Kentucky Rain.

There is something about Kentucky rain.  Something that I can't exactly put my finger on. 

Not just the rain.  The summer rain.  The hot, pouring summer rain.  It's a mix of color and sound that evokes the senses.  Kentucky rain is emotional.  The thunder, lightening...the sweeping flow of water banging every which way, a random downpour against the grey sky. 

The sky.  The Kentucky sky during a thunderous upheaval of water is completely different from anything I have ever experienced.  The pure grey color is so rich and beautiful, yet frightful in its gloom.  But it's not dark.  It's amazingly bright...the most wonderous color of charcoal, with a hint of shine.

When I least expect it, an utterly suprising and deafening smash roars through the atmosphere.  The thunder rips through the sky with such noise and confidence it could knock even the most conceided person off his pedistal and into a humble bow.  It vibrates through my whole body.  I feel its strength.

Kentucky rain is emotional.  It comes and goes as it pleases, with little warning.  Its mood varies from light to ferocious, anxious and uneasy to cocky and garish. 

There's just something about Kentucky rain.  Summer Kentucky rain.  I just can't put my finger on it...

Longest. Birthday. Ever.

As far as birthday's go, this one was a HUGE success. 

(wearing the birthday tiara)

*note that it's been almost 3 weeks since the big day and I am JUST now putting up pictures.  It took awhile to recover.

On THE BIG DAY (April 6th) the girls from work took me to Rafferty's where we enjoyed too much food and too much to drink (at least I did.  They all bought me a drink, and I think there were 7 of us there.)

(Me & Lenora @ Rafferty's)

(Kathy & Cindie.  My favs from the office!)

On day 2 of BIRTHDAY WEEK we went bowling.  I'm sure we played at least 10 games.  The pitcher of beer was always half full at the end of one game, so we had to play another while we finished it.  The game and the pitcher of beer were never finished at the same time...so we kept playing.

(Highest score: 107.  It was better than Britt's 16!)

(Me & Lenora)

(Lenora & Jon)

(Britt, Me & Jaime)

Day 3 and 4 of Birthday Week I rested.  I took bubble baths.  I drank wine.  I went to bed early.  It was quite nice.

Day 5 of Birthday Week was the BIG PARTY.  What?  Another celebration?  Yep!  We all got together at the Plano Country Club for some of Pappy's grilling and an intense Wii Bowling Tournament.

(Pappy & Me w/ the REALLY cool bowl he carved for me!)

(Britt & Jon resting between bowling.)

(Jon, my Wii Bowling partner.)

(Me, Britt & Jon playing GOLF.  Great drinking game.)

(Me & Britt sporting our "Team Roxy" birthday shirts.  Britt is the bestest EVER!)

The night ended at our favorite little pub Johnetta's. 

(Me & Scott singing.  Wow, look at all those empties.)

(Pappy & Carrie table dancin.)

(Me & Jon)

(Me & Britt.)

(Intro-ing the band.  I have no idea why.  Must have been after the shots.)

(Me & Pappy.)

(Shots w/ Pappy.)

(Me & Lenora...not exactly sure what we're doing.)

(Scott, Me & Jon.)

(Jager w/ Scott.)

(Lenora & Carrie.)

It was a GREAT birthday.  I'm still worn out.

Next year I'm only having 1 party...

Okay, 2 parties.  But that's the limit!

Juno... like the city in Alaska? No.

To say my dad and I like the movie Juno would be a massive understatement.  We love it!  We like it so much that I'm sure we could quote you the entire film.  Today we got into an all-out Juno movie quote texting battle.  It was awesome, and went something like this:

Dad:  FINGERNAILS!

Me:  Don't think it's yours just cause you marked it with your urine.

Dad:  Go Carol!

Me:  Whoa! Dream Big!

Dad:  Geez Banana! Shut your freakin' gob, okay!!

Me:  Shiiit! Yes! Close it on up!

Dad:  Makers Mark. Upp! Ggggrrrtaaa Grrrrouusse.

Me:  I just drank my weight in Sunny D

Dad:  And I gotta go pronto! And I haven't taken a dump since Wednesday...morning.

