The life of an admissions counselor...proceed with caution...

I am going to veer off the beaten path a little and give my (few) readers some insight in what I currently do for a living...a very low-paid living at that, BUT my health-benefits are awesome...My official title at a certain university in the DFW area of Texas is Admissions Counselor: otherwise known as Recruiter, Enrollment Services Advisor II, admissions processing reinforcement crew, road warrior, office-absentee (we are hardly ever actually in the office), university b*tch, crusher of hopes and dreams of the ignorant and stupid, and many many more...typical duties include traveling for the university with the DFW as well as statewide, working school-visits and college fairs by giving out information promoting our school, advising students on admission standards and transferable credits for the various degree programs, giving out general information on financial aid/housing, ect. ect...pretty standard stuff right? But that's not all...during the fall semester, it's a pretty common occurence for me to work 70+ hours in one work-week, much less get on a regular sleep schedule, eat somewhat healthy, see my husband for a total of about three hours, and remember my first name. (This is a BIG reason why hubs and I opted for a destination wedding...took care of everything, barely lifted a finger, LOVED it, totally recommend it! www.sandals.com, look for "WeddingMoons") Bleu-dog has a complex every travel season because he figures out my travel schedule...my poor sad boy, he loves his Mom...Between events, college fairs, traveling all over Texas, living out of a suitcase, rental-car places and airport security and staff knowing you by face/name, it takes a toll. And in between all of that, you are back in the office for a few days, advising students and answering the same questions to oblivious kids and hovering/helicopter parents...

I just completed my fourth year as an admissions counselor, and I can tell you first had that is job is definitely not for everybody. Imagine yourself being deleriously sleep-deprived from being up/pretty/packed/in your car at 4 AM, standing for hours on end, eating the same crappy food at every single school (sandwiches and stale grocery store cookies...really?? Show some imagination people...), answering the same questions over and over and over and over and over and over again, while wearing nice dress-clothes and a million layers of deoderant, and using every ounce of enthusiasm you have to sound interested and nice to the same cookie-cutter student and their parents who think they are God's gift to higher education (you have a 750 on SAT kid, a C+ in Algebra 2, and hate science and the sight of blood...common sense should tell that you will most likely not go for pre-med...do yourself a favor and get a reality check, okay?)...it takes a thick-skin, patience of a saint, and balls of steel to do my job. Fellow AC's can I get an amen up in hur??!! You know the show "Kids say the darndest things?" Yeah, it doesn't get any better as they get older...

For those who have been through college, you can attest that not every school is for every student. My thought is that if every college/university were the same, what would be the need for so friggin many??! There are multiple, obvious factors that make up the various universities in Texas, and all over the United States... but you would be shocked that MANY MANY MANY people that have NOT figured this concept out...things such as, oh I don't know, Degree programs? Student populations? Public/Private? School systems? Tuition prices? Community college? University? Tech/Vocational School? Colors? Mascots? (and the whopper of them all) Admission standards? *GASP* WTH?? REALLY?? All college/universites are NOT THE SAME?????!!!!! Who woulda thunk it??? Jesus Mary and Joseph may the Lord help and bless you through your lack of common sense...Oh...and nothing drives me more insane than this statement: "But yall are a local school, so that means I should be able to go here?" If I hear that one more time in the next four weeks, I will seriously go postal on someone...WAKE UP PEOPLE!!! Harvard is considered a local school to students who live in/near Cambridge, MA...as cool as that would be (and I would move to Cambridge in a heartbeat if this was the case) it doesn't mean that "locals" can just go to friggin Harvard!! Ugh...anyhoo! Here a few questions/scenarios I typically get at college fairs and school visits:

• "Does your school offer mechanical engineering?" -Why yes, our school is known for its engineering programs and was founded by a multi-billion dollar engineering based company. What are you wanting to do with an engineering degree? "I want to fix cars."-Okay, that's not neccesarily engineering. You're probably looking for an automotive technology program, those are typically offered at community colleges and tech schools. "But I want to do engineering so I can fix cars."-You sure you want to do engineering specifically? Do you like calculus and physics? "No ma'am, I hate math."-Then trust me, you don't want to study engineering. Go visit with Wyo-Tech across the room.
• "Yo yall got pre-meeeeeed?"-My name is not yo, it is Leanne, and yes we have a great pre-med program. Our pre-med students' average acceptance rate into first choice med school is around 70%. Our students typically do a pre-med emphasis within a science-based major, such as Biology. "WHAAAAT?? You gotta do biolgrey in pre-med?"-Yes..."Oh, foget dat! Yall got nursin?" (Aye yeh yeh...)
• "Do you have bartending as a major?"
• -Hi how are you guys? Do you know anything about our university? "No miss, you got soccer?"-Our university has a division III men's soccer team yes, but more importantly what are you wanting to study? "Soccer"-That's not a major, what are you wanting to study? "Sports then."-Sports and soccer are not majors...what kind of classes do you like in school? History? Science? Math? "Soccer..."-*sigh*
• "I want to play with little kids and make them feel good!" (Oh dear...)
• "Excruze me miss, can I axe youz a querstion? Yall got cosmetology?" (take in the mental picture of the girl asking this question: ratty/nappy hair dyed 5 different colors with a jacked-up do, matching teeth/hair/fingernails/toenails with her spare-tire hanging out of her 2-sizes too small shirt and skin-tight acid washed skinny jeans)-Yes, you can 'ask me a question'. No ma'am, cosmetology is not offered at any university. Go talk to the Aveda Academy over there, but first ask them what type of students they take and what type of clientel they get first...
• "So you're the same as *insert certain mother-ship-monstrosity of a school that is in our state capital in which our university is affilated with* right?" -Ummm, no not even close. All of the *mother-ship* system schools are all completely seperate and different instiutions. "Oh, so yall are like a junior college to *mother-ship*?"-Absolutely not. Our school actually has higher SAT score averages than *mother-ship*, along with one of the highest acceptance rates into law school and different academic programs. So by no means are we a junior college. "Oh..."-Have a great day!
• "What type of classes do I have to take?"-Well every student has to take the core cirriculum, which consists of courses such as history, governement, english, ect. "But what if I don't want to take those classes?"-Then you won't get a degree. "Oh, well why not?"
• "I have a 750 on my SAT, can I get a scholarship at your school?"-Well probably not. Our min. SAT score just for automatic admission is such and such, and our average SAT score last year was around this-and-that. "So what your saying is I can't get a scholarship?" -Probably not...
• "I won 1st place in my school's robotics competition, and I have a 1450 on SAT...do I stand a chance at being admitted?"-Welcome to your new home kid!
• "Yall have medical?"-Ummm, medical what exactly? That's a broad range when you're talking about degree programs. Can you be more specific? "You know, like medical stuff?"-Sadly no I am not familiar with 'medical stuff'.
• "What type of classes should I take to better-prepare myself for your school's pre-med program?-*silently screaming praise Jesus, finally a good question!!!!* Well, usually students prepare themselves for a pre-med program by taking higher-level math courses, such as calculus, and AP biology, chemistry, and perhaps anatomy and physiology? That would definitely be a good place to start. "Oh okay, that's great to know! I have heard your university has a great sciences school and pre-med program, I am really interested!"-*gaining every ounce of composure not to bear-hug this student* That's wonderful, I am so glad to hear it! So you're interested in going to medical school after your bachelors degree? What specialization are you looking to go into?"-Vaginacology "-*stumped speechless, trying to hold onto any composure I can muster* Ummm, excuse me, you mean gynocology, correct? "Yeah, that's what I said, vaginacology"-Wow, ummmm, that isn't right. Be careful on how you word that...

