Journalism & Junk

Quote of the Day: "Don't you wish you had a job like mine? All you have to do is think up a certain number of words! Plus, you can repeat words! And they don't even have to be true!" - Dave Barry

So, for the last year or so, in addition to my writing, I've been doing some, well, we'll call it "journalism." I wouldn't call myself a journalist, but I do get to interview some folks and write about some things so other folks can read them. It's been kind of fun and definitely a learning experience, but if I had to guess, I'd say I'm not very good at it.

Case in point: last December, a few days before Christmas, I had to find some random people at a park to talk to. For some reason, my dad ended up going along. It took a while for me to convince someone to talk to me, and once I did, it was a nice, elderly couple who talked at great length about things irrelevant to the story (which was nice, because I didn't have a clue what to ask them). By the time I was finished, my father, who had been watching from a distance, started calling me "Borat."

Sure, my journalism skills are probably more suited for The Daily Show than CNN or Fox, but somehow I've managed to build a little bit of a career for myself here, and admittedly, I kind of like it.

I think. (It's hard for me to come to grips with this because I've always been so anti-media.)

A couple of weeks ago, I was out about when I was approached with a problem. A problem that I thought would both make a good story and do some good for the community. I interviewed the right people to get the facts and wrote the story up and the next thing I know, everyone in the world either loves or hates me. There is no gray area. I've got some people griping that I lied. I've got some people coming to me like I am the only person who can save the world. It was pretty daunting. I made some friends (and most likely, some enemies), and in the end, I literally just wanted to bury my head in the sand. No wonder people hate reporters so much; I felt like an asshole for writing what I thought was a nice, yet unbiased story to the best of my ability.

If people flip over what I wrote about, I can only imagine how, say, Jake Tapper or Ed Henry feels. For a (very) brief moment, I felt guilty for all the ill-will I've harbored for reporters over the years.

On the other hand, my dad started calling me "Geraldo." I guess that's an improvement of sorts.

After that, someone sent me a tip about a federal issue that has seeped into my little corner of the world, so I started working on that. No one would talk to me about it. NO ONE. I sent my poor editor about 20 emails explaining that no one would talk to me. After sending the 20th one, I finally got someone to talk to me, only after warning me that it would be very brief because he was very busy. I tried to type what this guy was saying as he talked (we were on the phone) (I still haven't quite mastered getting exact quotes without secretly recording people - I mean, is there some easy way to do this?), but he kept going off on tangents that had nothing to do with what I asked him, and I had no idea what he was talking about anyway. I'd gotten the details that I needed for my story and finally, I cut him off and thanked him for his time.

"Wait, that's all you need to know?" he asked. "Shortest interview I've done all day, thanks!" He hung up the phone.

Now if you know me at all, you know that turned into me questioning myself nonstop for the whole rest of the day. Did I ask him the wrong questions? Does this guy I'll never talk to again and whose name I can't even remember think I'm an idiot? Will the people who read this story ask me why I asked so few dumb questions? Did I get the full story? Am I not understanding this correctly? Maybe I should call him back and ask more... Yeah.

I went over everything he said in my typed up hieroglyphic notes and re-read a press release and managed to put together what I thought was a pretty good article. I have no idea how I got from point A to point B, but I was pretty darn proud of myself.

A few days later, I was asked to cover a city council meeting. I can't tell you how nervous I was about this for multiple reasons, mostly out of fear that I would screw something up. I tried to get the GC to go with me. He owes me some money, so I told him I knock $10 off that grand total. He pretty much refused.

So, I got ready, called my parents to ask if I could stop by and borrow a pen (no, no, I'm serious), and I headed over to the big event. I got there early and since there were a couple of big things happening, there was already a lot of other media there ("other media" LOL) and not a lot of places to sit. After pissing off a large policeman at the metal detector (I didn't know my sunglasses would set the thing off, geez) and getting screamed at by a little kid who was saving a seat for someone and getting stared at like I was some kind of child molester, I found an empty seat in a back corner next to these two older women. "Come over here and sit down, honey," they said. "What are you here to see?"

"Um, the whole thing?" I responded. I half-expected them to offer me a drink and some popcorn.

So, the thing starts and I try to follow along, but wow, was that boring. The big issues that I was aware of were slated for the end of the meeting, so I just kind of listened and doodled on my notebook while they talked about things I can't believe my tax dollars pay for.