Me:  The plus sign looks more like a division symbol, so I remain unconvinced.

Dad:  Wicked Tiger.

Me:  Geez Bren! Use a dick!

Dad:  I just told you I was pregnant and your acting shockingly cavalier.

Me:  I mean can't we just, like, kick this old school? Like, I have the baby, put it in a basket and send it your way like Moses and the reeds?

Dad:  That would be kicking it old testament.

Me:  That ain't no Etch-a-Sketch. This is one doole that can't be undid home skillet.

Dad:  Silencio Old Man.

Me:  Thundercats are go!

Dad:  Too many behavioral meds.

Me:  I am a craken from the sea!

Dad:  I'm at the dentist and my phone is dying. To be continued...

Me:  You're way better at this game than Courteney.

We're crazy, right?! I gotta tell you, my dad almost out quoted me.  Saved by the dying cell phone!

 

 

 
Texting with my dad...totally made my day.

And she said "What happened to you as a child?"

I’ll be the first to admit that I have weird quirks and even weirder phobias. Seriously, who doesn’t?



But hearing other people say I’m weird for those phobias is, well, weird. Hey, I know they're weird! But others should think they’re endearing! Right?!

Here are a few of my wacky phobias:

1. I don’t order pizza over the phone. Well, it’s not so much that I don’t or can’t, but I WON’T. The pizza place people scare the crap out of me.

Call me strange (and I know you are), but it’s like my mind freezes up as soon as the (insert your fav pizza joint here) answers and says “will this be for carry out or delivery?” Wait? What?! I wasn’t even thinking about that! I was trying to remember what I was going to order! Oh no, I’ve gone mute…I can’t handle this…Now what do I say?! So, I end up hanging up. My mind just freaks out. I lose all function of my brain. It’s bad. Just plain embarrassing. I used to feel bad about this phobia until I read that Anne Hathaway (the Princess Diaries star herself) has this same phobia. I’m sure we’re both Domino’s online order’s number 1 clients.


2. I can’t walk barefoot on small tiles. It creeps me out. It’s mainly those small tiles in bathrooms. Like this:

I see them and I think “wow, there’s a lot of grout around all those little tiles. And who knows how much dirt and grime is in there. I bet no one has scrubbed this floor since 1987!” Let me be clear: I am, in absolutely no way, a germ-a-phobe. But those little ceramic squares of gross just freak me out! PANIC! The only place I CAN handle small tiles? The shower at my parent’s house. Because, it’s my parents. (but it’s still sometimes hard to overcome the urge to wear my flip-flops in shower.)



3. I can’t do my laundry if the house is a mess. I just can’t. I blame this on the fact that my house, growing up, was ALWAYS clean (mom, stop rolling your eyes. It was always clean.)

See, growing up, I was on laundry duty. I did laundry like it was my job. I hated that job. Which is probably why I hate doing it now. But I distinctly remember this: I’d go and get the laundry out of the dryer and throw it on mom’s (perfectly made) bed to fold.  Ever since then, I cannot fathom throwing clean clothes on an unmade bed. And I ONLY make my bed when I clean my house (sorry mom). So, unmade bed = not clean house = can’t do laundry. Are you following the math? Yet again, another weird quirk.


There you have it.  Some of my more random phobias.  But I bet I'm not alone in this.

You have weird phobias, too.  (that wasn't a question, but a statement.)

You can kid the world, but not your sister.

When my sister found out I had blog she said:

"You would start a blog about yourself."

This is exactly how I assumed my loveable, little sister would react. 

BUT...

I'll assume she didn't expect me to respond with a whole blog entry about HER.  This may be my blog...but this post is all about my wonderful little sister:

Courteney Ann.

There are so many things I could say about my little sister.  She is talented, kind, humble, beautiful, intelligent...the list could go on and on.

Courteney was born a strawberry-blonde headed little firecracker.  I remember always being able to coax her into doing ANYTHING with the promise of tomatoes.  (She LOVED tomatoes.  In fact, I can still get her to do pretty much anything with the promise of food.) 

