Meet Bill...

As I mentioned in my previous post, I recently found work doing non-medical home health care which means I just hang out with old people all day.  I have all kinds of clients with various levels of ability and mobility.  They all have unique and individual needs.  But today I just want to give you an introduction to one of my favorite clients.  We will call him Bill.

Bill is 94 years old and a retired farmer.  His wife, who was apparently the belle of the county with prize winning jams, afghans and jewelry at the fairs, passed away a few years ago.  But Bill still lives in their home out on the farm.  He rents his farmland out to another man who farms it for him, but he still lives independently and maintains his two acres around his home including an extensive garden.

The first time I met Bill, I arrived at his house to be introduced by his present care-giver.  She let me in the door, showed me around the home, pointed out where the cleaning supplies were and then we started looking for him.  She called through out the house, but he was no where to be found.  This, she explained, was actually very normal.  Even though Bill wears a back brace, he is quite mobile between his cane and his golf cart.  So we started outside.  We finally found him, using a pitch fork for support and also using it to stoke a small brush fire, with a large cigar hanging out of his mouth.  This was Bill.

Bill's home is a sort of sprawling frame and stucco home, one of those you'd expect to see out on an old farm.  It started off small and then was added on bit by bit as his family grew.  This is actually the home he was raised in.  His father owned this farm before him.  At 94 years old, with a busted back, he still insists on working in his own yard, which he takes great pride in.  He admits the limitations of his body, but he still does everything he can.  He rides the riding lawnmower, but needs someone else to do the weed-eating.

When we were introduced, we both got in his golf cart and he showed me around the place.  He showed me the brush piles he had built up of fallen limbs that needed to be hauled to the brush pile.  He showed me the weed-eating that needed to be done.  He looked at me strait on and asked if I actually had any experience running a weed-eater.  To my readers who know me, or really know my parents, you know how absurd this question is.  To be fair though, my 5 foot 2 inches and 125 pound frame hardly present a physically impressive presence or impression of strength.  But I just smiled and assured him that I did in fact know how to operate a weed-eater. He nodded skeptically, but then went on to say I just needed to be careful around the trees and large yucca plants and flowers because of the damage a weed-eater could do.  I just agreed with him.  After showing me around we worked out a day and time when I would come back and work with him, what we would be doing.  Upon parting he said we would give this a try and see how it worked out, still obviously skeptical of my ability to work, much less do the kind of outdoor work my employers told him I could do.  But we parted ways and I returned 2 days later, my own gloves and hat in hand.

When I arrived at 9 am, he was having coffee with a neighbor, but we immediately set out to work.  The goal for the day was to pick up all the stacks of fallen limbs, load them into the back of his truck and haul them to the brush pile a mile away at the back of his property.  Bill is really big on doing work right and doing work slow.  The last thing he wants is for someone to rush through work, he'd rather it take all day or multiple days and be done right.  So we began to work.  I set into a consistent pace of loading the limbs, while he sat in the truck smoking his cigar.  Pile by pile we made progress all down the length of his yard until the truck bed was full.  He drove us out to the brush pile, explained that he wanted the brush thrown up onto the middle of the pile as opposed to just dumping it on the ground, backed up to the pile and I began to work.  When I finished, he commented that I finished that pretty quick, but since the work was done to his liking, he had nothing to complain about.  We drove back and continued on with this work.  There were several loads worth of limbs, so through out the morning we repeated this process a few times.

At 94 years old, Bill actually doesn't have to take very much medicine, but one of the medicines he does have to take is a diarrhetic, so he has to use the bathroom often.  We had the truck in his yard and I was loading limbs when the call of nature came upon him.  His golf car was parked across the dive way and he started making his way in that direction.  When he was about 20 feet from me, I looked over my shoulder and saw his cane get stuck on a rock while he was trying to walk forward.  The result was his cane stayed in place while his forward momentum just kept moving him forward.  And he went down.  I dropped the limbs in my arm and ran to him.  Miraculously, nothing seemed to be broken. His nose was bleeding from a cut on the bridge of it from his glasses and he had a few scrapes on his face, but other than that he seemed to be alright.  After a quick assessment, I ran to retrieve his golf cart and pulled up right along side him.  Together we got him turned around facing the passenger side of the cart with his feet in that direction.  I got behind him, squatted down, hooked both of my arms under him and (with my back strait) lifted him right up so he could catch hold of the frame of the golf cart.  At this point, I think his amazement at my ability to lift him won over the pain he was feeling.   He just kept saying "you're a good girl, good girl" which made me laugh to myself.

I drove him to the house, but despite the blood and drips and scrapes, we still had the initial problem to deal with. He still needed to go to the bathroom!!  I got him to the bathroom and then I went in search of the first aid kit.  When he came out of the bathroom, I noticed a big red spot on the knee of his pants and asked if he had cut his knee too.  He looked down and then looked at me and responded "well, I guess I did!"  I sat him down in a big recliner and started methodically cleaning up his cuts and scrapes with alcohol and neosporin.....

This story goes on and certainly get's funnier, but I will leave you here at this stopping point and will continue on tomorrow.  Stay tuned for the next adventures of Bill and Scarlett!!

 - Scarlett

Post Bar Depression

Ok I know I've been off the grid for a while, and I know that a lot of my friends have been worried about me....and rightfully so.

For anyone who has never taken the bar exam, or been very close with someone who has, you just have no idea.  The intensity of the experience is really incomparable to anything else in the "lay" world.  I am not one of those people that walks around thinking I'm just so special because I went to law school, but really, the Texas Bar exam is a beast on a whole other level that most people just can not relate to no matter how hard they try.  The only thing I have seen that comes close is the STEP exams medical students take during their second year to become licensed physicians.  At any rate, it's rough.  And after you make it through that hell, after the studying, after the test, after the mental break downs, you suddenly wake up and you really just have nothing to live for.  I know that sounds bleak but think about it.  For the past two months, you have eaten and slept and studied at your desk.  Your every waking minute is spent studying.  It consumes you.  It is your world.  You spend three days taking this exam and then suddenly, your schedule, your life, your purpose that has consumed you for the past two months is just over.  It's done.

So now what? 

Well right before I started to study for the bar exam, my industry just collapsed.  I was working in oil and gas, and making good money, but as you all might have noticed at the gas pumps, prices are WAY down.  When the market experiences a drop like that, my position (a landman) is the first thing to go.  So what was I to do?  Here I am, with multiple degrees, one of which from law school, with really a lot of experience in several different things and a resume that more than proves that I am ready and willing to work and work hard.  So I started applying for jobs.  All kinds of jobs.  Management jobs, non-management jobs, sales jobs, law jobs.  You name it.  Because I am not yet licensed, law jobs are off limits.  And because I have a J.D. I am way "over qualified" for any other job.

Personally, I am now very offended by the term "over qualified."  I feel like if you have a desire to work, and work hard, and you have a relevant skill set to the position, then you are qualified and that's the end of it.

Sadly, that is not the thought processes behind employers today.  I looked everywhere. I called everyone.  Still nothing.  So take the depression I was already facing after the bar exam and compound that with the impending doom of financial failure and the inability to find work despite my very best efforts.  It was more than a little disheartening.