Finally, they got to the good stuff. The big issues I was supposed to report on and the citizens open forum thingy. I did that whole awkward note-taking thing where I tried to basically write down everything being said in real time, and then it occurred to me that my iPhone records voice memos. I'd never used this feature before, but I figured it was entirely possible that it would record what was being said. I said a silent prayer that it would record more than my constant shuffling and hit record.

Then I sat out to take pictures. My camera is not in good shape. The zoom feature was either warn out or trampled by a stray dog, I'm not sure, so it's not taking the best pictures right now. I also felt slightly awkward taking random pictures of people when no one else was doing this (aside from the TV crews with their video cameras). I tried a few without the flash, and luckily (and possibly thanks to glare from all the balding guys in the room), the lighting in the room was excellent.

Finally, I got to a point where the citizen who I'd say was the star of the show spoke. She's been a big newsmaker over the last year, and when she left after her speech, I thought it'd be great to talk to her. I'd been instructed to try to talk to the politicians when the meeting was over, but I just kept thinking that if I were the reader, I'd be way more interested in what she had to say than some elected official.

There was one other guy speaking and he had something to do with the second story I was supposed to be following, but I had to take a chance. I grabbed all my stuff and stormed out of the meeting and down the hall. The aforementioned pissed off policeman found yet another reason to yell at me as I tried to leave out of the wrong door, but I was a woman on a mission. I just smiled, apologized and told him to have a good night.

When I got outside, I had no idea what side of the building I was on, but I turned to my left and spotted my target walking near the parking lot. Now was my chance to get, ya know, an exclusive interview or something. I approached her, I tapped her on the shoulder and she turned around and looked at me.

I couldn't think of damn thing to ask her.

I used to be pretty good on the spot, I guess it was the acting, but that ability went right out the window that night. I finally came up with the extremely intelligent sounding, "Would you like to say anything more than what you said in there?"

She kind of laughed and thought for a minute and started talking. I couldn't remember if my iPhone was still recording, so I started doing that whole crazy thing where I'm trying to write down every single word she says again (though we were standing in the dark, so it made things that much more difficult), and when she finished talking, I realized she looking at me expectantly. She wanted more questions. I asked her something stupid and fluffy, I can't even remember what, but she answered, and furiously, I took my notes.

And when I looked up again, I realized that I was no longer alone with this woman. The TV crews were surrounding us. Cameras were popping up all around us, lights were shining in our eyes and microphones were shoved in our faces. But the actual reporters weren't there yet, just their crews, and I was the only person asking questions. It suddenly occurred to me that I needed to sound smarter than the girl who really can't figure her way out of a small, square building and doesn't seem to own a pen, despite earning a living as a writer for the past three years. And I needed to do it without sounding like I was about to pass out, because that's pretty much what I felt would happen next.

I remember silently asking myself, "What would Shepard Smith do?" And it's like I transformed right there on the spot. I asked smart questions, not just fluff. For a brief moment, I didn't care that this woman had been through something unbelievably traumatic, I had questions and wanted answers. The new me lasted for all of 60 seconds before some jackass TV guy came with his bad acne and ridiculous haircut and knocked me out of the way, and I gladly stepped back for a few.

When the TV guys turned their attention to some other guy who didn't seem to be 100% in the game if you know what I mean, I approached the woman again. I was calmer now and had a better idea of what I was doing. I asked her lots of questions about things that had nothing to do with that night but that I knew would make a good story for another day. I wasn't a jerk or aggressive like the TV guys. I smiled and listened and asked everything I could think of, questions from both sides of the issue. She talked and talked and when it was all over, I thanked her, asked her if we could possibly do something else in the future and told her I was sorry for what she'd been through.

Looking back, it wasn't that big of a deal. I probably didn't do it the way one is supposed to when one is sent on this type of mission. My interview wasn't exactly exclusive. (I sat up to watch the TV guys do their thing that night.) But I still think I managed to write a good, unbiased article about the situation, and I managed to do it with just the facts (I noticed the TV guys embellished a few things when I watched their reports later that night), and I managed to do it without treating anyone like a vulture preying on roadkill.

Maybe I'm not so bad at this. Sure, I don't do it in the most traditional way and maybe I bumble around a little bit until a good story comes out of it, but that could be my "and that's the way it is."

That night, as my drove myself home, I began mapping out my future career as a journalist. Maybe I could apply to this paper or that one or maybe I could even get into the whole TV thing, myself. My phone rang just as I was declaring myself the new executive producer for The Fox Report. It was my mom. I told her how well it went and how I thought maybe I'd found my calling. "Great," she replied. "So, did such & such pass?"

"Huh?"

"Did it pass? I've been wondering about that, and now, I have an inside source," she said.