I once had the aspirations of becoming a film-maker and would make Courteney dance and sing for hours in front of our old school JVC handheld video camera.  And she would...if there were tomatoes close by.

We, of course, fought.  And got in trouble.  And hated each other at times. 


We drove our parents crazy! (but what siblings don't? Right?)

Growing up, in the moment, I never quite understood how important my sister would become to me.

Looking back, she's always stepped up to console me (upon getting dumped she once said "I'll kick his butt for you"), she's been there to encourage me, and she's always been one to give good advice.

My mom and I like to say Courteney gives the "NO DUH!" advice.  She makes points that, in the given situation, always make sense.  She has the ability to make you see beyond your struggle and get yourself back on your feet.

When I moved to Kentucky Courteney would call, put me on speakerphone and play the piano.  She would take requests and sometimes, by the end of the jam session we would be singing together...over the phone, 2,000 miles apart.

In those moments I realized...Courteney Ann, that fiery red-head, is not only my sister but:

my best friend.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to...And so what if I do? It's my birthday! (in 2 weeks)

Anyone who knows me will tell you...I love my birthday.  I take it to the extreme.  It's not unusual for me to celebrate for the entire month.  By May 1st no one wants to hear about me having another birthday ever again.  That's just how I roll.  As far as I'm concerned, April 6th should be a national holiday.

(Last year's party.  One of many.)

BUT even birthday lovers get anxiety...

This year I'm having mixed feelings about getting older.  Hey, there's got to be that one age when you think:

"Wait.  Stop this ride!  Is this where I'm supposed to be?  Is this what I'm supposed to be doing?!  Where's the instruction manual for this life thing?!"

I won't say that I'm getting OLD.  I'm not OLD.  I just feel that I'm not YOUNG anymore.  I'm not sure what makes me more anxious.  Not being "young" or not quite being "old".  (Can you hear it?  It's Britney Spears playing the background "NOT A GIRL!  NOT YET A WOMAN!"...okay, I'll stop now.)

I guess this quandary is a little hard to put into words.  All I know is that it's a super random feeling. 

WHO THE HELL WORRIES ABOUT TURNING 26?

I do. 

And reguardless, I'm still going to party all month long.  I'm still going to wear a tiara.  I might spend a little time contemplating what it means to be 26.

And I'll cry if I want to.

An Alison Dubois complex with a side of Bob Seger.

Yesterday was St. Patrick's Day.  I wore green.  I didn't get pinched.  I may have done some pinching, however.  And the holiday was celebrated with margaritas and a little Bob Seger music.  Seems extremely appropriate right? 

To top it all off I had the strangest dream last night.  The strangest.  It was one of those dreams that was so real I felt I was there.  I woke up in a panic.  It was like the opening scene from Medium, and I was Alison Dubois waking up from a nightmare. Unfortunatly, there was no hunky Joe Dubois around to calm me down.

(swoon)

 but i digress...

The dream went something like this:  My dad has just had my mom arrested.  So, I call up my dad and all he has to say is "We will never be together as a family ever again!"  And he's yelling. And I'm yelling.  It's just major chaos!  I panic.  I try calling my sister.  She doesn't answer.  She doesn't know mom's been arrested!  Apparently I then decide that I'm going to hitch my trailer to my little Toyota Echo and leave town and never come back!(because I obviously own a full size airstream trailer in this dream world...and I obviously think a little Echo can pull it.  Makes total sense.)  And as I'm driving away - more like willing my little clown car to pull a huge trailer - I look back at my dad, who is now being portrayed by Martin Sheen, and he has a heart attack.

Insert Alison Dubois- sit straight up in bed- panic wake up here.

How do you even begin to interpret a dream like that?  And why was Martin Sheen a part of it?  What if I was having one of those premonition dreams?  Does this mean my dad will have a heart attack - or Martin Sheen?  And why the heck was my mom in jail?

You may be asking "what the heck did you eat before you went to bed that caused this tragic - yet comical - dream?"

NOTHING!

I blame (1)watching too much Medium or (2)listening to Bob Seger.

I'm going with Bob Seger.