I will give you a minute to gather yourself and change underpants...3-2-1...times up! Sadly, this is all 100% true. The best part of being on the road is when you are gathered with AC's/recruiters from other schools at a local bar or restaurant after a night fair trading stories back and forth. We could seriously come together and write a book...it would instantly be a best seller...Then of course when traveling season dies down, and the events have gone off without a hitch (for the 9th and 10th time that semester), you get to come back to the office, catch up on the bajillion emails you received over the weeks you were gone, and advise prospective students who come in for appointments or a campus tour. I also take the random phone calls that come into our office...I like to say that our student-workers love me, but after the following scenario, I began to question that theory...condensed version as follows:

"No sir, the online FAFSA is not an admissions application...the university cannot give a non-admitted student money...you would need to fill out an admissions application online seperately from the FAFSA...yes sir, you would need to be an admitted student to potentially receive financial aid to our university through the FAFSA...the FAFSA is useless without a current admissions application on file...no the money will not be waiting on you if you do not apply and get admitted to the university...We look for a 2.5...What is a 2.5? It's a GPA sir, yes that is grade point average...between a grade "B" and C" yes sir, but our overall transfer GPA average is typically higher than a 2.5...yes sir our students are very bright...no sir, your GPA is too low...state universities in Texas typically will not admit a student with a GPA below 2.0 from a community college, especially if a student is on probation or suspension...we cannot admit you period if you are on probation...this is a state law sir, yes I'm sure...no you cannot use the same essay for our university that you used for *another school that shall not be named*...no sir, an essay will not help your case if you have over 60 hours & a GPA below 2.0...every university has different admissions standards, yes really...your best option is to retake some courses at your community college to get your GPA up...their (another *mother-ship* system-school) transfer GPA is a 2.25, so no they probably won't admit you either...it sounds like you need to retake some classes at your community college...sir I'm pretty sure there are plenty of classes you can retake to get your GPA up if it's below a 2.0, yes that's grade point average..."

And of course, the various classics:

• "I don't think it's right for you base an admission decision off of a student's previous academic history!" (Dude, what else are we going to base it on?!?! Moron...)
• "I've taken College Algebra for my associates and I'm looking to transfer into your engineering school, that math class should be good enough to transfer right?"-Well usually no, the core math requirements for any engineering student is typically accelerated calculus (aka "Bill Gates-Genius" calculus) 1 and 2. Beyond that there are required upper-level physics and engineering courses that require cal. 1 and 2 as pre-requisites. You should stay at your community college and get through calculus before transfering over. "I don't understand, is engineering a lot of calculus and physics?" (*DING DING DING* We have a winner!!!)
• "I am a restaurant/hotel management major at *dirt-farmers-u*, how will my classes transfer to your school?"-Well, since we don't have a RHM major at our school, they will most likely be elective credit or non-transferable at all. "So my classes won't transfer to your RHM program?" (Am I speaking friggin Greek?)-Again, no our university does not have a RHM program. Try *mean green-u*, they have a great RHM program. "Aren't yall the same?"-If we were the same, would we have two different universities with different names and programs? "Oh, but yall are both the color green?" (Thank you again, Captain Obvious...)
• "I can't get a transcript from one of my previous schools, so I just didn't list it on my application."-Well, it is listed on your latest transcript, so you will need to get it in if you want to register for classes in time for Fall. "What if I don't? How would anyone know?"-Because I have magicial and official access to your records, I will then make a note in your file, you will have committed academic fraud, you will be kicked out of school, its goes on your permanent record as a felony, our university could potentially lose its accredidation and funding, and thousands upon thousands of students' degrees will be null and void. "Oh, so I should probably get that transcript huh?"-Yes, that would be a great idea for all of us...

And parents, oh they are so special...

• "I just don't understand why my son was denied?! He's #1 in his class! He should be admitted and get the valedictorian's scholarship based on that alone!"-Ma'am, your son has an 18 on ACT and is home schooled...not only is he first in his class, he's also last. His test score is below par (26 comp.) and GPA is relavent for home-schooled and private-schooled applicants. "I just don't understand that, he's very smart! I wrote him a recommendation letter!" Ma'am, rec. letters from parents are invalid for our admissions process. That would be like my mother writing me a recommendation letter stating that I am the princess of Monocco and should marry Prince William. "Well, you people just don't understand intellegence!" (apparently, she doesn't either...)
• "I would like to know the status of my son's application." I apologize ma'am, but your son is over the age of 18 and falls under the privacy laws of FERPA. We cannot release any information regarding a student's application to anyone other than the student. "And why not?! I am his Mother!"-Again I am sorry, but legally he is considered an adult and legally I am really not allowed to give you any information regarding his file. "He's in school?! He doesn't have time to call you!"-Ma'am, our office closes at 6 PM, he has plenty of time to call after school gets out. And since his high school is about, ooooooohhh, 2 miles from our campus, he could easily come to our office after school. "Well that's just too hard on him! You can't expect him to do all of this on his own?!"-Ma'am, if he is going to be the one going to school here, he has to live and go to class on his own. Parents cannot live, go to class, take the tests, get through the classes for the students. There's a certain amount of responsibility a university expects out of potential students. He is 18, he is legally considered an adult, he will need to take care of it. "Well, you people are just no help to your students!" (Yes, we should be there every second to wipe their little bottoms too...give me a break...)
• -(after trying to talk reason into this crazy woman for a good 15-20 minutes) "I just don't understand why my daughter was denied. She got into a,b,c,d,e schools (all private schools or schools with more lax admission standards) but not yours! Just based on her admission other places you should admit her! After all, yall are JUST a 'local' school? Why are you trying to be so selective? I want you to be honest with me!"-(oh lordy, that lady had NO idea what she was requesting of this AC...) You really want me to be completely honeset ma'am? "Yes I do!"-Okay...First of all, don't ever assume you know everything about a university. Ours is a Teir 1 institution with internationally recognized researched programs, some of the highest acceptance rates into med/pharmacy/dental/PA/law schools in the state, top 10-ranked programs in the nation, and is #1 in SAT score averages out of all public universities in the state. Second, it may not be the best idea for you to blatantly insult a school in which your daughter was denied and you're trying to argue her case. And if we are just a 'local' school that you're being so non-chalant about, why are you so adamant about her being admitted?  She has been accepted to other pretty good schools, its not like she is void of options. Third, your daughter's application didn't even come close to our average test score and GPA/class-ranking averages. And lastly, just because a school is 'local' in terms of geographical location and region doesn't mean that its exactly 'easy' to be admitted. Harvard University is considered quote-unquote local to residents in/near Cambridge, MA...doesn't mean that everyone can go to Harvard. Does that clear it up? *dead silence*-Ma'am, are you there? "I...I...I think that we'll just consider the other schools that accepted her."-That sounds like a great idea, and it sounds like she has other good options, one of those schools is my alma mater, she will love it. Have a great day!

For a sarcastic and blunt person as myself, you have NO EARTHLY IDEA just HOW hard it is for me to keep my mouth shut on a daily basis...this job has been the greatest test of my patience, but I have grown from and gained more than enough experience over the years to fill over half a page of my resume. I have literally done and said it all in this profession (some stuff I shouldn't have said, but damnit it made an impact), and it only makes me THAT much more excited about going back to school. Oh masters' degree, how I loooooooooong for thee...in due time, in due time. :)

Halleluigheeeerrr, I has retuuuuned!!

Helluuuuuurrrr!! Yeah, it's been a while...I know I know, yall have been on pins and needles waiting on another post...right??? On a serious note, work and life has been a little crazy lately, so that's why I have quite frankly been slacking on the blogging...Just humor me, there's plenty more to come ;)

Folks, sister, and soon-to-be brother in law Captain America...soon you will understand :)

To accurately explain and describe my parents to the outside community tends to require a comfortable chair and a stiff drink...Freud would have had a field day with analyzing my family. Talk about some very unique, educated, complex, individual, and out-spoken people...parents are both short-tempered and extremely set in their ways, but they will objectively look at any issue, discuss it through and definitely love each other "for better or worse." Both grew up in my hometown, knew each other their entire lives, and Daddy was in love with Mom since day one. It took her a few extra years to realize that she didn't completely despise her younger brother's best friend, but they got married and had me...what more could you ask for?? HA...

