over the kid. Well, someone created this little gem in the vein of Barack-Rolling...

Definitely Not About a Cigarette

So last night, I was down at Hank's, and I was talking to my friend, Beth Anne, who happens to be Sean's roommate. I said, "So did you hear about Sean and Courtenay getting into a fight the other night?" Well, shit fire, did that ever open a can of worms. She said, "Yes, I did. And what is this whole thing all about anyway?" I told her that it was purportedly over a cigarette, and she gave me that "bullshit" look and said, "That's not what Sean told me." She proceeded to tell me that in Sean's version of the story, it was all about Courtenay following me to the bar and how wrong and disrespectful it was because Courtenay knew I was going down there to "be with" Sean. Wow. Not one mention of the cigarette. I mean, I was enjoying thinking that it wasn't about the cigarette, but I was a little gobsmacked to have that ego-boosting notion confirmed for me. And I was a little pissed off, too, especially as B.A. continued her story.

B.A. told me that she basically gave Sean up the river over this whole mess of a situation between he and I. When she questioned what was going on between us, Sean said, "Nothing. We're just friends." B.A. told Sean that she didn't think I thought we were just friends, and Sean said, "Well, she and I have never talked about it." B.A. said, "And that's not right. You're my friend, and I don't want to see you get hurt or taken advantage of." I thanked her for her concern, but, in defense of Sean, I explained that, in fact, he and I had talked about our situation (why he said we hadn't, I don't know) and that I was perfectly aware and fine that we were just friends. I said, though, that I did have a problem with him acting like some jealous boyfriend when he wasn't and didn't have aspirations to be my boyfriend. She said, "And that's exactly how he is. He wants to go out and party and do his thing, and he doesn't want be tied down to a girlfriend, but he doesn't want anyone else to have you either. That's not right."

The more I thought about it, the more upset I got. And then I started to feel strangely flattered by it all. But then I got upset again. And then he walked in, and I was all smiles and flirty. And the more I think about that, the more upset I get with myself. I find myself in these dysfunctional situations because I allow myself to be put in them. When will I decide to break the cycle?

Meltdown of Epic Proportions

OK, so maybe it wasn't that bad. After all, the Pitt loss last season was markedly worse. But sheesh! Could the Mountaineers have played much worse yesterday? I knew they wouldn't cover the spread, and I thought there was the slightest chance that they might even lose, but I had no idea that they'd only put 3 points on the board. A few observations:

1. My beloved Pat White threw away the Heisman on that "fumble." I know some think it was a questionable call, but that was a rookie mistake. Pat White -- as much as I love him -- shouldn't be making those sorts of mistakes.

2. I had to laugh (nervously) when Coach Stew was heading into the locker room at halftime, and he told Holly Rowe something to the effect of, "Well, this isn't how we wanted to play, but as long as we're having fun," or something like that. OK. I'm catching what you're throwing and I like that you're so laid back, but how was that first half fun? And the second half definitely was not fun.

3. Noel Devine. I'm just not seeing what everyone else sees. I know he's young, and I know he needs a little experience, but to me, he's no Steve Slaton. And he keeps talking about how he would like to get 20-30 touches a game, almost as if he is entitled to it...I foresee ego issues for young Mr. Devine.

4. If anyone out there finds our defense, could you please return it to the Athletic Department c/o Mountaineer Field at Milan Puskar Stadium, Morgantown, WV 26505. Thank you.

5. Speaking of the defense, don't you imagine Reed Williams was dying there on sidelines yesterday? I honestly think that he is a big enough impact player that Reed could have single-handedly salvaged at least half of those defensive plays, and he knows it. Get well soon, Reed!

6. I bet that was the longest trip home yesterday for those boys. "Dadgumit! That sure was a tough one to swallow, wasn't it? But golly, boys, I just couldn't be prouder of you. And I hope you had fun 'cause I had fun, and that's what it's all about." I'd almost think you'd rather be yelled at than to have someone try to convince you that there was an up side to that loss.

7. The boys have 11 days to get over it, get their defense together, and get their game back on the field before Colorado. Is that enough time?

8. And, finally, for my Marshall-fan friends, say what you will about WVU's loss yesterday. I think, though, that it's better to lose to an underdog than to be the underdog in every single game you play and not have anyone expect you to win. Ever. (P.S. ECU will tear you apart. You won't surprise them this year.)

