How to Install Christmas Lights

As the holiday season comes to a close, I've chosen to reflect on lessons learned this past year. Important lessons... life shattering really... earth moving.... Installing Christmas lights on your house is easy, yet potentially very dangerous. After a successful installation this year, I've decided to make a step-by-step guide so as to not repeat mistakes made previously.

#1. Buy a house with a flat (or nearly flat roof). All those fancy angles and pitches just make it more dangerous and complicated.

See there? Nice and flat-ish.

#2. If you live alone and/or are installing the lights alone. Call somebody and tell them that you are about to climb on your roof so in case you fall off and break your elbow (or your hiney)someone can come and collect the lump of bones and call your momma.

#3. Get out a nice sturdy ladder.

Or something relatively sturdy that you happen to find under your house when you moved in.

#4. Set it up on a nice even surface.

See those inches of difference and uncertainty? Those won't matter much on the way up, but trust me that they matter a lot on the way down.

#5. Toss all of the equipment up on the roof and get to work.

#6. Make sure you're dressed for the occasion. I opted for sweatpants that unbeknownst to me become plumber pants when crawling around on your roof. I'm sure the neighbors loved it.

#7. Plan a strategy for safely hanging over the edge of your house to affix the lights. I opted not to become an "After School Special" (see item #2). On this lovely flat roof the best thing to do is to lay on your belly with you head towards the gutter and scoot across the roof, dragging your supplies with you. One small side affect- see item #6.

#8. Quickly and efficiently attach the lights to the gutters. Yay awesome gutter clips! This part really was easy, minus the scooting around on your belly part.

#9. Toss all debris from packaging into the front yard.

#10. Safely dismount the roof.

Problematic. However, if you very gingerly sit on the edge of the roof, careful not to sit on the gutters lest they and your newly strung lights go crashing to the ground, you can take your feet and scoot that ladder all over your carport until you manage to make it safe enough-ish not to face plant onto the concrete. You just look like an idiot until that is accomplished.

#11. Enjoy the beautifully decorated house for 30ish days and then repeat the process in reverse. I may consider Judaism from a decorations stand point next year. :)

SEC Football

I started to write a post to try to explain the nuances of Southern College Football. After about 3 pages of rambling about pre-game activities, I realized I had written an epistle and hadn't event made it into the stadium yet. I scrapped that post in favor of a shorter one here...

My favorite thing about college football is the commraderie. Being in a stadium filled with (mostly) like minded fans all cheering for the same fellas is just so much fun. Even when you lose a game, it's still nice to be in the company of friends. At Auburn, we call it the Auburn Family. Though we may be just as dysfunctional as a regular family, I'm proud to call myself a Tiger any day. Try as they might, those football fans outside of the SEC may never truly grasp how serious we take our football down here.

This year, our season tickets were behind a cute little old man and his wife and thier grandson. This man was seriously in his late 70s but he was there every game without fail. He spends about 90% of the game with one finger pointed to the sky reminding Jesus to keep an eye on his Tigers during the game. It is the cutest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. He spends the other 10% attempting to learn to fist-bump is grandson. I'm not sure that he ever nailed that move this season.

In Keeping with Thanksgiving

A quick post on gratefulness.

This year for New Year's I decided to make only one resolution. Instead of "saving money " or "losing weight" I thought I'd attempt to just be GRATEFUL this year. Let me tell you this... sometimes it's hard to be grateful. And not for any profound reason other than because it's just so much easier to bitch about things than to say, "I'm grateful for this time" or "this moment" or "this sweet tea."

All in all, I feel I've done a pretty good job at being grateful. I celebrated five yeras at my job this month. This is a job I am no longer particulary fond of. What I am though, is grateful to be employed.

As I sat at work today for approxiamtely 12 hours to babysit about 25 people in a meeting room, I was a whiny biotch for almost all 12 hours. Anyone I texted or talked to on the phone got a "blah blah blah, I'm so bored." I was insufferable really.

