My Trip to the Vet

One of my favorite subjects to tell/write stories about are my personal experiences that I find entertaining. I pretty much live in a consistent state of awkwardness so there are many opportunities for a good laugh at my expense. This is the story of how I broke my fourth toe on my left foot:

Dad grew up in Union City, Tennessee, where he met his best friends Bill Dickerson and Britt Barkley. Dr. Bill lives in our hometown and him and his wife, Mrs. Liz, live out in the country. They own several horses and when I was younger we would often spend Sunday afternoons and evenings out at their house riding horses, eating delicious dishes, and laughing around a bonfire. This particular Sunday we were planning on riding horses at their farm and I was excited. I love riding horses and being outside. All through church I was looking forward to our visit.

Church let out and we headed home to change. My parents were yelling that we had better hurry up if we wanted to ride with them (we had no choice seeing as none of us drove or owned a car). Dad is a very patient man (hahahahahaha) and he gave one last call and yelled through the house that they were leaving at that moment and anyone not in the car wasn't going with them. (At the time I assumed he meant to the Dickersons, I later found out that he was only going to Walmart and we still had 3 hours before they headed out to the farm)

I threw my church clothes off and scampered into my casual jeans and t-shirt attire. I was in my parent's bathroom because it was on the first floor and I was too lazy to scale my flight of stairs. As I heard the last call I frantically sprinted from their bedroom, but I miscalculated the berth the doorframe required. As I attempted to run through my toe caught the frame and instantly broke.

My fourth toe on my left foot was the victim of my carelessness and dangled to the left in an almost 90 degree angle. I instantly screamed, "S#!*," and remembered I was in my parent's house and changed my further cries to, "Shoot." I cannot describe how excrutiating the pain was and I can only imagine how much breaking a large bone must hurt.

I yelled for Mom to come assist me in my injured state She casually walked back to her room and asked what happened. I immediately explained my diagnosis of broken toe. She asked to see my foot and do you know what my usually caring and compassionate mother said to her suffering eldest daughter? She responded with, "Your toe is NOT broken, you are just holding it funny." Seriously?!?

After I spent several minutes letting her confirm that I was not having a bit of fun and faking my injury (you tell me how to hold your toe in a 90 degree angle without it being broken because I don't think it's possible) she went and got my Dad, the doctor. They were asking me why I was running and I told them I didn't want to be stuck at the house while the whole family went to the Dickerson's farm. They told me then that they were just going to Walmart and that we weren't going to the Dickerson's until 3pm. That just added insult to injury. So basically I broke my toe for no reason and neither of them really believed it was broken.

Dad said that he would need to x-ray my foot to make sure that my toe was really broken. But, he didn't feel like having to take me to the hospital because it would take a few minutes (another example of his patience) and instead decided to have Dr. Bill (the local veternarian) meet us at his office for my x-rays. So I got to ride over to the vet and get up on the dog/cat x-ray table and elicit proof that my toe was broken. I know, your jealous, right?!?

Finally, I had solidifying evidence that my toe was broken. Dad then drove me over to his office to fix my injury. The shot to numb my toe felt like a needle was being stabbed through my toe and then wiggled around in my veins. Then Dad snapped my bone back into place (which kudos to him because the only thing that grosses my father out more than a broken bone is a wiggly tooth) and taped it to my other toe to keep it straight.

Now the exciting trip to ride horses became the exciting trip of sitting in a chair while everyone else rode horses. And it was a lucky day for my family because that same afternoon, HB went to pet a horse named Easter and was kicked so hard in her thigh that she still has an indention there to this day. And, my fourth toe still curves to the left just a little bit.

I learned several important lessons that day:
1. Mom wasn't kidding when she told us not to run inside the house
2. My parents trust me a lot to tell the truth and never doubt me (there's a pebble in nose story that reiterates this)
3. Animals have really great x-ray equipment

Don't worry when I needed to have follow-up x-rays to see how my bone was healing Dad splurged on an extra 10 minutes of time and took me to the people hospital.

BOO!

Challenge #3: I once had a scary dream...

Okay so this picture isn't scary, but my nephew Elijah is just too stinking cute not to include and it is relevant because he is wearing a skeleton costume and it's scary how adorable the little Booski is, right?!?

Anywho, back to the challenge of telling you about having a scary dream. I have a horrible memory and that carries over into my REM cycle. I remember maybe 3 dreams a year, if that. This nightmare I had was when I was around 8 years old. My sister Sarah (she's the pretty momma in the photo to the left) and I shared a room and we had a bathroom in our room. My little sisters Hannah and Emma were down the hall and you had to walk through the den to get to my parent's bedroom (this is relevant to the dream).

So as I was saying, the dream picks up with me asleep in bed and awakening to notice that Sarah isn't in her bed. So I go to our bathroom to see if she's in there and I meet a giant alligator instead of my petite sister. I instantly switch to crisis mode and sprint to my parent's room to find they aren't there either. Then remembering HB and Em I run to their bedroom and it is empty as well. I can see the gator coming out of my bedroom and I dash back to my parent's dark room.

Suddenly, I am sitting and sobbing in the ashen remains of what used to be my house. I can't explain the logic but I went from running away from an alligator to sitting in a heap where my parent's bed used to be after a fire burned my entire house down to the ground. Then the downpour hits and I am drenched, crying hysterically, and staring at the debris surrounding me. That is the moment I woke up. I was so elated that it wasn't real and when I looked over to Sarah's bed, she was in it and sleeping soundly.

That is the only scary dream I remember from my childhood and I guess when I have nightmares I go for more of the soul crushing fear than your typical monster scare. I still don't trust alligators, but what's to be expected.

