What my 7 year old niece taught me

As I'm sure you know(being that I continuously write about it, sing about it, shout it through the roof tops, and spend most days in a deep mind trance drooling over the mere thought of it) I'm a fan of home. And no, I don't mean Charleston.  Charleston can eff off.  I'm a fan of the true South.  The it's so humid I look like I just bathed in the bayou or stumbled upon a mysterious shower located seconds outside (insert frequented jive spot here) south.  I gush over Louisiana so much so that some would think I actually have stock in Jindal and his efforts to ruin rule the world, but trust me… I'm too southern to understand stocks.  I've been visiting home a lot lately.  Mostly because it's the only way my family can get me to shut up, but also because everyone I love is there and I've been quite the love snob lately.

I was able to spend a large part of my time with my niece during this past trip home, and as if I didn't already know, she once again proved to be a pure genius with true Maya Angelou strength and enough girl power to make you question starting up a real life Power Puff gang.  She has grit I can only dream of, confidence I'm just down right envious of, and a heart so full of love and pain that she'll make you want to wrap up in a big blanket and devote the rest of your life to cuddling and baking cookies.  I'm telling you - the girl is my hero.  Sometimes, with all of the madness of being a part of a crazy, loud southern family, I forget that she's seven.  I forget that she still needs me.  But that's mainly because most of the time I'm the one who needs her.

We had a mini road trip to my grandmother's, and here are a few things she taught me that I think ever girl human should know…

1. When life hands you lemons, which it often does, cry about it.  For real.  Let that shit out.  Then, get some ice cream, put on some big girl panties and turn up Taylor Swift as loud as you can.

2. If your pants are too tight, get a bigger size pant - not a smaller cookie.

3. Swimming, diving, cannonballs, toothpicks, spank-the-babies, and sliding down the pool slide are all best done naked.

4. "I don't like boys.  Unless they're cute."

5. What ice cream can't fix - dancing can.

6. A big butt is a good thing.  "Cap, I can always find you because of your big butt!"

There ya go, friends!  Knowledge only a feisty little seven year old can provide. 

Now, SHAKE IT OFF!  Or whatever else your gorgeous heart desires. 

-Cap

A Love Letter to Elton

Dearest Elton,

I realize you receive fan mail from star struck individuals boasting of your talent and complementing you on your lively use of velvet attire and that dangling cross earring you sometimes wear in your right ear, but this – this is different.  This is to confess a love that far surpasses that sappy, boy band keenness those other yanks think they feel.  Allow me to elaborate… When asked a cheesy life question pertaining to whom you’d choose to dine, chat or meet with if given the opportunity, I forgo the typically stockpile Gandhi, Jesus, or lost friend answers and choose you.  Because, quite honestly – aren’t you all of the above?

As a young child, I heard my mother play all of your albums in her gold Cutlass Ciera, or the “Cut Dog” as we coined it.  I watched as her mood gradually shifted from frustrated, single mother of three to a woman singing “Your Song” with uncharted ambition, desire and a full heart.  To be fair, we all felt the magic, but I suppose you are well aware of the powerful, strongholds your music has on one’s emotions.  Personally, as a young, twenties something with no notable music background, I think that’s what you do best.  You play for people who “keep it turned on”.  You play to inspire, to create connections, and I hope to reflect your own personality - because that’s what I’ve come to believe.  When Diana died, I thought I knew her.  Because I thought I knew you, and “Candle in the Wind” contributed more tears than the divorce of my parents, or the accidental burning of my Barney pillow.  Your music allowed me to feel a connection to a world I knew little about.  It continually challenged me to play piano sheet music that clearly surpassed my mediocre skills, forced me to belt out “Levon” – though I didn’t know the full meaning of longing and desperation present in the lyrics, and proved to be the root of a lifelong mockery as I once mistook the chorus to Tiny Dancer for “hold me close I’m trying to dance here”.  Be it intentional or an accidental correlation, you consistently proved to be there through the challenging moments of a young life in transition.  That’s love, friend.  A love I still have found no match to.

There was, in honesty, a brief moment when I took into great consideration your preferred gender.  However, that instant quickly faded as my deep, unrequited love rushed to barricade all rationality and typicality from entering into the dark corners of my small brain function.  I was, and remain, a young girl in love.  So, despite those other guys and gals in line, I like to think you’d choose me in the long run.  Or, at the very least, maybe pencil me into that little black book of lovers.  It’s going to happen - if only for one night.