My dad is my hero, despite how many times we have butted heads and he's pissed me off to no ends...he once made me drive home in a hailstorm so that my "car would be safe and wouldn't get beat to hell"...umm, hello?!? Ask me sometime about the starter going out of my POS car from high school the day he was leaving for a fishing tournament...Daddy is half Cherokee Indian, 1/4 German and 1/4 Irish. He's about 6'2" with salt and pepper black hair, dark skin, and bright blue eyes. Hubs Brian describes him as a "scary Wilford Brimley" (the Quaker Oats and 'Diabeetus' guy) so there you go. I like to think of him as the redneck equivalent to the father in My Big Fat Greek Wedding..."put some Weendex on it"...He grew up the youngest (by about 3 minutes) of triplet boys and one older brother to a dirt-poor truck driver and teacher's aid. (yet another family association...'Oh your dad is one of those H-triplets?! Now which one do you belong to?)And back in the 1950's, there was no such thing as invitro fertilization...my saint of a grandmother conceived, carried to full term, and delivered all three of them naturally at all of 19 years old. Yes, she is one hell of a lady, and genetically she has passed that onto myself and cousin Lisa. (the multiples gene skips a generation from grandmother to female grandchild on Dad's side of the family...so big-guy and I have the chance of having three quirky, brunette, blue-eyed kids at the same time...thanks Grandom! Lisa no offense, I hope it's you *wink*) Growing up he was the epitome of a typical boy, somewhat of a sports prodigy, and is a jack of all trades. He can build and fix anything, pick up any sport and play it well, hunt, fish, shoot the wings off a fly if he tried hard enough, even catch a live armadillo by the tail (no lie). Daddy was a football and track star, and even made it to the minor leagues in baseball. During college, he was both a skydiving and scuba diving instructor, welder, owned a motorcycle, and lived life to the fullest. In other words, he was adventurous and considered a ladies man...which God had a sense of humor and later gave him two daughters. He was also the only one out of his brothers to graduate from college, and went on to coach and teach math/vocational education for almost 30 years.You probably won't find another man his age that is more talkative, borderline flirtacious w/his dirty old man moments (apparently he's 'earned them'), highly conservative, easily entertained, eccentric, and cynical in your lifetime.That's right, my dad is THAT guy in the bib overalls, US Navy hat, driving a beater pickup truck with NRA (if terrorists ever invaded our hometown, Dad could form an arsenal with just what is in the gun cabinet/under beds/in closets/drawers/his truck and be more than prepared...yeah, active NRA member is an understatement) and No-Bama bumper stickers, doesn't give a sh*t and will tell you what exactly is on his mind (good or bad, depends on how you take it). Not to mention he was CRAZY-strict on us growing up...my curfew was 10 PM, even after I turned 18, we couldn't date at all until we were 16 (and when your birthday is in April, that sucked), no boys were allowed to be in our rooms, if you made a "B" in a class you were instantly grounded (which finally got bypassed when he realized that math/chemistry/physics were NOT in the cards for me), we were in church every single Sunday morning (pretty much had to be on your death-bed and bleeding out of every hole of your body to miss it), Bible-Drill every Sunday night, and never ever allowed to argue regardless of what the point might have been. He could have adamently said that the sky was purple, and you couldn't say that was wrong and it was really blue. Looking back, I think this may have been a contributing factor for my lack of tolerance and patience for stupidity and unreasonableness...did I live through it? Yes, but it was no picnic...Dad has made some enemies in his lifetime, but only because he does not tolerate people walking all over him just because they have more money or think they are better in general. He once was invited to participate in an annual "charity" golf tournament at the local country club (which he despises) by the school-district superintendent and his big-whig "old oil family" pals. Dad beat the snot out of them in the tournament, actually placed in the top 3, and they never invited him back. He was rightfully pretty smug about beating the yuppy-clan :) I can say that we never missed out on lots of fun growing up. He never missed an opportunity to take us fishing, camping, swimming, horseback riding, to the gun range, bike riding, Dairy Queen for Blizzards, and even shopping. (He sat on the bench in the mall, read his paper/book, and then droolled over tools at Sears) Despite the strictness, he loved us 120%, helped and picked us up whenever we needed, and taught us to be the best we could be. Daddy also has an infamous reputation to say the least, for some reasons I'd rather/shall not share...crazy old man...Now he is happily retired, holds two masters degrees, owns a John Deer, broadcasts the high school football games over the local AM station (Ticket's own 2004 Homer Call Award winner-http://www.bobanddan.com/Homer%20champ%202004%20kilgore.mp3), teaches Sunday school, drinks the Sam Adams (his favorite beer), watches the History and Military channels on obnoxiously loud volume (old man is deaf as a stump), rides around town with Rocky (my folks sickingly-spoiled-rotten mini-Jack Russel mix dog, he's an oozingly-cute mess), goes fishing, plays golf, "smells gun powder" at the range, and gets a honey-do list regularly from Mom. This was also the same man double-fisting pina coladas at our destination wedding, cried when I said my vows, and then proceeded to taking pictures of topless women sunbathing...apparently he had to have proof to show his buddies later? That was his story anyway, and he was sticking to it...were we shocked? Not really...