"Oh." I glanced over at the notebook full of doodles and notes and the paperwork I'd picked up with the night's agenda that were laying on the passenger seat beside me and sighed. "Well, I'm honestly not sure," I told her. "But you might want to tune in to the 11:00 news."

Ten Years Later

Earlier I was thinking about the fact that the 10th anniversary of September 11 falls on the first official football Sunday of the NFL. It seems kind of absurd, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how symbolic it is of how amazing this country is.

Most of us will spend the day remembering where we were during that horrific attack, crying for lives lost, and celebrating the men and women who work to make sure we never experience it again.

Most of us will also be tailgating or cooking out, sitting in front of the TV or in a stadium to cheer on our favorite teams, and spending insane amounts of time crafting our fantasy football rosters.

Remembering the past and honoring our fellow citizens, yet moving on with our lives and enjoying our freedom, what better way to spend this Sunday? What better symbol of the United States?

In the recent weeks, I've heard a few people say, "Why do we have to keep remembering September 11 every year? Isn't it time to move on?"

I can't tell you how mad those words make me. It's almost as annoying as the people who try to politicize the day. No matter what you think about today's political atmosphere, who you vote for, or what your beliefs are, I'd like to think today is the one day we can get past that. As a matter of fact, in the days following the attack, that's one thing that really stood out to me: the unity, the patriotism, the way people, at least in my community, seemed to come together and be a little nicer to each other. A few days ago, I saw the people at the NYSE in tears as they sang "God Bless America." I could use a little more of that, myself.

To the people who say "let's just move on and forget it," I want to show them the terrible videos of people jumping from the World Trade Center to their deaths, and ask them again if they think we should forget it. Should we move on and forget the people who got up and went to work on that Tuesday morning, not knowing the last decision they'd ever have to make would be whether to burn or jump? Should we forget that there are people in this world who hate this country and every person in it and will kill us for no good reason? Should we forget that there was a day in time when most of were able to put aside our differences and reach out to our fellow man?

I really have to wonder about anyone who is old enough and who can totally forget that day. Every year with the exception of the first anniversary, I sit down and re-write where I was that day. I do it on this blog or I do it in a Word document or I do it in a notebook. I didn't do it on the first anniversary, because every time I sat down to do it, I felt a sense of panic, but it always amazes me how much I can remember.

My example is always that I can remember what color eye shadow I wore that day, and I can remember what I was wearing. For anyone who has ever seen my make-up collection, this is quite the feat. It was a light silvery-puple, shimmery color. Cheap stuff I'd picked up in a drugstore. Obviously, I don't wear it anymore, but I still have the container in my make-up case. Just like I still have the blue and white "Georgia State" t-shirt I wore that day, even though age, moths and the washing machine have more or less prevented me from ever wearing it again.

Is any of that important? No. But it's my own little representation of how big that day was. I can't tell you what I wore on September 10, 2001 and I can't tell you what I wore on September 12, 2001. Hell, I can't even tell you what I wore two days ago.

I still remember hitting my snooze button so many times that morning that I had very little time to get ready for school. I still remember going to Chick-fil-A for breakfast, what I ordered and which employee was in the drive-thru. I remember driving down I-20, listening to "Barnes, Leslie & Jimmy" on 99x and switching to a CD when I got bored with a guest they were talking to. I still remember switching back after a couple of songs and listening to them talk about a plane accident in New York.

I remember a friend of one of the DJs sharing what she saw from her New York apartment. As I sat in the infamous Atlanta traffic, waiting to get on the 75/85 Connector, I wondered what was happening. I remember looking up in the sky and seeing planes flying around the skyscrapers in my beautiful city and being afraid that I would start seeing the same thing. I was bright-eyed, oblivious and barely 20. Terrorist attacks? Wars? Those only happened in other countries. I wondered if I should go home, but the most important thing on my mind was that on the Thursday before, I'd skipped the sociology class I was on my way to, and skipping twice in a row isn't a great idea.

I parked at the World of Coke and walked to my class. When my professor finally entered, she was frazzled and apologized that class may not go as planned. It took her a few minutes to compose herself, but she told those of us who had not been listening to the radio or watching a TV in a dorm or the student center what was happening. The girl sitting next to me told me her cousin worked in the WTC and ran from the room with her cell phone. A few others left, and my professor told us she'd give us ten minutes to make phone calls if we needed to. Minutes after that, the girl who was sitting next to me re-entered the room. She stood in the back, at the top of the stairs and yelled, "Another plane has hit the Pentagon." With tears in her eyes, my professor told us to leave.

