Big Lu's Angry Phase

I went through one angry stage when I was in high school and it was so mild I'm not sure anyone else noticed. My being angry consisted of listening to 70's rock music and brooding up in my happy yellow bedroom. I wasn't actually angry. I was put out about being stuck in high school when there was so much world to be discovered. See, I've always been this way. Then when I realized I had to choose a college instead of a country, I increased my use of eyeliner and learned to perfectly mimic Lou Reed. It was difficult for me to remember that I was "angry." My love for happy things and flowers and big smiles always threw me off, leaving me delighted to hear about the fun times other kids would have and only remembering to sulk when I got home and had nothing to do.

Big Lu's Angry Phase lasted but a few months. I made an unexpected shift from rock and roll to acoustic folk and found myself more interested in mountains than a grungy underground life that would have never suited my delight for sunshine. I was just so over high school. (Read that last sentence like a valley girl please.)

I found this picture and thought of seventeen year old Laura. Angry Lu was probably as convincing as these two.

Photo Duty

Due to being the "artsy one" at work, I've now been put in charge of taking photographs for the company Instagram account. I document everything from the making of flower arrangements and vegetable centerpieces to finished venues to getting the back wheels of our truck stuck a muddy ditch. 

I've found myself super shy and embarrassed having my officemates watch me stage and take photos. It feels snobby and pretentious somehow. I try to wait for moments when everyone runs back to the truck or the kitchen and I hide my camera in my sweater bundle.

Am I going to live my whole life like this??

Stovetop S'mores and Baby Jesus

When we were little girls Grandma would interrupt our random Saturday playtime and make us sit down for a bible lesson. It would be two o'clock in the afternoon and we'd be in the middle of a game of Hide and Seek with Jordan and Alston and she would force the four of us to come inside and listen to tales of "Baby Jesus". We hated this. Our distaste was not pointed towards sweet, baby Jesus but rather Grandma's pesky halting of our fun for what seemed like an entire school day of biblical information. 

Jordan and Alston would get sassy with Grandma, offering rude responses to her rhetorical questions or crossing their eyes white tangling their arms into their legs. Ellen and I giggled softy, paying no mind to Grandma and occasionally taking cues from the boys. I remember feeling guilty that we all gave Granny so much trouble but then I would remember that it was Saturday and that I was surely headed to church tomorrow. "Can't it wait, old lady? We have games to play."

As we got a little older she would bribe us with money to read the bible for 15 minutes or so. "I'll give ya a dollar." she would say and then rummage through her purse. When we passed the age of Saturday games or needing a babysitter at all, she would photocopy pertinent bible lessons and have them distributed evenly by our mothers who would tell us to politely "go with it" while seeming to understand how unhinged this made Grandma seem. 

This past Sunday dinner we had a delicious meal. We talked about life's happenings, all of our different ailments, and how much we hated the color of Ellen's T-shirt. Dad purchased everything you need to make s'mores (He called them spores. Quite genuinely) and we all stood in the kitchen roasting marshmallows over the stove. We're a simple bunch. 

And when it was all over, Mom quietly disappeared into the living room and reappeared with her hands behind her back. "I have something for you girls." she said and then proudly presented each of us with our very own binder.

God's Promises for Good and Bad Times and inside are various clippings and articles. My binder focuses on a directionless life while Ellen's concentrates on strengthening her relationship with God.

We both busted out laughing instantly. "Grandma! Grandma!" Ellen began shouting. 

"You've moved into stage 7!" I gasped. 

"Don't y'all laugh at me!" Mom protested. "Laura, this is not going on the blog!"

We howled with laughter. Dad laughed at us laughing at Mom. 

Sweet little lady. Ain't she precious?

Busy Season

Last weekend started Charleston's busy wedding season. I stood out in the cold wind wrapping ivy and vines through an iron archway and dotting it with pink roses. It was icky and girly. I tried to imagine forcing my own Someday-Husband to stand in front of something so far from masculine, rubbing in the fact that he's saying mushy things in front of everyone he knows. I could never do that to a fella.

This wedding was my first encounter with a twenty-three year old Bridezilla who cried upon the sight of her bouquet, upset that it looked too much like the bridesmaid's bouquets. For the record, they were very different. She was upset about a number of trivial things and sat in the Bridal Suite pouting and scrolling through Instagram, ignoring that everyone who loves her had gathered around to celebrate with her.

Upon the sight of the irate and indifferent bride, the groom's mother broke down crying in front of everyone. We tried to console her. She had no husband and no other children and was about to lose her only son to a girl even I had a few choice words for. We all felt bad for the groom's mom but that didn't matter because the bride suddenly realized there was no champagne in her dressing room!!

Just moments before the ceremony, the cold grey sky opened and sprinkled the now awkwardly silent crowd with a chilly rain. The five of us decorators all froze in unison, our eyes bugged out and our jaws clenched shut. Here we'd spent six hours creating this outdoor fairyland for lil' Stalin and now rain? She won't like this. She won't like this one bit. 

So we had one of the caterers distract her and without a word, we packed up our truck and got the hell out of that place before it was too late.

My weekends for the foreseeable future have all been donated to various brides around town. These are always a wonderful source of dramatic entertainment. I've got lots of fun tales that I'd love to share here but I just can't risk it. I'll have to tell you when I see you. 

As for everyone else, Dad's had the flu, Mom has a sore throat, Chris was sick a few days last week, and Ellen's had a cold. I'd avoided my family for the last nine days. I had them over for Sunday Dinner two days ago and now I have a stuffy nose and achy bones. Luckily, I had my sick day off yesterday and it was 72˚. Budds and I spent some time outside though he refuses to pose for my camera. He recognizes the sound of the shutter and will not look at me. He'll stand three feet in front of me and turn his head slightly away. He did finally give me the stink eye.