A Bird's eye view

I've lived in this town for more than six years. I feel like I know all it's side roads and shortcuts, it's neat little hole-in-the-wall restaurants and bars. But everything seems so different from the air. This afternoon I got to do something I had never done before... go up in a helicopter.

Ok, so I complained about having to work during the hurricane. It's part of the job. But so was this, and this was so amazing. Another reporter arranged for us to go up in the police helicopter to survey the hurricane damage in the Tuscaloosa area. Once we got up you really couldn't see much damage at all, but the view was breathtaking. The city looked so different. I saw my house from above, with it's little white picket fence. I saw the building where I worked, it's sign still very legible from the sky. I saw campus and the sidewalks where I used to walk to class everyday, my boyfriend's apartment where, (as I found out later) he was sitting on his balcony looking up at me in the helicopter. And I saw my old house.. that old duplex that I love so much.. and the huge mass of tree trunk beside it.

I don't know that I've never felt so small in my entire life. From up in that helicopter I could see almost all of the entire city that I've lived in for so long. It was a humbling experience, and I thanked God for it. In a way, I felt like it was his little reminder that I'm just a small fish in a big pond, and we really have no control. It is he that blesses us.

Katrina's wrath

I woke up this morning and the historic neighborhood that I live in of downtown Tuscaloosa looks like a fallen forest among the city's oldest buildings. Huge, giant oak trees are down everywhere, fallen on at least two antebellum mansions within just a few blocks of each other. At my old duplex where I lived for almost three years, an enormous hardwood fell withing feet of the house, just grazing my old bedroom window. Seems kind of ironic, because last year, when hurricane Ivan came through Tuscaloosa, my old roommate Britt and I took the mattress downstairs to the living room because I was afraid that tree would fall on my room while I was asleep. Little did I know that eight months after I moved out, an even stronger hurricane would come through and bring that old tree down. Strange, but I loved that tree.

You know, when I decided to become a journalist, I never imagined that putting my life at risk would be in the job description. I was the night reporter at the newspaper last night as Hurricane Katrina blew through Tuscaloosa. In the late afternoon as we started to experience the first band of torrential rains and winds, I had to go out to get the police reports and jail log. But I couldn't see the road and barely made it back to the newspaper building. Back at work, people were buzzing around the office.. a kind of adrenaline in the air. Around 4 people started to get out of there early, to get home to their families. For those of us that had to stay, they had stocked up on sodas, chips and cookies. It was like as if to say, hey, sorry you can't be at home with your loved ones, hope your house doesn't get blown away... here, have a cookie. Strange thing was, I felt safer in that $30 million- all glass and steel building than I did at home. I got to leave work early last night.. around 8:30 p.m., and as I was driving home on 21st Ave. a tree collapsed onto the road about 25 feet in front of me, and I had to swirve around it. I knew that staying at home probably wasn't safe. But, I had no idea what I would be faced with in the morning. I was one of the lucky ones.

Wife material?

What does it mean when a guy tells you that you are "wife material"? Mr Goatee and I were talking the other day, and he told me that, from about the 3rd or 4th time we hung out, I walked out of my house... he saw me... and he thought.. "wife". Of course, it does make a little more sense I guess that we were on our way to church for the first time together. I was wearing a white dress with red flowers and a black cardigan sweater, holding my bible. It's not like he would look at me and I would just portray some wild drunken night rendevous. But still. WIFE. That's big. I don't know what that means, but I wonder..

I'm not ready to get married anytime soon. I spent years on the marriage track excitedly planning out my dream wedding and looking at engagement rings. I thought I would get married to Mr. 6 years, until I realized that day would never come. I wasn't ready, and wouldn't be with him. Now, I'm not sure when it will happen, but a long time from now, I'm sure of that.

Although I've always been a dreamer, I've never been one of those girls who wanted desperately to pop out kids. Sure, I want to be a parent someday, but I don't know when my biological clock or that maternal instinct will kick in. Don't get me wrong, I love to be around kids. I've grown up babysitting and playing with my two cousins who are still under 6. But, that's different, because you can have fun with them but give them back to their parents in the end. But the wife comment made me think seriously yesterday. I went to Georgia this weekend to visit Mr. Goatee's brother, sister-in-law and niece. I was nervous at first about what they would think of me. But it was great. They were great. And his 3-year-old niece was adorable. She and I played in her dollhouse and played hopscotch... I twirled her around like a helicopter in the backyard and did "circus tricks" by balancing her in the air with my legs like my dad used to do with me. At one point, Mr. Goatee, his niece and I cuddled on the couch and read Sleeping Beauty and I thought to myself.. yeah. I can see this. I could do this.... And maybe heard the first tick of my biological clock. Later that afternoon, however, we went to have dinner with my uncle and aunt and two cousins. The kids were screaming over some toy and wouldn't stay at the table. The three-year-old ended up with tears streaming down her face during a temper tantrum, and the 6-year-old was storming around the house with a Darth Vader mask on. I love them. They are my family... but i think it squandered that first tick back to wherever it came from. No, not ready for that for a long, long time. I have to deal with the whole idea of marriage first, and even that is going to take me a while to get used to. I need to figure out who I am as an adult first.