I had a few good leads.  I interviewed all the way up through the chain of command with a car dealership for a Finance Manager position.  Things looked great.  Then I find out they decided to hire someone else.  All this back and forth just hauled me further and further into this pit of bleakness.  It got to the point where I would wake up every morning and from my bed search for new jobs, apply for any jobs I hadn't already applied for and follow up on jobs I had already applied for.  After that with no success, I went back to sleep.  I woke up at lunch and did the same thing.  Then again at dinner.  It was so bad that I didn't leave my bedroom for almost a month with the exception of the few interviews I could get.

I had no desire to be around friends or to work out or to really do anything.  I just hid from the world with the exception of my job hunting.  I wouldn't even answer my phone unless it was a number I didn't have saved.  If you weren't calling to talk to me about a job, then I didn't want to talk at all.  It finally got to a point where friends would just show up at my house and make me shower and get dressed and take me to eat, or take me to a movie, or make me meet up with them with our dogs at Starbucks and go to a park.  And I thank God for those friends.  They were not going to let me fall through the cracks, no matter how much I pushed them away.  They forced me to rejoin the world and I'm glad they did.  Thanks to them I got back out into the sunshine.

It finally got to a point where if I didn't find a job by the end of the week, I was going to have to borrow money from my parents just to move back home with them 300 miles away.  I was facing that potential reality and still praying that something would come up.  I love the fact that I can depend on my family, and that they are present for me if I need them.  Ready and willing to bring me back in and protect me.  But I have always taken pride, maybe too much pride, in the fact that I've been able to stand on my own two feet.  I've always been able to hustle and fight and scrap and make it through the tough times.  But I will be honest with you, those tough times I went through, God has always had a hand of protection over my head.

God has been teaching me a lesson, and clearly I haven't learned it because He's still teaching it to me!! haha  God has been teaching me the lesson of dependence.  Dependence on HIM.  As much as I like to take credit for my ability to hustle and find work and just "make it happen" as my sister would say, it has always been Him, coming through for me in the eleventh hour.  He makes me wait until the last second, when I think there is no hope, and then He swoops in and saves me.  As I've gotten a little older I have started to see this pattern, and tried to teach my self to rely on it.  The whole time I have been looking for work, I've been saying "I know God will take care of me. He always does".  I just have to be patient.  But still, having that knowledge doesn't necessarily mean you have that faith.  And even with this knowledge, I still fell into a deep depression as things looked more and more forlorn.

BUT...In true form, He did once again come to my rescue.  It was my last week of independence or so I thought.  I had told my mom that if I hadn't found a job by the end of the week, I would come home. We had already made the Uhaul reservation.  That Friday morning, a friend of mine suggested I call some people she had previously worked for doing non-medical home health care for the elderly.  So on a last ditch effort, I called.  I spoke with the manager, went in, filled out an application,  interviewed that afternoon and suddenly, I had a job!  They acknowledged that I was "over qualified" but they saw my willingness to work.  The owner of the company had been in the same place herself and decided to not over look me.  And I couldn't be more grateful.

At first, they didn't have a ton of hours for me.  At the beginning of the week they only had me scheduled for 14 hours, but because I was willing to work, I started picking up more and more hours. Once the first week was over, I had worked over 40 hours just by being available and picking up shifts all over the place.  And the job itself is so rewarding.  Pretty much what I do is hang out with old people all day and I do whatever they need me to do.  For some that's house keeping and laundry.  For some that's outside yard work.  For other's it's jus sitting and watching TV with them, occasionally helping with little things, but just being a presence in their life.  But I have been truly touched by all of the clients I have been privileged to work with and I can't wait to tell you some of their stories.  Because of federal regulations I can't, of course, mention their names, so they will all have an alias.

I will begin to tell you their stories one by one, because each one is unique and beautiful.  But even  after just this first week of work, these people have touched my soul.  They have brought me out of the deepest hole I have been in (to date) in my life.  Hanging out with these little old people has increased my perspective and awareness in this life, has given me new things to think about, and most of all has allowed me to truly begin developing the heart of a servant.

I know (well hope really) that I have many more years to go, and that my life will be touched by tragedy and heartache far worse than anything I have experienced so far.  But, having the privilege to care for these wonderful souls has given me a bigger picture to look at.  I am learning wonderful lessons, some of which I know I won't realize until a later time in my life when I'll need that lesson the most.  Either way I am grateful and please to be here working with these people even if it is just a temporary position.

Stay tuned....there are some wonderful stories to come!

 - Scarlett

People Say Motivation Doesn't Last

Well, neither does bathing.  That's why we recommend it daily.

As you might have noticed, I just added a Pintrest widget on the right side of the blog.  It should take you strait to a board I made for the sole purpose of providing motivation.  You might notice that there are some random law-related things in there and well, that's because I'm studying for the bar exam.  It's also geared more towards the female audience, but there's plenty in there that can provide motivation for all readers.

This (studying for the Bar exam) is NOT my favorite thing in the world....at all, but it is what I have to do.  So I have to motivate my self daily (well really pretty much hourly) to keep studying because like the title says, it doesn't last.  So that's why I keep a constant source of positive images and statements around me.  Hopefully I can pass it this time.

I can't spend much time on here, but I wanted to share that board with you.  And to be completely honest, I stole a lot of it from another board that someone introduced me to called "Bar Exam Inspiration."  I didn't completely copy her board, I just pulled the things that spoke most to me from it, so for an even more extensive source of motivation please browse her page.

I have written down and arranged several of these small sayings on pieces of paper that I have taped and pinned up all over my office and well, my whole house.

Like I said, I need CONSTANT motivation...

Between the motivational notes and the handwritten lists and diagrams all over the walls (all in my own weird legal-ese shorthand), my office is beginning to look like the prison cell of a mental patient.
Feel free to send me words of encouragement, because I need them.  And please feel free to request words of encouragement, because they are available.

Back to studying....

 - Scarlett

The Same But Different

So obviously I am a little like my mom.  I think a lot like she does, I project the same way she does. I even hurt myself just like she does.  But for all of our similarities, our struggle is different.

Clearly some of our struggles are the same.....like procrastination.  I'm blogging right now instead of studying.  But our major struggle is very different and I didn't really realize it until I started studying for the bar exam.

As I entered the phase of full time studying for the bar, I asked all of my friends and family for two things.  Leave me the hell alone and send me motivational e-cards, quotes, and pictures.  My mom has done more than send me e-cards.  Mom has sent me some care packages that have brought me to tears. The first package she sent contained a little desk flip calendar.  The title of the calendar is "You're Made For A God-Sized Dream."  This package arrived on a day when I was so down in the dumps about studying.  I knew the kind of ground I should be covering, and I wasn't anywhere even close.  I was feeling like I couldn't do it, and memories of having failed this before where haunting my every thought.  I was trying to hold on to WHY I am doing this to myself again, but I was struggling.  My dream seemed so far away and I was loosing hope.  But my mom, with all of her infinite wisdom and perfect timing, and greatly led by God's hand, knew what to send me and when to send it.  And day by day it has been a blessing, a quiet reminder on the corner of my desk about why I am doing this.

Today's post seemed particularly pointed at me.

It reminds me that God chose me for this task for a reason.  There is no Plan B.  This is just it. And that speaks to me.  It calls me to stand back up and keep fighting.  And that I have to be the one to get up and do the fighting.

