schMORGANsborg

I know I’ve mentioned this a time or two, but my bff and I have known each other our entire lives. This has been a huge blessing through the years; however, it’s also lead to certain events that would be better left forgotten.  But instead of pushing those to the back of my psyche and having them resurface in strange, incoherent dreams; I thought I’d blog about ‘em. 

For those of you that don’t know; my bff is a singer. Not professionally, though she could’ve been if she had wanted to.  She has a beautiful voice and it still pleasantly surprises me every time I hear her sing.  She discovered this talent pretty early on. And like any good parent would do her mother signed her up for voice lessons to hone the new found gift. 

I must preface this by saying that she and I had spent our entire lives up to this point doing the same things. Our parents even dressed us alike for pete’s sake.  And we were all about it. If she got a zip up bikini then I needed one too. If I quit ballet cause I hated everything but the recitals then she was outta there too (by the way, she’s still blames me for ruining her dance career). If she had a bedazzled, LA gear, stone-washed jean jacket then by golly I got one too. That being said, there really is no justifiable excuse for what I am about to reveal…..I, too, signed up for voice lessons. I mean obviously if the bff was a singer than I was too. Right?! And Darlene, being the dotting mother that she is, marched my non-singing little butt up there and took care of business. And so began my journey to unearth the talent that I knew was hiding somewhere deep inside of me.

As it turned out that hidden talent was buried a little too deep and we never did find it.  We did, however, record quite a few lovely tracks. One of those beauties was my rendition of The Wind Beneath My Wings by one Bette Midler. I happen to be just self-deprecating enough to want to share it with you, but I think I lost the tape when I moved.

The whole experience wasn’t a total loss, though. I learned that maybe I didn’t have to do everything the bff did…which came in handy when she started doing big girl pageants that included a swimsuit portion. I also learned that my Mom loves me very much…so much, in fact, that to this day she truly believes that I’m a good singer and has, on occasion, told me to try out for American Idol. Thanks for believing in me Mom! Even if it could’ve turned me into a highlight on the American Idol reject show.     

…to say I told you so.  Cause yall were SO right…I had such a good time at the reunion!  Who knew:)

I would love to say that I took lots of pictures so I could tell yall all about the night…but you know better than that.  I didn’t take a single one.  So I jacked everyone else’s off of facebook:)  

Here we go…CGHS c/o 99 10 year reunion as told through the lense of someone else’s camera (click on any of the pictures to make them bigger).

First came the outfit…of which the highlight were my cute shoes…or so I thought.  So. Much. Pain.  Seriously, my feet are still sore. 

There were two parts to this shindig.  Phase one was at Olde Towne Tavern in Larryville.

Phase two was at Door 44 in Atlanta.  There were a lot of people there that didn’t go to Olde Towne so I was glad I went to both.

So there you have it…our night o’ fun.  It really was great to see so many old friends.  Kinda makes me wanna go to the 20 year reunion…kinda:)

Let’s all take a nice stroll down memory lane.

10 years ago I had dome bangs, blonde hair and eyebrows the likes of which I hope to never see again.

And just for fun this is me and B.Green at our freshman homecoming.

Sorry Brian…you’re bearing the brunt of my bloggy flashback today:)

I give.  It would appear that my fear of missing out on something supersedes my fear of awkward conversation. 

Sooooo…..apparently my 10 year high school reunion is coming up.  I currently have no plans to go.  It’s not that I don’t like the people I went to high school with…I do.  It’s just that…well…I’m shy people!  Social situations are not my strong suit.  Small talk is not my forte.  Cramming 10 years of life into a 2 minute conversation is not my gift.  You get the picture, right?