Summer Sweat

Challenge #2: Using 200 words, describe summer:

I could do this challenge using one word: SWEAT. I don't know if it's me, the Tennessee humidity, or both; but summers here are beastly. And that word appropriately describes how my hair looks during the summer. The lion's mane is in full force when that humidity hits.

Summer isn't just about how gross I look, it's also about slowing down. From age five to present I have attended school. This means I work hard for the majority of the year, but when summer arrives it brings with it my lackadaisical attitude. Evenings are filled with cookouts, ice tea in giant mason jars with lots of ice, crickets chirping in rhythm (side note: it took me 4 tries to spell that stupid word correctly), fireflies dancing among the stars, and sand volleyball on the regular.

Daytime is best spent staying cool indoors or lounging poolside. On lucky days there is even a creamsicle waiting. Every now and then I like to pretend I have the capability of tanning, but it's hard to become bronzed without the perfect float, great music, and the help of my coach, Roo.

(Another side note: I don't actually hire someone to help me tan as is evidenced by the countless photos of my pasty self. However, my bestie, Maeg, was once a professional tanner and I used her strict training regimen to get my self in shape one summer. (Side note about my side note: Maeg didn't actually tan professionally, that would be weird, but she should have because of how dark she gets) Below and to the right is photographic proof that even ghosts like me can get a tan if they work hard at it. Right: Mae & I, Below: Mae, Tiller & I riding a trolley).

All in all, summer to me is equivalent to a sauna: extremely warm, you sweat A LOT, but ultimately...it's good for you, body and soul.

(Last side note: if you are a nerd like me and actually count the words, the side notes are not part of my description and therefore not part of my total word count which is exactly 200)

I LOVE Skeezy Things

I feel that if you are reading my blog you should know something about me on a personal level before continuing further. I LOVE, adore, embrace, appreciate, and celebrate all things skeezy. Okay well, most things. This post is brought to you by the letter "M" as in mustaches and mullets. I can't tell you when I first realized that I had a problem of being physically drawn to mullets and skeezy mustaches. I'm talking 70s porn star staches not the mustaches that your middle-aged father sports. Although classy mustaches are nice, too. But my passion is the mustache that all the hipsters are bringing back with a vengeance. While I don't like hipsters, I can't help but look longingly at their finely cared for lip warmers.

I am also sure to force my friends to channel their love of stache and don fake ones with me. I have amazing friends and family who readily gift me with sticky staches. Here I am with HB and Em rocking the sweet sticky staches that Emma gifted me for my latest birthday!

And below I am celebrating Rob's birthday with some extra staches. Foster, Rob, fake mustaches, and I always have a swell time. As the tree shows mustaches are appropriate for every season and special occasion or holiday festivities.

Oh and then there are always the products. Yes, that is me with a

mustache band-aid. I can't say I wasn't thrilled when I cut my leg and

was able to don this little treasure:

Side note: I wore it the whole day watching some friends play in a softball league and had a pretty impressive tan line for the following few weeks or so. I didn't care though because the mustache band-aid was worth every day of having a horrible tan.

I also think mustaches are great accessories for any and all occasions. They go great with bringing in the New Year (Caleb and I had to take turns rocking this mustache) and are the perfect topping to an already awesome roadtrip. Tommy, Foster, and Rob showing off their

pretty phalanges with my artwork during our Daniel Tosh/ Chattanooga adventure. If ever an awkward silence had an immediate fix it would be the finger mustache and a camera. I can't count how many times I have taken pen to pinky to create a masterpiece.

Harry Potter midnight premiere with HB provided the perfect props for mustache action. Expecto Mustachio...all you need is some hangers sawed into wands and you've got mustache magic.

And last, but not least is the crafty applications that a mustache provides. As you can see to the left I have decorated a beloved pair of TOMS Shoes with mustache grafitti. And to the right

I have given SpongeBob (world's greatest cartoon) a dashing look with his sexy stache addition. As you can see I have a great appreciation and love for staches that are debonair or skeezy. I hope that this has allowed some insight into my psyche a bit more and made you love mustaches. So sport a mini mustache on your finger tomorrow and see what fun ensues :{D

1000 Ideas for Writing

I came across this website today that listed 1000 ideas for writing. I decided to challenge myself and my writing and select 23 of the ideas and implement them into 23 individual blog posts. I am attempting to write one story a week, we'll see how that goes!

1. If you could become invisible:

Curiosity killed the cat, but it intrigues me still. If I had the ability to become invisible, I would go to work, school and home and find out what people really thought about me as my first order of business. Then I would do little things to mess with people's minds. Things like opening a door or moving objects around. Also, if I saw anyone in need I would come to their aide.

The most fun I would have is attending all the expensive or a-list events I have dreamed about my entire life. I would sit courtside at both Lakers and Duke games. I would go to countless concerts and enjoy my newfound backstage access. I would tour the world by sneaking onto planes and then wandering the varying countries in which I landed. The only tricky part would be hotel rooms, but I would just sneak in when the maids were cleaning rooms that were going to be empty.

The only downfall would be that I still functioned normally in every other area so I would have to still attend class and work which would be time consuming. However, if I didn't have a conscience then I would rob banks frequently and no longer be required to work, that would free up quite a bit of my time.

If I wanted to be really mean, I would make people believe I was a ghost or start an urban legend in some foreign country like Big Foot. I would be visible one moment and invisible the next and locals would assume I was mystical or otherworldly. I could sneak into friends and families homes and pretend I was part of some dream they were having and tell them funny things they had to do or something they should say to me and then stifle my giggles when I heard it from them.

Honestly, I don't think I could mess with people too much because I would feel too guilty, but other than that being invisible sounds highly entertaining and I wouldn't mind possessing the ability now.