My mom has also been a faithful sender of motivational e-cards as well, but I noticed a consistent message in hers that I completely agree with but I can honestly say they don't really apply to me as much as I want them too.  I certainly don't mind; just the fact that she sends them shows me her love and that she's thinking of me and believes in me.  But as often happens with love, we give what we actually need ourselves and I noticed this in the message of my mom's e-cards.

My mom's e-cards roughly sum up to "Tell me I can't, and I'll prove you wrong."  I can totally get behind that message.  Probably for most of my life, I have used that kind of "me-against-them" energy to fuel my fire.  I'm a little Scrappy Doo, I've always held onto that underdog mentality.  I really loving having someone to fight.  I love to have a target.  But the other day, when I got one of those cards from her, I realized that that no longer exists in my life.  Over the past year I have purged my world of negative energy and negative people.  So when I read messages like that, I can't harness that mentality because in reality, I am surrounded by nothing but people who believe I can do anything.

My only enemy is myself.

But I realize that isn't the case for my mom.  She probably can still really get behind that message because for most of her life, she didn't receive the support she deserved.  I'm not sure where the line is here on what all is ok to say or what isn't, but I'm just gonna say it anyways.  I doubt any of our family reads my blog, but on the off chance they do, maybe they need this reality check, and to know what I really think of them.

My mom is the youngest of four siblings.  The youngest by a LONG shot and the home she grew up in was very different from that of her brother and sisters.  My mom's youth was in a dark place in our family's history.  A phase which eventually passed and was followed by a great period of rebuilding and love.  But the fact remains that Mom was pretty much on her own, with very little guidance and very little support.  And of course she made mistakes, had to learn a lot of things the very hard way, but she never gave up.  But I think that some members of our family never let my mom live down the mistakes of her early years.

For example, my mom never graduated from high school....she had me instead. And then she worked hard and she climbed the ladder and eventually found her self in a pretty successful position with out anyone's help.  But to some people in our family, that didn't really matter...I mean what could she possibly know? She didn't even graduate from high school.

I have a B.A. in English Literature from a major accredited four year university and my mom is still better-read than I am. 

But the sheer magnitude of her accomplishments didn't matter to some people.  Never mind that she was a completely self taught and bright woman with a good business head on her shoulders....she still never graduated from high school.  So when I was in high school, my mom studied on her own and took and passed the exam to get her GED.  In case that is un-impressive to you let me put that in perspective....

After being out of school for almost 20 years, my mom TAUGHT HERSELF ALGEBRA and passed her exams with flying colors.   

When was the last time you did any math at all (without a calculator) above multiplication or division and were successful?

But still that wasn't enough for some in our family, I think.

My mom has always known God was there, looking out for her and looking out for her girls.  Maybe she didn't always know how to study His word, but she always had faith that He was there and that He had a plan.  I remember when I was in high school is when my mom really had the time and the ability to really sit down and get into His word and and to study.  And her relationship with Him grew by leaps and bounds.

Some people in our family don't believe.  Or maybe they do, I have no idea.  It's never my place to speculate on the state of someone else's salvation.  But there are some people in my family who are caught up in some vicious cycles of bad decision making leading to bad results, leading to more bad decisions and down and down it goes.  And when they would call and talk to my mom about it, my mom would try to offer them truth as it has been revealed to her in her own walk with God.  She would try to offer the answers that God had given to her own questions on the same subjects.  And they threw it back in her face.  After all, what could she possibly know, I mean look at all the mistakes she had made.  They completely missed the point.  Out of pride, out of a hardened heart, I don't know.

And sprinkle that same theme through out her entire life. Events just like that.  Even now, she faces nay-sayers.  Some of them are important to her, some less so.  But she still has to deal with someone telling her in one way or another she can't do this or that.  Maybe she doesn't really know what she's doing... This is never going to work...

I personally would just like to punch all of those people in the face and offer them a giant #^@% %@^....but that's not my point here.

I can look at what I know of my mom's history (or at least my limited perspective on it) and see the difference.  Most of her life she has been told she can't do that.  She shouldn't be able to do that.  Who does she think she is, daring to rise above difficult circumstances?  But that's what makes my mom GREAT.  She never gave up even when she felt like the whole world was stacked against her.

And because she fought against the odds like that, she ensured that my struggle would not be the same.  I almost wish I had the world stacked against me because that would give me a target, someone to fight against.  And I know how to fight against other people (why do you think I went to law school?). But I don't.  I have all the world telling me that I can and the only person I have to fight against to achieve great things....is myself.

And in this struggle my mom supports me too.  The next care package she sent me was equally amazing.  She sent me a pocket knife.  That might seem strange, but being horse people, and Texans, we know the value of a good pocket knife.  She got my sister one too and had our nick names inscribed on it.  Also, since we share the same need to make lists, she sent me a little note pad.  On the first page she wrote me a note saying "You got this!"

My mom and I are both going through some major changes in our lives.  We are both on the cusp of achieving great things on the next level.  I am so glad we are doing this together though.  Even though our struggles are not the same, I can't imagine having to do this without her.

Words of advice from a 27 year old who clearly has it all figured out....if you don't have a good relationship with your mom - repair it...Immediately.  If you do, reach out to her as often as you can.  And if your mom is already gone, honor her by passing on the lessons and wisdom she gave you to your daughters.

 - Scarlett

The Unsung Hero

I talk on here from time to time about how I am my Mother's daughter and it's true.  Anyone who has ever met both of us will agree.  Several of my friends, after meeting my mom and seeing us together, have made comments like "scary," "creepy," "weird," "Shit, there's two of you," "That explains a lot."

I've heard them all.

I don't typically talk about my dad much on here, and it's not because he isn't around, doesn't participate, or isn't involved.....he just doesn't talk much at all.  But that doesn't mean that he isn't there, right when I need him, every time.

I talk to my mom almost every day now because my mom and I both enjoy the activity of talking!  My dad....not so much.  Anyone who has met him knows that his more of the strong, quiet, silent, keeps-to-himself, stoic type.  As a family we hang out and talk, if we are all driving somewhere and there is something interesting on the radio, we all talk.  And when my dad talks, we all listen.  But one on one, my dad just doesn't talk.

To someone like me, that's pretty damn intimidating.  Ever since I was a small child, my report cards always reflected great grades, but in the teacher comments, there was always a note regarding my willingness to talk.  I'll talk about anything if I'm not particularly busy.  We can talk about dogs, animals, the price of oil, religion and theology, whatever you want, I live for good conversation.  But my dad isn't really good at "conversation." My dad is good at explaining things, my dad is good at instruction, my dad is good at guidance, all of which he does with a level of efficiency that I have never seen matched.  My dad does not waste his words.

So when I am going to go in and talk to my dad about something, I have to pretty much give myself a pep talk.  I have to make sure I have correct facts on whatever it is I'm going to ask him, I have to be ready to be in there for a while, and I have to have my words planned out so that I communicate efficiently, and most of all, I have to be ready to hear whatever he says and marinate on it without interruption.  My dad invites questions, he doesn't mind if there's something I don't understand because I lack sufficient facts and I am seeking clarification.  But my dad does not have words or time to waste on playing devil's advocate and arguing things just for the sake of it.

I AM A LAWYER!!! (sorta) Do You Have ANY Idea How Hard That Is For Me?  The question "Why?" falls out of my mouth almost automatically when anyone tells me anything!!!!

