Thankful For Complaining?

Reading magazines used to be un-enjoyable to me. If I "read" a magazine it would be for the ads, pictures, catchy headlines and I would even make a point to read from the back to the front. I guess this was just another minor form of rebellion, even though I have no idea who I was rebelling against. I began working for a magazine when I moved to Gulf Shores and fell in love with the stories. Soon I began to dream of seeing my stories in magazines. Now, I read and even subscribe to some magazines, but you better believe they are full of subjects I want to learn about, not gossip and famous trash.

I have been assigned the duty at work to read through our industry magazines and learn more about the Incentive Travel industry. There is something to be said about the person who makes a point to stop and read the half page article written by the magazine editor. I am not really sure what there is to be said about that person, but most people move right past it to the headliners. Maybe it says they are observant. Anyway, I am one of those people. As I am trying to educate myself on incentive travel and the up and downs of the economy, the editor of One+ Magazine reminded me of what we really need to be focusing on right now - Thanksgiving.

Every year I try to think of what I have been complaining about all year and turn it into a positive. Now let us be real here for a minute, most of my complaints are just me being a spoiled brat so most of them are not really all that negative to begin with. After reading One+ this morning I realized I had not yet processed my thankfulness. So, lucky you, here we go:

I am thankful for…

1. Cramming a three bedroom home into my high school bedroom – it means I have parents supporting me, and I did not have to move from couch to couch when I lost my job.

2. For Avery screaming at a pitch that can break glass when I leave the room – it means she knows me, loves me and misses me.

3. Never having enough time in my day to get everything accomplished – this means I have a purpose in my life and I am proactive in making things happen.

4. Having someone I really love not speaking to me – it means he still has emotion towards me.

5. Waking up at 5:15 am – it means I have a job, a meaningful life and I am definitely not bored.

6. Alabama having a good season this year (I am an Auburn grad and fan) – because it has given my weakening grandmother something to look forward to and gloat about.

Some of these are hard to remember each and every day, but at least I am trying. I may still sound cynical on a daily basis, but sometimes you just have to understand it is more sarcasm than cynicism. Overall, I really do not have anything to complain about, but alas, I still do. So, maybe this New Year's Resolution will be to cut it all out. Now that may be hard seeing as how most of my humor comes from complaining, but we will see how it all plays out. I am sure I will have a few complaints left to express.

Topics Discussed At Work Today by 8:50 am

When ironing a man’s shirt be sure to use a large full size ironing board. If you use the small, counter top ones the shirt will not fit on the board and then when you move to another section the shirt falls off and gets wrinkled again. This will cause you to throw the small ironing board across the room terrifying your children.

Saran wrap is the worst invention known to man.

I recently took a pair of pants to a well known local seamstress to have them hemmed. In summary, they were too short, so they “fixed” them and the hem was so loose it pulled out right in front of them. They would not fix the hem with out charging me. I snatched the pants up, stomped out of the store, and slammed their door as well as my car door. I really showed them.

Wire coat hangers. You try to get one down only to find five of them tangled together. You give the one you want a little shake to free it from its tangle only to have all five fall on the floor.

Life is hard.

Not So Dirty Little Secret

So I have this little secret, but do not get nervous, there is nothing dirty about it.

I am a faithful subscriber to Field & Stream Magazine and even have an account with www.fieldandstream.com, where I am known to enter photos in many of their unique photo contests. I do not think you actually win anything, but I LOVE seeing the pictures on the website. I feel so important, even though they are posted with over 100 photos. Oh well.

So, here is the latest and greatest photo entry and description. Maybe this one will win!!

Heidi is madly in love with her owner. She protects his new baby girl, cleans the floor and leads every hunt - even those in the back yard. No bird passes over her without her knowledge. There is not a word of English she cannot understand. She reminds me of the dog from Peter Pan who nannies the children. Heidi loves, protects and provides for all members of the family, extended members included.

People Come From Miles Around

I have never understood why there is so much to do in October. Maybe it is the excitement of the cool weather or the leaves beginning to change. It could be football starting back or even a celebration of life we have made it through another hurricane season. Regardless the reason, there are endless festivals, cook-offs and dare I say it, the Fair.

When I was a little girl, the fair in Montgomery was called the South Alabama State Fair. It has of course changed titles throughout the years, but it will ever to me be the South Alabama State Fair. The theme song constantly runs through my head this time of year, and people all around me want to kick me for singing it.

When I was in middle school my best friend, who is now Mrs. Sarah Plummer (+1), lived right by the fair and the fact that I could see the top of the ferris wheel from her house made her that much cooler. We always met up with the kids from school and blushed when we got to ride a ride with a boy. Actually, Sarah ALWAYS got to ride with a boy which I think may have happened once for me, but regardless, we still blushed.

The best was when Sarah’s dad would take us on a Saturday or Sunday morning when there was nobody there and just Sarah and I got to ride all the rides as many times as we wanted. I think she would still agree that hands down the Zipper was our favorite. We always rode that together and never only just once. The Zipper is one of those that flipped you upside down in the smallest cage known to man and your stomach flipped so much you laughed continuously throughout the whole ride.

I have not been to the fair, or any fair at that, for years. Now that I am home I have to say I am itching for it a bit. I really doubt I would fit in those little cages and well, let’s be honest, my stomach is not as strong as it used to be. So, this year I settled for another part of the fair that was completely foreign to me as a child. I entered a painting in the Art Contest.