"I can't promise you the school is going to cancel classes, but my class is over. Go home. Be careful," she said.

That was all it took for me. I walked right back to the World of Coke and got into my car. On the way there, the atmosphere had changed. People were on the phone, talking to loved ones, crying and relaying information. Police officers were gathering and a SWAT team was beginning to swarm the parking lot where my car was.

As for the drive home, I remember frantically switching back and forth between radio stations to get more information. I remember sitting in traffic at the intersection of Peachstree Street and International Boulevard, right in front of the Hard Rock Cafe, willing the cars to move so I could get back to the safety of my house. I also remember questioning, for the first time in my life, my safety. I always felt safe in this country, but suddenly, I didn't. I always felt safe in my parents' home and that's where I wanted to be.

I sped down I-20 and so did everyone else, but the police officers we passed weren't interested in our driving. I remember following behind a police officer from Jacksonville, Florida and wondering what the patrol car was doing in Atlanta. And I remember getting home and feeling a small sense of relief. My mom made me go fill my car up with gas and told me to come straight home. I called friends who had gone to college in other cities and states and I parked myself in front of Peter Jennings and watched the news for days on end.

I always joke that I have panic attacks if I can't access some form of news, and I suppose that's not entirely a joke. I do freak out if I can't know what's going on in the world and that day is really when it started for me. Shortly after September 11, 2001, I got a job at a bookstore in the local mall. For the longest time, I would leave my purse in the car and only carry my keys and a few dollars for lunch into work with me. I felt the need to be prepared to leave at all times. I dream about airplanes crashing quite often. I used to have a recurring one where my dad, my cousin and I were swimming in my grandfather's pool and a plane starts to fall. It never lands on the pool, but we're always afraid it will. You can imagine my surprise when my dad told me once that he often has the same dream.

My point is this: I was nowhere near the attacks when they happened, but it stills affects me in ways I never imagined it would. I can't imagine how the people who were in New York or Washington that day actually felt. For someone to say we should "get over it," I have to wonder if those people have a soul.

Here are some other good links from friends about that day and a few other things I've written:

• My friends, Pat and Steve, have a story you won't want to miss. Steve was an Army reservist at the time and his best friend is a chaplain with the New York Air Guard who saw the aftermath firsthand.
• Meteorologist extraordinaire, Janice Dean, shares a beautiful story about how that day changed her life and led to meeting her husband.
• My friend, Sarah, shares her story; she was also in school at the time.
• My friend, Chris, shares his story.
• Two years ago, I was asked to remember Lisa Fenn Gordenstein as part of Project 2,996.
  
• And this year, I wrote a little story about the search and rescue dogs of 9/11 for a local website.

For some reason, I enjoy reading where others were on that day. No matter where we were or how mundane or exciting our days were, it's the one thing that brings together. Maybe one day, it won't take a national tragedy for that to happen.

"Freedom itself was attacked this morning by a faceless coward and freedom will be defended." - President George W. Bush

Books, Books, Books & More Books

Ever since I finished reading Karin Slaughter's Atlanta series last month, I've been in a bit of a reading rut. The characters were so well-developed and likable, throw in a setting I'm pretty familiar with, and I could read those books all day. Sadly, there won't be another one released until next year, so I figured I better start looking into something else. Even Ms. Slaughter, herself, told me to do so. (Highlight of my summer!)

So, I've been on this crime/thriller kick lately. Some of my favorites are Slaughter, JT Ellison and Patricia Cornwell. I also enjoy Laura Lippman, Harlan Coben, Tess Gerritsen and Phillip Margolin.

I had a hard time getting into anyone new, so I ended up reading an old book by Gerritsen that I forgot I had on my shelves. It was really good, but very bloody and depressing, and while I don't mind bloody at all, I decided maybe it's time to explore some other options. Given all the stress I've dealt with in the last year, maybe it's time for something a little more light-hearted.

I've never been a romance reader, but I did love me some "chick lit" back in the day. Chick Lit is often confused with romance, but it's nothing like it. Sure, there is usually a romance situation in a chick lit book, but it's not always the central theme. The all-knowing Wikipedia characterizes it like this: "genre fiction which addresses issues of modern womanhood, often humorously and lightheartedly."

The first book I read was Mean Season by Heather Cochran. It had mixed reviews on Amazon, but I liked it. It's one of the first books classified as "chick lit" that I've read in a long time.