Mom is the product of stubborn, crazy Arkansas hillbillies with just about every European lineage in her family tree. I wish I were exaggerating...you name it, it's probably there. From what I've been able to gather, (which I could easily be wrong or right on the money) I've narrowed it down to Scotch-Irish, German, Greek, Swiss, French, and possibly some Polish and/or Italian. From there, it is a mystery. And with my mom's and two uncles differentiating genes and traits, (Mom-brunette/fair-skinned/average height/green eyes, Uncle L-blue eyes/darker skin/dark hair/somewhat taller, Uncle G-blonde/fair-skinned/blue-eyed/taller) it could very well be all across the board. She was the oldest of three to a beloved teacher/counselor (Grandma is super-cool, and has a PhD) and a savvy businessman, and moved to my/our hometown as a young girl. There she excelled in school, fought off her younger brother's irritant of a best friend (AKA, my dad), was a prominent member in acapella choir/chamber singers/church choir/music ensambles, cheered through high school and college, competed in beauty pageants (she actually placed top 5 in the Miss Denton pageant  go Mom!) to help pay for school, went off to University of North Texas, became active in a sorority (Omicron, which was local until it went national to Tri-Delta), graduated, taught in the DFW area for a few years, got married, had my sister, split from her ex, moved back to our hometown to be closer to family, got back in touch with my dad after years and years, they started dating, dad proposed on an Ozark mountaintop at sunset (you've got to give him props on that, but she told Dad to spit out his chewing tobacco and ask her again...classy), got married, and then nine months later were surprised with me, YAY! Hehehe...To this day they will look at each other, every now and then, and ask each other "We're married?! When the hell did this happen??" Mom was always the voice of reason when it came to growing up in the H-household...when my dad would go off on a rant/tagent, she would always be the one to say enough and suck it up. She has been there, done that, and is one of the best people for advice I've ever had. However, Mom has no short-term memory to speak of, and honestly I can't recall when she ever did...there have been multiple incidents where she has forgotten to pick us up from dance/choir/theatre/orchestra/drill-team practice/youth night/church/bible-drill/birthday parties, as well as thrown away bills/field-trip permission slips/wedding invitations, forgot to unplug the iron (this is a running joke in our family), left the stove on, forgot that the super-old/half-blind family dog was still outside (poor Tasha), and so many other things and times that are just too vastly numerous to list...honestly, we just got used to it after a while and learned to call and "remind" her that we were STILL waiting outside for her. And it's not that Mom did it on purpose, no not by any means, she just really was THAT forgetful. Cell phones were a miracle breakthrough for her lack of memory...poor Mom, she really meant well. Look out though, this lady has a short fuse...stubborn as an old mule, she will not back down if she is mad and thinks she is correct. I have genuine sympathy for anyone that has tried to get in her way, because they are probably still sporting tred and claw-marks. I will give Mom some props though, she is the garage-sale queen. I am beyond amazed at some of the things she has brought home (Kate Spade and Coach purses that still had the tags, Ferragamo shoes, Fiesta flatware, designer jeans, furniture-hence how she supplies her antique restoration business, and so much more), but for some reason she always seems to buy a friggin vacuum cleaner no matter how decrepit the thing is...she has this one hideous old school vacuum that is held together with duct tape and a prayer that she has been trying to pawn off on me and sister for years..."but it's great for tile and wood floors!" (Yeah when it isn't falling apart in multiple pieces and sounds like it is about to explode Mom...) Speaking of exploding vacuums, that actually happened! If only I were joking...the dilapidated garage-sale vacuums have always been weird "thing" for my mom, even when we were kids. For the amount of money she has spent on vacuum cleaners in the past 10 years, she could have bought a crazy-expensive Dyson and had it hand-delivered by that snobby-British founder of theirs to her front door...anyhoo, story goes: I can't remember exactly how old I was, I think mid-to-late middle school b/c sister was in high school, but Mom was vacuuming the living room with her "bargain" POS when it started to make a really weird noise. Not phased by this (they all seemed to make that noise, hence why someone sold them in a garage sale), she kept on vacuuming until it came to a screeching (literally) halt, exploded, and caught on fire. Caught, on friggin, fire...granted the flames subsided very quickly, but the entire house was filled with thick, awful, burnt rubber/plastic-smelling smoke. Sister and I were dying laughing, (between hacking/coughing from the smoke), the smoke alarm is beeping and going nuts, Dad hid his face and stifled his laughter behind the newspaper...all in the mean time, Mom is dropping sh*ts and damnits all over the place, getting irritated b/c we are in-tears laughing, and Dad wasn't helping all b/c she was telling him "dammit Don it's NOT funny!!" Oh yes Mother dearest, yes it was, and still is...BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Also, she has no concept of a thought-to-mouth filter, and there have been times where sister and I have wanted to put a bag over her head and throw her into a getaway car just to avoid the repercussions. We can't decide if it's because she's getting older and even more senile, or that she just flat-out doesn't care anymore? Which to a point, I don't blame her...prime example: A few months ago, myself/Mom/sister all went wedding-dress shopping in Dallas for sister's upcoming July nuptials to Captain America Scott (my soon-to-be bro-in-law that's in the Navy and might as well be a combo of Paul Bunyon, Bear Grils-Survival Man, Aqua-Man, Captain America and Jesus according to my dad...who has kind of a man-crush on Scott...he is a great guy though, we love him, he adores my sister, and that's what really matters...he too will be in this post) While sister was busy getting chiffoned/satined/strapped-in/cinched-up in the dressing room, there was another bridal group where the bride's sister was about six months pregnant. The mother and friends were all talking about her pregnancy, and she made a comment that she vowed to have her old weight and abs back in time for the wedding. Bold statement, good for her, I admire her ambition, but mom looked at her (in front of the poor girl's sister, family, friends, ect.) and said "Don't count on it, they'll never be the same again." I wanted to crawl into the sea of satin and tool and just disapear at that moment...geez...all I could do was wait for my mom to go to the bathroom (for the 80th time) and sincerely/profusely apologize to that girl. Later I told sister in private what Mom said, and she was completely mortified but sadly not surprised...Mom is who she is, and definitely keeps us on our toes! Nonetheless, she has always been there for me, through all the good and just plain sh*tty, and I honestly don't know what I would do if she wasn't in my life. For instance, when jackhole-cheater-pumpkin-eater dumped me (saying he wasn't ready to get married and settle down...but low and behold, he gets hitched to the lab partner he had been messing around with the weekend before big-guy and I got married, AND they just had a baby...not ready to settle down huh? Ugh, I am SO much better off! Thank you Lord! Edge of cliff...) and took half the furniture (if you found out what was done on said furniture without your knowledge, you would want it gone too...or burned, either one), Mom went out and bought me a brand-new, beautiful suede couch when I moved into a new apartment. I told her that was way too generous, and her response was "Well babygirl, it's cheaper than a wedding dress." Touche' Mother dearest, and thanks for the gorgeous couch that looks smashing in our house :)

And that brings me to the blonde-bombshell I've referred to as "sister" in this post, Jena. As you probably figured out Jena is technically my half-sister (same Mother dearest), but there is NO question that we are siblings and where we come from. If you were to met us on separate occasions, you would never guess it in a million years, until you put us in the same room. *DING* We have a match! Same smile, weird sense of humor, temper, political views, appreciation for fire arms (yes we are usually armed) and good wine (just not together), no doubt...she shares my (sometimes inappropriate)
enthusiasm for
humor in every day
life/things/people, and is
always the one I can send the "man or
woman?" picture-text/random email
from a dumb kid asking an even more
dumb question, call when I saw the Sara's
Secret billboard with the frightened
cucumber (cracks me up every time),
and she hysterically laughs with me.
In everything else, we are polar opposites:
Jena is blonde haired/blue-eyed/fair-skinned,
I am brunette/green-eyed/dark-skinned (thanks Daddy!), she sings like an angel, I can't
carry a tune in a bucket with a lid, she has no physical rhythm whatsoever (2-left feet to the
max, which is strange because she can pick up any instrument and play it), I can learn dance choreography from a music video by watching it once or twice(just ask the hubs or my folks, they have seen me do it, and I DOMINATE at Wii Dance Party!! You definitely want me on your team), she's flighty, I am very direct, she can go days without a shower and not stink, I sweat like a racehorse and can't go 12 hours without a shower, she hates vegetables (a "salad" for her is a bowl of croutons w/ranch dressing), I can't get enough salad and greens, she is a night-owl, I get horribly cranky if I'm not in bed by 11 PM, she drives a huge beast of a Dodge truck, I drive a crossover Nissan SUV, I lived at the orthodontist office as a tween, she never had to have braces or dental work done, and the list goes on...Jena has worn, and still wears many hats in her life: waitress, telemarketer, teacher, high-school counselor, wedding planner, artist, designer/decorator, gardener, semi-pro singer (visit her website at www.jenawalker.com, or find her on iTunes), divorcee, clinical psychologist for the old and senile ("You like pecker sauce huh?"), and soon to be military wife. God bless her...We fought like cats and dogs growing up, and could barely stand each other for more than a few minutes. But from what I've been told, she was unmercifully mean to me as a little kid...there's apparently a story where she was ruthlessly picking on me for something, and I guess I had had enough, took one of Dad's golf clubs and proceed to chase and whack her with it...I don't remember this at all, but as the expression goes, apparently that was the day the music stopped and she was never THAT mean to me again. With us being five years apart, we didn't become close until after she transferred schools and moved away. This was about the time I was starting high school, and I began to actually miss my sister. There are just some things that parents don't really understand when you're a teenager ya know? Thank the Lord for instant messenger! When my parents finally caved and got a computer/internet, we constantly chatted over IM, and I usually sought her advice for things only "sisters" could really "talk" about. I loved it when she would come home on weekends and tell me all about her classes, professors, college life, travels with her then boyfriend, student teaching, ect. I was happy for her, but yet it still made me yearn even more for a life like her's...she was just "Jena", and the happiest she had ever been. All the high-school/hometown drama that weighed on me (not by choice) was always a brushed-off reassurance when she would say "when you get to college, none of that mess will matter, and no one will give a sh*t, trust me" She gave great advice, but as said in my first intro-post she was incredibly over-the-left-field-fence ADD...my mom was in denial about it for years, thinking that she was just ditzy and absent-minded, but looking back I don't see how Mom didn't put her on adderal from day one. I told you about the pizza/shoe/microwave debacle...that really happened...it was a common occurrence to find such things as a half-prepared sandwich and all the condiments left on the counter, front-door wide open from letting the dog out, all the lights/fans/tv's/radio on, half-empty can of soda in the closet, cordless phone in the fridge, shower running, one shoe in the living room (where was the other one? when they weren't in the microwave? always a mystery...), bag of crackers on the bathroom counter...and where was Jena in all this? Most likely at work, choir practice, out with her boyfriend, or in a lounge chair in the backyard sunning/reading...you would ask her later about said random item/situation that was obviously half-finished and left behind, she would be like "Oh THAT! Well, (that's how it always started) I was in my room reading/listening to the radio and finishing my Dr. Pepper when I realized that my other shoe was still missing and needed to look for it...then I went into all the other rooms looking for it, couldn't find it, then realized it was lunchtime and started to make myself a sandwich when the phone rang and Tasha needed to go out. After I got off the phone and realized what time it was, I needed to shower for (insert whatever she had planned/scheduled) but also remembered that I forgot to mark my place in my book."...okay...but how do you explain the crackers in the bathroom? Riddle me that blondie? This was a constant thing in our house, and we just kinda learned to drop Jena some "reminders" that she was a functional human and to keep track of what she's doing...how she made it through school, college, and a masters degree as well as she did is beyond me. And her room...OMG...it was a momentous day when you could see partial-carpet on the floor, I'll just say that. Having our bedrooms side-by-side growing up was always an obviously hilarious comparison...when we talk about contributing factors to personality traits, I think I developed my OCD-ness for organization just by living within 5-feet of Jena's room. I am not NEARLY as bad as some where I color-coordinate my post-it notes by where that color falls alphabetically, but things are always in some sort of order and PUT AWAY! I can't stand clutter, lights on in a room if no one is in there, food left out on the counter, clothes (clean or dirty) everywhere, it's all so overwhelming...(This was quite an adjustment for king-bachelor/pre-me-moving-in Brian, who still has yet to grasp some of my neuroses, but just HOW hard is it to throw your empty beer can in the trash, put away the Triscuits box, and shut a cabinet door?? Someone PLEASE tell me?! He has a friggin computer science degree, works for one of the nation's top Fortune 500 companies writing software, and can't seem to make the association between an empty can to the trash, or dirty underwear to the hamper...boys...) God love my sister...despite the random antics, she is still the best person to share a big plate of fajitas and a bottle of wine with while just shootin' the breeze and talking about life's blessings and trials. Countless times we have laughed, cried our eyes out, yelled, been pissed off, together...you name it, we've been there. Our bond runs deep, and it is simply irreplaceable.