Ever since I was a lil bitty ol’ thang runnin’ around in overalls…actually my mom didn’t dress me in overalls.  Unless you count our end of the year performance in preschool where we sang I’ve Been Workin’ On The Railroad.  We had to wear overalls that night…and a handkerchief around our neck…cause we were workin’ on the railroad.  And actually a girl I went to high school with was in my preschool class and she puked off the side of the stage right smack in the middle of workin’ on the railroad.  She says she doesn’t remember that, but Tanaya and I do.  Annnnnyway.  The point I was trying to make was that I’ve always been shy.  I don’t particularly care for that trait, but it’s there none the less.  So the thought of an entire night spent making conversation with people that I don’t really know anymore stresses me out.  And since we’re being honest I can only handle being awwww-ed in response to my marital status so many times before I lose it:)  

I’ve already been catching a bunch of flack for not going, but I thought I’d put it to the people to decide.  Whatcha think?  Will I regret not going to my 10 year reunion?      

I just saw some app on facebook that reminded me of something I used to LOVE when I was a kid…garbage pail kids!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I collected these in my sticker book right along side my unicorn and Lisa Frank stickers.  Interesting dichotomy there, but we’ll save that therapy session for another time.

These are a few that I distinctly remember having:)

Tom Thumb was my favorite…cause I sucked my thumb when I was little…and us thumb suckers stick together.

While I found these stickers hilariously cute; I find this trailer for a Garbage Pail Kids Movie very disturbing.  I had no idea this even existed.  Good thing…I think it would’ve given me nightmares back in my thumb sucking days.

Come’n gather ’round boys and girls.  I want to tell you a story of times gone by. 

The year was 1996 and it was a hot Ju-ly in Georgia. I’d spent several months trying to convince my parents that people other than drug dealers had pagers, but I was beginning to lose hope. My 15th birthday was quickly approaching and I prayed every night that they would relent and buy me that most coveted possession.  The day finally arrived and I headed off to the DMV to get my learner’s license.  The bff went with me cause…well that’s what bff’s do.  I passed my test with flying colors and we all headed back home. 

When we arrived I ran in the door and informed my dad that I would now be driving him around for the next year. He congratulated me with a hug and a box.  And guess what was in that box boys and girls.  A pager!  A "smoke" colored pager to be exact.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited about an electronic device in all my life.  The bff and I danced around the room in delight!  Let the 143s and the 911s begin! 

After we regained our composure my parents sat me down and gave me a stern talkin’ to about the rules of use for the pager.  I wasn’t allowed to take it to school, I had to turn it off when I went to bed, and when they paged me I was to stop what I was doing….no matter what…even if I was in the middle of dying…and call them back immediately!

In the years after that I enjoyed my smoke pager immensely.  I probably killed an entire rainforest with the scrapes of paper I used trying to figure out messages people paged me with, but I still enjoyed immensely.  And I always, always stopped what I was doing and ran to the nearest pay phone and called my parents when they paged me.  We didn’t have cell phones back then boys and girls…and we walked to school…uphill…both ways. 

Eventually I did get a cell phone and the pager was soon forgotten, but I’ll always have a special place in my heart for that little device.  We had some good times.

The end.

Tonight when I was folding laundry I noticed that the rear area of my jeans was starting to look a little worn.  I’ll save the joy of that revelation for another post, but it reminded me of a story. 

Ever since I was a little girl I’ve loved the idea of being able to carry everything I need on my back.  That sounds really strange, but it’s true.  When Tanaya and I were little we would go play outside and I would pack my bag with all the essentials.  Which at 6 years old was Huggums (my baby doll), a juice box and my jellies.  You know…in case I got invited to a party…I’d have the proper apparel.  But there was just something comforting in knowing that everything I needed was right there and that is wasn’t much. 

I still long for that.  Living simply.  Being able to carry everything I own or need on my back.  Now don’t misunderstand me…I am not what most people would call outdoorsy.  At least I know I don’t give that appearance.  And I by no means have the kind of lifestyle where I can carry everything I own on my back.  In fact I’ve managed to quite efficiently fill up a whole house all by myself. 

I’m not sure what it is about having little that’s attractive to me.  I’m sure people who have little would think I’m nuts…the grass is always greener right?  I guess after just a few years of being in the "real world" and buying the things that I thought I was supposed to buy in order to achieve the "American Dream" I’ve realized they don’t mean squat.  I love my house, but it’s not important.  And we all know I love me some clothes…but they aren’t what matters.  I know it’s easier for me to say that on this side of the fence though.   