So talking to my dad is hard for me, but it is certainly an exercise in setting aside my pride and picking up a lot of humility, which is something I need to do more often.

Talking to him over the phone is a little easier.  I will admit that some of the best conversations I have ever had with my dad were over the phone.  I think that I have probably exchanged more words with my dad over the phone than I have in person actually.  I don't know if you think that's sad or not, but, whatever, it works. I think it's easier because my dad has a very impressive physical presence.  He's not huge, he's not a body builder, he doesn't look like a bouncer, and he doesn't wear a permanent scowl.  But he is very clearly, as my mom refers to him, The Man In Charge.  In everything he does, even watching TV or cooking, my dad displays a level of focus and concentration that I think most of us would attribute to a battle-seasoned special ops soldier.  I can just watch him watch TV and I can see the level of intelligence working in his brain.  I can see his eye movements and know that he sees everything, notices every detail, and is processing it on the fly.  I'm not saying that I've seen it all, but I've made it a point to expose myself to all different types of people, and I've never seen anyone who worked like that outside of someone with a high level of military training.

That's why I think it's easier to talk to him on the phone.  In person, I can see everything, like I said, eye movement, breathing patterns, body language in general and it's a lot to take in.  

This has all been a squirrel.  The point of all of this post was to share with you something my dad said to me that marked me, that inspired me, that gave me guidance and showed me his love.

Almost two years ago now, I was in my first really bad car wreck.  I absolutely totaled my car but somehow walked away with barely a scratch.  The front driver's side of my car was crunched up literally to the petals.  On top of all of this, I was in a rough place at work and was trying to simply survive financially, while at the same time I was supposed to be preparing for my first dance with the Bar Exam, just a few weeks away.  I talked to my dad every day at lunch for the full hour for two weeks.  During the three days of the bar exam, I talked to him at lunch every day.  I knew in my heart that I had not been able to study and prepare like I should have.  I pretty much only had one week...most people studied for 2 full months.  But every day we talked and he was encouraging.

One day after work, before the bar exam, as I climbed in my rental car, I called my dad to chat for a bit before I started the drive back to my hotel.  He was encouraging me to find my way in life essentially, to find a way to not have to work for anyone else.  He said that there would be no better time in my life than now to "throw the bones." To just go for it.  I was scared.  Scared in general, scared of not having a job, scared of the bar exam, scared because at 25 I still didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, scared because I didn't feel like I had any real skills that were sufficient to hold me up if I just struck out on my own.  And then he said this:

"Boldness comes from preparation.  The risk is insignificant."

It struck me.  I was still listening to him and letting it sink it, but even though I hadn't had time to marinate on it, I knew I needed to remember those words, so I fumbled around for a pen and wrote it on the back of a receipt.

I repeat this to myself often.  I'm 27 now and I finally have a goal.  I have found that thing that I want to do for work, that will be great work, that will bring fulfillment to my life and that I know will be a more than worthy use of my life and time on earth.  I know that it will be my greatest adventure. It will consume my whole life.  It will require my very best effort.  It will take a lot of work, a lot of effort, a lot of research and mostly a lot of doing.  It will require that I be strong and healthy.  It will require that I be alert and attentive.  It will require all of me, all of me at my best. And every time I want to quit studying (now going for my 3rd round with the bar exam), every time I want to not work out, every time I want to sit down and eat the ENTIRE package of Oreos sitting in the very top of my cabinet, every time I get scared that maybe this is too big for me and that I'm just not going to be strong enough, I repeat that phrase to myself.

Boldness comes from preparation.  So I will prepare.  Even when I don't see the point, even when I'm tired, even when I have momentarily lost my hope or my sanity, I will prepare because my future is coming and I refuse to let it pass me by.

I'm not sure if you'll ever see this, Dad, but just know that you have always been the unsung hero in my life.  I have never given you enough credit, and certainly never to your face.  Maybe because I just figured you already knew how awesome you are and any extra words on the matter would be superfluous.  But as the talker of the family, you know I always err on the side of saying too much rather than not enough, for better or for worse.  I love you, Dad.

 - Scarlett

I Am My Mother's Daughter...

So for anyone that follows my Mom's blog, you are very familiar with the many ways she finds to hurt herself.  To say that my mom is accident prone is a serious understatement.

But alas... I am my mother's daughter.

I cut my thumb open last night and the circumstances surrounding it couldn't be more ridiculous.

It all starts with a bottle that, interestingly enough, my mother gave me.  It's this cool looking bottle with a neat little sealed pressure lid. It kinda reminds me of those old timey bottles they would sell that magical cure-all, snake oil elixir in.  I used this bottle to keep my apple cider vinegar/honey mixture in.  You know because it really is that secret elixir that will cure all your ails.

I mixed up another batch a few days ago and put it back in the cabinet.  On the counter under that cabinet I had a bag of golden potatoes and a sweet potato.  I went into the kitchen the next day after getting home late from a movie and just saw this strange colored sappy substance all over my counter and my first thought was "Oh No!!! The potatoes went bad all over my counter!!"  I only had my little over-the-sink light on and didn't bother with turning the big kitchen light on.  I scooped up the potatoes, threw them away and cleaned up the mess.  Thinking that was the end of it, I went to bed.

Having removed the incident from my mind, I opened that cabinet to get some rice the next day at lunch and was again shocked to see this same strange colored substance all over the bottom shelf of the cabinet...then I saw the bottle.  It was my apple cider vinegar/honey mixture.  Somehow, and I have NO idea how, the bottle was broken.  I'm thinking it must have exploded because the base of the bottle was still upright and completely stuck to the shelf and there were large pieces of glass laying close to it, all covered in the sticky, sappy mixture.  Now, I knew....it wasn't' the potatoes.  Now that the mystery had really been solved and I realized I had thrown out a whole bag of perfectly good potatoes, I cleaned up the remaining mess and moved on with my life.

I had to tell you that story to tell you this one.  Apparently, when I was cleaning up the mess in the cabinet a small piece of glass (shaped like a tiny mountain) fell onto the counter and apparently became quite stuck there because it was covered in a honey mixture.  I was talking to my mom on the phone, cooking dinner and moving some things around on the counter last night when my hand just felt some kind of crumb or something stuck on the counter.  Distracted by conversation, I didn't think twice about what it could be and just reached out with my thumb to dislodge the item and then throw it away.

In case you didn't know this...you don't just dislodge a piece of stuck glass from a counter top with your bare thumb.

I cut myself on the glass.  It took me a second to even realize what had happened, and that it was glass in my hand.  As I threw it away it occurred to me to check my thumb, and sure enough the blood was starting to ooze out.  The whole time my mom is in my ear asking me what has happened and do I need stitches??

No mom, I don't need stitches.  But it was still bleeding.  and it was picking up speed.  it was just deep enough in the skin to really bleed.  Still on the phone, and still with an eye on my dinner, I head to the bathroom to get a band aid.

I just moved into my house and was in a mad dash to unpack and get settled.  I had several friends help me and while that was a blessing, it was also a curse because now I can't find a lot of stuff....Mainly my first aid supplies.