And last, but certainly not least, my soon-to-be brother-in-law, Scott. Oklahoma native, oldest brother to two vivacious sisters (LOVE those girls!!!), world-traveler, currently on deployment serving in the US Navy, and was recently awarded "Sailor of the Quarter." His military specializations include being a rescue-diver, and also part of an anti-terrorist/anti-pirate "group" if you will. (I don't know military terminology at all, and Jena/Scott both will probably berate me for my lack thereof...) And yes, we constantly give him an overload of pirate jokes and tell him to eat lots of oranges so he won't get scuuuuuuuuurvy, arrrrrrr!! Sorry, had to do it...and going with the trend of running jokes, Scott has the amazing ability to fix and construct anything with a hammer, wood, and duct tape. How he does it, I am not exactly sure, but he pretty  much "whittled" his own bed and other various items of furniture and shelving. Its definitely a talent, but also lots of ammunition for giving him a really hard time...I once asked him if he whittled his refrigerator out of a pine tree and arctic ice that an endangered baby seal, he happen to nurse back to health in all of his Navy adventures, brought him in return...yeah, he didn't share my humor, but of course Jena did :) I half-joked that he was going to get him a case of duct tape for Christmas next year, and it wasn't exactly dismissed as a potential gift...and yes, whether Daddy wants to admit it or not, he has a huge man-crush on Scott. Adores my sister? Drinks beer? Country boy? Military? Sharp shooter? Master diver? (Dad was/still is an avid scuba diver) Loves fishing and golf? Oober conservative? OCD with cleanliness and organization? (you should see his tool shed...) Yeah, he's in man-love...hence how Scott was dubbed with the nickname "Captain America", thanks to Brian who willingly takes the 2nd place medal in the son-in-law competition...*sigh* (Mom still adores you honey... and Dad knows you are right for "me") In all seriousness, Scott has been Jena's lifesaver and guardian angel. They met when Jena was the college/career counselor for a local East Texas high school, and he had a short-stent as a Navy recruiter. Jena's high school was one of Scott's schools...they were close friends for years, and then when she finally ended it with her ex (awful husband, he didn't deserve her) Scott was there to pick up the pieces and lend a hand/shoulder to cry on. Jena knew that he had a BIG crush on her for a LONG time, and finally gave in after she filled for divorce. Despite all of her hardships, she is complete with Scott. He treats her like gold, sets her straight when need be (trust me, she needs to be brought back down to earth from time to time) , and just "gets" her inside-and-out. Thank you Scott for making her happy, she certainly deserved it :) And their wedding?? A week in Jamaica??? YEAH 'MON!!!

In the end, you are who you are, and that will never change. Another thing that will never change...family. These crazy and complex people that built me up, and in some way scarred me for life, will always and forever hold a special place in my heart. I would take a bullet for them, and besides Brian of course, they will always come first. They helped me become the independent and unique woman I am today, and I always say thanks and that I love them at every opportunity. I suggest you do the same...pennies for your thoughts, as always :)

Meet my husband Brian, I think I'll keep him :)

If you are still here, I say thank you for indulging me :) 

These next few posts are going to introduce y'all (yes, y'all is a legitimate word in the Texas dictionary) to the complex and crazy people I hold nearest and dearest to my heart. The first of course will be the hubs and immediate family, and depending on how long my writers block stays away, they'll most likely include grandparents, cousins, bro/sis-in-law and their minions, BFF's, college people, and maybe if you can put up with it, Bleu-dog. Hey he's a cool canine, don't judge. It's an animal-lover thing...

Aaaaaaand now about the snoring, farting  man I sleep next to every night, and gave me the chance to have a less complicated (apparently) last name...the hubs Brian, by default and just because he's pretty awesome, definitely makes the top of my favorite-people list. Native of the San Antonio area (mainly Fredericksburg), he stands at 6'4" with blonde hair and pretty blue yes...and a big goofy grin. If you've put two and two together, yes he is predominately of German heritage. Big guy's mother is a  successful CPA, and his dad is an engineer for the SA power company, so needless to say he is freakishly intelligent...it's also scary that he doesn't realize just HOW intelligent he is sometimes...really. I once came home after a shopping trip to find him with his laptop, and mine, linked and out on the coffee table frantically working with some sort of grid and his coding software program...I wasn't shocked, but I asked him what in the world he was doing? He got bored with the online sudoku (he calls them his 'dailies') games he had been playing, so he decided to hack into the site server, download the application, and make his own sudoku game. What was so funny is that he told me this in a manner of "What? This is a normal thing, like brushing your teeth!" after I blankly stared then rolled my eyes. Yes honey, every regular person is able to hack into a database and write their own software for a custom sudoku game...I'll get right on that...Another default factor is that he bleeds Texas A&M maroon. You want to talk about a family legacy, TAMU's engineering school should be named after his family. Great-grandparents, great-uncles, grandparents, parents (minus his mom who is a UT grad...boo...but she has pretty much morphed over to the good side of the force), uncles, cousins, and his brother Mike ALL were A&M graduates. Brian, however, graduated from UT Dallas (shameless plug #2: UTD is an ideal school for engineer/software goo-roo's/future doctors, lawyers, & therapist wannabes, very academically sound school, national recognitions for various programs, ect. ect....it was founded by Texas Instruments back in the 60's, so yeah, smart-kid school...www.utdallas.edu) with a Computer Science degree. Blacksheep of the family? Oh yeah...in more ways than one. His athletic loyalties still lie with TAMU..."BEAT THE HELL OUTTA TU! A-WHOOP!"A self-proclaimed nerd, Brian is an Adobe certified software developer for a Boston-based company here in the DFW area. Loves loves loves his job, he's in nerd heaven. And he gets to wear a t-shirt and jeans to work every day...so unfair...but he brings home the bacon and that's cool with me.I like bacon...with wheat toast and eggs over-medium please.