Gameday Pat White

Here's your gameday photo of Pat White. The Mountaineers take on the ECU Pirates at 4:30pm in Greenville. The game will be carried on ESPN, so tune in and watch for the Chief!

Old Friends

About 5 or 6 years ago, I was at a Junior League new member meet-and-greet when I met a girl named Kim who had just moved to West Virginia from North Carolina with her new husband Joey. She seemed a little nervous, but was so eager to meet people and find a place in the community. When I say she was the sweetest, friendliest girl I have ever met, I am not exaggerating. She is, after all, a southern girl. More than that, though, she was just a genuinely good person. I instantly fell in love with Kim.

When we decided to hold off our provisional class until the spring to wait for a few more new members, Kim still came to every single meeting and even joined my Monte Carlo Night committee. She was full of energy and incredible ideas, and, again, she was so sweet. Everyone was completely knocked of their feet by her, and she immediately became everyone's best friend. She was such a hard worker and was so focused on whatever task she took on, but she knew how to have a good time, too. The southern belle had a rotten streak, and she could absolutely leave you in stitches. When she chaired Monte Carlo Night herself the next year, not only did we make more money than we had ever made on the event, but it was the most fun Monte Carlo Night we had ever had -- all thanks to Kim. So you can imagine how heartbroken I was when she moved back to North Carolina...literally the very next morning.

Now, people come and go from Huntington with some frequency. First of all, it's a college town. Obviously, students don't tend to stay once they've graduated. Second of all, it's a dying town. Young people have to go where the jobs are, and that's not here. So I am used to meeting people and only having them in my lives for a few years. But I never got over Kim leaving. I often miss her and Joey and think of what a shame it is that they're so far away now. Of course, they're back with their families, so it's perfect for them, and I know they missed home while they were here. Still, I wish we could at least clone Kim!

So last weekend, when I received an e-mail from Kim saying that she and Joey and their beautiful baby girl would be in town this weekend, I nearly cried! And when she called yesterday to say that they had made it in safely and would out and about town, I did a happy dance as I was driving down the interstate! I met up with them at a local restaurant where they had had dinner, and Kim sent Joey and Avary back to the hotel (it was past poor Avary's bedtime) so we could go have a drink and catch up a little.

It was like not a day had passed. She was still fun and funny and so sweet, and we had the best time! We talked and laughed and shared stories and laughed some more. I only had two beers and practically ignored Sean the whole night because I didn't want to miss a beat. That's how excited I was to see Kim again.

I wish she and Joey and Avary could stay forever, but I know they can't; and I know I'll miss her again when she's gone. I am so glad she called, though. Her friends in North Carolina are the luckiest girls in the world, and I hope they know that!

With Their Own Two Hands

My dad began his career in education as a shop teacher. Eventually, he would become a principal, then the assistant superintendent of schools in our county, and finally a professor at WVU; but he began as a simple shop teacher. Of course, back in the '60s, when both he and my mom were school teachers making about $8000 a year each (and only paid September through June) and raising four children, he had to do things to supplement his income. So he managed our local swimming pool in the summers and did odd jobs for people, building cabinets or furniture or things like that. He was really very good at it, and his skills saved us a lot of money over the years. When the addition of two more kids put a crimp on sleeping arrangements, my dad turned the attic space above our garage into a bedroom, complete with a walk-in closet, built-in drawers, and two cubby holes. When they tore down the old barn on my grandparents' farm, my dad took some of the wormy chestnut wood planks and turned them into two entertainment centers and a few other pieces of furniture. When my mom wanted to redo the kitchen in the '80s, my dad built all of the new cabinets and installed them all himself. (Of course, he was a total bear to live with for those 6 weeks, so when she remodeled the kitchen in the '90s, she insisted that they hire a cabinet maker!) When my mom wanted to add on to the house in 1988, my dad and Mike did all the construction work themselves, adding not only to my parents' bedroom and bathroom and to the dining room, but also adding a whole new bathroom for the attic bedroom. When my dad decided that he needed a new woodshop, he and Mike built a new barn from the ground up. And when my mom went to Amish country and fell in love with a beautiful, handcrafted gazebo, my dad built this:


He designed and built it based on pictures my mom had taken of gazebos she liked. This picture scarcely does it justice, but I hope you can see the skill that went into it. He even built a picnic table to go with it.