As I'm digging around in the cabinet in search of my band aids, my mom is still in my ear talking shit about how at lease she knows where her band aids are and my thumb is still bleeding.  Finally I just say "To hell with this."  You're right Mom, I may not know where my band aids are in the house.  But you know what, I definitely know where they are in my emergency "GO" bag.  With mom still in my ear and still talking away, I went to the garage and dealt with my cut sitting in the passenger seat of my car.

Alcohol wipe √
Band aid √

Everything's good right....I go back in, still talking to Mom and cooking dinner.  Then I look at my hand...

This is not good.

Ok so now I am bleeding through my band aid.  Mom is, again, in my ear talking smack..."Are you sure you don't need stitches??"  NO MOM.  I DON'T NEED STITCHES.

Back to the car.  While this is not my prettiest first aid bandage ever...it will do the trick, which is all that matters. 

I AM MY MOTHER'S DAUGHTER...

 - Scarlett

P.S. My dinner was delicious.  Salmon and rice. :-)

I'm Back....And I'm Decorating!! Watch Out Pintrest!!

I'm not sure how many "faithful" followers I've had in the past other than my mom, but if there are any others, you'll have noticed that I've been gone....for a while.

But now I'm back...or at least I'm trying to be back.  The past year has been a crazy one full of learning and discovery.  Discovery of myself, what I want, where I'm headed, but that can all be covered in another post.

Just to get back into the swing of things I thought I'd start with redecorating....my home that is.  Up until this past year all I could ever afford furniture-wise were items from Criag's list and the Good Will.  This past year I worked as a landman in the oil and gas industry and I made decent money for the first time in my adult life.  So I took the opportunity to start updating my home with items that I really liked.  Take that word "updating" with a grain of salt...the theme of my house is essentially "old shit."

It was a slow process for sure but I'll share with you some of my more DIY/antique finds.  I live in the thriving metropolis of Lubbock, Texas. My job as a landman took me to many remote communities and gave me the opportunity to shop around outside of the normal "antique malls."  Pretty much, I'm a hobbyist Picker.

For example, my kitchen table.  It's solid wood (but I don't know what kind) and the legs bolt on.  This item still needs work....like a complete overhaul.  It needs to be sanded and painted and the legs should probably be reinforced somehow.  I found this baby in a consignment shop in Brownfield, Texas right across the street from the court house and it cost me $60.  I managed to fit this thing in the back seat of my (now dead) Buick Century, with me, my 65 lb. dog, and my gear all in the front seat.

The chairs I got off of Craig's list for $20.  The two nearest chairs match but the other two are different.

I personally feel like matching is WAY overrated and I can't wait to paint them.  I have been going back and forth in my mind for months on what color I want.

Next are my Trunks.  I LOVE trunks.  But every time I find them in Texas, and it doesn't matter what part of Texas, you're looking to spend around $300...but not me!

These two trunks I bought at a garage sale out in the middle of no where.  This lady lived right off of a major highway but still out there.  I paid $20 for both of them.  They sit in my living room as a sort of accent piece and I store all of my extra bulk items in them that I buy from Sam's.  So extra boxes of ziplocks, extra rolls of paper towels, the 500 coffee cup lids...stuff like that.

The next trunk I saw on Instagram.  It was in an antique shop that I follow on Instagram out in California called Bad Madge.  This lady has some of the most awesome antique steam trunks and she sells them for pretty much nothing.  This trunk would retail for an easy $300 in Texas, I got it for $75 and then paid minimal shipping.  There is a site called Uship where you can put up large items that you need shipped and people can bid for the job....kinda like ebay.  I found a family owned shipping company that hauls typically large objects (like sail boats) that was already going to make a trip out soon from California to Dallas, TX, so it was no hassle for them to throw the trunk in the back seat of the pickup and drop it off on their way by.  It now sits at the foot of my bed and holds extra blankets.  

While we are in the bedroom, I might as well talk about my bed frame, which I am SO in love with.  I have a full sized bed and was looking for a cool old bed frame.  I found this antique metal bed frame with headboard, footboard, and rails literally sitting in someone's yard on the outskirts of a small town called Post, TX.  I stopped and asked if it was for sale and bought it for $100.  Ive been told that this frame could actually be quite valuable because of the shells that serve as the connecting points along the frame.  No idea if it's true or not, but I love the old primer/rust look to it.  Maybe I'll paint it one day, maybe I won't.  The connection at the top right of the headboard needs a little JB Weld but other than that it's in great shape. 

My nightstand I also bought in Post, TX.  I think I negotiated it down to $25.  Also a solid wood item with what looks like original hardware.  It's cute as it is but I might paint it as an accent piece.  It served as my night stand at my old house, but now it fits nicely in between my closet doors. 

This next piece also came from Post....negotiated down to $35 I think.  It's a solid wood cabinet.  At my last house it held my zombie apocalypse stash of toilet paper in the bathroom, but here it serves as my entertainment center.

I have awesome friends and they know how much I love old things, so they are always on the look out for me.  One of my friends, Jessica drives a great deal as well and covers a HUGE sales territory.  So she has the chance to pop her head in some stores that I could only get to on a weekend.  She is responsible for some of the larger pieces in my house.

She found this whiskey barrel for me in Jacksboro, TX.  I can't remember but I think we negotiated it down to $225, which is a great deal for a whiskey barrel in general and especially since it is in such excellent condition.  At my old house it was my sort of coffee nook and in the new house it is a table in my living room.

Don't judge my Charlie Brown Christmas Tree....

She also found me a beautiful set of antique double doors - $50 (also in Jacksboro).  These doors are so old that there is not a single screw in them...they are held together by wooden dowls.  One day I will consider sanding, paining, and re-finishing them but for the time being I like them the way they are.  I bought a pair of cast iron door handles from a place in Lubbock called Coyote Candle ($12) and the most expensive part was the sliding barn door hardware (bought from Home Depot for $100.)

The project for which I can take the most individual credit is an accent table that I put together.  The table top is actually a WWII ammunition trunk that I found in Post, TX for $20.  The bottom is a cast iron base for a New Home treadle sewing machine.  The base I found in an antique mall in Lubbock.  It came with a beautiful treadle sewing machine but no table top.  I paid $50 for both of those pieces.  I mounted the ammo box onto the top of the sewing base and it sits in my kitchen and holds my collection of teas.  The sewing machine sits on a shelf in my bedroom as a decorative piece.

The last is certainly not the least.  This is still a work in progress and a big collaborative effort between me and my mom.  My mom isn't really a sentimental person and she doesn't keep many old things around, but somehow through all of the years, she still has her childhood toy chest.  It is a solid wood bench with a seat that lifts up.  I can remember this thing being around since I was a little girl and probably one of the most defining moments in my life involved my mom carrying this huge toy chest all by herself to prove a point to me.  I guess my mom forgot about that, but when I told her how I tell that story to my friends, she decided to gift the chest to me this past Christmas.  It is still a work in progress, but it has come a long way.  The bottom of the chest had certainly seen better days, so after sanding it, we put new trim made of 1x4s around the bottom to reinforce it and added a little decorative molding around the top.  Then we painted it and Mom bought me a cushion to go on the seat.  There are still some decorative pillows to be made (hint hint Mom...I hope to see those pillows before bee season ;-) ) but I now have the piece in my own home.  It sits by the front door so people have a place to sit and take their shoes off....or really for me to dump my bags on.  But now I can finally show people the actual piece of furniture my mom carried all those years ago so they too can see that this was not an easy task.  