A difficult goodbye

I found out the other day that my ex-boyfriend, the guy who I was with for six years, is moving to Texas for a job. I was so happy for him at first. Finally, seven months after we graduated, he has found something. He deserves it so much. But then, I call him to congratulate him. He tells me a lot of hurtful things. He tells me that he is inspired by his angst towards me and is more productive when he has a goal- from losing weight to getting a job- so that he can one day prove to me that i made a mistake. He tells me that I will never find anyone who will love me as much as he did. And part of me wonders if he was right. I have a lot of regrets about my relationship with Mr. six years, mostly dealing with how I was to him when I ended things. That, and I will always miss him as a friend.. he was, after all, my bestfriend for so many years. We grew up together, loved hard, fought hard, and it ended up not working in the end. He told me yesterday that his moving to Dallas has a lot to do with me.. so that he can get away from alabama and our memories here. So he can move on and forget the hurtful past year. And I know what he means, as much as it hurts me. I've had it relatively easy, and I hate that for him. I want the best for him, and I know that God has great plans for him. I know that, however horrible the breakup was, that we aren't right for each other. Still, when I think about all of our memories together, it still hurts.. one year later.. that I gave all that up, that I gave up my friendship with him, in return for a questionable future with a person I hope is perfect for me. Like I told him yesterday, there is someone out there who is more perfect for him than I ever was, and once he meets her he will realize God's reason behind all this. For his sake, I hope it happens soon. He deserves the best.

the big rocks

I was driving by sorority row yesterday when I was reminded how much everything really has changed. Ok, ok, so I don't want to sound like a nostalgic sap, but it was bid day. I remember how, six years ago, I excitedly sat on top of my bid- wondering, hoping- that I was going to be an alpha gam. Then, when we got the go-ahead, I ripped it open and saw it was true. I got my first bid. I ran down to the bottom of Bryant-Denny Stadium to a group of girls, my new pledge sisters, who were standing around hugging each other next to an AGD sign. I didn't know anyone.. except for Mandy. She was a girl who was from my hometown and who had been in the same high school sorority as me. We weren't close, but I was thankful that I at least knew someone. Yes, I thought to myself, this is a good beginning.. a lucky start.. and I am going to know these girls the rest of my life. Fast forward six years. Saturday night I was at Mandy's house that she shares with her husband, throwing a "stock the bar" shower for kristi, one of our pledge sisters, and her fiancee. A few of our other sisters were there, all married or engaged. Mr. Goatee was with me. He at first gawked when we pulled up in a line of new SUVs and everyone got out in their sundresses with beaus in tow- and series of "W" stickers. Lindsay, another sorority sister and hostess, had "GOPgirl" as her license plate. The entire evening, the girls and their husbands discussed where the best place to buy a beach home was, how the rich got taxed too much and how to get out of it. Meanwhile, they all had huge rocks on their fingers. One of the girls that was there, not a sister, had at least a four carat. I was mesmerized by it, somewhat surprised she could even hold up her hand. Mr. Goatee had also noticed the rings early in the evening. "I want to go ahead and tell you that I will never be able to buy you a ring like that," he told me. Yes.. I thought to myself.. but that doesn't mean we won't be happy, even if we don't have a beach house.

Taking a Blind Leap

I'm not sure when it happened, when my mind changed about Mr. Goatee. Maybe it was when he made me spaghetti and garlic bread last-minute when I showed up at his door in tears after an argument with my sister. Maybe it was while we were sitting on the couch watching episode after episode of "Coupling" on DVD and laughing our heads off at all the same places. Perhaps it was that moment when I caught a glimpse of him playing with my dog in the front yard and letting her lick his face. Or maybe it was how he spent hours cleaning my disgusting bathroom and bedroom, how he folded my clothes and bought me a new hamper, all while I was out of town. Most likely, it's a combination of those things. He is there for me. We laugh together. His corny little jokes have gotten better- or maybe its just that I find them more funny now. His adoration is less annoying and more indearing.

