How Many Pairs Do YOU Have?

I was curious. Curious about just how many pairs of flip-flops I own. I decided to do a count. 46 pairs. I have 46 pairs of flip-flops in my closet. There are probably a few stray pairs floating around other areas of my house or in my car. Please note that this is only a count of my flip-flops. This does not include sandals, wedges, or any of my other shoes. I am now thinking I might just need to do a count and see how many total pairs of shoes I own. That could be interesting and slightly disturbing.

I've always looked at shoes as being immensely beautiful things.

-Graham Coxon

Words of Wisdom

Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.

~ Author Unknown

Words of Wisdom

Write it down. Written goals have a way of transforming wishes into wants; cant's into cans; dreams into plans; and plans into reality. Don't just think it—ink it!

~ Author Unknown

Words of Wisdom

Beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them.

-David Hume, Essays "Of Tragedy"

Miss Independent

I have come to the conclusion that I might just be better off single. Really. When there is a potential guy that I'm interested in; I become one of "those" girls. I hate "those" girls. Obsessed, crazed, needy, jealous. The list could go on, but you get the picture. And what a sad and pathetic picture it is. I mean, I think it just naturally happens.
Right now I am 'Miss Independent'. I have my own house, I support myself, and I pretty much do what I want when I want. I don't have to ask or tell a significant other what's going on. I don't have to check in with anyone or feel guilty about not spending a certain amount of time with them. Sadly, though, when I was in relationships, I became very dependent on that other person. Too much so. The thought of that saddens me now. When my last relationship ended my cousin asked if I even remembered how to pump my own gas because the boyfriend would always take care of that for me. How sad is that?
I have always considered myself to be an independent girl. Growing up I never minded doing things alone. It's just my nature. It makes me wonder: Have I become too independent during these last few years of singledom to return to my old relationship ways? Living alone for so long has almost made me selfish. I cherish my alone time and enjoy my schedule as it is. I like the fact that I can lay around my house all night and do the things that I want to do; bad habits and all. The thought of giving some of that up is not completely appealing to me.

It's Been Awhile...

So, I am going to admit this sad little fact. I have now been single for 3 years and 7 months. Whoa! Has there ever been a girl in the world that has been single that long!?! Am I a record-holder? It is quite possible and actually admitting it makes me feel almost a bit embarrassed. So, what's my deal? Why single sooooo long? There are actually many reasons for my singleness.

1. My last break-up was bad. I was very sad. An engagement and my life as I knew it had abruptly ended. Not by my choice, I might add. I needed mucho time to heal and I needed to be ALONE. A lot of changes happened very quickly in my life. I lost my best friend and fiance. I was graduating from college. I was soon-to-be interviewing for my first teaching job. I had to search for a new place to live. I lost a lot of my friends that were "our" friends. A lot had to be sorted through and figured out. It took a lot of time. In a sense, I had to create a new "me" and start all over. It was hard. It's over though. Time has done its job and healed and I am totally and completely fine with it now. Sure, it's still a sad and low point in my life to think about, but I came through it and feel that I'm that much stronger and better for it.
About a year after my break-up I went on a "date". I thought I was ready, but as the night progressed, I knew that I wasn't. I ended up locking myself in the bathroom stall and had a good cry. I felt pathetic, but I knew that it just wasn't time for me to date again. Each person is different and I feel that you should allow yourself as much time as needed. You gots to take care of #1 first. That's the way I see it.

2. I am very picky about men. Now, my mother kindly reminded me the other day that I am no "raving beauty" so I shouldn't be so picky. Gee. Thanks for the support and major self-esteem boost. Nothing quite like hearing that. Yes, I am aware that I am not stunningly beautiful and a man's "ideal" woman by any stretch, but I do have standards. I set them high. I feel that I am worth that. My past relationships obviously didn't work out too well for me, so I have raised the bar a bit. Quite a bit. This is why I love my blog quote and relate to it so well. I'm just waiting on MY butterflies. I'd like to find someone that gives me "that" feeling.

3. I'm just not good with the whole dating scene. I guess I'm waiting for my Mr. Right to come knock on my door and we'll live happily ever after. I don't know. I'm just not good with putting myself out there and taking chances. I feel too vulnerable and am afraid of getting hurt again. I have trust issues, unfortunately.

Let's Have a Re-gift Party!