Before

Before

After

I have some other neat little things I've found here and there, or things I made but nothing that really deserve a huge explanation...

This set of shutters from a store called Juxt-a-posh in Lubbock - $20. Needs to be sanded and painted.

And this DIY wreath I made. I started with a neutral base so I can change the decorations for all seasons and holidays...Everything came from Hobby Lobby and roughly $30 for everything to decorate for fall and Christmas.  This is just the fall version.

I know this is a lot but keep in mind it was spread out over the course of a year.  I can't wait to have the time to actually work on some of these pieces....but they have their own charm just as they are.  

Thanks for stopping by!!

 - Scarlett

For Women's Eyes Only!!! No Boys Allowed!!

I started writing this blog so that I could discuss what it's really like to be a woman in this day and age.  But not just any woman, what it is like to be a single, educated woman in today's world.  I've recently come to a realization that I think really should be shared here, regardless of who, if anyone, reads this blog.

One of the most daunting struggles that we face in this age, I kid you not, is dating.  I can't even begin to enumerate all of the absurdity that goes into dating these days.  If you're my age, you get it, if you're my parents age, you remember, and if you're my grandparents age, you are blessed because most of this crap didn't exist for y'all.

I'll try to stay focused here.  I realize this is a vast topic that we could talk about for DAYS, but for the sake of any other females out there, I'll try to stay focused.

I have been put through the ringer when it comes to dating.  Who hasn't?  I have been cheated on, I have been used by another to cheat on his girlfriends (didn't know about that one till after the fact), I have been yelled and screamed at, I have been manipulated and controlled, I have been used for nothing more than my appearance.  I have even been picked up and pinned against the side of a car (no damage done, but that's not the point).  I'm not listing all these things out to get sympathy or to complain.  I list these things out because these are experiences that SO many of us share.  In one form or another, at least every mid-twenty's female in America has experienced some of these, if not all, and worse.  And this isn't right.

THIS SHOULD NOT BE A PART OF OUR STORIES, LADIES!!!!!

Now my mom listened to me rant and rave a couple weeks ago (all fueled by the lovely hormones that accompany PMS) and if you had talked to me a few weeks ago, you too would have heard me lecture about what little shits the men of this generation really are.

My list of complaints included why men can't just be men?  Why do SOOOOO many men think it is acceptable to define me by what I look like?  And not just me, but most women.  Why do so many men think it is ok to treat women like so many of us get treated.  Why is the interest men show me almost totally fueled by their perception of the odds that they will get to date/sleep with me?  What happened to the good old days when the only reason guys talked to me was because they genuinely wanted to be my friend?  Why do they think we should always be available, at their beck and call, for a date.  It's not like this is the mid 20th century when I literally have nothing to do but hang out.

I am a 26 year old single female living in America.  No one takes care of me but me.  I have a full time job.  I have my own chores and responsibilities.  I have to take care of myself and trust me, that is more than a full time job.  I even have my own fun and adventure so that I can blow off steam and don't kill everyone that crosses my path once a month.  I am a busy girl, damn it.

My mother will remember this quote:

"If I never hear the words 'sexy' or 'hot' to describe me again, it will be too soon."

But I have recently had a very very HONEST moment with myself.  And I encourage every woman who reads this to have an equally honest moment, because this life isn't going to get any better until we do.

Yes, no doubt, the guys of this generation are indeed little shits.

But I realized yesterday, that for the past 10 years I have allowed guys to treat me like I am less than I am.  For the past 10 years, I have encouraged and, if I'm being super honest here, HOPED for everything that I now despise.  Now, I'm not sending the pendulum in the whole other direction here, it's not like I'm writhing in guilt and I'm having some destructive self depreciating moment.

Don't misunderstand me ladies,  I am a bad-ass woman.  I am a goddess and a queen.  I am a Daughter of a Living God, made in HIS image, redeemed, not by my own merit (because believe me, there is none), but by HIS GRACE and I deserve to be treated as such.  (AND YOU ARE TOO!!)  However, I can hardly expect anyone to treat me the way I deserve when for so long I have let them to treat me like I'm less.

What makes me mad this morning, what fuels my fingertips as I type this out, is the knowledge that all the BULL I have put up with and tolerated, that I have allowed to scar my heart...it wasn't just the fault of some bad apple boy that I got involved with.  I ALLOWED IT TO HAPPEN.  Every time I hung on, waiting for that phone call/text/skype/facebook message, finally getting it, finally getting that date only to be let down by a bad relationship later.  Every time I went into the arms of a man when he called just to be used and disappointed and hurt by a toxic relationship later.  Every time I went, I hoped for greatness, I hoped for passion, I hoped for LOVE.  And every time I was let down, disappointed, hurt, crushed, left with a heart that was bruised, battered, and scarred.

And every time this happened I was left feeling that I was worth less than I am.  We do this so often ladies.  We hope, and we struggle and we FIGHT for what we want.  But is that thing we want really worth fighting for?  How are you being treated?  Is that really what you see for yourself for the rest of your life?  Is that really all the glory that God has promised you? Then why are you fighting for it??  Warm Fuzzies?  That idea of companionship?  Someone to lean on when times get tough?  Short term fulfillment ladies, and the scars you come out of it with are NOT WORTH IT because you come out of it feeling that you're only worth as much as the last guy thought you were worth.  And with each relationship you get lower and lower.  How is that good for you?  How is that healthy??  How does that help you grow into and fulfill the PROMISES God has set out for you?

Don't hear a jaded woman preaching against men!  I'm not saying don't date, I'm just saying be smart, and be honest.  Take a minute each day and evaluate what your time is worth?  What are your tears worth?  Take a minute to cut out all of the feel-good-warm-fuzzies and ask yourself "Is this really what I am meant for?  Is this really what I am worth?"  And if the answer is NO, then LET IT GO!!  Those battle scars aren't badges of honor when it comes to the heart, it just makes it tougher for you to accept the real thing when it comes along.

I'm not hear to dash the hopes of young women dating.  I only speak on the things I most need to hear myself.  I'm talking to my own heart here.  I share it here because it's possible that someone else might be able to learn a lesson a little easier with out having to live through the 10 years of mistakes.

I'll leave you with this e-card I just saw.  Made me smile. :-)

 - Scarlett

Been A Busy Little Bee

Ok so I realize I've been...well gone.  My apologies.  Been home with the family and traveling and working and such, but I'm here now.

So I almost died again recently.  Not how I wanted to start 2014....but I choose to look at it as God's little way of reminding me that His hand is entirely on my shoulder and only He knows what's coming for me.

Ok so I didn't almost actually die.  But it could have been really bad. We have had the strangest fog I have ever seen out here.  Where I live it is absolutely flat.  Like you can see for MILES.  So there's no place for fog to settle, like in a low spot.  Instead, we will just have 100 square miles of the thickest fog you've ever seen.

I got up one day and of course had to go to work.  We've had fog out here before but it's never been this bad.  The road that I live on has lots of tanker trucks and they haul @$$ out here.  So even if the fog is thick, you need to be going something close to their speed so when they do finally see you, they have time to slow down.  So I'm going along, trying to pay attention and look for land marks, but there really aren't a lot of them on my road.

Oh and visibility was about 30 feet.

