Happy St. Patrick's Day!

It's funny to think so many people celebrate St. Patrick's Day but don't really know the reasons why they are celebrating. (I wont lie, I'm guilty for the exact thing) For most of us, the details don't really matter and the holiday is more of an excuse to drink green beer, to wear green, to pinch people, and decorate with shamrocks But for all you curious people out there you are in luck because right now I'm offering your googling fingers a little break from research with a basic synopsis of what our favorite lucky holiday is all about.

First of all St. Patty's day was originally a religious day celebrating St. Patrick's (the patron saint of Ireland) leading snakes out of Ireland... in layman's terms meaning he was credited with converting much of Ireland to Christianity. Over the years it went from a religious day to a secular holiday that celebrates the strength and pride of the Irish culture and Irish immigrants. Short, sweet, and pretty simple huh?

Anyways, I hope everyone had a fantabulous St. Patty's Day! Even though I'm not Irish, it didn't hold me back from celebrating!! (celebrated twice actually haha)

Gimp is Pimp

Just a little over three years ago I was recovering from a broken knee. It was mid day on a Saturday afternoon, in my bedroom of the sorority house I was living in. With a room full of other housemates hanging out I got out of my bed like I had done a million times before, but this specific instance my foot got caught on my comforter. In the what seemed like a slight shift to release myself from its hold... I dislocated my knee. Two weeks later I had surgery removing bone, repairing/attaching ligaments, and putting my knee cap back in place. I spent over 4 months in a knee immobilizer and after three months of physical theapy I still couldn't bend my knee over 30 degrees. I lived in a three story house with no elevator, was going to school at a place nicknamed the "hilltop" and I dreaded many of the simple tasks we do without thinking (walking, getting in and out of the car, sitting in chair, taking a shower, walking across the stage for graduation, steps.. you name it, and it was difficult because I couldn't bend my knee).

I guess as time has passed I had blocked some of those horrible memories but this past weekend when I had some sorority sisters visiting, I busted out my knee immobilizer and walked around just to be funny. It was funny, but at the same time my mind got flooded with memories of that horrible time in my life. At that time I was so depressed; I was told I was never going to be the same ever again and I left the hospital in tears after every visit....it was ruining my senior year in college. It was a touchy subject for me. But now that so much time had passed the girls decided to bust out stories of way back when I was gimp (as we liked to call it). It's interesting to hear other people interpretation of how they perceive your life. But they made me remember all the bad things I mentioned in the first paragraph and more. Apparently I didn't hide the fact I was struggling very well.

It's crazy how quickly life can change in just a matter of moments with no rhyme or reason for the cause. But breaking my knee opened my eyes... It taught me not to take for granted simple things, like mobility. Be thankful for all the amazing things we do have and it also gave me so much empathy for people with handicaps. If you see someone struggling, help them out. If you can't find a parking spot, don't take the handicapped one because the 100 steps it takes you from the back of the parking lot could seem like 10 miles for someone that struggles.

I am so glad my friends and I brought up when gimp was pimp this past weekend because I needed to be reminded. Now that every moment isn't painful or a contstant reminder of my injury I have started to take for granted what was once taken from me. Because now I CAN....I can now walk, sit, dance, climb steps, jog, I can wear heels like its my job, I can just be me. From the average eye no one would have any idea that anything had every happened to me. And I think God he gave me back that opportunity.

I just want to remind people to live life to the fullest. You can plan out your life all you want but you can't predict what will actually happen. Live in the moment and while it may be hard sometimes, be grateful for everything God has given you/or in some cases taken away.

A Family Tradition

Last week went by in a jiff! It was kind of hard to believe everything that happened.
Monday, my grandfather had a massive heart attack (while in the hospital for a flesh eating staff bacteria infection on his arm (long story)). I finished getting the inspection and appraisal on the house I am buying. Thursday it was officially…. I am a few signatures away from being a home owner. Closing date March 31st!!! Friday, I got an email from the school I applied for my MBA. Got accepted. Yah! (guess the panties didn’t scare them away after all haha- view previous posts for all that are confused).