Then I went to a local used bookstore that I frequent and grabbed a copy of Mary Kay Andrews's Savannah Blues. I was hesitant at first with this one. Back when it came out, I was actually working at Borders, and I remember it being really popular. But at the same time, a whole Southern women fiction boom seemed to be happening, and many of the books I sampled just weren't any good. But I started reading this a couple of weeks ago, and I was hooked. Loved it! The characters were great, the plot was great, the setting was great. It was one of those books you read and get so upset about when it's over because you don't want to let the characters go.

Then I discovered Mary Kay Andrews has two more books about the same characters. This is when I spent a couple of hours in the middle of the night ordering books on Amazon. Thanks to free shipping and a little bit of a gift card I had leftover, I managed to score 11 books for $42. I was thrilled and as of yesterday, they've all arrived in the mail.


I got four more Mary Kay Andrews books that I can't wait to get started with:


So, then I stopped at a few yard sales yesterday and bought eight more books for $2.75. Now I have 19 new books to read. I bought a little bit of everything. Even a few romance novels (I'm broadening my horizons).


For what it's worth, I also bought these adorable tins for $1. I love yard sales (I've practically decorated my entire house with yard sale and secondhand stuff. And to quote my cousin, some of it "looks like a Southern Living magazine." So, kiss it, pretentious people!) Yesterday was the first time I've been in about a year.


Oh, well. This post is super-boring, but I have an obsession with buying books, so I like to share my purchases - this is one reason why I won't get an e-Reader. Hope everyone's enjoying this lovely Saturday!

I'd Hit Vote For That*

Did I recently say that I'm having a hard time getting into politics?

That may have changed tonight around approximately 9-something or other pm.

First of all, I've been wanting to clean the pool all week, but a car stuck in the mud and a bunch of shelter cats (don't ask) sort of stood in the way of that. I finally got to do it tonight. I knew it was probably too cold to swim, as temperatures have been hovering in the 60s and 70s all week, but I jumped in for a second anyway, and then I dried off and promptly came back to my house.

I'd been watching Shepard Smith when I left (no surprises there), so my TV was still on Fox News. Hannity was on my screen, a show I don't usually watch unless I'm desperately bored, but it's Friday night and there's never anything on TV on Friday night, so I left it on while I went into the kitchen to make a couple of hotdogs. (<-- Not a pun. Really what I had for supper.)

When I came back into the living room, I looked at my TV and thought surely my eyes were deceiving me. I'd just heard Hannity say he was going to talk to two congressmen. I was expecting to see something like this:


But instead, what I saw was this:

What? Sir, did you say congressmen or congresshotties? Is that the Capitol Building or a frat house at UGA? GOP? More like GSP... Grand Sexy Party. I mean, come on!

Forget Mitt Romney and Rick Perry, let's watch these two battle it out at the Reagan Library.

Preferably with a can of whipped cream. Am I right, ladies?

*My apologies to Aaron Schock and Adam Kinzinger. It's been a long week. Seeing two attractive Congressman at one time was literally the highlight. Literally.

Sara, Pete, & Chloe

OK, technically, I should be putting together a news website, doing laundry and writing something about September 11, but well, who would I be if I weren't wasting time and waiting until the last minute? I need to get this off my mind.

I guess I've mentioned this, but back in March or April, the local news thing I do some freelance work for asked if I could start doing adoptable pets of the week. This involves visiting a local shelter, looking at the most depressing little faces I've ever seen and picking a few dogs and cats to feature. This may be the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life.

Honestly, I'm not a cat person, but the dogs just kill me, and there have been a few that I've ended up becoming very attached to: Sara, Pete, and Chloe. I've mentioned them here before, because I've spent agonizing nights debating adopting each and every one of them, myself, but as of today, all three of them have met their fate...

AND IT'S ALL GOOD!

Sara is the first dog I fell in love with. She is a big Black Lab who spent months at the shelter (most dog are lucky to stay a few weeks before they are euthanized, especially Black Labs). I more or less begged people to adopt her when I featured her as one of the "pets of the week" and low and behold, back in July, someone wrote in and told me they had adopted her. I got to know her new father a little better, and I'm pretty sure she's in a great home now with a new brother and sister.

But that left Pete. Pete and Sara shared a cage and when I saw that she'd left him behind, I made him my new mission. Every week I posted that poor dog's picture on Facebook and Twitter and begged people to take him. Finally, someone I kind of knew from Twitter contacted me about adopting him. The problem was that she lived several states away. I spent days trying to find someone who would take him to her and long story short, she assured me she had it all lined up. Long story short again, that was all a load of crap. I have never been so mad. Disrespect me all you want, but prevent one of these babies from getting a home and you are on my shit list. I actually went to the shelter today, and after looking for him everywhere, I had to ask one of the girls who works there what happened to Pete. I braced myself, but she told me that after being at the shelter for five months, the original family that he had run away from (in a different county) finally (accidentally) found him and re-adopted him. So, not only did he get a home, he got HIS home back. Again, most dogs last a few weeks at the most, and why they kept him for five months, I'll never know, but if there was ever a better "everything happens for a reason" story...