So I'm going along and then all of a sudden I realize that I am 30 feet away from the stop sign.  The only stop sign on my road...the one that intersects with the interstate, a 4 lane road.  I slammed on my breaks but the road was so slick with fog that I just slid.  And because the fog was so thick I couldn't even see if there were any cars coming.  I slid from 30 feet behind the stop sign, across the two north bound lanes and finally came to a stop right in the middle of the turn-around with out crossing into the south bound lanes.  Right as I slid to a stop an 18-wheeler flew by right in front of my face and a big white duly blew by behind me.

So essentially I was seconds/feet away from becoming a human-car ping pong ball.  I would not have won that fight.  NO way.  So as I caught my breath, I thanked God for allowing my to start my day with such an appreciation of him and then I took my first sip of coffee, noticing that it tasted far more amazing than it had the day before.

So let's all take a second to thank God for yet again deciding to keep me alive.  I must really be an excellent source of comedy for Him.

So yeah, that's been fun.  Other than that I've just been trying to get my life together...which I'm always been trying to do, but it seems to actually be coming together these days.  I've been running, which I've always had a mental block towards, but it's working out for me.  Today I actually ran FURTHER than my scheduled workout required.  AND I felt really good after the work out.  So good that I worked out some more.  I have not been terribly consistent with my running, but I have still improved every time I have run.  My pace is better in general, my time is better in general, my intervals when I do interval training are WAY better, and of course my endurance is growing too.

I'm kind of excited because I've never felt "good" after a run.  But it's finally working out for me.  My biggest struggle has been finding the right music to listen to while I run.  I finally figured out that I don't really need music so much as I need a coach.  I need someone yelling, maybe not AT me but FOR me. Pushing me, encouraging me, calling me to be more than I think I am so I can discover who God made me to be.

Well a while back I discovered a channel on YouTube that does extremely well done motivational videos.  The page is under the name of Mateusz M.  This person grafts together some of the best speeches from real life and from movies of coaches and the things they say to get their people pumped.  The visual aspect of the videos is also pretty awesome.  So what I've started doing is pulling up youtube before I run, going to this page, and just hitting the "Play All" button and shove my phone in my pocket.  So the whole time I'm running I'm listening to some of the best coaches, real and fake, pushing me personally, calling me to run harder, to move with more purpose and today was the best run I've ever had.  Below I have shared the first video from this channel that I ever watched.  It's still one of my favorites.  It's called Why Do We Fall?

We all have challenges.  We all have struggles.  We all have obstacles. We all fail.  But YOU can get up and try again.  But I challenge you to rise above those circumstances to be more than what YOU THINK you can be and instead be what GOD MADE you to be.

Be inspired!!

-Scarlett

Time Well Spent

Ok, I'm back.

I apologize for being a crappy blogger but believe it or not, I don't always have something to say.  And even when I do, I'm getting old enough where I don't see anything good about saying it, so I choose to just be silent.

Pretty sure my mom just had a heart attack as she read that. haha

But seriously, I try to check and see what the daily blog challenge is every day and some times I feel less than inspired.  Lots of things have been happening in my world lately but frankly nothing that I want to write about.  And I'd rather not force my blog posts so I've just been quiet.  It's a new concept for me, but I kind of like it.

I do want to revisit an older topic of conversation though.  One that we discussed a while back.  I believe the title to the post was something like Electrocuted to Unplugged.  The theme was about how connected we are to technology.

I've recently made some changes in my life.  Some major, some not so major, at least in my way of thinking, but the....backlash I have seen from it has definitely given me pause to reevaluate a lot of things in my life, and for this I am thankful.

One of the things I did was purge my Facebook account.  I purged it of all the people who I just don't know well.  For many people Facebook is about having as many "friends" as possible.  Adding everyone that you could possibly know on the planet but I feel like this gives a very false sense of security in the idea of what a "friend" is.  I was discussing this with one of my good friends and she said that the most disconnected she has ever felt in her life is when her friendships were reduced to comments and messages on Facebook.  I have to agree.  So when I purged my account, I didn't delete people based on whether or not I liked them or if they had ever offended me, I simply deleted people who I didn't consider friends.  Like REAL LIFE friends.

To me a friend can come in a couple different forms and then there are acquaintances.  For example.  I have my close friends....people that I talk to almost daily.  I know what is going on in their lives and they know what is going on in mine.  We are involved with each other and our bonds are what help us get through the day to day struggles of life.

Then there are friendships that span across time and distance.  I have a quite a few friends, people that I knew years ago who I now rarely get to talk to.  For example, one such girl is married to a Marine.  She is moving constantly as is the way in a military family and she has a daughter now.  She is super busy with her own day to day life but every time we talk or when I get to see her, it's like we never missed a beat.  I have another friend that I get to see and talk to even less often, but the way she touched my life when we worked together, I'll never forget.  I'm not sure I have ever met a person with a purer heart or a gentler soul.  She is now a fashion designer in New York and married.  I don't get to talk to her often, but the way she lived her life every day when I knew her inspires me to this day.  I will always hold her in the highest esteem.  I have another friend who moved back to the DFW area who I've always respected.  He's literally one of the nicest people I've ever met and despite his joking he has one of the most tender hearts.

And then there's every one else.

Now the way I defined these things above have been slightly tweaked recently.  I've always had this problem, and my mom will agree, it is a problem, where I devote myself to too many things at once.  And people are no exception.  For a decent part of my younger life I was kind of treated like crap by lots of people.  I was mercilessly teased in elementary and middle school.  I remember coming home crying, a lot, and I remember my mother, in all of her gentle strength, teaching me lessons on how to stand on my own two feet.  How to not let the thoughts of others to affect what I thought of myself.  Then teenage years hit and I kind of forgot some of these lessons...as is the way of youth.  But then I had a father who stood by my mother and taught me those lessons all over again.  He taught me how to look at the big picture, how to look at the long run.  He taught me how to look beyond the moment, beyond the hurt feelings, beyond the things that seemed so epically important now on to what would be important later.  And then he taught me how to prepare myself for the good things to come.  He taught me how to take comfort in the knowledge that despite how circumstances now were less than could be desired, my struggles and my actions now, my preparations now would pay off in the end in a way that was far better than any ideal circumstances I could imagine for today.

My father said something to me this summer that struck me so strongly I wrote it down on  a receipt in my car while I was driving and managed to keep up with it despite moving.  I have since put it on a coffee cup so I can be reminded of it every morning.

Boldness comes from preparation.  The risk is insignificant.  

But it's completely true.  Every single decision we make today will affect our lives later.  Well because of what I felt was a lack of friendships as a younger child, I strove to make up for that in my adult life by having as many friends as possible.  But in my goal to have lots of friends, I ended up lowering my standards for what a friend should be.  I got better about it over the years. I got better about identifying certain people as friends and others as acquaintances.  But I still never really sat down with myself and considered what I thought a "friend" was supposed to be.  What kind of friend I wanted and what kind of friend I wanted to be.

I grew up, I moved on and I found myself in the company of a lot of really good people.  People I respect and admire.  People who have good things going for them.  People who are moving and grooving in life and trying to accomplish good things for themselves and their families.  So naturally I was drawn to these people.  I spent so much of my younger life surrounded by people who simply didn't give a shit about themselves much less anyone else (for example in school) that I relished at the chance to be friends with people and surround myself with people who were motivated, who had goals, who were doing things and going places.  Going good places.