Civic Center.  Charleston, West Virginia.  Wednesday night.  Be there with your red shoes on.

Cap
xx

Creative Writing

There are many crazy things I do to fill my free time, but writing about home is my favorite.  Hope you all get a little taste of cajun love from this short story...  :)

-Cap

Hot Air

Mamaw and Bijou set off to discover the bluff behind the fields.  The cotton was taller that Sunday, and the air was heavy.  The trapped moisture seemed to combat the gusts from a warm breeze - creating a harmonious hum through the uniformed rows.  Neither Mamaw nor Bijou knew the specifics to the farm’s depth, and they had little confidence in its stability.  That was Papaw’s thing.  He kept the farm intact while the rest of the world sat back and wondered where cotton balls came from. 

“You find that balloon?”

“Yes, I have it.”

“You packed dat string?”

“Yes, Mamaw.”

“You sure you packed dat string?  Dat’s the most important part.”

“Yes, Papaw cut the string.” 

“What a pauvre bête.”

“Mamaw!”

“But I love him all the same.” 

“Why do you need a balloon?”

“We need it, Bijou.”  You gonna see when you’re meant to.”

Bijou carefully walked through the rows, while Mamaw barreled through with an obvious intent to escape the grid.

“Watch your step, Mamaw.  That’s the new row!”

“Oh sha!  If those seeds can’t handle a lil’ pressure now, dey sure gonna die when dey sprout.”

“Well, there’s no need to make it harder for them, or Papaw.  You know he gets pissy if the rows aren’t even.”

“Co faire?”

“He says it takes away from the natural beauty.”

“Natural?  Mais, jamiais d’la vie! Dis ain’t natural.  He planted it!”

“Papaw says he just plants what the good lord intended.”

“Go to bed!  He don’t know nothing!”

Bijou walked further into the fields.  She was not much for exploration, but the rows of cotton created an easy path for her limited hiking skills.  Mamaw continued forming her own row, bewildering Bijou to her core.  Bijou hollered through the sticky air, “Mamaw, do you ever wonder if the cotton would grow better in another pattern?”

“I wonder that all the time.”

“Why doesn’t Papaw ever try it?”

“He sticks to what he knows, sha.  Just like a pauvre bête.  His daddy thought him about farming cotton rows, and he don’t like the idea of backsliding from dat.  Ya know, Bijou, it’s fine letting your elders show you the ropes, but sometimes you gotta make your own knot.  I’ve never been one for cotton rows.”

“Maybe they need the close formation for survival, Mamaw. Do you think that helps them grow taller?”

“Nah, sha.  It’s nothing about dat.”

“But Papaw says they’re a congregation.”

“Well, now!  Just because a measly little sprig of cotton stands amongst a row of sprigs doesn’t mean that cotton is any stronger.  It just has a better hiding place.”

“But I think they need each other.  Don’t you?”

“No, Bijou.  Dey gotta make their own roots.  Dat’s the only way to really survive.  Dat’s why Papaw sticks with the rows.  He got his roots tangled up with his daddy’s, and now he’s too afraid that ole’ man was right.”

“What if he was?”

“Den I guess Papaw will be happy.”

“And what if he was wrong?”

“Den Papaw won’t know a difference.”

“But Papaw said the rows were sacred.  He said cotton was a Eunice family tradition.”

“Well, dat’s what Papaw believes.”

“What do you believe?”

Mamaw didn’t answer Bijou.  Instead she started chanting her favorite Doris Day tune, “Que Sera, Sera… whatever will be, will be…”

Bijou was lost in the cotton field motif – not listening to Mamaw’s casual reasoning.  Mamaw mumbled to herself, “She gonna hear it when she needs to.”  Then, she bellowed, “Bijou, we’re almost there!  Come over to da bluff!”  The vibrations from her voice shook the fragile cotton pods that sat flimsily on top of the tall stalks.  Bijou followed Mamaw’s robust path across the cotton rows.

“I know Papaw talks a lot about the cotton fields and these rows, but what Papaw doesn’t tell you is that you have control in that cotton’s growth too.”

Mamaw motioned for Bijou to pass the balloon and string.  She blew a strong, powerful breath into the nylon sack until it slowly grew to life.  Then, she tied it off tight and attached the polka dotted string Papaw cut for them.

