Okay, I’m not talking about boiling bunnies or stalking a celebrity (Wentworth Miller of “Prison Break” fame, you have been warned), but I do indeed have a problem. I am obsessed with Vera Bradley bags. (That’s my partial collection at left. I can think of at least four pieces I’m missing. Yikes.) I can’t explain it. Some of the patterns are downright ugly. Still, I find myself staking out rumor boards for possible upcoming patterns, participating in private online sales and scouring eBay for retired prints. What can I say? It’s fun!

My husband might think otherwise. When I recently had a local retailer call to say they had gotten in two limited edition SOI bags in Paprika (squeal!), I was so excited! I got one of just two they’d received! Bill? Just rolled his eyes with an “ohhhh, booooy.” Men. Can’t live with ‘em, but CAN use their credit cards.

It could be worse — I’m not collecting Gucci, right? (Now, Betsey Johnson is another subject altogether, but Bill hasn’t caught on to that little gem yet.) At this point, it’s become a bit of a challenge — to find the best deals on new and gently used Vera Bradley products. I’ve gotten some pretty good deals, ranging from a book cover for $6 on a private Facebook sales page to three retired sashes on eBay for $14 shipped and a petal pink Super Tote on eBags.com for $35. Fist pump! Yes! …CONTINUE READING »

The transformation is complete – my little man is just like his father. Brian can proudly say he has a mini-me. 

Brian has been trying since the kids were about two years old to make Doran a Star Wars fan. Doran received Brian’s Star Wars action figures collection at an early age and promptly lost most of them. Luckily, he managed to hold onto most of the Star Wars spaceships he inherited. And, he seems to be happy to be a little version of Brian. It’s cute to see Brian and Doran play-fighting each other with light sabers around the house (even though I’ve told them no light saber fights in the house). I really think Brian had kids so he could relive his childhood. Even though he gets tired of playing the same video game over and over with him, I know Brian enjoys hearing Doran squeal with happiness at the chance to play Lego Star Wars on the Wii again. …CONTINUE READING »

Every year, for at least the past seven years, the company I work for has celebrated Oktoberfest with a chili cook-off. Not only is this a great excuse to eat and drink beer at work, but all of the proceeds go to a charitable organization.

Here’s how it works. All of the people who want to participate in the chili cook-off put their name on a list. People who want to bring other types of food — such as crackers, cheese, and desserts — sign the sheet as well. However, only the chili and soup recipes are eligible for the 1st and 2nd place prizes.

Our company also orders Oktoberfest glasses, which are available for $5 apiece. If you want to drink beer during lunch, this glass is essential. And for another $5, you get to sample and vote on all of the different varieties of chili and soup (yes, even if you brought food… but hey, it’s for a good cause).

As an additional fundraising effort, we shoot crumpled up newspaper into a garbage can – five balls for $1. There’s typically a 1st and 2nd place prize for this contest, and it’s fun to see how competitive some people get “shooting hoops” after a couple of beers. …CONTINUE READING »

Last week, my husband and I celebrated our 8th wedding anniversary in Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida. Well, he worked and I played. On Wednesday, I trudged through Epcot to watch singer/ songwriter Vanessa Carlton take the stage during the festival’s nightly “Eat to the Beat” concert series.

I’ve been a Vanessa Carlton fan since the release of “Be Not Nobody” in 2002. The singer is known for top 40s hits such as “A Thousand Miles,” “Ordinary Day” and “White Houses” and her music is on regular rotation on my iPod. Naturally, I was thrilled to see she would be performing in the concert series during my vacation.

At 5:15, I happily took my seat at the American Gardens Theatre. She started off with a bang, playing several songs from her current and past records on the piano and singing; however, when she began one of her better know songs, she slipped up on the lyrics and stopped, using a four-letter expletive. She apologized and began the song again. There was nervous laughter around, and at the end of her first performance, Carlton apologized, bowed with her guitarist, and left the stage (that’s her beating a hasty retreat at left). …CONTINUE READING »

If you know me just a bit, even via blog, you know that I am not a sports fan. Sorry dudes, I have the kind of brain that enjoys watching So You Think You Can Dance! Unfortunately, this doesn’t work out great for me, considering my live-in boyfriend is a complete sports nut. As in, he gets us kicked out of bars during stressful games type of nutty. He’s tried to convert me to his kind time and time again, even going so far as purchasing me a complete wardrobe of purple, gold and sports paraphernalia. But no. I can not be bought. However, I’ve learned to cope, some way, somehow.

Last night I was tricked into attending a football game viewing party at one of our regular dinner joints — Hudson Grille Perimeter in Atlanta. I was lured into attendance by the promise of a 32″ flat-screen that they were giving away to one lucky diner. Since I love electronics as much as the next spoiled North American, and since I was just feeling darn lucky, I agreed to go even though we just purchased a new 42″. The bathroom needs a TV, too.