As I often do on weekends at work, I started watching a documentary. Keep in mind that my job is to be here in case anything goes awry, or someone wants another chair in their room... I'm not a brain surgeon. Within 3 seconds of clicking on Harlan County USA, a documentary about a coal minint down in Kentucky, I saw mwn covered in coal dust (which is no good to human lungs) jump on a conveyer belt on thier bellies with thier lunch boxes tucked in front of them and I had a revelation.

I AM GRATEFUL FOR MY JOB.

My "bad day at work" consists of me sitting at a desk in a well lit office playing a computer all day. Not everyday is quite this easy, there was that pesky tornado that time. Would I rather be at home with my dogs, or hanging out with my friends, or helping my mom? Absolutely. But you know what? At no point today did I ride on my belly into a black hole filled with carcinogens and work for 8 or 10 or 12 hours.

My grandfather was that kind of man. He did everything from working in a coal mine to clearing train wrecks. I'm grateful for him too. Because of his hard work, my father was shown the correlation between working hard and providing for your family. In one generation my family went from a self sufficient shack on the face of a Kentucky to a daughter pursuing her Doctorate (my sister, not me... i'm grateful she likes higher education, it gives me something to brag about). My grandfather also taught us that hard work makes up for a multitude of short comings. He died nearly illiterate. I am grateful to have been taught that both hard work and education are important.

Will I still moan about my job? You betcha (thank you Sarah Palin)! But for this fleeting moment, I'll just be grateful and I'll make a little promise to try to do it more.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

Some Days Chocolate Cake is a Side Dish

Yesterday was a yucky day- I just wasn't feeling it at all. Now in the grand scheme of things I have everything in the world to be thankful for and shouldn't really ever have a "bad" day. I tried to remember that yesterday as I was being whiny and wimpy. I wasn't very successful. But then I realized that something could be done to remedy my poopy attitude...

That's right folks... I made choclate cake my side dish. I also dined al fresco... always helpful on a beautiful fall day. I'd like to thank The Mercantile (http://themercantileatl.com/) for my mood lifting dinner of a pressed sandwich made with ham and pear preserves (seriously, i know that might not sound so delicious but trust me on this) and some seriously good chocolate cake. By the way kids, chocolate cake's deliciousness is always amplified if you heat it in the microwave. This is a true statement- try it- let me know- it's the bomb.

The moral of today's story... it's ok to make chocolate cake a side dish, really... just maybe don't do it everyday.

If you meet a hooker in Tombstone

She just might give you a piece off a 100 year old cactus....

But I'll get to that in a minute.

Momma and I recently took a trip down memory lane for her in southern Arizona. If there was something to see south of Tucson, we saw it. We had a blast. We made our headquarters in Bisbee at the most adorable retro trailer park called Shady Dell. http://www.theshadydell.com/

It was so delightful- and cheap... we're talking like $90 a night. It was totally retro complete with music from the 40s and 50s piped through the radio, a adorable tv- that worked, and a super cute diner on property. Sadly, the diner was closed for repairs but it was so cute, I can only imagine how delicious the burgers and shakes were.

I can't really say enough good things about Bisbee. It's a teeny tiny town that came to prosper as a copper mining town. The remants of that operation still remain. It's so sad that mining really truly scars the landscape for life. When in doubt, just face the other direction. The mountains in this area are so beautiful and so unlike the Appalachians that we are used to in the South. Bisbee had a great artsy-crunchy-bikery-antiquey vibe. Aside from the bikers, it was just my kind of vibe (I'm just not a biker). Should you ever find yourself in Bisbee- walk, run, or fly as quickly as possible to the Bisbee Breakfast Club (http://www.bisbeebreakfastclub.com/) as quickly as possible. You may never have huevos rancheros like this again in your life. I'm serious, I will hunt this recipie for the rest of my life. So amazingly delicious.