“You have da power to make a difference.  You don’t have to wait for no saving grace.  I don’t want you holding on to Papaw’s small town glory.  He’s a good man, but he don’t want nothing more than these here rows.  I know you got more than that in you.”

Bijou beamed at her Mamaw as they walked closer to the edge of the bluff.  Once they grew nearer, Bijou saw a mass of bright colors floating through the sky.  The fire torched under the large, majestic balloons, and Bijou dreamed of floating in the comfort of the perfectly woven basket lead by the supremacy of the wind.  Mamaw handed Bijou their small balloon, and Bijou clasped to the polka dotted string.

“You don’t have to let it go.  Just know dat you can.”

I went home, and found a little Cap.

Water line from Hurricane Katrina.  My Pops used to call me "Katrina, Katrina"... I couldn't resist.

Hi friends,

It's been quite a while since I've blogged, and for that... I am truly sorry!  I've been enjoying life outside of the internet lately, and as grandma as it sounds... I have become a fan of silence.  I drink my coffee in silence, sit on the couch in silence, run in silence, drive in silence... you get the picture.  I worked in a coffee shop inside a very crowded mall over the holidays, and I became a lover for all things silent and non-christmasy.  Yes, I was a down right scrooge, and I'm only just now becoming a better, kinder individual!  J and I spent Christmas in Charleston without our families this year.  I cried, ate cajun inspired meals and drank mimosas the whole way through.  We were able to go home a few days after Christmas, and Cap, as you once knew her, was officially restored.

I can love again!

It's funny how much I talk about home these days.  I'm sure my local friends are sick of my constant gush over New Orleans, Gumbo, Eggs Benedict, my family, boudin, Whole Foods, Trader Joes, King Cake, and did I mention food?  I talk about food a lot.  I'm always so happy to go home, and I always turn into a little 2 year old (who just found out her mother will not let her eat ice cream for breakfast) whenever I have to leave.  It's a really sad, hilarious, sobbing, red nosed, puffy face sight... and honestly, I should film it one day so I can make millions for looking like a total spastic case.  Home is one of those places that I know I love, but it's only when I'm there that I realize...

I really effing love this place and all of the crazy, glorious people who live here.

Apparently, 2014 is the year Cap turns into a hormonal woman.  At least, that's the only explanation I can conjure up for the flooding of my tear ducts.  2014 has transformed me into a crier.  I wish it weren't so, but these days... I can only express happiness, sadness, love, passion, excitement and fear through crying.  What is wrong with me?

From the moment I landed in Baton Rouge, the tears flowed down like waterfalls, and they only semi slowed pace two days ago.  My friends and family could only laugh at my lame attempt to fight back the tears.  Here's why:

I cried when I thought I couldn't spend my sister's birthday with her in New Orleans.
I cried when I found out I could.
I cried when I saw my BFF, Corbin, in the airport.
I cried when I realized how tall he was.
I cried when I noticed Jackson was a tall, smart, freakishly handsome, crazy-cool teenager.
I cried when my Father-in-Law bragged on me.
I cried when my niece cried over not getting to spend the night with me.
I cried when she spent the night with me.
I cried when she read to me.
I cried when I was road tripping with my mom and realized I only had two more days with her.
I cried when I saw my nephew for the first time.
I cried when I left the Graham's and Brown's house.
I cried when Nicole bought me a King Cake.
I cried during a massage.
I cried during an evening run.
And I nearly had a flat out heart attack when I left my grandmother.

....And I'm crying now as I type about crying.  BLAH!

I can't describe what leaving home  4 years ago was like, but I'm going to try like hell in these next few sentences...

Leaving was an adventure.  It was fun, challenging, exciting, motivating, and scary.  I wasn't nervous about leaving, I was only nervous that I may find something outside of Louisiana that would make me not want to go back.  And, if I'm being honest, that has already happened (which is why I think I cry so much these days).  I love home, and all of the people in it... but if you ask me to make a definite answer to continue living my dreams, or go home - I would probably disappoint you.  J and I always talk about going home, but that reality is still 6-7 years away.  We both have plans to discover uncharted land, and I love that more.  The scary thing is that I can make all of these brave, selfish decisions when I'm stuck in Charleston, WV for a while, but when you bring me home.... I just want to pitch a tent on Highland road, and throw all of those crazy scholarly aspirations to the curbside.

Anyway... this is not my journal, so I will stop boring you with my rambling, mind labyrinth.