Brian and I met on Eharmony.com...yes it does work. I had joined the site just a couple weeks before Brian, and we were instantly matched with about a 92 compatibility (based on personality, morals, childhood backgrounds, hobbies/interests, values, financial standards, religion, politics, children, honesty, intelligence, pretty much all of it) percentile. Knowing myself inside and out, my first thought was "good Lord, if this guy is THAT compatible with me of all people, he must have balls of steel and a big heart."
Sure enough, my assumption was beyond 100% correct.
After being a serious relationship for 3+ years,
then having my heart broken by a bonafide,
self-absorbed jackhole (cheater cheater
pumpkin eater, liar liar pants on fire...
SOB was messing around with his lab
partner and best friend's ex-girlfriend-at the same time-while we were engaged and living together...yeah real winner, I was an idiot...
edge of a cliff), I was extremely cautious of
trusting someone again. We did the structured "guided communication" that EH offered, emailing and talking over the phone for a few weeks before meeting in person. Nervous before our first date? Uh, you could say that...prayed to the porcelain God a couple times, had to reapply deodorant every few minutes, and my co-worker offered me a shot of tequila before I had to leave. Turns out I was freaking out for nothing...I still give him a hard time for this, but when I arrived at the local bar for a few drinks, he shook my hand...shook, my friggin, hand...BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! At least he was respectful...*holding back laughter*...but the rest of the evening was beyond one of the most fun times I have ever had. It was like we had known each other for years: we talked about our polar opposite siblings, growing up with our crazy parents, friends, dogs (he's a dog lover too, instant cool points), our jobs (mainly the dumb kids and questions I get asked on a regular basis, he got a kick out of that...which will also be a later post), A&M football, baseball, wine, shared quirky jokes, traded high-school and college stories, and so much more. Originally, our date was only supposed to for a couple hours with a few drinks. We ended up having drinks, dinner, went out dancing, and stayed up till about 4 AM just talking. Unfortunately, that following Sunday I had to go out of town for work. The whole week I was gone, we talked on the phone for hours every single night. I couldn't wait to get back to him. Although the poor guy had a slip-up one night...he had attempted to say something along the lines of "you're so easy to talk to" and "you're the best girl I've ever met", but it ended up coming out as "you're the easiest girl I've ever talked to...wait a minute..." After pausing for a second to make sure he hadn't just called me a slut, I died with laughter. So much, that I started my infamous snort-laugh...yes, I'm a snorter...big guy was so relieved, and still claims to this day that he "fell in love with me that night, because I didn't hold back." All in all, he just seemed to "get" me, which is a big part of what why we were so good together. Turns out he was generally misunderstood as well. After that night, and a few more dates later, I prayed and prayed for some guidance and clarity on what I should do. All signs pointed to yes, and he was definitely the guy for me. Little less than a year later, he proposed, and we were married by the beach in Antigua (and later again at the Dallas county courthouse, funny story for later) with our families and an open-bar...score :)

For anyone who knows me best, they all can testify that it was going to take one hell of a guy to marry me. It wasn't a bad concept, but just for someone to fully understand "me" as a whole would be a magnificent feat. The fraternity I was a little sister for in college once kept a running tab on all the girls and who/what type of guy they would end up with...needless to say, they were always stumped when they got to me. I considered it a compliment to my uniqueness :) Hubs is a cool, simple guy that loves the essential 3 B's of all straight men: beer, beef, and boobs. He's definitely a man's-man, has balls of steel, kisses like its his job (OMG...), goofy and funny/weird/quirky as hell with some of the most out-there antics,
opinionated but knows when to shut his mouth,
drinks like a fish, loyal, listens, so loving,
bends over backwards, rarely has "spouse screw-ups",
unique, definitely his own person, loves me for me, builds me up, shows me that I can do more, shares my love for being easily entertained and sarcastic, and has the heart of a lion. I freely admit that I can be a hard pill to swallow for some people...but if I don't like you, I have legitimate reasons, and won't go out of my way to act all buddy-buddy. Just honest, blunt with a "big-picture" and logical point of view, and again generally misunderstood, that's all. Because of that, and also that without medicinal assistance I tend to be erratic/emotional/short-fused/manic/plain bat-sh*t crazy (I'd be a classic subject for a 'nature vs. nuture' study), I ask him how he puts up with me on a regular basis. His response? "You understand me, make me more human (his term for normal and less introverted), take care of me, and I love you...and your boobies" *sigh* What a guy, haha! (I've got D-cup front-tops, he's a big fan)

Forgive the cheese factor, but I honestly don't know how I lived without him. Granted he's deaf as a stump (he claims its because he can't hear me, but many can confirm that I am NOT a soft-spoken person, so I think it's selective listening and he just doesn't want to tell me...but I know the truth *wink*) and NEVER puts his dirty underwear in the hamper, picks up/throws away his beer cans and used tissues (he has terrible allergies w/constant congestion...its kinda gross), shuts cabinet doors, adjusts the thermostat (he would roast or freeze to death before he would notice and actually change the temperature), cleans out his car, listens to the GPS whenever we're lost, wears a different pair of jeans without me griping at him (wearing  the same pair of jeans for 5+ days at a time?? yuck...), turns the shower-nozzle completely on/off before he gets out (it's ALWAYS in the in-between part where a random half-gush of freezing cold water lands on my head and face when I'm still half-asleep...I am not a morning person...), opens mail, gets rid of t-shirts, or shaves, but I figure that if those are the worst things he does, then that's okay. He's the peanut butter to my jelly, the perfectly chilled chardonnay to my wine glass after a bad day, the missing randomly weird-shaped yet essential finishing piece to my puzzle, the punchline to my cheesy joke, my partner in crime, my rock, my best friend, my love, mine forever. Yep, I think I'll keep him.

Blogging virgin's intro and rediscovery...

Hola!

Okay that is about the extent of my Spanish speaking ability...which is sad because I've lived in Texas my entire life...oh wait! "Donde es el bano, por favor?" AH HAH! At least I'll be able to find a place to pee if ever randomly stranded in Mexico, or the west side of Houston...

Everyone has some sort of outlet, right? Whether it be reading, dancing, running, yoga, lifting weights, hiking, biking, rock climing, shopping, cooking, competitive sports, generally actin' a fool, drinking, recreational substances, locking yourself in a windowless room with no sound, everyone has something they turn to in times of overwhelment (is that a word?) and the need to bring it back to the semi-sane level. And on a side-note, please don't share your outlet with me if it is pushing the limits of kinky and/or just plain weird...whatever floats your boat needs to stay at the dock and away from the harbor.

Personally, I am rediscovering one of my favorite pastimes and outlets...free-style writing. As a generally misunderstood yet insightful kid, writing was always something in which I academically excelled, but also a way to put into words what was screaming bloody-murder in my head. The "why's", "wth's?!", "huh's?" "YAY's!!", "hahahah's!!", "this is bull%$#@'s!", "thank you Lord in Heaven's!", "well that was stupid of me's", "leave me alone's", "can I JUST be ME's?!?!", "these people are nuts's", "oh no's...", and so on and so forths of my existance filled up pages and pages in countless diaries and journals I kept just to a.) keep my sanity, and b.) sort out my thoughts and talk myself through  things. To me, if it was written down in black and white, the important details and practical solutions became much more obvious. And trust me, when you are halfway decent at writing in a rural East Texas town, it gets noticed. Lets just say that my hometown high school hasn't been an academically recognized campus, must less acceptable, by the Texas Education Agency in ooooohhh about eight to ten years...sad...Gov. Ricky Perry is a genius (*gag*) by the way, just sayin'...beyond that I had multiple recognitions and awards for creative writing, sailed through research papers and written projects for high school AP English, received top scores on reading/writing portions of both SAT and ACT (don't ask about the math, it wasn't pretty), became an editor and regular column writer for my community college newspaper staff, earned a minor in Journalism, yady yady yada...sounds greater and fancier than it really is, in general I just wanted to write. But at this point I feel like I should step back and elaborate more on the "About Me" section of this blog...specifically on where I came from. I must say this as a disclaimer: I am NOT making fun of my hometown, I am simply stating the obvious. That rinky-dink town and the people in it taught me to keep an open mind, appreciate life, love, family, friends, core values, pride in my state, history, good barbeque, and that there is indeed a bigger world out there. So for all former classmates/current residents that are prepared to be offended, get over it and laugh with me because you know it's all true. And if anyone does happen to take offense, whatever, that's their own fault. I won't apologize for their shortcomings and lack of sense of humor (never have for that matter), and I'll see them at the reunion next summer. *smug, cheshire-cat grin* Okay...*deep breath*, and GO:

