After a recent trip home to the MS Gulf Coast for a family funeral and an encounter with about 100 people I used to be closely affiliated with, it has come to my attention that it would be wise for me to remember that the next time I'm in that situation, bringing copies of RJ's FAQs would dearly come in handy (and save my poor voice and brain from the repititious talking).
For inquiring minds, the handout would include the following questions to date. (BTW, if I had any sense at all, I would have typed these up before my trip instead of waiting till now!)
Q: You don't live around here anymore, do you?
A: No (ma'am or sir), I moved away after college for a job opportunity.
Q: Are you still up there in -- where was it? -- Jackson?
A: Actually, I just moved from Jackson to Baton Rouge a few months ago.
Depending on the interviewer's personal opinion about the home state of the Saints, the following question(s) may or may not come next:
Q: Baton Rouge? Why would you want to live in Baton Rouge -- Louisiana -- Cajun country?!
A: Well, I moved there for a job, and I'm actually really enjoying it a lot.
Q: What sort of job would make you want to move to Louisiana?
A: I'm doing public relations for Hancock Bank, so I do get to come to Gulfport for work a lot.
Q: Surely you're not an LSU fan...?
A: Actually, I am! And what a football season to become one, right?
After a (not necessarily discreet) glance at my ring finger:
Q: Are you married?
A: No (ma'am or sir), I'm not married. I am dating a great guy, though -- you'd really like him.
Q: Why aren't you married?
A: Well, I think timing is very important, and I just haven't woken up yet with that desire. Thankfully, neither has he, so that makes it much nicer! Plus, I am very afraid of divorce.
Q: No kids?
A: No (ma'am or sir) -- but Kim has the cutest little boy, who is entertainment enough for us all!
If the previous answer does not fly, the next question is sure to follow:
Q: Why don't you have kids yet?
A: Well, again, the timing should probably be right for marriage before I take that step...
And the list goes on.
1 Comments - 2 Kudos
That is one of funniest things I've ever seen! Maybe because I was there as a witness. Oh, and the fact that I was being asked similar questions, such as:
Q: Are you divorced? (Don't be scared of it, it is actually quite liberating)
A: No, I just like to bring other women to family funerals
Q: Why don't you have kids?
A: Quite frankly I don't care to much for them, I am selfish, and I don't want to bring one into this crappy world. Enough info for you WBC gossip.
Q: Do you still have that store?
A: Well, you obviously weren't a good customer if you didn't realize the Vietnamese people working there and the fried rice in the kitchen!
So on and so forth.
Posted by Greg Mo on February 15, 2008 - Friday 9:23 PM
Monday, January 28, 2008
Friday, January 25, 2008
Shaking shoulders and Subbie sandwiches: A tribute to Auntie M
Last night, I said goodbye to one of the strongest women I have ever known. I don't call her strong because of her sturdiness (although she could grow a mean garden and apparently taught her grandson how to climb a tree -- by demonstration, no less). And I don't call her strong because of her will to live and live well until 89 years old.
My Aunt Mildred was strong because of the quiet dignity she walked through life with. Her strength was obvious every time she submitted to her husband, laughed off arguments with just about anyone, or offered lucky guests a glass of her lemonade. Her strength showed the most not through what she did or what everyone knew she did, but through what she declined to do, and what many did not realize she was even capable of.
I think Auntie M, as I have lovingly referred to her in print for years, is one of the only people I've ever been close to who has not questioned me about moving from home to pursue my career, waiting until timing is just right to be married, or the reasons I do the silly things I do so very, very well. Aunt Mildred was strong enough to accept everyone for who they are, not for who they could be.
With undeniable strength, Aunt Mildred joined her little sister, my Nan, in unknowingly displaying the most beautiful pictorial of sisterhood that Kim and I could have ever witnessed. In fact, they did such a good job of this that it still doesn't bother me when people are amazed that Kim and I rarely fought when we were growing up (or fight now, for that matter). I have never felt weird or crazy for calling my sister my best friend in a world where that's very uncommon, and I'm almost certain my sanity in that area can be attributed to the loveliness and hilarity we grew up realizing as the norm for sister-to-sister relationships.
It took strength for Aunt Mildred to be herself in a world where conformity is praised. She wouldn't have had it any other way, though. She tended her roses, picked her cucumbers, studied God's Word, laughed without restraint, praised her family, and loved her way straight through what is now a long and beautiful legacy.
During the worst part of Aunt Mildred's illness, I realized that maybe I'm not being entirely selfish to mourn our loss of her. She was a beautiful asset to this world, and those of us who knew and loved her are definitely more blessed for the knowing and the loving.