NOW...THE GOOD STUFF.  

While I was home, I got to spend some quality time with my sister.  She constantly reminds me that one can never be too late, overdressed, too smart, or have too much fun.

She makes this whole life thing grand.

She dressed me in her designer wear.
I felt so fetch.

After my New Orleans trip with Leah, I went back to Baton Rouge to smother myself in family, friends, nonacademic reading, and (once again) good food.  These pictures should be able to tell a better story...

I hope you all were able to discover a little bit of yourself over the holidays...

Welcome to 2014!

-Cap

Summer Projects

 First thing's first...

Girl's Night Out was a huge success!  We danced to JT, ate good food, and believe it or not... we actually ran into a few familiar faces.  Oh, and if I may say so myself, our dresses made a pretty cute duo.

In other news, I've been working on a few projects around the new place, and I thought I would share one.  J recently turned an old glider into a tree swing... which made outside time (our favorite) increase drastically.  However, with the added outside time being under a tree near a high traffic walking path, it didn't necessarily create the private lawn seating we'd hoped.  We still love it, but I decided to make a new seating area closer to the door so we can escape from Code Red and other crazies quicker than two shakes of a lamb's tail.

(There's a hint to my favorite movie hidden in that last sentence.)  :)

We have two concrete benches on our front stoop that I thought would serve well as a little reading nook.  It's also covered... so we could even sit out there during a peaceful drizzle (my favorite reading backdrop).  I just needed it to be comfy and cozy, and I had a long way to go!

Here's the before:

I decided to make two cushions for the benches.  You may not know this, but memory foam sold in craft stores might as well be gold.  It is CRAZY expensive.  Luckily, J and I had an old queen size mattress topper we were going to donate to the dumpster (due to the inevitable sink hole it created when two people attempted sleep at the same time).  I convinced J to help me measure the benches and cut the foam to fit Saturday.  By Saturday evening, I had a new seating area.

Tools needed:

- an old mattress topper or egg crate

- outdoor fabric

-razor blade

-measuring tape

-sewing gear

I'm a bit of a spastic seamstress, so I don't do well with patterns.  I just laid the foam on top of the fabric and cut about two inches from the outline.  (I needed enough to cover the thickness of the padding, but I still wanted the fabric to be relatively taught.)  Once the fabric was cut, I turned it inside out, pinned down the edges, and started sewing.  See, spastic.  I don't measure with these types of things...  I just go for it.  As long as I'm only working with basic pillows and such... it normally turns out.  Normally.  I had both the cushions finished before dinner, and in plenty of time for a little evening enjoyment.  By far the quickest, most satisfying project I've ever done.

I was lucky enough to find this fabric 1/2 off at a local fabric shop in Charleston.  I purchased 5 yards for both cushions and two pillows, and I still have left over!  The cost for these pretty little things came to a grand total of $33!  I'm a happy girl.  The benches measured 5ft long and 15 inches deep.  This mattress top allowed plenty of foam for both benches, and I even have left over to make the pup a new bed.  Score.

Puppy helped out a little, too!

The Afters:

I added a new door mat, succulents, and even made a few pillows to match.

The yellow fabric is from an old embroider skirt I had!  Talk about repurposed goods.

Isn't it cozy out there!  Now, I just need to convince the landlord to pressure wash the front of the house.  I'm also working on sewing a flag for the front post... I'll keep you updated on that project as it progresses.  :)

Late night reading with a fresh pitcher of Sangria

I've been spending MAJOR time on my stoop these past few days.  It's been in the low 70's/ high 60's in the evenings, and I cannot seem to get enough of the outdoor time.

Here's a recipe of Sangria that pairs well with the cool summer nights...

Sangria

- 1 bottle of red wine (Whatever you have on hand.  I used Pino and mixed in a glass of Malbec)
- 1/2 cup Triple Sec
- 1 peach, diced
- 1 orange, sliced in wedges
- 1 apple, diced
- 1 nectarine, diced

Let chill for at least an hour, and enjoy!

Are you working on any summer projects?

-Cap

Come Fly With Me

You may recall from our very first post that Bri and I attended a Girl's Night Out party last year.  Well, dear readers, the time has come again for yet another Girl's Night Out.  Girl's Night is a pretty sweet party that benefits the YWCA, an empowering woman's program here in Charleston.  They fight for everything from domestic violence awareness to racial justice and even equal pay! The event was a blast last year, but this year... I'm even more excited to attend.  