I changed my mind and took a blind leap. After three months of telling myself that I just want to be single and dating him "casually", I discovered that I don't want to not be around him. On Sunday, after three days (yes, I'm pathetic. It was only three days.) apart from him, I decided that I wanted a relationship with him. He asked me. I said yes. We are exclusive.

Ok, ok, so I probably still "need" to be single, because I haven't been single for an extended period of time during my entire adult life. But, we are taking this slow. I've been burned, so has he. But what we both know now is that we don't want to continue alone. I want him in my life, and I'm going with this as long as it feel right, blindfold and all.

My Bestfriend's Wedding, Part II

My hair had fallen straight and I was a tad bit sweaty from dancing barefoot to "Sweet Home Alabama" at the reception of Britt's wedding when I overheard a girl complaining in the women's bathroom. She was a girl that Britt had cheered with in High School, and she was telling an older woman that she came to the wedding thinking that it would be like a cheerleading squad reunion, and was surprised that she hardly knew anyone there. All of Britt's bridesmaids were either sorority sisters or friends from college. The girl said she was shocked. Then, she started talking about how, after people get married, her friends start to drop off and she never hears from them anymore.

At this point I had had five glasses of white wine, but I clearly remember knowing exactly what she meant. Britt's wedding is the sixth wedding I have been in, the fourth since 2001. The first, was Sheila. I haven't heard from her in a year. I can't say that she and I stopped talking for any specific reason, but we grew apart. Every christmas, after the "Hi, how are you?" and "What have you been up to?" We had nothing else to talk about. We were at different points in our lives. A year ago, we got into a heated series of emails when she tried to tell me that I needed to give up on my "cosmopolitan" years and "embrace my Good Housekeeping" side. I replied that I appreciated her advice, but that we didn't really have anything in common anymore. I never heard from her again. With Samantha and Betsy, it was all a little less dramatic, but still, things change once your friends get married.

I was thinking about the bathroom girl's comment when I walked back out into the reception hall and Britt and her groom Wes were preparing to leave for their Honeymoon. Britt grabbed me, gave me a big hug and kiss on the cheek and said thank you for being there for her, for being her bestfriend. I got really emotional. I went up to Wes, gave him a hug and told him to take care of her for me. He said he "always will" and turned to run through the crowd of sparklers and bubbles with Britt.

I stood behind, watching them leave, and couldn't help but wonder, will this one be different? She is my besfriend, and I don't want things to change. But I know they will. I just hope that my friendship with her will endure the distance and this new phase of her life. I'm optimistic that it will.

My Bestfriend's Wedding

Almost six years ago exactly, I met my bestfriend Britt on the 14th floor of Tutwiler hall. It was the first day of sorority rush, and I went to the room next door to ask to borrow some hair spray. Britt, a barbie-doll look alike who had mountains of sky-high hair, asked me which kind of wanted... she had three bottles. Three days later, she and I sat at dinner at O'Charley's and talked about how we just knew that we were going to be bestfriends all through college and were going to be in each other's weddings one day.

On Saturday, our prediction came true. My bestfriend got married.

As I stood by her side in a strapless bridesmaid dress that I could hardly breathe in and standing in 3 1/2-inch heels that I could barely balance on, I looked at her, my lip quivering and tears welling up in my eyes. No, I would not cry. I didn't want to mess up my makeup. But, just before she said her vows, she looked straight at me, and gave me a grin from ear to ear. This was a day both of us had been looking forward to for so long. Her day had finally come.

Britt is one of those types of girls who have been planning their wedding since they were three. Although I don't like to admit it myself, I was also one of those little girls who would go prancing around with a pillowcase on my head pretending to be the bride, or would draw wedding dresses on the back of the offertory envelope with crayons during church. When we were 17 and 18, we would get Krispy Kreme donuts in the middle of the night and go to Wal-Mart to get a wedding magazine, take it back to the dorm and drool over the dresses. We would both rip out what pages we liked best and would save it for our "portfolios"... We also talked about our serious boyfriends at the time and about how we'd were sure we'd be married by junior year... Ha, if I only knew then what I know now. Britt did get engaged our senior year, but like a lot of things in life, it didn't turn out the way she had planned. She called off the engagement, and two years later, walked down the aisle with a different beau.

As she smiled at me, I knew we were thinking the same thing. How, over the past six years we have spent so much time dreaming and talking about this. How we have shared so much, how we have been through so much together, have grown up. I was so happy for her.

At the same time, I couldn't help but be sad too. I don't know what I want for my wedding anymore. I haven't bought any wedding magazines in two years and my old tattered "portfolio" is thrown under a pile of stuff underneath my bed. I used to have everything figured out. I knew that I wanted to marry the guy I dated all through college, and I knew all the details, down to the colors and flowers and monogrammed cake. One year ago, that changed when I ended that relationship and gave up on marriage for the time being. Yes, I want to get married someday and I hope that it won't be too far away.