We went to Sierra Vista to see where Momma and Daddy used to hang out when they were freshly married and Daddy had been drafted. Strangely enough, they lived in a little trailer eerily similar to the one we rented. Those Arizonians really love thier trailers! Momma worked in a hospital and Daddy was an electrician on the army base... Fort Huachuca. I just love saying "huachuca." I could say it over and over again, much like "chihuahua." Yay for Spanish!

We went to Tucson to see the amazing San Xavier Mission built in 1793. Oddly enough, this mission is still in the middle of nowhere. I just can't imagine being traveling the wide open desert of Arizona coming upon a particular patch of sand and going "Yep, I think I'll construct a gorgeously ornate building. I'll just travel back a few hundred miles by horseback and pick up some supplies." It was so worth the drive though. Simply beautiful.

Needless to say, we experienced a lot of great places in Arizona. Saw beautiful landscapes unlike anything I'd ever seen. The rolling hills surrounding Bisbee are so lovely and unique. Then one day we decided to drive our little rented honda civic to Tombstone. Momma recalls with such fondness going to Hell Dorado Days when she and Daddy lived here. I've seen the pictures. It looked really cute. Sadly, Tombstone is now a tragic tragic tourist stop. I have no issue with a tourist trap- but I expect the folks in town to really embrace it. Instead, it looks like no one has been minding the Inn. We walked around, attempt to explore some of the historical significance of the town. I mean, really, I was totally ready to explore the Wild Wild West. I wanted gun fights in the streets! You can see them behind the closed doors of the OK Corral for a fee though.

However, our luck changed as we were headed back to our car. There were some costumed folks wandering around town hoping to add to the theme. Some ladies of town, maybe the Sheriff's wife, dressed in thier finest. Though when she pulled a cell phone out of her bustle, it really ruined it for me. Anywho, as Momma and I are going back to the car, we see this ginormous cactus. Momma was focused on all things cactus on this trip so we stopped to take a picture. This prickly pear cactus was over 6ft tall and really awesome with all the prickly pears sprouting out. Turns out this cactus is over 100 years old and sits directly behind the OK Corral. Just imagine all the shenanigans this cactus has seen!!!

So as I'm taking a picture upon my mother's request. We see this lovely lady pop out from the back door of a building. Dressed to the nines in 1800s poly-blend hot pink hooker wear. And while I'm processing what's before my eyes, she says in a southern accent thicker than mine, "You wanna starter offa that?" Huh? "You want a starter off of that?" Um, a cactus starter? "Sure." We say. The wench the proceeds to find us an empty beer box grab a fork out of God knows where, stab a fallen cactus paddle and jam it in the box. There is no speaking during this whole transaction, especially by me (cause I'm dumbfounded). She thrusts the box in Momma's face and tells us to water it real good once and the don't water it again for 10 days. The next thing we know she's gone, we have a slab of 100 year old cactus, and were walking back to the car trying to figure out how to get this thing back to Atlanta. (We just threw it in a bag, security didn't think a thing of it).

The moral of the story... a trip down memory lane with your mom is a blast and a hooker in Tombstone may hook you up with a cactus.

IN PREPARATION OF BUDDY'S ONE YEAR WITH ME!!

IN PREPARATION OF BUDDY’S ONE YEARY BIRTHDAY WITH ME

As I mentioned previously, Buddy is my newest pup and my biggest nightmare. I am so excited to celebrate 1 year with my Bud on September 2nd. Now, I have no idea how old Buddy-boy is. My best guess is about 2 years. That being said, we have entered the puppy terrible twos.

I. AM. MORTIFIED. In preparation of his anniversary with me, my dear Bud decided to jump the fence (again) this morning and harass the neighbor’s dogs (again). I’m pretty sure my neighbor has had enough of this behavior- mostly because she called me and said so. There’s nothing quite like waking up at 7am to a screaming neighbor.

Naturally, I am mortified. I certainly understand why it would be annoying that Buddy runs up to her fence and harasses her dogs. What she doesn’t understand is that he really just wants to say ‘hey.’ Buddy says hi by bearing his teeth, ruffling up his hair, and wagging his tail. The minute I call him off, he turns around, pees on a bush, and jumps the fences back to our yard.

