Road Trippin'

I like road trips. The two things that I like about road trips? The waiting to go phase and about the first hour of the trip. After that, I hate road trips and will act as though I never had an affinity for even the remote idea of a road trip. But, that first hour is such a nice diversion from my everyday life, or is it?


To start, for my husband's blood pressure to resemble anything but shape of Applachian Mountain Range, I don't usually drive. For some reason, his driving pattern of "as fast as you can go while not signaling anything and slam on your breaks periodically" keeps his blood pressure at a steady rate. This pattern is always followed by the statement, "I'm not the one that's ever had a wreck, Meleia". I usually think, but don't say, well statistics would clearly show your time could be near, not to mention the way you drive.

His driving means I get Libby settled in her "back suite" as I fondly refer to it. We could put that backseat on vrbo.com and run a tight race with some of the advertised cottages....sleeps 3, tv/dvr, cold drinks, lots of entertainment. Then, I put my huge sunglasses on. i.e. The ones that are the total opposite color and shape from the Kate Gosselin white, plastic huge square sunglasses that go with the red-pink clash, mini skirt outfit.....you know the picture. My faithful sunglasses are what allow me to view everything along the way and to gaze off into thought without being asked what I'm thinking.



Traveling takes money, which is why we don't. It's so unlike my Nanny Ree's favorite saying, "have 'drawers' will travel". At seven years old, I knew the saying, but hadn't a clue what she lightheartedly meant. At 33, I know what drawers means and I know it takes more than drawers to travel.


Anyway, every blue moon, we plan a little road trip. I can't much tell you about the planning phases because my form of planning is to say, "let's go somewhere that we can see....or somewhere we can get....." and that starts the process with sbridenstine. He budgets it out to a tee, spreadsheets it up and before too long the Purchase Order is processed and we are on our way. (somewhat exaggerated, there).


Here's the magic of that first hour...........you're driving--well, riding, along and you begin to look at things in a way you don't look at them on your normal beaten path. Obviously, there are times when you really "eye" those houses on your neighborhood street and harbor those same questions that you have on a road trip, but far too little. Those thoughts like...."I wonder who lives in that house..how the heck do those folks live like that, or awww, that person drives a bus...wonder what their neighbors think about them parking it in their yard...." Those random "wonders", those thoughts that would lead you to waltz right up to their door and ask if it weren't for speeding along at 75 mph.


A perfect example is when I see a school. I think, "you know, my world revolves even if that school is scoring X or even if that school does Y" and it puts my sometimes "school tizzies" into perspective.


I really like analyzing the community and thinking how it's somewhat like an anthill. The ants busy along doing what makes their hill survive, doing what they know and not until someone disturbs it do the ants realize there's a whole world out there or at least a reminder of why they stay in their little circle of existence.


Do you think that's how we are? Do you think, we as Daltonians or Georgians or whateverians, don't even notice the things in other places that make them matter? Why is it that things that make a world of difference to us don't make a bit of difference to the passerby?


I bet that's why I can't be on a road trip more than an hour before I'm tired of it. I try to analyze way too much!


There used to be this show on CBS Saturday Mornings that showed a guy open a phonebook, run his finger down the page and lands on a name that he called and met with to show the point that "everyone has a story". I loved that show segment. If it were on 24 hours, 7 days a week, I'd have wasted away the remainder of my life because I'd still be sitting there in absolute amazement at people's stories. There was another guy that did documentaries about living in people's lives for a period of time. He did one where he lived on minimum wage. It was fascinating to me. It was kinda what I invited Oprah to do a couple of blogs ago. When her people call my people, 'cause you know she must be amongst my five faithfuls, I'll have a whole list of them for her to try.

Think along your drives. Wonder about those around you who have their own little universe of issues spilling out.

Twice!? In ONE day??

I bet you thought that title was something to reckon with. You probably thought a true yummy secret was about to come out, however, nope. The title just refers to the fact that I am blogging twice in one day. I'd promise this one would be short, but I don't really know until I get it all written out, and then I don't look back. My sister said she doesn't like my new blog layout. She says the colors are difficult to see and the posts I've written as of late are too long. So, FOCUS, Sanna. Good thing these posts are free to readers or I might have to give a pooh about what readers think of me/posts.

I try not to be a bragger. However, today, is a BIG day!!! As a high school senior, I had no idea what I DIDN'T want to be after college. I just knew that pretty much anything captured my fancy. Therefore, when it was time to apply for scholarships, and my grades were definitely good enough, I chose not to apply for any. I just couldn't bring myself to write about something like it was my "forever choice". I couldn't write essays for scholarships I didn't REALLY want. There was no way I was going to try to convince an unknown audience I had a desire to do something I really didn't have a desire for. So, a few automatic college scholarship letters came in the mail, as I'm sure they do with everyone and I didn't reply. I would see the award amount and compare it to what the college would cost with the award and still feel that it wasn't something I wanted to even try for. I decided to attend the local university because it was a good school and a better use of my "money" if I didn't know for sure what I wanted to do. My mom was just proud I didn't cringe at the thought of more schooling and would help me with gas money, clothes and extras that I wanted when she could. My dad felt that if I wasn't going to get out of college and earn a six figure income that it was useless for me to go. So, I decided that I would start at UTC and just see what happened.