But, I can't obsess about it like I used to. Britt's wedding proved that to me. For all the time we spent dreaming about it, her wedding ceremony lasted 25 minutes, and her reception three hours. For now, I'd like to focus on what I want for my life right now, and hope that "mr. right" somehow weaves himself into my life and I find myself at the altar almost unexpectedly, without all that extra energy or obsession.

Meeting his parents

Ok, so this morning I've gone through three pairs of pants, three shirts, two pairs of shoes got my hair done, painted my nails and went to the tanning bed. The last three were more out of necessity... my bestfriend's wedding is in exactly one week and I had horrible roots and was white as a ghost. But, the whole clothes and shoes thing is purely out of nervousness. You see, I have to meet Mr. Goatee's parents. Really, I'm excited to meet them. But, at the same time, I feel a little sick. This is the first time in my adult life that I've met the parents of a guy I'm dating.

The last time I met a guy's parents, it was those of the guy I date for six years. We were 17, and you can't help but meet them right away because he lived in the same house as they did. Fast forward seven years, and all the sudden everything is completely different.

Will they like me? Should I act a certain way or just be myself? What if they don't like me? It's not that it should matter all that much, because Mr. Goatee and I aren't that serious, but this is a huge first for me. We'll see how it goes! Wish me luck.

Oh, and in case you are wondering, I decided on a pair of white pants, and black and white striped shirt, chunky white necklace, black flip flop heels and sunglasses. classic but summery. Only problem is, I look like a lobster from the tanning bed. Oh well, maybe they can overlook that.

Another bad day

Have you ever had one of those days where nothing seems to go right? Today is one of those for me. I don't know if it is my perception of things or if today is just one of those days.

It started at 7:42 a.m., or at least that's what my clock had been reading when I woke up that morning. It was only until I checked my cell phone that I realized the time on my alarm clock hadn't changed in more than an hour. It was 9:32 a.m., and I was supposed to be at work at 9. I hurriedly threw some jeans, black top and heels on, pulled my hair back, brushed my teeth and ran out the door, making it to work by 9:40. Thank God work is only 1.1 miles away. After that, the day seemed to be going ok. I was only supposed to work a half day since I had worked at a photo shoot sunday, but my weekend story was taking more time than I expected, and then my editor gave me an assignment to check up on a trial. And, just my luck, the trial ended today. I rushed to make some calls so I could get that story done asap. Just as I was finishing up the trial story, my computer crashed and took forever to reboot.
After I left work I went to a specialty shop to look for a wedding gift for my bestfriend, and couldn't decide on anything, then to Target, who didn't have what I was looking for and I was getting irritated by the squeeky cart I was pushing around... then to the post office to pic up 60 stamps so I could mail some shower invitations. At the post office the do-it-yourself machine was out of order so I had to wait in line for 30 minutes. But, this short man in his 50's walked up to me and asked me if I was ok. My reply was yes, I was fine. He responded that I looked like I was having a bad day, and I told him no, not really. He said, well, just wanted to ask and say hello. My thought was, wow. Just at the point when my day is seriously starting to suck, a nice old man comes along, takes a moment out of his day and tries to cheer up a stranger. I silently ask God to forgive me for my negativism earlier and thank him for the day, despite how bad it was. Then, the man asks me if I'm a student. I reply that I'm a journalist. I'm fine making small talk until he asks me if I have any neosporen... "um.. yeah.. at home I guess" I told him. He replied that I might try it on my eye, where I apparently have some kind of irritation. Geeze, a marketing professor that I run into at the post office is giving me beauty tips. Grrreeeat. Then he tells me that I have a beautiful smile ... much like Hillary Clinton... and that I should be on the cover of a magazine. It is at this point that I'm thanking God that I'm at the front of the line, politely tell the man to have a great day, and walk briskly to the counter to buy my stamps. When I get home, my dog has gone through the trash and ripped everything to shreds. Greeeaaat. She looks up at me with cotton hanging off of her big floppy brown ears, sticks her tail between her legs and seemingly pouts, then comes up to me and tries to give me a big lick. No matter my mood, she just made the day so much better. Thank goodness for dogs.