The theme is "Come Fly With Me"... 1940's, 50's, and 60's.  (yay!)

Here's a little peek at what I'll be wearing:

This emerald green hat dug up from a dusty shelf at the Antique Mall in South Charleston

What's the 50's without clip on's, right??  These were a mere $4 at Bri's favorite shop, Stray Dog Antiques.  (I'm still deciding if I want to wear the pin)

Believe it or not, I bought this dress 2 years ago at a thrift store.  I had no idea where I would wear it, but it was love at first sight.

I'm in the process of styling my hair now... Let's hope this roller set makes me look like Betty Draper. 

Here's to fun nights in strange cities!  :)

-Cap

Dodging the Dog Lady

Last night I found myself peeking out my window before going outside, scoping out the cross street before rounding the corner, and skipping out on quality outside time in 70 degree weather.

This is not like me.  I normally take the road most traveled, or the one with the most people currently walking so that I can "casually" bump into someone and strike up a useless conversation in hopes of expanding the friend circle from one (Bri) to two (anyone).  So why am I dodging interaction and gorgeous weather you may ask??

My puppy Mose has made a new friend in the neighborhood, and by new friend I mean he's found another dog to take advantage of sexually while barking loud and obnoxiously in our front yard.  Yes, he knows what the ladies like.  This new dog is named Misty.  She's a Jack Russell with a pimp limp and a typical, CODE RED dog owner.  The dog owner does not pick up on the usual social cues such as:  

"Well, we better get going..."

"Mose is being so loud, I should bring him in so we don't wake our neighbors."

"I really need to get dinner started."

"I'm not wearing a bra, so I should probably get out of the street."

But more importantly, she thinks normal conversations include descriptions of dog poops, fleas, ticks, and dog humping.  Now, I understand that I just celebrated my dog's first birthday by cooking him a steak and sweet potatoes #puppiesarepeopletoo, BUT I do know how to appear normal to strangers.  I think.

Yesterday morning, around 7:15 AM our new friend came strolling in front of our house (bra-less herself), and decided to make a pit stop in our front yard so Misty and Mose could have a hump play date.  

I know you're all thinking, 

"This chick just complained for a WHOLE YEAR because she never talked to anyone, and now she's upset about a little CODE RED dog owner?!?!?!"  ( See: Hello Boards. Goodbye Husband. )

It's more than that.  I promise.  

You see, I'm not a morning person.  I love morning time because it comes with my two favorite things... coffee and silence.  I am sincere when say I do not do well with others in the morning.  I think there should be a rule in every household that no one speaks until at least 9:00.  I'm telling you... this world would be a better place!

So, this dog lady.  She's invading my silence.  She's taking away the joy of my ONLY cup of daily coffee, and more importantly she's replacing it with a big hunk of awkward.  After nearly an hour of standing in my front yard using every excuse I could think of to get away from the humping dogs and Code Red, I literally just walked to my front door and waved goodbye.  

So long, manners.  (Sorry, Mom)

To make things worse, J and I were walking the streets yesterday evening and CODE RED came back to the house looking for us while we were gone.  Thankfully, Bri sent a warning text...

I'm so lucky to have a friend/neighbor who understands the severity of this situation.

Upon receiving this text, J and I decided to change our evening stroll route.  Bri updated us again with, "She's heading West on Virginia Street", and we were able to SUCCESSFULLY dodge Code Red.  

Whew.

J is currently working on a book of excuses for our next two years here in Charleston with Code Red.  He better get busy, I'm ready to enjoy my new swing.

Am I alone in this, or do you dodge your neighbors too?

-Cap

A Killer Concoction

So the big move to Charleston has been relatively easy compared to the other horror stories I've experienced in the past (see Back in the Burg).  We actually had a moving truck available, and get this... no feline urine odor in our new place.  However, WV doesn't have rental laws, and this normally means you move in to a pretty dirty apartment that desperately needs to be painted and dowsed in bleach.  The new place is beautiful!  It's a large 1920's house that was converted into apartments in the 60's (according to the information sheet left on our refrigerator).  So, the meager cleaning and painting are small tasks to endure for the charming apartment Bri helped us find.  (It's nice having friends who care about your living quarters as much as you do!)

Anyway... more on the cleaning.

I decided our bathroom needed a little hardcore scrubbing.  I thought to myself, "Self, what kills everything it touches?"