Gosh, the days were long and difficult. My first memory of college, which should have been a sign of hard times to come was that I can remember getting a parking space that was by the arena and my first class being at 8 by Memorial Auditorium. I thought 8 was a nice late start compared to my high school start time that was in the 7 am hour time frame. So, trudging to classes carrying books that were heavy and pricey stunk. Nothing about college was fun nor easy. However, I had watched a video in the Financial Aid office that said if I quit college or even took a break, I'd have to pay back the money and it would be hard to start back. So, I stuck it through. Year one---learned what "study" meant and that it didn't mean "no homework". Year two---learned I had better try to take classes that would help me figure out what I wanted to do. Year three---went to the career planning office and took an interest survey that showed I'd do well in social work, teaching or anything with elderly people. Shortly after that test, I began my classes in the education department. I busted my butt and worked two jobs to get through years three and four, and took as many classes as I could to graduate on time. Year four---was already dreading the student loan payments that were sure to start upon my graduation. Due to that dread, I never took out another student loan. Steven and I paying for my undergraduate loans and his made for lots of nights eating Rice-A-Roni and Hamburger Helper. We paid for our graduate schooling as we went. I'll be starting back in Fall of 2010 and will pay as I go because I do not heart student loans.

Well, guess what?! MY UNDERGRADUATE LOANS ARE FREAKIN' PAAAAAAID OFFFFFF! Wahooo! Here's a dear john letter to my student loans. Pardon the lack of, a-hemmmm, excitement.

Dear Student Loans,

We took you out in June of 1994 and carried you on our back until June of 2009. Kiss our butts and never come back! Stop the auto bank draft and do as "DX the wrestler" tells people.

Best regards,
Steven Bridenstine, MBA and Meleia P. Bridenstine, M.Ed

Dear Oprah, Shuuuuuut Up. Thanks, Meleia

I know that I just committed a terrible act in telling the Queen of Goodwill and Charity to shuuuuut up. But, seriously, Oprah, shuuuuut up. This directive has been coming on for a couple of weeks. It all started when our TV was tuned in to her show and I was doing something else while listening. I overheard that the topic of the show which went with her ongoing theme of "Live Your Best Life". Oprah went on to lament to a person on the show, who was jobless, that he should "live his best life, pray more..." I overheard Oprah's voice trail off as I thought about how she is so out of touch and people actually listen to her in masses hoping to get a smidgen of some kind of "insight" as to what they should do in their lives. Ugh. Oprahhhhh, shuuuuuut up.

Steven used to have the hot sauce called, "Nothin' hotter than a scorned woman". I kind of wondered if a scorned Oprah might could identify better with people if she had to maybe not be jobless, but try living on minimum wage, throw in a medical problem of two, and combine that with a child who saaaaaay is oppositionally defiant. Think Oprah could "live her best life, listen to her inner voice....."?

I know that faith is truly tried and exemplified when all is not well, when all you have is God and you learn that He is all you need. I'm sure Oprah had lots of things in her childhood that helped her connect with that "voice" or "best life vision". I'm thankful for her and am sure the world would be a better place if she could be cloned. However, in this economy, Oprah, unless you are giving the person a job or some type of life training/skill, shuuuuuut up.

Thanks,
Meleia

My Favorite Car

I would say I just made a HUGE mistake, but I can't call it a mistake, I think it's actually the beginnings of a very bad trend. I think you can only call something a mistake if you did that thing completely oblivious to the outcome it could have. I knew the outcome of eating a bowl of lowfat popcorn with a little added hot butter and dark chocolate almonds. OUCH. Just writing that like made my laptop gain weight. The bad thing about the mistake is that it's the second time this week and it makes the my dreadmill efforts not make a difference. Ugga Bugga!

Anyway, eating the popcorn reminded me of my favorite car ever. I have to first start this story with listing the cars I've left in my path of short term favorites:

1) Used 89 Chevy Corsica--grey paint defect car (the color on the title could have read primer--really). Gave it to my grandmother because my dad said it was his and I couldn't trade it. Its air condition quit.

2) Used 93 Teal Nissan Altima--like 140,000 miles on it....when I got it, hey I was a struggling college kid. Got rid of it because it started have problems.

3) Used 98 White Honda Accord--wrecked it REAL good. Didn't like it until after it was totaled and I couldn't have it anymore.