I was born and raised in a conservative, old oil-boom town in North East Texas of about 11,000 people, where everybody knew everybody and their momma/daddy/granny/dog/cat/goldfish and all the business that goes along with it. If you have ever driven East on I-20 from DFW, you have probably blinked and missed driving through it. Friday night high-school football is more than just a game, it is literally a way of life. City police officers knew pretty much everyone by face and name (mainly because they grew up there too), and depending on whether you were liked or not, you could get out of a lot of tickets. (No Mom & Dad I promise I do NOT know this from personal experience...teehee) My avid NRA member Dad once carried his handgun on campus, in his pocket (he's got a CHL and better aim than a military sniper, calm down) because he had received several serious threats on his life from a really "disturbed" student. He told the officer that patrolled the school what he had, Officer *LOUD COUGH* replied "Okay Don, be careful and let me know if you need backup." And that was the end of that. See what you can get away with?? You see the same people at bars and pasture parties as you do in (Baptist) church pews on Sunday morning. Mainstream chain restaurants included Sonic, McDonalds and Whataburger, and the one (yes, singular) movie theatre has (and still has) only four screens. But wait, they now have a Chilis?! Whoopteedoodah...although Chili's does have a fantastic new natural margarita, OMG...anyway...The mayor has probably at one point been either your plumber, school teacher and/or principal, burger joint owner, or even minister. Excuse me, "preacher" as we call it...Cowtipping is an actual late-night activity, and you're hard-pressed to find a vehicle that doesn't a.) have a v-8 engine/lift-kit/cattle-guard combo, and b.) some sort of personalized bumper or window sticker (Brent #8, Cheerleader Mom, Captain Amy Lynn, 'Yeah, it's a hemi', you get the idea). Most womens' hair is big/teased and dyed three or more colors (one of the colors is always blonde), makeup is caked on, jeans are at least a size too small, and a staple in the jewelry collection is an overly-chunky turquoise cross necklace. Big hair seriously irks me, I have a whole tangent on just that subject. I just can't wrap my head around WHY a self-respecting woman wants her hair to look like a a combo of a squirrel attack/eletrocution?! The pick and Aqua-Net are not your friends ladies, put them down and walk alway slowly...If the image of Dolly Parton came to mind, you're not that far off. Ever been the website "People of Wal-Mart"? Yeah...welcome to southern small-town America...Girls typically do one of four things after high school: have babies/get married (in that order), get married period, go to the local community college for a year before working full-time as a secretary or bank teller, and the "smart" ones go to college.

Luckily I had enough sense and self-respect to not sell myself short, along with a tough and interesting support system at home. To explain what it was like growing up with my immediate family will require multiple, completely seperate posts...no really, you will want a full explanation of these wonderfully complex and crazy people I hold so near and dear to my heart. To gain a better understanding of them is to get a clear, analyzed, Freud-like diagnosis of how I turned out the way I did. But in the mean time I will do my best with the "tell me about your childhood" part of Dr. Freud's analysis...

I grew up outside of the city limits of my hometown, in the "country" if you will, with two educator parents and *ahem* "creative" older sister. My best friend from high school compared the scenic drive to our house to "the forest on the Blair Witch Project." I have to admit, it is scary as hell driving that county road after dark. You saw roadkill of every sort: squirrels, snakes, armadillos, deer, coyotoes, buzzards that attempted to eat previously listed deceased critters, huge bullfrogs, turtles, and the occasional stray cat or dog that people cold-heartidly dump on the side of the road, ect. (I'm a dog lover, it breaks my heart) Our basic 3-bedroom brick house sat on about an acre and a half, across the street from a wealthy cattle owner, and in a close-knit neighborhood of families and friends. I had no concept of playing Nintendo or watching Nickelodeon, becase I was too busy with the other neighborhood kids riding bikes, building forts, riding horses, playing with the dogs, digging for bugs and worms, rescuing baby birds, swimming, catching frogs and toads, and just played outside in general. Saying that my mom drenched me with the water hose a time or five is not a far-fetched statement. Despite the country roots and unbringing, I was always a little different. My folks are very educated and interesting people, and the combo of the two sets of genes ended up being more a tossup than anything when they had me. It was like the most random traits from both of them were thrown together with optimistic hopes they would turn out okay, kind of like my first attempts at cooking...although I like to think I turned out better than burnt hamburger helper? Granted Mom said that I was the "easy" kid, but I was also a handful when it came to opening my big fat mouth. (and for anyone who has been around me after a couple drinks, it has caused quite a few potential fights...hey, fat girls shouldn't wear mini-skirts and flaunt around like they're the cat's meow...everyone knows it and thinks it, I just happen to be the one to speak the truth...go home and change honey, and stop being in denial) On more than multiple occasions, I would usually ask "too" many questions just to figure out a person...I find this hilarious! I was always an (annoyingly) inquisitve child, and if it didn't make sense in my head, it was pretty certain that said plan would not follow through....which still gets me in trouble to this day. I like to think that my initial conception was a fun way to start out...after a night out of tequila sunrises, nine months later the world was graced by my presence. Needless to say, I was a surprise! ANYhoo...my dad is a very logical, black-and-white thinker with a great sense of humor, short-temper, and is a (too) proud conservative republican. I won't hold that against him, only because he's my Daddy and my hero! He's the product of a truck-driver and teacher's aid, grew up dirt-poor, had three older brothers, and worked his fingers to the bone for literally everything he's had. You will never meet another man that is as set in his ways as my dad. Frighteningly good at math (algebra, geometry, statistics, trig, calculus, all of it), a natural athlete, but also a true Redneck at heart...and sometimes in real life. My mom...oh Mother dearest...is a stunningly beautiful, intellegent, loving, absent-minded, stubborn, kind-hearted firecracker. She demands your respect everywhere she goes, whether you want to give it to her or not. I love that about her, and I like to think she passed that trait onto me and my sister. Mom had this "look" that would strike instant fear in your heart and make you stop DEAD in your tracks...*shudder*...She grew up the oldest, and only girl, with two younger brothers, to a teacher/counselor and saavy businessman. Mom paid her way through college as a cheerleader and beauty queen (pardon, "scholarship program" winner) with her million-dollar smile, natural grace, singing voice of an angel (hence where the sister got her talent) and the uncanny ability to be a strong precense when speaking. She worked as a teacher and libririan for years until retiring a few years ago. Avid reader, slowest driver in the left-hand lane, antique restorer, has absolutely NO thought-to-mouth filter, and (rightfully so) a b*%$# on wheels if you make her angry. She has been through so much in her lifetime, has a heart of gold and the no-nonsense state of mind to prove it. Mom and Dad both grew up in my hometown, went off, and then came back to settle down. Mom's younger brother was actually Dad's childhood best friend, and he has been in love with her since day one. When I say best friend, I mean best friend. Dad had his own stocking at Mom's house during Christmas time. It took her a few extra years (15+) to realize that he wasn't the repulsive little scrub friend of her brother's, and that they were actually pretty perfect for each other. And to wrap it up, my lovely sister: Jena, Jena Jena...blonde-haired, blue-eyed bombshell standing at 5'10" with a sharp wit, quirky sense of humor, and a smile that will bring a grown man to his knees. (Mom's genetics were good to us) Currently she is a licensed professional counselor (us H-girls pride ourselves on being educated) for a retirement hospital, and emerging Texas-country music artist with a killer voice and range. (Shamless plug: find Jena Walker on Amazon.com, iTunes, and of course her website: www.jenawalker.com) Growing up with her was always, ummm, interesting...even after 30+ years and a recent official diagnosis, Mom was in denial that Jena was over the left-field-fence ADD. It was always thought that she was just absent-minded, *ahem* creative, and just plain ditzy. Which she still is even on medication, but that's not the point...again full descriptions will come in later posts, but this was the girl who put her shoes in the microwave and tried to put the frozen pizza on as a shoe...I am not joking, serious as a heart attack. That is just a small sample of many years of odd/random antics. Polar opposite siblings was the understatement of the century...