When we got there, it was pretty empty — around 7 pm. There was a 680 The Fan (sports talk radio) van parked outside, and sure enough, when I got inside, there were a bunch of guys and their poor girlfriends/wives (bless their hearts) dressed in red, gold, and baby blue, ready to watch the UNC vs. Florida State (I think?) game that was to start at 8 pm. Fine…one hour…we’d be done eating by then, and maybe one flat-screen richer, so who was I to complain? …CONTINUE READING »

Every so often on the news, you’ll see a feel-good story in which the subject of the story is touted as a “hero.” There was Captain Sullenberger, who safely landed the US Airways jet in the middle of the Hudson River. Occasionally, there’s the toddler who dials 911 and saves his mom’s life. We love to hear about these things because it reaffirms our faith in humanity.

Think of how many times you hear the term “sports hero” in a single week? I appreciate sports with the best of them, but I think our terminology is a bit wrong though. If you asked Captain Sullenberger, he’d say he’s not a hero. He performed a heroic act but he would say that the label of “hero” is not really appropriate.

When the media surrounds and focuses on these kinds of acts, it sends the message that in order to be a hero, you have to perform some one-time feat of extraordinary heroism. That’s just not true. The most heroic among us are the ones who live heroically.

True heroism exists in those of us who exhibit little acts of heroism every day. It’s the parent who works two jobs to put food on the table, the person fighting cancer, the single mothers, the child who stays out of trouble and gets good grades in school while living in a home where drug and alcohol abuse is rampant.

My hero is a man who spent his entire working life in a foundry so that he could provide a home for his family. I am speaking of my dad. The foundry where he worked was so hot that he constantly had a V-shaped redness on his neck while I was growing up, from where his shirt collar ended. He’d come home so tired that he’d fall asleep in the recliner while Mom made dinner. He never got impatient with his kids, and even took time to answer the myriad of stupid questions I fired at him all the time. “Can dogs see color?” “Where does fire come from?”

All of it was for his family. He didn’t have time for hobbies, didn’t belong to a country club–in fact, he has never owned a new car in his life. He has never had to run into a burning building to save one of his kids, but we all know he would if the situation arose. He has never had to perform some dramatic life-saving gesture for any of us, but his daily actions have shaped our lives and made us better people for it. True heroism comes in increments and is cumulative. He, and others like him, will never make the 6:00 news, will never be given a medal for courage, but that makes them even more courageous in my book.

I have finally learned the meaning of the statement ‘Do the thing you think you cannot do’. This statement is printed on a magnet that resided on our fridge for more than ten years. I would pass by and catch a glimpse of this powerful statement as I reached for eggs for breakfast, or got a glass of milk in the evening.  The statement always resonated with me, as I’m by nature a scaredy cat who tests very high for risk aversion.  Fear is a normal part of my life.

However, even after 10 years mulling over this statement, I never really got it. Until now that is. You see, I always thought the statement was about the ‘thing’ – you focus on the thing you are afraid of and force your way through to the outcome.  Recent events here at work have shown me a rather different, and much more comforting and workable viewpoint.

A recent re-organization meant I changed my job here at Kudzu, and it changed drastically. I was scared witless, thinking I did not have the skills or aptitude to manage the work required of me.  I was very much outside my comfort zone, forced there by circumstances not of my own making. That’s a scary place to be and I’ll admit I shed some tears over my imagined ineptitude.  Over the last several months I have had to face my fear and walk with it every day. I could not barrel through to the ‘thing’ on the other side, because there was no ‘thing’, there was just ‘do’.  DO the thing you think you cannot do. …CONTINUE READING »

In the eighth grade, I met Vicki. She and I became best friends and stayed that way even though her family moved quite a bit. I would go stay with her or she would come visit me every few months when we lived in different states. The visits at her house were always raucous due to her four little brothers who were a handful.

Unfortunately, after we both started having families of our own, we lost touch but for the occasional call or email. I happened to be looking in the newspaper the other day and saw an obituary for her father, who had died after a long illness. Most of his family still resides in the city I live in so the funeral was going to be local and I was able to attend.

As I sat in the church, I was able to take a long look at her brothers, all now with families of their own. It just amazed me. Here were all of these–well, as I knew them—brats, all grown up and respectable. Two of them are pharmacists, one owns his own company and one, the baby, Michael, is a truck driver. And they are all such sweet and gentle family men. The juxtaposition of my memories of these guys with the present day reality just floored me. I guess seeing these guys as adults was more startling to me because I wasn’t around for the intervening years. …CONTINUE READING »