4) fLEASED 2000 White Toyota Camary--I felt like I needed a boat license to sail this thing. I bought this one in like 15 minutes at night and just didn't realize how long five years was. Steven ended up driving it.

5) Maroon 98? Jeep Cherokee--Steven's parents took it over because we decided to try to get more fiscally responsible. Bought this one because I thought I needed more space to carry stuff. Steven ended up driving it.

6) Red 98 Saturn SC--bought this one because it was what I really wanted when I was 16 and I thought it would be great to zip into parking space and hide shopping bags in the back. Steven ended up driving this one.

7) Brownish 200? Nissan Altima--bought it off Ebay because it was a good deal and I missed my teal one. I don't think Steven ever had to drive this one.

8) 200? White VW Passat--bought this one because I like the interior light colors and I thought it was THE ONE until I got preggars and the smell made me puke. Steven ended up driving this one.

9) 2004 Black Nissan Murano--hated them at first, then liked the crossover component of it. As I walked around the new car inspection and signed off on it, someone sprayed paint nearby and it went all over my brand new car right there in the parking lot of the dealership. Fought with Nissan in Kennesaw for the last 2 months of my pregnancy until they agreed to buy it from me and sell me...

10) my second 2004 Black Nissan Murano--love it, but Steven drives it because I just had to have.....

11) my current 2008 White Nissan Altima--love it, but my favorite car isssssssssssssss: what I have yet to get which is an Infinity G20 which I'm waiting for Joey at Pye to start selling and then I can buy it.

So, I got my first car at 17 and sixteen years later, I have had 11 cars! Steven says that we aren't trading anymore. But, how does he know I won't find my the car that will make everything seem right? **Shallow laugh**

So, if I had to choose from the eleven cars, each one has reasons it could be my favorite--

1) Corisca--got me to and from some of my first jobs, hauled my precious sister who was the most patient person in the world around, as well as my sweet cousins Anna, Amy and Phil on some afternoons from school

2) Altima--the interior was so soft

3) Accord--the airbags saved my life in a crash where I was hit head on twice while sitting still and the other person was going like 60 mph

4) Camry--NOTHING, hated it

5) Cherokee--first SUV

6) Saturn--fun to drive

7) Ebay Altima--great experience

8) Passat--great insides, "Your bootlid is open." The German factor wore off!

9 & 10) Murano--lots of fun ride to vacations, it's just a sexy car LOL

11) current Altima--has lots of buttons to press inside, the blue tooth is interesting, the color is good, the trunk is big

So, there, my I'm so promiscuous when it comes to cars. It kinda makes me feel bad.

Look at the path of favorites! YIKESEE!

Production Notes and Reality Shows

I'm not writing this entry about reality shows because I necessarily heart them, but I do feel like being the devil's advocate on some things regarding reality shows.

Okay, most people say, "reality shows are anything but reality". Yes, they are right. However, here's two things about that statement: you have to watch them often to really be able to say that and YOU WOULDN'T watch it if it were true reality.

Case in point, "my reality show" yesterday (and it would be a bit more exciting because of a couple of very short moments) would have run a camera crew off and had a TV set begging for a power outage.

Yesterday started with waking up and deciding that I wished I was a good little sleeper. It's actually a ritualistic thought I have when I wake, "man, I wish I slept so deep and so long I felt like I had been elsewhere" and "gosh, let me calucate the less than seven hours I get on daily basis." See, you would have already turned the channel.

The upcoming happenings are even worth fast forwarding to, but here goes. After my B-ah session about sleep, I decide to do 30 on the dreadmill.

Steven leaves for work. I'm sure before he left, he reminded me of what times I needed to take Libby places and not to spend any money. Oh, here's an exciting question I answered, "is my tie tied too short?"

Now, hang on to your seats, it finally picks up pace as Libby wakes up.

Of course, her usual waking is that, as mentioned many times before, of someone directly off the battlefield beginning combat from mid sleep. She enters with a wail, "IIIIIIIIIIIIIWWWWWWWWWWaaaaaaannnnntppppppaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnncccccccccakes." Of course, the only way to stop the wailing is to either do it or respond with something that will spawn another long wail, but with a beginning conjuntion of "BUT" and emphasis on "IIIIIII".

Seeing as how SuperNanny hasn't ever taken me up on an all accomadations stay at my house, I've decided to implement it myself and say no when not asked properly.

She and I went downstairs to eat Life cereal together. See, my reality show would have all kinds of product placement and network affilitation (i.e. SuperNanny).

She, who stomped her way down the stairs rambling a list of all things unfair that have been imposed on her, decides to not notice the slow pace at which I am taking every step. As I went downstairs, I could easily say that every single step I argued with myself that I do love summer and it's the right thing to save daycare money and spend every waking second with my darling-there's-an-obvious-reason-she's-an-only-and-I'd-have-moved-to-China-to-keep-it-that-way-but-thank-God-sbridenstine-sees-it-the-same-way daughter.