And finally, sweet little Chloe. She was four years old and one of the prettiest dogs I'd ever seen, but her owner turned her in for reasons unknown to me. The first day I saw her, we got her out of her cage, and she was so scared. The next week, it was storming and she was just shaking uncontrollably. She's probably the one I came the closest to adopting, but just a day or two before I planned to go to the shelter to get her, someone else wrote in to tell me they'd adopted her. Hopefully, she's in a good home now.

Last week, I realized a local rescue group posts pictures of the dogs from that shelter who are euthanized every week on Facebook. When I saw lots of familiar faces on there, I nearly lost it. It was a very dark cloud hanging over my holiday weekend. I spent a lot of time debating whether or not I should tell them they can send some other pretend journalist to do the adoptable pets of the week. Then I looked back at Sara, Pete & Chloe. I don't think I had much to do with Pete, but if it weren't for me, Sara and Chloe possibly never would have been adopted. It's the dictionary definition of bittersweet, and I'm not trying to toot my own horn by any means, but I can't let those poor babies down.

I'd love to start my own rescue someday or help a good one become great, and maybe if I can ever get this stupid book finished, it'll lead me to an opportunity to do that. If not, I'll just keep doing what I can. For now I'm moving on to Lucky, Layla and Zeus.

I've just got to figure out how to not let it consume me like I did this weekend. (I started by "unliking" that particular group on Facebook. I know they get put down, but I don't need to know the details.) Today, as I was leaving, this one dog that was new to the shelter kept raising its paw and looking at me with the most hopeful look on its face. I didn't pet it because I didn't know his temperament (he was new), but I can't get that face out of my head. It's like he knew.

Oh, well. If anyone wants a dog, I know a few good ones!

New Music from Stevie Nicks

I haven't heard the whole album, In Your Dreams, yet, but I'm digging this single.

"For What it's Worth"

Me and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad, F$&ked Up Day

So, there's this festival that takes place a couple of counties south of me, and I used to go all the time with my mom and aunts. We haven't been in years, but for some reason, I decided I'd like to go this year. My mom didn't think she was up for it. My cousin decided he wanted to go, but his mom already planned to go with someone else, so he and I decided we would go together.

The festival lasts three days and takes place every Labor Day weekend. Artists come from all over the country to sell their wares. There's tons of not-so-good for you food that the media would have you believe you can only get at the Iowa State Fair during an election year (fried Oreos, anyone?) and there's live entertainment, ranging from bluegrass bands to a birds of prey show. There are lots of activities for kids, the 4-H club with their livestock and historical stuff. It's really a good time.

Or, at least, it's a really good time when Hurricane/Tropical Storm/Weather Event Lee isn't flying through the state.

But let me back up. My family cooked out to celebrate the holiday weekend yesterday and either my mom and aunt are trying to poison me or I ate way too much crap. I went to bed pretty late last night, but I figured I could swing three hours of sleep before my cousin and I left for the festival. About an hour after I'd gone to sleep, I woke up with the most horrible stomach pain I'd felt in a long time. I just knew I was going to see all of the food from the cookout reemerge from the hole in which it entered my body (sorry), so I ran to the bathroom. I sat on side the tub and played the new Battleship app I downloaded for my iPhone (just call me Rear Admiral Sarah).

I was in there over half an hour, but nothing ever happened, so I returned to my bed and proceeded to lay in bed and moan and groan for another hour. In the end, I think I got about one and a half hours of sleep, and when I woke up this morning, I felt like hell. I should have called the whole thing off right then and there, but I still really wanted to go. If for no other reason, the book I'm working on centers around a similar type of festival, and I thought it would be good motivation for writing.

My cousin came over and I dragged my barely awake self to the car, and we sat out for the festival. According to Google, it's about 55 minutes from my house, but throw in the fact that it's pouring rain, and it took a little bit longer than that. We knew there was a chance of rain today, but I'm not afraid of a little water. Let's just say I'm glad I didn't wear any makeup or the white tanktop I'd originally planned.