My co-worker, Amy, was gracious enough to let me take my painting off of her wall for two weeks so I could have a chance at winning a quick $500. I ended up getting food poisoning during the time you had to enter your paintings, but God willing, Amy and I were going to get it there. I crawled into the Coliseum with my painting in tow, breaking a sweat one minute and freezing the next. I just knew I was going to win something for all of this. Wrong.

I got beat by a bunch of third graders!!!! First, second and third place went to all elementary school students and then there were about 5 honorable mentions, in which I did not receive one. There were plenty of entries around mine that won, but I got nothing. Not that I think I am better than everyone, because I am not, but if I cannot do better than elementary artwork, I need a new hobby.

Regardless it was fun doing it and I got a minute in the fair. I did not ride any rides, but I did try to get some of the legendary fudge. I wanted to cry when I saw it was cash only. If only I had won the art contest, I could have paid for the fudge.

And before I forget, I could never post this without including the old jingle for you:

People come from miles around

From the farms and from the towns

To where excitement will be found

At the South Alabama State Faaaaaaair

Pure poetry.

The soar loser...

Adventures of the Williford Household: Good Girl Heidi

“Hey, Tracy, did I show you these pictures? She was leading the hunt the whole time! Look at her. Isn’t she awesome?”

“Yeah, I see. She does look really great.”

“Here is the little hunter now. Hey Heidi, whatcha got there?
Oh my God. Heidi, drop it!!”

“What is that?!”

“I don’t know! I squirrel?”

“Where did it go?!”

“Watch out!!”

“Is it under my chair?!”

“Yeah, that’s a chipmunk.”

“Well, it is in shock now.”

“See, I told you she was good.”

Cane Etiquette

For the past few weeks my father has been walking with a cane. He is in need of a hip replacement, so until that happens, he has the cane. When I saw the cane for the first time I began planning my escape route. I just knew the cane would be this dark cloud over our house. It is not easy to have to rely on something else in order to walk, and I was terrified my father would be frustrated. I was wrong.

The whole purpose of the cane is to create an additional mobile support system for individuals needing a little extra assistance. I like to think of it as a railing you can take with you anywhere you go in order to hold on. It is not, however, to be used as an extension of your hand. Yes, there are a lot of cool things you can do with a cane and I think my father has gotten pretty close to figuring them all out. But here are a few cane tricks he is going to need to lay off of:

• It is one thing to talk with your hands, but it is a whole other story when you talk with your hands and do not put the cane down first. You find yourself with a rubber stump about an inch from your face. It can get a little distracting.

• My mother means well. She does. Sometimes she just talks at the wrong time. My sister and I have been trying to figure out a way to get her to stop interrupting and to stop trying to guess the rest of everyone’s sentences. My Dad found a way - the cane. Last night she would not let me finish what I was saying and my dad just popped her with the cane. Right there in front of everyone, he just popped her with it. We were all so taken back by it, that we could not stop laughing.....mom included.

• Hanging the cane on any possible surface in order to see if it will stay there, is not the point of the cane. What in the hell do you think happens when it falls and he cannot reach down to pick it up? I end up chasing a cane all over the house. I tell ya, being 27 and living with your parents is awesome.

In all honesty my Dad looks pretty cool with the cane. It kind of sends the “don’t mess with me” message. Like he could take you down with one quick flick of the wrist. Just ask mom, she knows.

Even though I am thrilled the cane did not turn into a black cloud for the Yoders, it has caused some inappropriate entertainment for my Dad. I am very thankful my dad decided to use the cane. I know it probably took mom a long time to make him see he really cannot walk without it, he is in some desperate need of Cane Etiquette.

Analytical Dream

I was racing down the interstate, late getting to my destination. There was a semi truck in the right hand lane and I needed to get around it. As I started to pass, the road started to curve. The semi began moving over into my lane with nowhere to go, but into the median. As I drifted I noticed it was not a semi at all. It was a Budweiser truck drawn by six dark, giant horses. Their hair and their tails flying high behind them in the wind as they charged ahead over 90 miles an hour.

I am driving in the median trying to stay on track and not lose control. The horses never stop; they keep pushing me over and over until I cross the other side of the interstate. The embankment on the other side of the road it a mass of dark brown mud. Mountains of soft, suffocating mud. The horses lose control, knocking me out of my car and into the mud. I am flying high and then sliding down the muddy hillside. The horses are still moving towards me, chasing me down the hillside. I am shoving my feet and my arms into the mud trying to slow myself down and stop the falling before the horses land on top of me. I can feel the mud consuming me, comfortably surrounding me and slowing suffocating me.

I cannot die. I cannot leave yet, I have too much to do. My mother will cry and my father will miss me. I have to beat the horses. I cannot let them fall on me.

The movement stops. I am lying at the bottom of the muddy hillside. I am alive. There is something wrong with my leg, but I do not care. I get up. I walk away the only survivor except for one horse. He is standing calmly in the middle of the road. He is waiting for me. He is my only way to get away from this place. I climb on his back and we ride together to find my parents, to find help. I see the police and the ambulance down the road, but they are so far away. Why are they so far down the road, when we are down here?

He takes me to them, to safety, as I lay on his back. He delivers me home, the only survivor.