What she also may not understand is that I am not responsible for his bad attitude. I didn’t beat the tar out of him when he was a puppy. I didn’t kick him or slap him in the face. What I can do is love him now and try to make him realize that humans are cool and not always cruel. What I have done is spent literally thousands of dollars on training, fencing, day care, fancy dog food, vet bills (from recently impaling himself on a fence he was trying to jump), and now agility classes. I have also spent countless hours running him (and mostly me) ragged. All the internet research I’ve done says that Red Heelers (Australian Cattle Dogs) need lots of exercise. Unfortunately, we do not live on a farm or own cows and pigs for him to heard. Instead, he heards me and the birds in our yard and our neighbors'. To make this kid tired, takes a solid 5-6 miles. Anyone know how long it takes me to walk/run 5-6 miles…. A long time. Anyone know how many hours I work… A lot. We get out several nights a week and get a good 3-4 miles in though. Don't get me wrong. We should both be rid of our love handles soon. :)

Bottom line, I’m doing the best I can. I love Buddy and really want his unhappiness to end with me. Do I give him the best possible life? Probably not. Do I give him something far better than he’s ever had? I like to think so. Should be people give “bad” dogs a chance? Absolutely. It’s not his fault someone beat him. It’s not his fault he’s afraid of humans.

What my neighbor doesn’t see is Buddy laid out in the floor chewing ever so gingerly on his green squeaky dog. Not tearing it up, just nuzzling it and licking it like it's a kitten. She doesn’t see him dig holes in the yard, just to put his nose in them. Seriously… I don’t know why he does it, but they are deep, much like booby traps used in the Congo. She doesn’t see him roll over on his back and beg for a belly rub. She doesn’t see him obediently “go to his crate” whenever I ask. Even if it’s for no reason at all. What she doesn’t see is him sitting on the floor outside of the office why my 12 pound Chihuahua keeps him at bay while he eats. Bud isn’t even the alpha. He succumbs to a 12 pound overweight Chihuahua named Huey.

In preparation of Buddy’s anniversary with me, I’d like everyone to give “bad” dogs a chance to be a “good” dog. I promise to give Buddy extra hugs this week as we celebrate all the progress he has made in the last year. Maybe you can make a donation to one of these awesome groups where dogs are given second chances…

End Dog Fighting with the Human Society
http://www.humanesociety.org/issues/dogfighting/

Atlanta Pet Rescue
I just love them. I don’t have any of their rescues, but my mom does. You can pick a dog to sponsor until the find a loving home.
http://www.atlantapetrescue.org/www_ver2/donations.htm

Duncan
I LOVE this dog. And if it was humanly possible for me to have 4 dogs, I totally would adopt him. He’s a miniature heeler mix. He’s a blue heeler and probably looks a lot like Buddy would have as a puppy. No one has abused Duncan yet, but he needs LOVE. Someone should totally adopt him. He’d be an amazing dog!!!
http://www.atlantapetrescue.org/www_ver2/pet_pages/small/small.htm
Scroll down a little ways to see him.

I'd also be remiss if I didn't point out Atlanta's Dog Whisperer Angie Woods and the folks at US Caninie when I talk about Buddy. Without her, Buddy would be somewhere else right now and probably euthanized. She saved our lives with her innate understanding of dogs and how they work. Now if only she could just move-in and control Buddy all the time! :)
http://www.uscanine.com/

There are countless organizations to donate to. Pick your favorite and do it in the name of Buddy!!!!

Peace… Rainey

Lemon Crack Y'all

I love lemons… seriously. I love them. I put lemon juice on everything. Fish, veggies, chicken, pasta, hummus (seriously delicious, try it), you name it. When I heard of a recipie for Lemon Buttermilk Popsicles I died. Because as much as I love lemons, I’m also a huge fan of buttermilk… pancakes, red velvet cake, chocolate cake… all of these things are made better with buttermilk.
Let me just tell you that these popsicles do not disappoint! The combination of sour lemons and tangy buttermilk is quite possibly the most refreshing summer snack around. Please don’t limit yourself to just popsicles… you can also throw this mixture in an ice cream maker and basically die upon first bite… AMAZING.