We got there and the big field where you park is usually packed. Seriously, most days you may walk half a mile to get to the front gate. What we saw was this:


The good thing is that we were able to park really close to the gate, and due to the rain, they were offering a "Lee" discount on tickets. Once we got inside, we were amazed at how few people were there. I can't tell you how crowded this place usually is. Not only that, but many of the artists and vendors had already packed up for the day, too. There were maybe 20 - 30 left out of like 150 - 200. That sucked, but at least we had what was left of the festival to ourselves.

We walked around and did a little shopping and watched part of a birds of prey show. We were two of the ten or so people in the audience.




I bought the following (and these are all cuter in person, it's dark in my living room where I'm taking these pictures):

This little pottery dish to put on my kitchen sink to keep sponges and stuff in (my old one broke).



Then I went back and bought this little clay doggie Christmas ornament.




I also bought this little ceramic bulldog:



And these awesome smelling candles (sage citrus and plumeria):



None of that is what I intended to buy, but like I said, most vendors had packed up for the weekend due to the rain, and I had to buy something!

One of the last vendors we stopped at sold jellies and jams in all these really unique flavors, and while some of them looked tasty, my stomach issue from the night before was quickly returning. As I listened to the ladies who made them tell my little cousin what all he could eat with them, I thought I was going to die right there. After he sampled and bought a few of them, we decided to head home. He was broke and I could barely stand up straight, so we just decided to leave. So much for fried Oreos.

I should have taken this new found nausea as a sign not to leave the house again today.

We drove back to my house in even more rain, then my mom called shortly after to let us know there was a tornado warning right where we'd been driving home. My dogs were staying with my parents (I didn't know how long I'd be gone), and I decided to head up and go get them. All I wanted to do was get them, get home and go to bed. I watched my cousin back out of my driveway and then I started to back out of my driveway, and before I know it, I'm slipping and sliding all over the place. I freaked out a little bit, threw the car into drive and suddenly, I hear this loud crunching noise.

Again, let me back up. A few weeks ago, one of my water pipes sprung a leak. The pipe was about five feet under my driveway so there's a huge gaping hole in my driveway, but my landlord filled in with dirt and told me it was OK to drive over it. So, that's what I've been doing.

Unfortunately, doing it in the rain was a bad idea. My front tire sank down into the hole, the front bumper caught on the cement, and I was not going anywhere:


Now it's not enough that I feel like someone kicked me in the stomach and my car is stuck in a huge, gaping hole, but I open my car door to inspect the damage and the tornado sirens are going off. I just stood there in the rain for a while. Given the bad luck I've had with things over the last few months, especially my car, I just couldn't seem to grasp the situation. My mom called to see what was taking so long. My phone was so wet, I couldn't even get the touchscreen to slide open so I could answer it.

I went inside, called her back and told her what happened and she told me there was a tornado spotted at the elementary school near my house. That's about the time when I started carrying on about how I would die alone, not even the dogs would be with me. The next half hour or so was filled with nonstop tornado sirens, crazy winds (I felt like Dorothy watching stuff fly by my window) and lots of flooding.

When things started to die down, my dad (who has the flu) came to get me. He inspected my car, and told me I was going to have to call a wrecker. I went to their house, made some calls (seriously, I had to try four places before I found someone who'd come out on Labor Day), and my dad brought the dogs and me back to my house. I waited another hour for the guy to come pull my car out of the hole and charge me $55 for doing so. I was so happy that I tipped him, but if I'd know what was gonna come next, I would have held on to that money.

At this point, I'm freezing cold and soaking wet, so I changed into my warm snuggly robe and went to bed. I slept for a couple of hours and when I woke up, I guess my stomach ailment was gone because I was starving. The rain had died down, so I decided I'd make a quick run to McDonald's. For some reason, when I'm sick, I crave McDonald's. On the way there, my car started acting funny if I'd go over 30 mph. Like the steering wheel would start jerking and I'd nearly run off the road. I can't wait to see how much that's going to cost! I just had $3500 worth of work done on said car after a tree fell on it.

In an effort to wrap this up, I won't complain about how long the extremely immature staff at McD's made me sit and wait for overcooked chicken, cold fries and a watered down Diet Coke, but, well, this is what happened to that meal:



It was the the perfect end to a perfect day. I ended up eating leftover homemade ice cream from the cookout for supper. Great for my stomach issues, but the only thing I had in the house that didn't make me want to gag.

Oh, well. At least the dozens of tornadoes that flew over my town never swept me away. Well, they say it was only three tornadoes, but dozens makes for a better story and that's how many times the sirens went off.