In a small town of only so many people and families, it is extremely difficult to do ANYTHING without someone knowing your entire family history, much less be an individual. Seriously, you have no idea...there are some stories I have heard about my dad that have scarred me for life and would have been a lot better off not knowing. And it really doesn't help when your *ahem* "creative" and stupidly talented older sister is five years older than you, and you both went to the SAME high school, and even the SAME colleges. Did I intentionally follow in her footsteps? Nope, it just worked out that way. Not to mention I was offered really good scholarships and we pursued different majors...I felt like I had a lot of talent in different areas (drill-team, theatre, orchestra, national honor society, AP student, prom comittee, youth for christ, drug-free student group campaign, ect. ect.) compared to my parents and sibling, but all I was ever known for was usually associated back to them:

"Oh you're Coach H's daughter? You must be awesome at math!" (not on your life buddy, totally bypassed that end of the gene pool, and here's some advice: NEVER assume), "Jana is your mother? It shows! You are so pretty with her green eyes and smile, are you in pagents too?" (yes I am a spitting image of my mother, and that was her means of paying for college since she was on her own, but are you friggin kidding me?? Sorry, I have pride), "Jena is your sister? Can you sing like her? I just loved to hear her sing when she was in school, especially the national anthem!" (yes, no, and pin a rose on your nose...yes she's an obnoxiously amazing singer and we are very proud of her, thank you Captain Obvious) What added to the frustration was the fact that every cousin and their dog that I had also went to the same high school: "You're Anna's cousin right? Wasn't she saludictorian? Karl is her brother, I loved to hear him play the piano. He was an honor graduate wasn't he? You H's are so smart!" (please don't "rat-king" the cousins, we are all very different people) "Lisa is the band drum major right, are you in the band too?" (no, orchestra, theatre and drill-team thanks, but I guess that makes me less cool since you didn't know that and she's a year behind me...by the way, I'm a friggin decorated dance/drill-team officer and my name gets called out at football games too, jackhole) , "Bret is so talented in drafting, he should be an architect!" (Captain Obvious, didn't I just run into you?), "Brittany is so pretty, she looks a lot like Jena! Most people think that they're sisters and you and Lisa are sisters! Isn't she in drill-team? " (yes she is in drill-team, again so am I...I'm one of the ones in white in the friggin front...and just because some girls are brunette and some are blonde doesn't mean they should be sisters...that would mean I have millions of "should be sisters" in the US alone...my sister is blonde, I am brunette, we are actual genetically linked/blood-related sisters with absolutely NO doubt of where we come from...you are a class a moron, get over yourself) *Sigh*...genuine sympathy goes out to cousins Lisa and Brittany, who were one and two years behind me. They were probably much better and tolerating the lineage comparison, but being hardly ever taken seriously as my own person really bothered me to the core. So much in fact, that by the time my senior year rolled around I was in a constant state of misery. Yeah yeah, what average teenager isn't constantly depressed? But when you grow up with/see/talk to/deal with the same close-minded people and small-town gossip (that doesn't even matter in the grand scheme of things) on a daily basis, and you're not that fond of it all to begin with, it wears on you. I was always looking at the bigger picture (not the theoretical polaroid that constantly glared me in the face) and had dreams of just pursuing something that only I would be know for. I love my family, very proud of their accomplishments, but I was just me and felt like not that many people really noticed. Who knows, maybe your legacy lives on after you've go onto bigger and better things?

I really don't have that many complaints about this part, although it didn't always have its perks, but what brought the family association level from from a seven to a ten was the fact that Dad worked at my hometown high school. Yes, all my high school years were spent in Dad's shadow and corner of his eye. The perks I liked was a reserved spot in the teachers parking lot (right by the school and next to my dad, despite Coach Banks objections...yeah, you didn't like YOUR car being towed HUH Banks?! How you like THEM apples?!), I could pretty much come and go as I pleased with no hall pass, and my last name was never mispelled. (before I got married/changed my name/moved away, it was a nightmare...I almost didn't get a college scholarship because the dumb lady mispelled it...kudos to her) I was a good kid and student, involved in a lot of groups/activities/my church (yet I still got asked if I could sing like my sister, or was in the band like my cousin, thanks for noticing my individuality people), didn't get in trouble (I.E. smart enough not to get caught), and just avoided the small town teenage drama as much as I could (you want to talk about 'Mean Girls', do I ever have some stories from high school...), but there was never any doubt that he was only a short walk-down-the-hall away...for me or for my teachers. Bless Dad's heart though, the only teachers he really saw concerning me were some of my math and chemistry teachers...again, this is where I say NEVER assume. Do letters and numbers really, like really need to go togther? I'm a writer and speaker, when in the hell am I ever going to need to balance chemical equations in my profession or lifetime? (frankly I could care less what the formulated breakdown of sodium chloride may or may not be, all I know is that it's salt and it tastes wonderful on my french fries) Poor Dad, he accepted the concept a long time ago that math and chemistry/physics just flew about ten feet over my head. However, is everyone able to write a 35-page research paper for a 6-week, university-senior-level independent study on interpersonal and non-verbal behavioral interactions, earn an A+, AND get a publishing credit for a professors research, as an undergraduate? I think not, and I take my accomplishments where I can get them.

As said earlier I was generally misunderstood as a kid, mainly because I would never partake in something just because everyone else was doing it. And the previously listed factors didn't help my burning desire to be taken seriously, or at least noticed, as an individual and not associated to another person in my family. People knew me because of the family association, and some fellow classmates knew/liked me through being involved in so much stuff, but I was never "popular" by any means. In all fairness, popularity isn't everything and doesn't deserve reward just for the hell of it. But the one factor that always stood out and I could never grasp and logically conceive was the overall attitude, gossip and D-R-A-M-A of my hometown. The details of it are so tedious and complex that you really have to know all the big-whigs and "families" of my hometown to understand why people constantly had their panties in a wad. I never had the desire to get involved in any of it, just because it was all so ridiculous and frankly exhausting to keep up with it all. My view is that people are entitled to do whatever they want, whenever they want, as long as they aren't harming themselves or anyone around them. What they do is their business and their's only. And privacy? Psshhhh, guuuurl please...keeping noses out of other people's business is a completely foreign concept in that town. If there's a "scandal" on Tuesday, you bet your life that everyone (that 'matters' *thumbing of the nose*) will know about it by Thursday. Yes we saw the Baptist preacher leaving the liquor store, but if the man wants a good glass of bourbon to calm his nerves every once in a while, leave him be alright?!! Benjamin Franklin said it best: "God created beer because he wanted us to be happy." Now if he's drunk as a skunk and a hot mess at the pulpit Sunday morning, gives the congregation the finger, then proceeds to drive his car into the Mercer's pond before swimming out and saying God does not exist and he's renouncing his faith, then you can be concerned. "He who is without sin cast the first stone." John 8:7. Honestly 99.99999% of the time, the people spreading the gossip and drama are those who know nothing outside of the town, the history, and the people in it.

In the end I have to say this: not everyone from my hometown fits in this narrow-minded, big-haired, clown-faced, gossiping, all-in-all insane mold. Numerous people I knew growing up have gone onto great and wonderful things, some came back to our hometown and settled to raise their families, some are off fighting wars, researching for a cancer foundation, freelance screenplay writing in Los Angeles, so on and so forth. One of my closest girl-friends to this day came from the same town, graduated college, got married, and is now working and living in Oklahoma City while her husband finishes his time in the Air Force. To the ones who never left, but are happy, I say good for you...but its definitely not for everyone. Life happens, and you make the best of what it has to offer you. Life just happen to hand me a deeper insight to myself and an opportunity to grow as a person and in my carrer outside of the traditional and familiar. When I look around and see all the blessings in my life, I wouldn't change any of my experiences for anything in the world. There is always a lesson to be learned, in all walks and events of life. The main lesson I learned from that town and it's people is that you can indeed be your own person, and be happy, but you have to make that decision on your own. No one else can make it for you. Pennies for your thoughts :)