The Funny Thing Is...

I really am blessed to have a job that I love. One of my favorite things is when I get to travel to events. Tonight I went to Frankfort for their annual club meeting. The funny thing is, I drive into these meetings and towns sometimes thinking, "Where the heck am I, why is there nothing here, this is so po-dunk." I pull up to these hole-in-the-wall local dives (I only had to turn around once to find this one) named things like "The Office Pub and Grill" that are hardly marked. I walk in and heads turn and look at me like I obviously don't belong there...maybe it's the lost look on my face, the fact I'm the only person under the age of 45, or the box of junk that I am carrying. I quickly judge the pink laminate countertops in the bathroom, the outdated furnishings, and the over the top UK memorabilia all over the walls. Dinner was served on mint green plastic (or acrylic?) divided plates. I didn't know they still made that color in anything kitchen related.

But then a funny thing happens. The owners don't hesitate to put on an apron and set out the food. They are more than accommodating when you need to rearrange. You are served a perfect glass of sweet tea. Someone always says a blessing before everyone eats. And you get REAL mashed potatoes with REAL butter. Home cookin' even when you aren't home (the liver and onions were highly recommended -- I declined and went for chicken). If you are a visitor, your money is no good -- someone always picks up your tab. And offers you seconds on dessert. You learn about people and their families -- how their son is skipping his boy scout meeting to be there tonight and their 5th grade daughter is playing on the 7th grade basketball team. You hear stories about how campus used to be wet, with kegs in the dorms and Sigma Nu Beer Bash, when they went through 120 kegs in 2 hours. How the front half of Two Keys used to be a drug store, and there was no patio. As one alum said, "It could just be the three of us standing here and it would have been crowded." (He was only 18 when he started going to Two Keys...some things never change.) You hear from someone who was actually at the 1957 UK vs. Temple game and witnessed "The Shot" by Vernon Hatton. They always ask where you are from and what your folks do.

The funny thing is, by the time it's over and I leave to go home, I have to pull myself away. It may seem so backwards at first, but sometimes I think they are really on to something. It's a slower pace with southern hospitality. I immediately feel like a friend and neighbor. It's times like this that I really am thankful for my job and feel so blessed that I get to do what I do. I really am lucky, and am especially reminded of that on nights like tonight.

I hope you each feel just as blessed :)

Simply,
MJ

These Hips Don't Lie

So, I've developed a real issue. Yesterday I was scrounging for one of my favorite pairs of jeans to wear while volunteering with my students. For some reason, I couldn't find them (later this problem was resolved...I just overlooked them). In my haste to get to work, I grabbed another old favorite pair and slipped them on really quick. They had a good flair to wear with tennis shoes, still look good from the back, and are nice and worn in Paper Denim & Cloth jeans that I've had since high school. I got them up over my thighs, over my butt, around my hips....and to my horror, I can't button them. I can't use PMS bloating as an excuse this week either. I ripped them off, threw them to the floor of my closet, and quickly found the pair I had originally been looking for before running out the door. It nagged me a bit all day, but I figure maybe I just haven't worn them since last washing them. Maybe I dried them. Maybe I didn't try hard enough. Maybe I ate too much salt the day before. Because I am TOTALLY still the same size...I should STILL be able to wear my high school jeans (at least this is what I tell myself).

Fast forward to this morning. I decided to spice it up this Friday with some heels and my high-waisted, wide-legged dress pants. I was feeling good about myself and even got a few compliments on my pants this morning. (I don't wear them too often and definitely not since last winter.) Around 9:00 a.m. I felt something. As if Thursday wasn't horrific enough, the top eyehook on my pants had flown off! Not just come undone...I mean the hook itself was no longer attached to my pants, and they were hanging on by the two remaining eyehooks. And it didn't just fall off like it had been dangling by a thread for a while. It felt pretty secure this morning. I mean the hook shot at least 4 feet away, a la Subway commercial:

These hips don't lie. Someone needs to be hitting the gym ASAP for some trimming and toning. Maybe I'll put this on my workout playlist for next week:

Simply,

MJ

Free Enes

(Image Courtesy of KSR)
(Anyone recognize any of these ladies?)

There was a work event back home last Thursday night, so naturally my boss let me work it and spend some time at home -- a much needed break! It was great to have a three day weekend with time spent at home, visiting with the parents, and wedding festivities. But there is just one recap from the weekend I want to emphasize. Friday night's dinner conversation with my parents. (Disclaimer: If you are offended by "get your head out of the gutter" humor, you may want to discontinue reading at this point.)

Time: 7:30 p.m. CT. We had just say down to pot roast, squash, and mashed potatoes - good home cookin'.

Dad (to me): So you know that Turkish kid on the basketball team -- how do you pronounce his name?
MJ: I usually say Enes (ee-nis), but I'm not sure.
Dad: That's how I said it too, but I was watching the news and this announcer said Enes (En-es). It sounded almost like initials, N.S.
Mom: Or Enes (ee-nis) like P****! (I'll let you all fill that in. You can figure it out.)
Dad (to Mom): That's all you think about isn't it?!?
Mom: Only yours, dear, only yours.
MJ: (pushing away from the table in disgust) Oooohhh...I'm trying to eat dinner here!
Mom: Well, I had to have some sort of retort to that!
Dad: Well it didn't bother me at all, just her! (Pointing at me) (Pause) See, what it is, is that your mom heard how tall he was and wanted to know if he was.... (makes a hand motion)
Mom: ...proportional?

And this, my friends, is why I am so screwed up :)

Simply,
MJ