I’m not planning on packing it all up anytime soon, but I think there will always be that desire in me to sell everything I own and throw just the things I need on my back.  That, of course, will still include my jellies:)   

A post over here got me thinkin’ about my childhood.  If you’ve been around my blog for any amount of time then you know that’s one of my favorite subjects…mostly because I loved every second of it.  From jellies to sit and spins I was always having fun.  

The scene for most of that fun was one Chestnut Court cul-de-sac.  I think there’s a special kind of fun that can be had in a cul-de-sac.  It has the rush of playing in the street for kids and the safety of playing in the yard for parents…the best of both worlds really.  It was a great place to ride bikes…round and round and round and…see, doesn’t that sound fun?  Perfect for impromptu baseball games (note to self: do NOT walk behind your brother when he’s batting…you will get hit). 

Our particular cul-de-sac had a few special features.  One was the neighbor’s fence that had honeysuckle growing on it.  Come summer time we would suck those babies dry.  The other slightly less enjoyable aspect was the ever so gradual downhill slope…towards the sewer.  We lost many a toy in that sewer.  Anything on wheels was in danger of never being seen again….balls never had a chance…and I’m pretty sure my brother almost lost a skate board to that monster.  Oh the tragedy.

But oh how I loved playing in the cul-de-sac.  I would play and play till I couldn’t play anymore.  Or until the street lights came on…which ever came first.  So here’s to cul-de-sacs…they’re a great place to grow-up.  Lost balls and all.

p.s. that’s what she said.         

I experienced the pure joy of sit and spin goodness tonight for the first time in about 20 years.  I lasted all of five rotations before I had to stop in fear of hurling all over Merritt.  I was trying to show her the ancient hand over hand technique that’s been passed down through the generations and allows you to achieve maximum speed.  She wasn’t interested.  Kids these days.

Tell me you don’t still love the sit and spin!!!  By the way her sit and spin plays music…when did they start playing music?   

5.  The Christmas Song-Chipmunk version

4.  Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

3.  Blue Christmas-Porky Pig version

2.  12 Days of Christmas-Muppet version

1.  All I Want For Christmas Is You

What does it say about me that 3 of the 5 are sung by cartoon characters? Ok, your turn…what’s your fav?

All this talk of little debbies got me thinking about lunch when I was a kid.  Remember the tin lunch boxes with the one little clasp to hold everything in place?  Oh how quickly I learned the weakness of that clasp.  After watching my lunch fly across the hallway several times I realized that it required more than a little clasp to keep those jokers closed.  So I perfected what I like to call the "One Finger Death Grip".  It consisted of holding the lunch box handle in your hand while simultaneously using your index finger to keep it shut.  Yall know what I’m talking about right?  Those were the days….when all I had to worry about was keeping my lunch box closed:) 
I had this exact lunch box by the way…I loved me some Strawberry Shortcake!  What character did yall have on your lunch box? 

This day about 24 years ago.  

We’ve come a long way haven’t we?

Maybe not.

Happy Halloween!  Hope yall have a fun one!

never  a bride:) 

touch my ice cream bowl!

Today’s flashback has been brought to you courtesy of Mike & Darlene’s Box O’ Photos.  There will be several more throughout the day…so check back.  I can feel your excitement from here.  

That’s right folks!  I’ve got another treat for you from the days of ol.  Today’s flashback is two-fold.  Not only is this a quality song from the 80’s, but it’s also a totally awesome show from the 80’s.  I seriously used to love both of these things.

Bonus Question: I’m going to a costume party this weekend.  This song is directly related to what I’m dressing up as.  Any guesses?

For some bizarre reason I had to make up a little dance for PE class when I was in elementary school.  And for some even more bizarre reason I chose this song.  Can’t you just picture little 5th grade Morgan dancing around the gym to this song.  I may have just taken my lameness to a whole new level.  Happy Friday!