After such a busy week it was nice how my weekend turned out. Ended up having a lot of family time. With over two hours in the car with my mom and my grandma, I got to think about how rare and wonderful it was that I get to be so close to my family. My family is small, but we have used that to our advantage. As of right now, all my grandparents are still alive and I knew all my great-grandparents except for one. All have been a very big part of my childhood and my life. My great-grandparents were gone by the time I was in high school but just the thought of 4 generations of family getting to know each other is an amazing privilege. It gives you the opportunity to learn your roots, pick up on your family similarities; you become part of a tradition that is a wonderful thing. I know with no prospect of a husband or any babies on the way that the chances to share those wonderful experiences with my grandparents is growing slimmer by the day as we both get older. I hate the thought that my grandparents and future kids (if I get the opportunity to have kids) will miss out on that amazing part of life. But this weekend I really took the time to spend with my grandparents and family because when my grandfather had his heart attack the reality set in that these amazing people are precious and that time with them is limited. Live each moment to its fullest and don’t take those around you for granted.

Today I challenge you go out of your way and do something nice for your loved ones. Pick up the phone, put a card in the mail, or drop in and say Hi! It's the small things in life that really count.

I don't have alot of older pictures here in Nashville but I tried my best. This is my sister (the baby), my mom, my grandma Kate, and Granny.
This is my sister and I, my mom, Grandma Kate, and my dad's mom (mimi in my eyes)
(I know the men of the family aren't represented here but they are all loved the same! :o) )

Nashville Flea Market

Even before I moved to Nashville, living in the boonies of KY, I had heard about the Nashville flea market. It is ranked #7 in the nation in terms of flea markets and ridiculously has over 1300 booths. I have lived down the street from the flea market for almost 3 years now and have never been. This past weekend I decided since I had the day to myself and had visions of home buying in my mind that I would go. Besides having to pay to park a mile away I really enjoyed my first expereicne. First of all I was blown away by the selection….. If you want or need something, this venue has it. I went primarily looking for antiques or interesting home décor pieces and the selection was most definitely there as well as the prices. These people are all about making a bargain. (Now that’s my kind of shopping! Haha) But the vendors ranged from all different ages, races and cultures with different backgrounds, stories, and interesting facts about their products and made for some very cool converstaions for a Saturday afternoon. I didn't really go to buy but I did end up leaving with a couple things and had a very fulfilling Saturday afternoon. If you haven't been to the Nashville flea market, but love bargains and have the knack for shopping... Totally hit it up. It is every 4th weekend of the month. I can’t wait to go back next month if I actually have a new house to put furniture in!!!

For all you antique lovers, here is a blog for an antique store that I have become quite fond of!

Hills Chapel Antique Store

Someone Else's Clothes

Someone Else's Clothes
By Kacey, a dear friend that wanted to share some thoughts

Today I am wearing what is probably my favorite shirt. I’m not afraid to tell you that I purchased it from Goodwill - this is not a usual practice of mine but a few years back I was at Goodwill looking for some items for a costume when I saw this shirt and had to have it. It is a men’s, pastel pink, Ralph Lauren button down. When I purchased it, it looked barely worn and I would have thought it to be new had there not been one little marking. Inside of the shirt, written just below the bottom buttonhole is the name “Harwell M”.

I have often wondered who this Harwell M is/was and why he got rid of this shirt. I also wondered why his name would be written on the inside. I don’t know his story but I have created one for him. I believe he was an older man. The shirt is quite small for a man’s shirt, maybe Harwell had begun to shrink in his later years. Harwell was living in an assisted living facility where staff members laundered his clothes for him. Harwell, being slightly crotchety, was quite sensitive about his belongings being mixed in with the things of the other residents. To calm his worries, Harwell’s daughter had written his name in all of his clothes during a visit. This way he could be certain he wasn’t wearing anyone else’s shirt and they weren’t wearing his. After his death Harwell’s belongings were donated to Goodwill. Then I found Harwell M’s polo shirt...

The consideration of the past life of this shirt is especially poignant today. I received an e-mail this morning reminding me that today was my grandfather’s birthday. He passed away in 2007 but had he been alive today he would have been 100 years old. As I sat at my desk considering his later days, I realized that I had partially based Harwell’s story on my own grandfather. Though his name wasn’t written in his shirts, he did live his final days in an assisted living facility. After his death, his clothes too were taken to be donated. And somewhere out there someone is wearing Ernest M’s shirt. They will never know it but that shirt once clung to the back of a good man- an honest, decent, kind hearted man. Maybe some of his goodness will rub off on them. And maybe some of Harwell M’s will rub off on me.

My mother, grandfather and uncle on the family farm in the late 50's