Now of course I had the example of what I needed at home, as I described above.  But youth and wisdom rarely go hand in hand.  And while I am special...I'm not that special.

The mistake I made was thinking that just because you respect and admire someone means you're automatically friends with them.  Hang in there with me, I'm not saying this in a down-hearted way nor am I trying to be a pessimist.  There is a positive here.  There's nothing wrong with knowing people are good people and looking up to certain things they do in their lives.  That doesn't mean that I have to devote all of the time or energy into them (as I should do for my friends).  Because ultimately that's more people than I have time or energy for.  And ultimately, those people don't have the time or energy to give back to me either.  Nothing wrong or negative about it, it's just the way of life.  I can't be there for everyone in the way I would like to be and everyone can't be there for me the way I think they should be.  Part of being an adult and growing up is realizing that and letting things go.

So I've started downsizing my life.  Not in an effort to exclude anyone or cut myself off.  I'm still only a phone call away.  I'm just not going to wait for the phone to ring any more.  But I believe that friendships, real friendships, are worth the work and effort.  I know that being my friend isn't always easy...ask anyone who's ever helped me move.  I'm a true extrovert, so I need things from my friends.  I need pats on the back and words of encouragement.  I need that "atta girl! We're proud of you."  But for everything that I need from a friend I'm 100% willing to give it back and I have and I will continue to do so.

So when I look at the quantity of "friends" I have, I can do the math and see that I just don't have enough to give to them all what they should deserve as a friend, and they are all stretched just as thin as I am, so they don't have enough to give either.  Not to everyone anyways.  So I've started sliming down who I give to when it comes to the quantity and quality of my time, just as they have all done.  Of course there are emergencies and I'm always good for those.  I believe in good people helping other good people every day.  That's what makes this world go around.  But we don't have to all live under the illusion that we are best friends.  And that's ok.

It's OK to not be best friends with everyone.  And I'm not saying this to lecture...I'm saying this to myself!  This blog is about the lessons in life I've learned and how they guide me down this path.  So I'm learning, and I'm sharing.

Thanks for hanging in there with me.

 - Scarlett

Two Roads Diverged In A Wood

I missed yesterday's blog challenge because I got super busy with work and Christmas Shopping, but I really really really love this prompt so I'm going to write about it instead of today's promt.

Tell us about a time you took the less traveled path.

This is pretty much the story of my life and I know my mom is probably rolling her eyes and nodding her head as she reads this.  My sister too.

No matter what guidance I have been given, no matter who it comes from, I have always done things my own way and in my own time.   Taking the path less traveled has kind of been my way of life for as long as I can remember.  Sometimes it has definitely been to my detriment because my own stubborn and hard head has not headed the wisdom that was offered to me.  But there have been other times, lots of times, when it has taken me on some pretty awesome adventures and brings me some great happiness.

I vaguely remember always being defiant and going against the grain when I was in school.  My mom can probably assist more on this in the comments.  I don't really remember a lot of my early childhood.  I played with barbies (totally normal) but my barbies were frontier pioneer women barbies.  They rode horses and made shelter and had adventures.  My barbies didn't drive a car, they drove a horse carriage that (with some 6 year old ingenuity) doubled as a covered wagon.  They didn't go shopping.  They fought and survived and tamed wild horses.

I remember always getting in trouble because I would roll and crawl around in the gravel on the play ground at school and it would get my jeans dirty and I kind of remember my mom giving up on dresses once I discovered scissors.

Side story: When I was in....1st grade I think, I decided that all of my dresses should have fringe on them.  So I used my school scissors to cut fringe in the hems of all my dresses.  I also decided that my bangs were not cut the way I liked, so I cut them myself.  And then I decided that I didn't like the seat belt in my moms car so I cut half way through it before she saw.  So if you ever wondered why it's such a big deal to elementary schools that you only buy scissors that will cut paper...there ya go.

Junior High is also kind of vague, but I definitely remember that I didn't want to be just like everyone else.  I was SUCH and awkward ugly duckling and I did NOT get along with the "preppy" girls.  And because I didn't like them, I didn't want to look anything like them.  Doc Martins were popular at the time.  I didn't want anything to do with them because preppy girls wore them and I didn't want anything like what they had.  Capri pants and button downs were coming in style for my age group.  NOPE.  Didn't want anything to do with it.  I wore jeans and super oversized t-shirts to school every day for a week before my dad was like... "Ok, that's enough."  I remember the battle that ensued between my mother and I at the mall.  It's not that I had anything against the clothes themselves.  I was completely against the type of people who wore them.

Seriously, what kind of 12 year old thinks like that?

High school was a similar version to junior high, only the pendulum swung in the other direction.  Most everyone else was unmotivated and wanted to half-ass school and just live in our home town their whole lives.  So I wore pretty much business casual cloths to school for the last couple years of school.  Slacks and heels and button downs every day.  I often was mistaken for a teacher by younger or new students.  I kicked butt in school got great grades, volunteered a lot and pretty much didn't spend any time with kids my own age outside of school except for when I was with my best friend in my grade.

There are probably a million other examples that escape me at the moment.  I'd love to see what my mom and sister might comment on this post.

A more recent example.  I recently moved.  I was living in town.  Not a super metropolitan area like Dallas or Austin, but the biggest city around and I moved about 50 miles outside of town to an old farm house.  And I LOVE it.  I feel safe, for one thing.  I don't have to wonder about who's walking up and down my street at night.  And when you live in town, sure there are bad areas, but no area is any safer than another when it comes to break ins and robberies.  The nicer neighborhoods get hit just as bad if not worse when it comes to that kind of stuff.

But regardless, I moved.  I'm not so far away that I can't drive into town.  I drive into town every week to run errands and such.  I've heard that it's been a topic of conversation amongst my friends and acquaintances as to why I moved.  To me it seemed the most natural thing in the world.  It's the closest I've been able to find that is similar to the way I grew up and that's what I wanted.  That's what makes me happy.  Feeling at home in my home.  But clearly this is the path less taken for a 26 year old single female with a law degree. This just is not done.  It's gotten to the point where some people have speculated that I moved because I wanted to cut ties with people and relationships.

What rubbish.

I moved because it makes me happy to live where I live and I feel safe and comfortable.  But by no means have I had the desire to cut relationships with people.  I did recently sever several relationships, but those were with people with which a relationship didn't exist to begin with.  And I have found that the people closest to me have kept in touch with me just as if I were living a mile down the street.  We have these things called phones.  They are kind of this revolutionary invention that made communication over distance super easy.

So to all of my family and friends who are thinking that I might be crazy and wondering why I moved way out to the "middle of nowhere."  I did it because that feels like home to me, just like your suburban 3 bedroom house with a 2 car garage and granite countertops and yard with a 8 foot fence on a half acre lot feels like home to you.  I don't make you wrong for living in town.  Don't make me wrong for living in the country.

 - Scarlett

PS.  Just want to give a shout out to Miss Jones, my Wagner, the future Dr. Murray, Nathaniel, and G for staying close despite the distance and thinking that our friendship is worth keeping up as much as I do. :-)

Cliche I know...but its so applicable.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth; 

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day! 
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. 

-Robert Frost