Have you ever opened a gift and thought, "What is this?" or "What am I ever going to use this for?" Maybe you just think things like, "This is the fugliest thing ever." Whatever the murmurings may be that go on inside your head, we have all had these experiences during gift-opening moments.
I don't know about you, but I have a hallway closet with an entire shelf, almost two shelves now, dedicated to gifts of Christmas-Birthday-whatever the occasion may be-Pasts.
My friend Ashley and I (we are both teachers) were talking about our upcoming End of School bash that we were planning to have at a local restaurant. Some how we brought up crap gifts that we have gotten, one thing led to another, BadaBing BadaBoom, and the idea of having a re-gift party was born. Genius.
All attendees were told to bring a gift to re-gift. No money could be spent on a gift. It needed to be something from the Closet of Gifts-Past.
I regret not taking a picture of my re-gifting gift that I took to the bash. Descriptions will have to do. My gift held a lovely bottle of Rose scented lotion. The label claimed 'Rose', but should have been 'Poo'. What better to go with the lotion than a box of Rose bath salts. Run some warm bath water, pour the poo bath salts, and soak. Aah! Then for an extra application of the delectable scent, lather on the lotion. Sounds like a wonderful gift so far! Also included was a snowman tea light holder, a 'Don't sweat the small stuff' magnet with a cheesy quote on it, and a notepad with a pig pushing a shopping cart that read, "To Market, To Market". Now, the BEST item, in my opinion, was a sheepskin seat belt cover. Yessssssss! So practical, so useful, so totally stylish. Yeah, it was hard to give all that up. Because my gifts were so classy, it had to be wrapped in a classy way, of course. What should hold such delightful gifts you ask? Why, a plastic grocery sack, of course! Silly!
Now, on to what I received at the re-gift party. I LOVED my gift. No, seriously. We played Dirty Santa-style and I stole my re-gifted gift from another recipient. So, obviously, I really wanted the dissed gift. I received kid toys. More specifically, toys made for boys that are into playing Cowboys and Robbers. I got a plastic gun that shoots and makes a 'pop' sound, a plastic Deputy Marshall badge, and handcuffs! I scored. Big time. Pretty much, I wore the badge on my shirt all night, shot the gun repeatedly at patrons, and handcuffed Ashley to her chair for awhile. The gift should have just had a gift tag with my name on it. It was perfect. For me.

I can see your wheels turning. You are about to go to your hallway closet and rummage through your crap gifts, aren't you? Then you're going to tell all your friends about the re-gifting party you're going to host, aren't you? Yeah, I thought so. You won't be sorry. I hope you get something good to go back in your closet!

Summer Lovin'

I am a summer lover. Summer is by far the best season. Ever.

Below is a listing of some of the reasons why summer pulls at my heartstrings:
-Pool time! Ah, yes. Nothing is quite as joyous as waking up, putting on the swimming suit and oh-so-stylish cover-up, driving the short 10 minutes to my parentals to the pool, turning on the iPod, getting out a great summer read, and laying on a raft. Having the pool completely to myself is an added bonus. I mean, really. It makes me smile just thinking of the pleasure of the whole scene. Heaven.
-Grilling out. Can we say Big Green Egg, anyone?
-Time off work. Holla to my fellow teachers! Sorry about the rest of you. I truly am.
-Accomplishing things off to-do lists that were too unbearable to do during the cold winter months
-Lazy naps pool-side or inside of screened-in porches
-Tanning your bodacious bod
-Sundresses and tanks
-Footwear! Summer shoes are my favorite. Flip-flops, wedges, strappy sandles...you get the picture.
-Free hair high-lights provided via the sun
-Oh, those summer nights! Sing it Danny and Sandra D!
-Reading. The summer seems to be the only time that I have time to read for pleasure.

Thanks Mr. Sun for making summer so grand.

My dog has the mange...what you gonna do 'bout it?

My phone philosophy is if I don't have your number programmed in my phone that means I don't know you. If I don't know you; I don't need to talk to you. It is that simple. I usually make it a point to ignore any unknown numbers and today I was reminded why it is imperative that I stick to this rule. My phone rang and it was an unfamiliar number, but it was at least a local number. Against my better judgement I answered it. Here is the recap of our short phone exchange...

Me: "Hello?"

Strange Man on other end of the phone: "Yee-ah, my dog has got the mange. What can you do 'bout it?"
[Please note that man has extreme southern accent...I guess after a question like that would you expect anything less?]

Of course, an awkward pause was in order at this point. Crickets could be inserted here for an added effect. It did take some time for my brain to register and process this completely bizarre question. What can I do about your dog with the mange? For real? He didn't even provide me with a polite "hello" first.

Me: "Nothing, sir. Absolutely. Nothing."

Strange Man: "So, this isn't Denise? Her number is ###-####."

Me: "No. Not Denise. My name is Sarah. You accidentally dialed a '7' at the end of the number instead of the '9' that you needed to."

Strange Man: "Awww, alright."

Click.

I didn't even get an "I'm sorry for bothering you with the demands for you to fix my dog with the mange." But really. What did I expect, right? I do live in South-central Kentucky.
Summer break has just begun for me. Maybe I started a new job that I did not realize. Treating dogs with the mange. Hmm. On the bright side, should Daisy ever get the mange, God forbid, I now know that there is a Denise in the BG area with a telephone number just one digit difference from my own that CAN do something about it. It's a good thing to know.

Your dog has the mange, you say? Who you gonna call? De-nise!