I haven't been able to pass a Subway sandwich shop in ten years without hearing Aunt Mildred incredulously tell me that the "Subbie sandwich" I brought her was pretty good. And I'll never be able to see anyone's shoulders shake with laughter without seeing Aunt Mildred's beautiful smile and that twinkle her eyes were so famous for.
When I moved to Baton Rouge, Carl threw a "see you real soon" party and invited my closest friends. Despite the gap I feel when I think of no longer getting tickled with my sweet and precious great-aunt, I refuse to look at Aunt Mildred's entrance into a perfect and painless eternity as a bad thing. Instead, I am grateful that with the way time flies, we'll see her again in no time at all – and possibly eat a Subbie sandwich while we're at it.
See you real soon, Auntie M.
2 Comments - 2 Kudos
I am real sorry to hear about your Aunt. I know she was a good friend of Michael's Grandmother. I think I met her at Ms. Louise's house when we were there. She was a really nice person.Your Aunt Mildred and your family will be in my prayers.
Posted by Mary on January 26, 2008 - Saturday 7:08 AM
What a beautiful tribute to your aunt. My thoughts are with you & your family.
Posted by Bethanie on January 26, 2008 - Saturday 7:41 AM
My Aunt Mildred was strong because of the quiet dignity she walked through life with. Her strength was obvious every time she submitted to her husband, laughed off arguments with just about anyone, or offered lucky guests a glass of her lemonade. Her strength showed the most not through what she did or what everyone knew she did, but through what she declined to do, and what many did not realize she was even capable of.
I think Auntie M, as I have lovingly referred to her in print for years, is one of the only people I've ever been close to who has not questioned me about moving from home to pursue my career, waiting until timing is just right to be married, or the reasons I do the silly things I do so very, very well. Aunt Mildred was strong enough to accept everyone for who they are, not for who they could be.
With undeniable strength, Aunt Mildred joined her little sister, my Nan, in unknowingly displaying the most beautiful pictorial of sisterhood that Kim and I could have ever witnessed. In fact, they did such a good job of this that it still doesn't bother me when people are amazed that Kim and I rarely fought when we were growing up (or fight now, for that matter). I have never felt weird or crazy for calling my sister my best friend in a world where that's very uncommon, and I'm almost certain my sanity in that area can be attributed to the loveliness and hilarity we grew up realizing as the norm for sister-to-sister relationships.
It took strength for Aunt Mildred to be herself in a world where conformity is praised. She wouldn't have had it any other way, though. She tended her roses, picked her cucumbers, studied God's Word, laughed without restraint, praised her family, and loved her way straight through what is now a long and beautiful legacy.
During the worst part of Aunt Mildred's illness, I realized that maybe I'm not being entirely selfish to mourn our loss of her. She was a beautiful asset to this world, and those of us who knew and loved her are definitely more blessed for the knowing and the loving.
I haven't been able to pass a Subway sandwich shop in ten years without hearing Aunt Mildred incredulously tell me that the "Subbie sandwich" I brought her was pretty good. And I'll never be able to see anyone's shoulders shake with laughter without seeing Aunt Mildred's beautiful smile and that twinkle her eyes were so famous for.
When I moved to Baton Rouge, Carl threw a "see you real soon" party and invited my closest friends. Despite the gap I feel when I think of no longer getting tickled with my sweet and precious great-aunt, I refuse to look at Aunt Mildred's entrance into a perfect and painless eternity as a bad thing. Instead, I am grateful that with the way time flies, we'll see her again in no time at all – and possibly eat a Subbie sandwich while we're at it.
See you real soon, Auntie M.
2 Comments - 2 Kudos
I am real sorry to hear about your Aunt. I know she was a good friend of Michael's Grandmother. I think I met her at Ms. Louise's house when we were there. She was a really nice person.Your Aunt Mildred and your family will be in my prayers.
Posted by Mary on January 26, 2008 - Saturday 7:08 AM
What a beautiful tribute to your aunt. My thoughts are with you & your family.
Posted by Bethanie on January 26, 2008 - Saturday 7:41 AM
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Codependency becomes me.
I've recently entered into a codependent relationship, and I couldn't be happier.
No worries -- Carl and I are still as carefree and space-loving as ever -- but there's a new girl in town now. Her name is Abby, and Carl actually introduced us. Via Christmas wrapping and a bow, to be exact.
Abby the Navi.
My new navigational system is the sweetest thing -- her soothing voice directs me when I'm lost, makes me feel happy when I'm sad, and calms my frustrations on the road. And as of last week's multi-locational work trip to the bustling (and confusing) Sin City of the south, I'm hooked.
I even kissed her. Carl's not complaining. O:-)
5 Comments - 6 Kudos
Cute, very cute! You are a very talented writer!!!
Posted by RE RE on January 24, 2008 - Thursday 6:36 AM
Aw, thanks! Hope you're doing well!