Without further ado…

LEMON BUTTERMILK ICE CREAM (or popsicles, or milkshakes, or whatever)
Aka LEMON CRACK

Here’s what you’ll need

1 ½ cups sugar
10 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (use as much, or as little, as you like)
4 tablespoons grated lemon peel
Pinch of salt
2 1/3 cups buttermilk

STEP ONE:
Get yourself a container you can seal and shake. You can whisk this, naturally, but shaking is way more fun.

STEP TWO:
Zest your lemons directly in to the container.

STEP THREE:
Squeeze your lemon juice directly into the container. Fun tip… I take my zester and lay it over the top of the dish and squeeze my lemons over it. It catches all the seeds! Geez, I’m so smart.

STEP FOUR:
Add your sugar and buttermilk to the container. ( I forgot to take a picture of the buttermilk in there… use your imagination.)

STEP FOUR:
Shake it up! Again, no picture of that either. It’s pretty hard to shake something and take a picture with the other hand. Just imagine dancing around your kitchen shaking some Tupperware.

STEP FIVE:
EITHER… pour it into a popsicle mold
OR… run in through your ice cream maker
THEN… freeze it. Let it freeze good. You want your first taste to be perfect.

STEPS SIX AND SEVEN:
Eat! And then go slap yo’ momma… cause that’s how good this is!!

Couple of standard disclaimers…
I respectfully borrowed this recipie from http://www.epicurious.com/. I doubled it though, because the original version only makes about 3 cups of ice cream.
Also, please don’t judge me by my bad pictures. I hope to locate my real digital camera any day now…. Have you seen it?

The Final Countdown

There are some of you out there that know me and others that do not. For those that don't, I've got big news! About 4 1/2 years ago my sister (you know, the one who gave me "that dog") started the adoption process. You heard that right... 4.5 years ago!! Anywho, for what seems like an eternity, she has been waiting in line to bring home a beautiful baby girl from China.

quick disclaimer... I'm sure that everyone has a different opinion on adoption. domestic vs. international, how a person makes their family, etc. Sadly, this is not the place for those conversations. Just be happy. Babies rock! No matter where they come from. :)

We had no idea when she began this process that it would take this long. But she has stayed true to her maternal gut feelings and hung in there. We have decorated a nursery, bought countless amounts of precious baby girl clothes, studied up on attachment issues, and prepared ourselves as best as possible for all that adopting a baby entails.

Folks, the time is getting nearer. We expect to finally travel to China before the end of the year to bring home Nola Avonlea Richards. I'm thrilled and honored that my sister has asked "Cool Aunt Rainey" (i plan to be reffered to only as this) to be a part of this journey. Mostly, I'll be schelping bags and attempting to document every second of this historic moment.

Here's a quick rundown of the process:
1. First you complete a crap ton of paperwork basically saying that you're not a psycho. Even I wrote a letter saying that my sister was not a psycho.

2. Then China writes back and says your Log In Date is... Broooke's is 5/19/2006. That's when she officially got in line.














3. you wait
4. you shop
5. you cry cause you've waited so long
6. you wait some more
7. you eat a lot of ice cream, or brownies, or hot dogs
8. you hope and wish that time would go by faster

Each month China sends out referrals through a certain log in date. This month they referred through May 10th, 2006. My head is spinning, we are only 9 log in days away from seeing this sweet baby's face for the first time. I've got my sharpie ready, I cannot wait to mark the rest of the days off of this calendar!!!














(Pay no attention to the Wrestlemania program! They're a client, and I happen to think the idea that I get to work on a Wrastlin' event is HILARIOUS. I've already scoped out potential mullet hairdos for the event week.)