BLEACH  √


Naturally, I listened to myself and started cleaning with bleach (and a little water).  Midway through the cleaning, I noticed the bleach was still leaving a yellow color behind on the caulking.  So, I thought to myself again, "Self, what is the second strongest chemical that I have in my little OCD cleaning collection?"

AMMONIA √

I bet if I mix these two bad ass chemicals together I'll create an even bad-ER ass chemical. (This, unfortunately, was my actual thought process)

COMMON SENSE  X

I put my big girl cleaning gloves back on, pushed my Betty the Riveter sleeves up, put the stopper in the tub, poured a hefty amount of straight bleach, mixed in some ammonia, and started scrubbing.

Source

This, dear readers, is where it gets hard to continue.  Have you ever done something SO embarrassingly stupid that you'd rather it just go unnoticed for the rest of your life so you can keep pretending like you're a smart, educated woman with a good head on her shoulders?  

Great!  So you understand.

I'll break down the series of events (in which I remember) that occurred:

11:06 A.M.  Once the bleach and ammonia were married together in my bathtub, my eyes instantaneously started pouring with water.  

11:09 A.M.   Being that I'm allergic to nearly everything... I convinced myself this was just my individual reaction to these chemicals, and that I should most definitely keep cleaning for the better good of the bathtub.  Think of Betty, Cap!

11:10 A.M.   I kept cleaning.

11:13 A.M.   My throat started to burn when I would breath over the tub, so I began taking big breaths away from the tub, putting my shirt's collar over my mouth, and YES, you guessed it, SCRUBBING MORE!

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME, AND WHY DO I HAVE A PSYCHO OBSESSION AND AN INTENSE DESIRE FOR A WHITE BATHTUB?! 

11:15 A.M   FINALLY,  when I started coughing uncontrollably, became a little light headed, and started to feel like I was going to throw up in the bathtub..... I stopped cleaning.

11:16 A.M.   I ran out of the bathroom, Googled "ammonia poisoning" (At this point, I still didn't realize it was from mixing bleach and ammonia, but rather just from using too much ammonia).  It was here when I read in bold print:

"WARNING:  NEVER MIX AMMONIA AND BLEACH.  THIS CREATES A VAPOR KNOW AS CHLORAMINE THAT CAN BE DEADLY."

And that was when I realized I'd just started the slow killing process of myself and my innocent bystander puppy.  The crime tape would be wrapped around my apartment bathroom shortly, and the headline would read, "Medical student's wife kills herself and their 11 month old puppy".

Okay, maybe I exaggerate a smidgen.

I called everyone I knew that either had a background in chemistry or OCD cleaning.

NO ONE ANSWERED.

I called everyone AGAIN.

Finally, my smart friend answered.

CATHERINE!  YOU CANNOT MIX THOSE TOGETHER.  YOU WILL MELT YOUR LUNGS!

Sweet.  Melted lungs, but a clean bathroom.  Score!  (kidding)

Epilogue:

Other than losing my self worth and wishing I would have paid more attention in my chemistry class... I'm okay.  After a frantic Facebook post to warn friends of the "unknown dangers" of mixing chemicals together, I realized a few things:

A.  I'm actually not the only person who has done this.  (though that doesn't help my lungs)

B.  If you mix vinegar and Dawn together, let it sit for 30 mins, and scrub onto yellowed caulking and grout... It actually whitens without melting important organs.

So, hopefully you've learned a valuable lesson through my ignorance. 

You're welcome.

-Cap

Well hello, 3rd year!

It's official.  I've survived two years in Lewisburg, two years of being a student doctor's wife, four interesting moves, and best of all.... Step 1 of BOARDS!  Life is good.

These past two years have made me realize medical school is an awful lot like how my mature and awesome girlfriends describe giving birth.  In one of my girlfriend's exact words, "Don't let anyone lie to you, Cap.  Giving birth is not beautiful.  It freaking sucks!  But when it's all over, it's worth it."

To celebrate the delivery of third year, J and I went on a mini vacay to my favorite place... home.

Here's some of the fun we had while we were there:

Long drives are fun for the first 10 hours... after that, puppy starts to break my heart.  However, they get you home. Thus, they are still FUN!  

Walked through acres of cotton fields with my sister in search for peace, tranquility, and "Gary the Gator".

Celebrated the marriage of this beautiful bride and her sweet cotton farmer.