Posted by Arr-Jay on January 27, 2008 - Sunday 8:14 AM
I am addicted to mine too! I named her Sassy Belle Serpas. She is great except for when she fusses at me for taking a wrong turn. The touch screen malfunctioned in December during our vacation to the Smokies and I was totally lost. It's funny that I now get lost around town because I've become so dependant. I can't wait until they have her fixed.
Posted by Carrie on January 24, 2008 - Thursday 3:42 PM
I'm afraid I would go into convulsions if mine broke down. She is like crack!
Posted by Arr-Jay on January 27, 2008 - Sunday 8:14 AM
This is hilarious! I am so going to get one of these, I waste so much gas by getting lost in the tons of different places we move to every year... ha ha
Posted by Çhr阮ïñå on January 26, 2008 - Saturday 5:42 AM
No worries -- Carl and I are still as carefree and space-loving as ever -- but there's a new girl in town now. Her name is Abby, and Carl actually introduced us. Via Christmas wrapping and a bow, to be exact.
Abby the Navi.
My new navigational system is the sweetest thing -- her soothing voice directs me when I'm lost, makes me feel happy when I'm sad, and calms my frustrations on the road. And as of last week's multi-locational work trip to the bustling (and confusing) Sin City of the south, I'm hooked.
I even kissed her. Carl's not complaining. O:-)
5 Comments - 6 Kudos
Cute, very cute! You are a very talented writer!!!
Posted by RE RE on January 24, 2008 - Thursday 6:36 AM
Aw, thanks! Hope you're doing well!
Posted by Arr-Jay on January 27, 2008 - Sunday 8:14 AM
I am addicted to mine too! I named her Sassy Belle Serpas. She is great except for when she fusses at me for taking a wrong turn. The touch screen malfunctioned in December during our vacation to the Smokies and I was totally lost. It's funny that I now get lost around town because I've become so dependant. I can't wait until they have her fixed.
Posted by Carrie on January 24, 2008 - Thursday 3:42 PM
I'm afraid I would go into convulsions if mine broke down. She is like crack!
Posted by Arr-Jay on January 27, 2008 - Sunday 8:14 AM
This is hilarious! I am so going to get one of these, I waste so much gas by getting lost in the tons of different places we move to every year... ha ha
Posted by Çhr阮ïñå on January 26, 2008 - Saturday 5:42 AM
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Carats -- good for the eyes?
This weekend, my Nan helped me shop for some stichwork of hers I wanted to have framed. As we waited in line at Michael's, we chatted a little with the attractive lady in front of us. It began, of course, with conversation about what she was having framed, then led to other topics.
During a lull, graceful as ever, Nan reached across me to the lady's left hand, commenting, "Honey, how many carats is your diamond?" The lady smiled humbly and said, "Three carats." After complimenting her ring's style and shine for a few minutes, Nan moved her left hand from her other side and put it on the counter, stating, "I just would've thought for sure your diamond was bigger than mine!"
The lady, of course, replied with the Southern grace and charm expected of us all, complimenting, "Oh my, how pretty! How big is your diamond?" Demurely, Nan replied, "Three point one carats."
I guess when it comes to carats, it's really important that our eyes be in good shape...
1 Comments - 2 Kudos
Oh my goodness, I bet your Nan is somewhat of a firecracker! That's too funny. And whose finger can hold that many carats to begin with. I think I'd walk lop-sided! Anyway, your rich, and unique point of view is refreshing as always. Hope all is well for you there. My last board meeting is Tuesday. "sniff, sniff." Melissa Brewer Lott will be a great VP tho'. I'm estactic they chose to elect her!
Posted by lotts2tel on January 13, 2008 - Sunday 7:05 PM
During a lull, graceful as ever, Nan reached across me to the lady's left hand, commenting, "Honey, how many carats is your diamond?" The lady smiled humbly and said, "Three carats." After complimenting her ring's style and shine for a few minutes, Nan moved her left hand from her other side and put it on the counter, stating, "I just would've thought for sure your diamond was bigger than mine!"
The lady, of course, replied with the Southern grace and charm expected of us all, complimenting, "Oh my, how pretty! How big is your diamond?" Demurely, Nan replied, "Three point one carats."
I guess when it comes to carats, it's really important that our eyes be in good shape...
1 Comments - 2 Kudos
Oh my goodness, I bet your Nan is somewhat of a firecracker! That's too funny. And whose finger can hold that many carats to begin with. I think I'd walk lop-sided! Anyway, your rich, and unique point of view is refreshing as always. Hope all is well for you there. My last board meeting is Tuesday. "sniff, sniff." Melissa Brewer Lott will be a great VP tho'. I'm estactic they chose to elect her!
Posted by lotts2tel on January 13, 2008 - Sunday 7:05 PM
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