Politics, Sports, Weather & Humor: (Some of) My Favorite Blogs

As I've posted here before, I enjoy reading a blog called Kelly's Korner, which belongs to a sweet lady in Arkansas, who is inspiring to me in many ways. I can't even remember how I first discovered Kelly's blog, but I've been reading it for several years - long enough to remember her being pregnant with her now two and half year old daughter.

Anyway, every Friday, she does a feature called "Show Us Your Life," where other bloggers can link up posts that center around certain themes. Many of them are family-oriented, and seeing as how I'm single with a couple of dogs, I don't participate in those, but I have participated in a few others. This week's theme is "Favorite Blogs," and I do have a few of those.

1. I'll start with Copacetic In Carolina. Don't let the title fool you, the blog's owner, Ally, is a Georgia girl at heart. We actually met through Twitter, sharing a love of UGA football, but given our ages, it turns out we went to college together. Anyway, if you're into SEC football and tailgating tips or you just want to make your mouth water, head on over there.

2. Tao of JT is a blog maintained by one of my favorite authors, JT Ellison. (If you haven't read her Taylor Jackson series, you must exit out of my blog and head straight for Amazon now!) I've learned so much about writing through Ellison's website, and she's super witty, too! Even if you don't have an interest in writing, you'll get a good laugh over there.

3. If you're an Atlanta sports fan, I suggest you check out Mark Bradley's blog over at the AJC's website. I've been a fan of Bradley's for as long as I can remember, which is, perhaps, something I inherited from my father and grandfather. I've had the opportunity to communicate with him a little bit on Twitter and let me just tell you, I was as giddy as a schoolgirl about it. Every once in a while, I'll admit, I'll get a little huffy when Mr. B says bad things about my Bulldogs, but overall, he's one of the best sports writers in the country.

4. Jennifer Dailing Waite is another Twitter friend, and she is freaking hilarious! Anytime I need a good laugh, I check out her blog or Twitter feed. She's also a true crime freak like myself, so we've bonded over stuff like watching The First 48, as well. You'll get a little bit of everything when you visit Jennifer's blog, but if you laugh so hard that stuff flies out of your nose, don't say I didn't warn you.

5. Janice Dean's Weather Blog is another one of my favorite reads. Most of you know (and if you don't, just scroll down a post or two), my TV pretty much stays on Fox News 24 hours a day, and if someone changes the channel, I have panic attacks. I mean, I literally keep the TV on in both the living room and the bedroom, so I won't miss anything when walking through the house. (I'm kidding! Sort of!) Anyway, over the years, I've grown to love Janice Dean on Fox News and was excited to see she was blogging, too. I do get excited about big weather events, but all that aside, Janice is so real, unlike so many other media personalities and that comes through loud and clear there.

6. I'm adding one more and then I need to get to bed, and that's going to be one that I check almost every day and have for the last three years: And So It Goes in Shreveport. Where to start? Back in the summer of 2008, things were kind of going downhill. I ran over myself, I found out my landlord was a crook and was being forced to move, and I realized my little career in law enforcement was not all it was cracked up to be. It wasn't a great time for me (though looking back, I'd trade all that for the few summers after that), but I do have some fond memories of that year and one of those was "meeting" Pat. Pat left a comment here on my blog - I believe we bonded over the election season and Lindsey Buckingham, and before I know it, we became fast friends. I still haven't met Pat and her husband, Steve, but I hope to someday. They are two of the neatest people I "know." And when I can't sit around and watch/read/listen to news all day, I generally turn to her blog to see what's going on in the world. (Though you'll want to cut her a little slack right now; she's a high school English teacher and the start of a new school year means a little less blogging.)

So, those are six of my favorite blogs. They are in no way the only ones I read and love. There are several other great ones listed to the left of here (that really needs to be updated, though), and several more well-known ones that I don't have listed anywhere but I read them almost every day. I also enjoy reading personal blogs of close family and friends, though I don't ever link them because they are generally pretty private.

There's also the fact that it's 1:30 am, and I need some sleep! I hope everyone has a great Labor Day weekend or unofficial to end to summer if you will. Given the hell I've gone through over the last few summers, particularly last year with my mom, I was dreading this year, but in the end, it turned out to be OK. It was, after all, the summer I met Charleston, the greatest city in the world! I didn't get to swim as much as I wanted, I had so many things break (TV, water pipes, internet, cable, electricity, AC, laptop, etc.), and I was so busy with my South Carolina work travel that I didn't even notice how fast the summer was slipping by, but I love fall and welcome it with open arms! (I'm also ready for some non 90+ temperatures.)