Stay tuned for more details as we get closer to brining Nola home. We'll be documenting the whole process on another blog so you can go to China too!!!

You Look Just Like Your Mother

I get this a lot. Mostly because it’s true. I do, in fact, look just like my mother. We’re the same height which I’m truly thankful for. There were a few years there where I was the same height as her elbow and I remember getting jabbed in the forehead on many occasions. Evidently I was a little bit of a Velcro kid and my mother made lots of sudden stops. Anywho… we’re the same height, dye our hair basically the same color, laugh the same, and act the same.

Like any child, when people first started telling me I look like my mother, I was annoyed. But as I’ve grown, I realize there is no need to fight the inevitable. Thanks to her, I know exactly what my rear will look like in 30 years and it is fine by me.

The only time this “looking like your mother” thing rears its ugly head is when I start dressing like her. See these feet?

These are my feet in shoes of my choosing. I love flip flops, especially these metallic ones right now. If I had my choice, I’d where these shoes everyday. They’re comfortable and they make me happy.

See these feet?

These are my mothers. Notice that these feet didn’t become hers until I put on these shoes. These are shoes that my sister and I would immediately look at in a store and go “those look like momma.” Then, two days later, we’d go to her house and she’d say “look at my new shoes” and there they’d be. I needed some non-flip-flop sandals for work because it’s summer in Atlanta and my feet are just not feeling dress shoes at this time. According to my boss sandals cannot go between my toes and must have something over the heel. I thought these were soooo cute, until I went to work one day and realized I had on my mother’s feet. I guess copious amounts of Capri pants are in my future now too.

The great thing is… I love my momma and have come to accept taking her feet to work every now and then.

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Sidebar... i'd be remiss if I did not point out that the amazingly adorable pictures of my dogs were taken by Atlanta photographer, Lessia Teh. She's phenomenal. Check out her blog and business at http://www.leesiateh.com/blog/

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Sidebar #2... HAPPY 4TH OF JULY!! I'm so proud to live in America and happy to think today of all the brave things our founding fathers and thier families did to declare thier independence so long ago. Now go out and celebrate by grilling meat and drinking beer! (weird country right?)

And we're off...

Welcome! I've been meaning to start a blog for a long, long time and this random Saturday seemed like the right time. I hope y'all enjoy this little snippet into my life.

Friends and loved ones are well aware that those three furry faces at the top of my page are my heathen children. I have not had the pleasure of actual human children yet and heretofore have adopted these cretins into my home and heart. From right to left are Lady, Buddy, and Huey.

A study in dog personalities...

Lady: the velcro child
Not only does her hair stick to things like velcro, but she's enamoured with me. She follows me around, sits on my head, has seizures when I'm gone to long, and generally is concerned for my well being and hers at all times. She's also a noodle... you know the flamigo croquet things in Alice in Wonderland? They melt everytime the Queen of Hearts trys to hit the hedgehog-ball? She's just like them. Try to pick her up and she melts like a noodle and becomes impossible to pick up. It's awesome.

Buddy: there are no words...
Buddy is a rescue (thanks to my sister, Brooke). His life started out real, real poopy best we can tell. Someone, somewhere used to beat the tar out of him. Thanks to them, he's a complete teddy bear who can turn into a junkyard dog in about 4 seconds. He keeps me on my toes though. I equate him to a toddler. He has more energy than I could ever muster, can jump 5ft fences in a single bound, and thinks jumping at your face with his mouth wide open is the best way to play (it's not by the way, nor is burying every toy I give him regardless of how much money I've spent on it).

Huey: my cranky old man
So he's not really old, only 7. He was a college graduation gift from my BFF Chris. I still can't believe I graduated from college 7 years ago. Huey could care less if I ever came home again. He spends all his life curled up under a blanket. He only comes out to eat, pee, and snap at Buddy (just to keep him in line of course). Huey is also fat, he doesn't mean to be, he's just bigged boned. :)

My babes, my heart, my trouble...


Thanks for checking me out... stay tuned for more musings, introductions, and food!