The disappointment

It's hard to be stuck between a rock and a hard place, especially when it involves your friends and the guy you are casually dating. Sure, my friends come first in my book, but I really like this guy, and like him more the more time we spend together. I had been floating on air all day.. just one of those great moods where everything seems to be right in the world, and then bam, something is said, you hit a brick wall, and you don't know how to stand back up. Should the opinions of a few of my friends matter about how I feel about Mr. Goatee? Of course, they should play into account, but I don't want to be stripped of my recent happiness. I have felt so lucky the past couple weeks to have things been going how they have, and then boom. It makes me want to go hide and lick my wounds. Ok, so they aren't thrilled with him. Although I know I shouldn't take it personally, but it's like something is wrong with me and they no long accept me or whoever I am with. Why can't things be more simple? Why can just everyone get along?

Mr. Goatee meets the parents

Meeting the parents of someone you are in a relationship with can be a crucial day in the history of the couple. Having a guy who you are not in a relationship with but casually dating meet your parents can be a crisis. Yesterday, Mr. Goatee met my parents. It's not something that I would have wanted so soon, but it was necessity. My sister was moving out of her house and into the sorority house, and my mom, grandfather and stepfather-like figure desperately needed help. I had to oversee a photo shoot yesterday afternoon, and couldn't be there. Mr. Goatee wouldn't accept my excuses for him not to help, and so, there he was, alone, with my family. And there I was, at the photo shoot, in panic. Would he make all those dumb little jokes that he makes when he gets so nervous or start laughing his laugh so loud that people start to look? Would my mom ask him horrible questions about his upbringing, or god forbid, introduce him as my "boyfriend"? You see, it wouldn't be all that bad if my mom wasn't how she is. Goatee sends me tulips for my birthday, and a few days later I get a birthday card from aunt, uncle and cousins who don't even live in this state with a little note at the bottom that says "a little birdie told us you got tulips from a certain someone! Tulips aren't even in season... hmm.. must be serious?" Then, on my birthday last weekend I went to lunch with my family back in my hometown, and my mom actually has the gall to ask if I was bringing Mr. Goatee home with me. OF COURSE NOT! was my reaction. Then, during lunch, she proceeds to tell my grandmother that Mr. Goatee is the guy I'm "talking to" and then tells her that "talking to" is the "new" phrase for dating but not seriously dating and she looked so smug and proud of herself and urgh! At that point my poor grandmother looked a little confused and said she didn't understand "young people" these days because she could "talk to" anyone and it didn't mean anything scandalous was going on. .... So, We got through the afternoon fine. I got done with the photo shoot, helped my sister move. Got embarrassed when no one in my family actually could call me by name yesterday. (I'm always either my sister's name or a combination of my name and hers) and then was a little embarrassed when Mr. Goatee called me "dear" in front of the folks. But, the good thing is, it went (as far as I know) without a hitch. He met my parents. Nothing horrible happened. Now, next weekend, I have to meet his while they are in town. Or, then again, maybe I'll go hide.

I'm so over it

It was about 11 p.m. Thursday night that I realized how ironic life can be. I was sitting in the corner booth at Innisfree, a little irish pub in town that we always go to, and I was surrounded by a group of 15 frat boys/alum in their 20's who were riding across the country on their bikes (a la' Lance Armstrong) for charity. They started out riding in San Francisco in June, and are scheduled to finish up in D.C. next week. I had actually interviewed a few of them for the newspaper earlier that day, and one of them, Paul, from Chicago, had asked me to show the guys the places to go around town. So, Thursday my roommate and another coworker headed out.

But, by 11 p.m. I was tired of being there. I had had countless Amaretto Sours placed in front of me by a 38 year-old 5-foot man who dressed like a 20-year-old and kept telling me that it was "fate" that I had interviewed him that day because I was "someone special" and it was a rare occurence when two "driven people cross paths." I wanted to roll my eyes and gag.

At the same time, I couldn't help but recognize the irony behind it all. A little more than 5 months ago I was sitting at Innisfree with a guy who was walking across the country for charity. My roommate had interviewed him and then asked him to come out because he seemed lonely. Then, something clicked. I don't know what it was, but I fell for him, hard. He wasn't all slimey and schmoozing like that cyclist. He was a christian who was a lot like me, or at least I thought. His weekend stop in town on his way to Spokane ended up turning into about three weekends of visits and three months of a serious relationship.. or at least as serious as you can get when your boyfriend is walking across the country for charity. We fell hard and quick for each other, and then it ended just the same.

And it all started with a mission, and a story, and a night at the Irish pub. Five months later, it was the same ingredients, but everything was different. At 11:30 I got up out of the booth and decided to leave. I'm sick of the "traveling across the country for charity" type of guy. Been there. Done that. Time for me to move on. I discovered that after five months of swooning and mourning a guy who was seemingly selfless, I'm so over it.