The table actually comes apart, and the tabletop halves can be folded back to make two matching benches. (Mom and I tried to pull it apart so I could get a picture of the benches, too, but between the rain and humidity, the wooden pins that hold the halves together to make the tabletop had swollen, and we were afraid we'd break them if we forced it.)

My dad passed his hobby onto Mike. Mike's woodworking hobby began with go-carts and grew into carving wooden trivets, finishing his own basement, building the boys a treehouse, adding a deck to their pool, and making each of the older nieces and nephews musical piggy banks (each with its own special design and song). For Lily, who is his god-daughter, he made this incredible piece:


He built it without a pattern and finished every piece by hand, right down to the two round eyes.

Mike had also started this tradition that whenever his sisters got married or bought a house, he would make them a bucket, which he carefully painted a little design on (either an apple with two little apple blossoms and leaves or a heart with two little decorative curls on either side). Most of my sisters and my mom use their buckets to put newspapers or magazines in. Well, I never got a bucket because when I bought my house, Mike was sick. Actually, after Mike passed away, I found out that he had something else in mind anyway. He had bought some wood and drawn up plans to build me a little secretary desk. He didn't even get to start the desk, though, because he was so sick from chemo, and whatever energy he could find, he focused on the boys, of course. My dad discovered, though, that he did have some pieces for buckets cut and in various stages of being completed, so he took one that was nearly complete, finished it, sanded it, and stained it. Neither he nor my sister-in-law could find the patterns Mike used for the little painted designs, but I don't care. I have my bucket, which is really a piece of Mikey, and that's all that matters. Here it is:


My bucket is maybe even more special than the other buckets because my dad and Mike built it together, albeit worlds apart and at different places in time.

John Stewart in '12!

The man just gets it!

I'm Joining a Convent!

Boys are nothing but trouble. No, really. It's true. Trouble, with a capital "T." So first it was "him." The office manager called me today and said, "Is your 'TJ' Thomas J. D[fill in the blank]?" "Yep, that's him," I said. She said, "Well, then I won't assign you this case. But do you happen to have his office number?" I didn't have his new office number, but I did have his cell number. Since neither one of us could come up with his office number, she took his cell number instead. When she called his cell, he said, "So, can I just ask how you got this number?" The office manager, clever girl that she is, said, "Well, I'm just very resourceful." Of course, he knew all along how she got the number. He said, "Did my very good friend at the Court give it to you?" "Maybe," she replied. "And would that very good friend be Lara?" he asked. "Possibly," she replied. And then he said -- and I could gag -- "She is a real sweetheart!" Right. A real sweetheart. Well, this "sweetheart" thinks you're full of shit! As much as I didn't want it to, it totally ruined my afternoon. So when Sean sent me a text later and asked if I was going out for a beer, I said "Yes!"

So after work and mass (where I read), I went down to Hank's. Sean didn't arrive until around 9:00. By then, George had shown up, and he and I were talking. Even still, when Sean finally walked in, I made all over him. But I couldn't get away from George. Eventually, Cheryl, who had come out herself for a few drinks, left. On the way out the door, she whispered, "Someone is very jealous!" I looked over my shoulder at Sean, but he didn't even so much as glance at me. I wrote her comment off and resumed my conversation with George.

Then Sean left. He sent me a text message telling me where he was going, and I told him I'd meet him there. But in the meantime, an old law school classmate of mine came into Hank's. He and I started talking, and before you know it, he said he'd walk with me to St. Mark's, where Sean was waiting.

Now, in all fairness, Courtenay (my law school classmate) grates on the nerves of a lot of people. Sean is, apparently, no exception. Not long after Courtenay and I walked into St. Mark's, Courtenay bummed a cigarette from Sean. No big deal. But 15 minutes later, when Courtenay reached for Sean's last cigarette, all hell broke loose. Before I knew it, I was in the middle of an all-out verbal confrontation that was 5 seconds away from breaking into a fist fight. I stepped in -- quite literally -- as did the bartender, and tempers seemed to subside. And then he said it. Sean said, "He followed you down here, and he followed you down here for a reason." Immediately, I thought of what Cheryl had said on her way out of Hank's..."Someone is very jealous." I almost couldn't help myself. I said, "Wow. Seriously? Are you peeing on my leg like some dog?" Sean insisted that it was about the cigarette, and maybe it was. I don't know. But he said what he said.