Once downstairs, sparring #2 occurred with daughter because she demands to do a marathon of her shows. She argues that she needs to learnnnnn something and that she can't learnnnnn if she can't watch: Backyardigans, Dora, Go Diego Go, Little Einsteins, Ni Hao Kai Lan, Sid the Science Kid.......and at this point I take the other side of my, "it's best for her to be home with me this summer argument" and toss it out the door.

I think of A. laying facedown on the couch and not moving until 5:30 when I can have an adult conversation with the working mate of the household about the summer decision, B. sitting in my car with the door shut so that I can just hear silence, or C. running on the dreadmill and pretending I am going somewhere.

However, I of course, enter negotionations with North Korea (or you can still call her Libby). I tell her that she can make her own shows and soon it will be time for swim lessons.

North Korea doesn't take that for an answer and says if she can't watch "ch-oweys" all day, then maybe I can just read to her all day.

I think if we were on a reality show, at this point, the camera crew would whip her butt. And, I smile at that thought.

So, we read and read and read until I hate books. It's the blunt truth of the matter.

Here's a high point for the show: I contemplated, well threw away, a copy of the Madeline book because I was SICK OF FREAKIN' reading it. I hate Madeline. Those two straight lines. bleh

After reading it five times, I didn't ever want to see it again. So, when North Korea went to get 'nudder book, MWWWWommy. I tossed it in the trash-WAY under a bunch of junk because I am well aware that North Korea will sense it's in there and then it will turn into Peyton from "Hand That Rocks The Cradle" when she's after Solomon at the end of the movie. I know my kid.

I knew I could have some silent therapeutic tossing of a book moment, but certainly it must be well hidden. So, bye bye Madeline and her dumb butt lines. That was mean. At that point, the reality show would probably bring in a shrink and do a complimentary DFACS referral.

However, it is only my IQ in danger when staying at home. It just gets lower and lower.

So, next on a real reality show, you'd see the getting ready portion of the day where I ask myself why I cut my hair so short and why haven't I gotten Libby's hair cut.

Then, we'd be off to swim lessons. The whole way to swim lessons, Libby remarks how Kaylee told her to stay away from water that she'd drown. Convinced that we are journeying to her demise in my Altima, Libby chatters the entire way about it. No matter how much I reassure her that she is LEARNING to swim so she won't ever have problems in the water, she continues.

Once at the Wellness Center pool, she thinks her role as North Korea will be accepted by Miss Sandy the Swim Teacher. What she doesn't know is Miss Sandy is France and she is not going to negotiate. It was like choir singin' satisfaction to see someone else work with North Korea. I took EXXXtra long filling out those swim papers, just to be sure I could watch North Korea concede.

After screaming, "walley" for about 15 minutes of my $19, she finally decides participate in the swim lesson Miss Sandy was progressing without her through.

That moment would have gone two ways on a reality show: 1) it would have been stretched out to the whole show or 2) it would have been about two minutes long.

Next, we go to get Steven, who can play golf on his league now but still can't lift heavy stuff, so he can pick up a box for me from school. Then, we go to Taco Bell lunch on a budget in Murray County.

Steven would only make a small appearance on the reality show because he is a man of few words and is not in the least bit a source of drama.

So, back to the two drama queens. Libby and I then go home where she assumes the role of North Korea on the topic of napping. She refuses to nap and I get sleepy commanding it. This is the point where I'd like an emergency red phone like they are rumored to have in the basement of the White House. I'd like to pick up the red phone and say, "hello, I can't do this another second of this day, help."

The nap negotiation goes on for about two hours. What else do we have to do? We can't spend money and I'll be derned if I am going to read another book.

I facebook a confession that I didn't pay daycare enough the past four years. My day 2 with Libby proves in my soul that it's HARD to do. (By the way, I love when a proper noun can become a verb...facebook).

Here's where the drama reaches about two on a scale of one to ten, ten being Nancy Grace level of drama.

I take Libby to TaeKwonDo. I miss a rejection call. What? You blinked and missed the drama, right? That's why reality tv can't be true reality. It's flippin' boring as all get out. Just writing about it makes me bored.

So, then, we go to my sister's house for supper and to take her the boxes we picked up for her.

Lastly, we go to Cremo because sbridenstine was dying for a chocolate soft serve. That's how I KNOW we are opposites. I do not like ice cream. I would never drive across town for it and certainly not chocolate flavor. Yuck.

Finally, we get home, try to negotiate with North Korea that it's bedtime.

I talk on the phone with a friend for about an hour and it's night time.

Of course, reality tv would have stopped at the pilot and edited out 90% of that day, don't cha think?