Showed the Crigler's the crazy years of marriage they have to look forward to...

Snuck into a Mississippi bar in our bridesmaid gear AKA Risky Business Style.  (I later had to meet up with my grandparents, and my grandfather whispered to me secretly,  "Cap, did you forget your pants?")

Margs and girl talk.

Wore my beautiful perfume button necklace my mother gave me.

Thought about sneaking this back to WV in my suitcase. ;)

Spent the most wonderful night with my beautiful grandmother.  We sang old Doris Day tunes, played Skip Bo, and snuck coffee and chicken and dumplings into the room.  

Going home is always fun, and driving back to WV is normally really really really depressing.  But this time, I had the beautiful thought of moving to Charleston, and the hope of a grand third year to keep me cheered up.  Life here under B and W is already perfect.  I'll post more soon on the move, my new neighbors, and my kitchen's transformation.

Are you making big moves this summer?

-Cap

An excuse for absence

During the course of this blog's life I've been hiding a pretty big secret.  Nothing dark and gossip worthy, but a secret none the less.  So, without further ado...

I'm not pregnant.

I'm a little college student again.  That's right... an innocent little college student working 40 hours a week and crying my way through mid terms, finals, and sleepless nights.  I love it.

(that wasn't sarcasm)

I love being busy, I love debates, I love writing papers on religion and Abu Graib, I love using my long drives to school as an excuse to listen to audio books, I LOVE IT ALL.

The Background Story

In high school I was an honor roll kid.  I didn't even have to try to make good grades... they just flowed down upon me like holy water.  When I went to LSU with a scholarship and a lame plan to study Horticulture... my grades and interest went south.  DEEP BAYOU STYLE SOUTH.  I had no idea why the hell I chose a degree in which I was allergic to everything I touched (ie:  grass, plants, and the general theme of springtime).  I was confused, frustrated, and broke.  So I did what everyone does when they reach that point...

I started cosmetology school.

The Aveda Institute was a blast, and I discovered I had a knack for hair styling and cutting.  I was happy.  I landed a pretty killer job interning under one of the best hair stylists in Baton Rouge, and I felt as though this was it... this is what I want to be when I grow up. 

After 3 years in the salon, Jason's med school plans started panning out.  We moved to West Virginia for WVSOM, back to Shreveport for LSU, and back again to WV.  Life in the salon world doesn't mesh well with cross country moving.  In fact, it ruins you.  The constant moving, changing salons, building clientele, and boards became a big sink hole to my hair stylist dreams.

That, and the picture of myself in Golden Girl Glamour doing hair at the age of 70 in a booth rent salon with no retirement or health insurance.

That scary mental image, the constant thought of what if I went back to school, and all of the free time that being a student doctor's wife brings you... led me to go for the gold.  Not having a degree was one of those constant, horrible tugs on my heart.  I watched my brainy sister go through law school with what seemed like ease, my husband take brutal exams and interviews for medical school nearly effortlessly, and I thought... I could never do that.  I would never be cut out for that. 

That thought was strange to me, because I have always loved learning.  I loved pushing myself, I loved writing, I loved professor's critiquing me...  So why am I not school material?  What am I missing?  Am I not smart enough for this?

It wasn't until I witnessed a few high school slackers graduate college when I realized that

a. I wasn't stupid

b. I was afraid of failing.

At 18, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life.  I picked something that didn't fit me, I did terrible, and I felt like a failure.  I lost a scholarship, lost my self esteem, and lost any hope for a dream.  I didn't want to go through that again.  I wanted to find something I could achieve quickly.  I wanted instant satisfaction, and I wanted to find a quick career and make quick money so I could get out of a broken household.  Through that first dreadful year at LSU I wish I could have known that you don't need the answers to everything.  You don't need to have a dream in the beginning, you just need a plan.  I wish I knew student loans were okay, and that being in debt was a necessity when attempting to put yourself through college.  Now, after seeing J follow his dreams I've been inspired to follow mine.

I don't care if I go back to the hair world after I get a degree... I want to succeed in something that seemed unachievable earlier in life.  

I find myself getting frustrated that I did not go back earlier, but I like to think that's a good regret to have.  Challenges are fun and hard to overcome, but achieving something you never thought you could is pretty rewarding.  I'm not finished with school (I still have at least 2 years left), but the mere fact that I enrolled and finished my first year back brings a new sense of achievement that I've never experienced before.  Going back was scary and even somewhat embarrassing.  I always feel like an old lady in class.  An old lady who worries about homework, never skips class, and who has more in common with the nerdy professor than most students.  ha!