We all stayed at St. Mark's for another hour or so, and then Courtenay left...with my apologies for Sean. After Courtenay left, I apologized to Sean for Courtenay. (Let's face it, their earlier apologies to each other were shallow and of the "I'm sorry you were an ass" type.) And then Sean and I said goodbye...agreeing to meet back at my place. I knew it was a bad idea for a million different reasons. No, a billion different reasons. He knew it was a bad idea, too. Just as I was walking in the door, he sent me a text message saying that he thought it was a better idea if he just went on home. "Whatever you feel is best," I said, breathing a sigh of relief.

I really think this is a sign that it's time for me to join the Sisters of Mercy or something. I'm only half-kidding here...

The Fog That Ate Kingwood

After the game Saturday, my sister-in-law and the boys and I stopped at mass on the way home. From there, I went over to Preston High to watch Alex and Erica run in a cross country meet. Now, call me crazy, but I can't think of anything more dangerous than running cross country in the dark. No, wait...I take that back. Running in the dark and the fog might be more dangerous than running in the dark, but what do I know? I'm not a runner. Anyway, it was the biggest cluster ever. Every single one of the races started late, and by the time the college kids ran (Erica's group), you couldn't see a thing for all the fog. Don't believe me? Take a look...


OK, so it wasn't so bad in the beginning. Look, there's Lindsey! Hi, Lindsey! I can see her perfectly clearly.


And there's Erica with her friend Aubrey (on the left). Hi, Erica and Aubrey!


Whew! Alex made it through the course, glow stick in hand. So we didn't lose anyone in that race, thank goodness!


But this is what the starting line looked like just 10 minutes later. Can't see it? Here, let me zoom in a little...


Still can't see it? Hmmm...I don't know what to tell you. About 20 minutes later, they called Erica's race...


Yes, she was only about 15 feet away from me; and, yes, you can literally see the particles of fog in this picture. She was pouting, of course. I mean, who would want to run through the woods in conditions like that...especially after your aunt warns you that the woods out on the farm are inhabited by foxes and bears. Don't worry, I made sure to get her entry number just in case we had to identify her bear-maimed body at the coroner's office later. I'm kidding. She made it back alive.


I love this picture of Alex. The diffused light overhead casts down an almost angelic aura over her...and her "Run Naked" shirt...which says "It puts color in your cheeks!" on the back...

I Thought I Would Never Make It!

I didn't think I could wait for football season, but it's finally here, and somehow I made it through the long, hot summer! Saturday started off a little rough, with pouring rain and gray skies; but by the time we left for the stadium, the skies had cleared. In fact, it was a pretty perfect football Saturday.

The defense looked a little flat, but my secret boyfriend went 25 for 33 in the air and led the Mountaineers to a 48-21 victory. Of course I took some pictures...


They put up a new "ribbon board" on the east side. Apparently, there will be a matching one on the west side, but it wasn't installed for the first game. All the east siders said, "Hey, where was that new ribbon board everyone was talking about? I didn't see it." Duuuuuuuhhhhh, gee, Dopey, I dunno! Morons. We west siders are far more sophisticated than the east siders.


They also installed a new video scoreboard, which I'm sort of "meh" about. Don't get me wrong, I love the newer, better video panel, but I'm not crazy about the rest. And as someone pointed out, it doesn't say "Mountaineer Field."


My boys getting pumped up before the game.


And now...let's bring on...THE MOUNTAINEERS!!!


During one of the time-outs, they recognized the women's cross country team for their accomplishments last year. That's my baby girl, Erica, leading the pack off the field. See her?


There she is! Erica is a junior at WVU this year. I'd feel old, but I'm only her aunt (a very young aunt!) and not her mother. Thank God.


As ever, Ryan was having a good time.

Tyler? Not so much. He kept saying, "Can we go for a walk?"


But he still put on his game face for the camera.


Paddy Mac anyone? He let loose with a 52-yard field goal. I would totally be in love with Pat McAfee, if not for this guy...


Pat White, you are my ain' true love.


My beloved with Noel Devine.


And with Alric Arnett. Erica says Pat was looking to the sidelines for the play call, but I know better...he was looking for me in the stands...even though he doesn't know that I exist.