So, dear friends, that is the long detailed version as to why I've been MIA lately.  Sorry I did not tell you sooner.  I wanted to succeed first.  :)  I wanted to know that I was really going to stick with it before I shared the ins and outs.  I think you'd be proud to know that thus far, I have had an all A semester.  HOLLA!

What fears are you overcoming?

-Cap

hello spring!

This winter seemed as though it would never end.  After some unexpected snowfall last week, I was seconds away from a breakdown.  That would have marked a first in breakdowns from precipitation... and it would have been well deserved.

This is what my front yard looked like on April 4th.  I laughed at first, and then nearly cried when reality set in...

A SOUTHERN GIRL NEEDS HER SUNSHINE.

Mother Nature was apparently only playing a delayed April Fool's joke on all of Southern WV, because the dreaded snow melted by sunrise the following morning.

AND THE ANGELS SING.

I get that snow can be beautiful and magical and all that jazz, but trust me dear friends... those qualities fade!

Today, I opened my front door and felt the warmth of morning light on my bare legs and arms.  It was MARVELOUS.

Hello Spring! You seem brighter and warmer this year.  Would you care to stay for a while?

It is quite fascinating to see what 70 degree weather can do to someone's soul.  In my case, it makes me eat less, run more, and smile often.  There is one downfall, and that is the sudden urge I get to eat Key Lime Pie.  Which is quite detrimental for whipping into bikini season.

But sometimes in life, you just have to say...

("Eff" picture inspired by Bri Jackson.  I think she has a "Chive On" phenomenon waiting to happen)

To celebrate Spring, here's my favorite Key Lime Pie Recipe:

Courtesy of Nicole Green

Key Lime Pie  

3 cups condensed milk

1/2 cup sour cream

3/4 cup lime juice

1T lime zest

Mix all ingredients together and bake at 350 for 5 mins.

Graham Cracker Crust

I did not make my own crust this time, but just in case you're feeling very Martha Stewart-esque....I have used this recipe before. 

Whipped Cream

1 cup heavy whipping cream

1 teaspoon vanilla extract 

3 T confectioners' sugar

Whip heavy cream until it starts to thicken.  Add in vanilla extract and sugar until soft peaks form.  Spread over pies using a spatula or piping.

Serve with love and ENJOY!

Happy Spring Friends!

-Cap

D.C. is for Lovers

Before I begin my gush over D.C. I just want to vent...

Why? WHY? WHYYYYYYY are board exams so dang expensive?  Is it not enough that we are deprived of our sanity for an education?  Must you also deprive us of our sorry excuse of an income for a COMPUTERIZED TEST?

Let this be a warning for all you Med School hopefuls and sweet wives of student doctors:
Start a savings account now, or be prepared to sell your soul.

Okay.  That is all.

Now for the fun stuff:

Though I'm still two years and a scary board exam away from thinking about residency locations... I can't seem to stop dreaming of J and me moving to D.C. for his years as a resident.  I've loved Washington from the very first time I laid eyes on it 2 years ago, and the more I visit the deeper in love I fall.  It reminds me of New Orleans... only cleaner, larger, more cultured, and not has humid.

Bri invited me to tag along on some really fun museum work (which made me realize I may love history more than I thought), and we turned it into a mini girl's vacay. Why not, right?

The city streets, daily Starbucks, Greek food, fro yo, and majestic flea markets were nearly a fun overload.  Nearly.

I'm not sure if it was to counteract with our margs and sugar intake or just an excuse to look like a local, but Bri and I walked EVERYWHERE!  We also grabbed a glass of wine at the hotel bar (classy style), and were in bed by 10 ever night.  We travel well together.  :)

After our amazing weekend I am now not only positive that I could live in a big city, but I am drooling at the thought of one day actually moving into a 700 sq. ft. studio apartment. 

Here's a little peek at some of the fun we had.



Margarita for two in Capital Hill



The Mall on National Kite Day.

More Kite Day fun.

How adorable is this?!  This is why I want to live in Capital Hill.... I'm pretty sure it's a great start to having cool cultured kids.



Faking a daily run.  We wanted an excuse to wear workout clothes and tennis shoes all day.



The Capital

-Cap