Memories of College Days Gone By: Transportation Woes & Blinky

The other morning I found myself stuck behind a school bus while hurrying to a business meeting. It wasn't just any ordinary school bus. The bus I was stuck behind happened to be a University of Tennessee transit bus, one out of a fleet of many like it that zips around campus taking students to and from class or wherever glamorous places they happen to be going.

I found myself reminiscing about my own college days and feeling a tiny bit bitter because we didn't have such fancy (or reliable) transportation.

8 a.m. class on the other side of campus? Back then, it meant waking up extra early and hoofing it [a fancy term for walking]. Nowadays students probably have an app on their smartphones that alerts them to when the bus is coming so they don't have to spend even an extra minute waiting in the elements.

I'll never forget my cousin, who was older by six years, telling me about her first day of college experience. She got up early and put on a cute pair of sandals with her linen walking shorts (people, it was 1994). She said by the time she got to class, she was a disheveled mess complete with blisters, sweaty hair, and other war wounds.

I vowed never to experience this during my college days, but probably took it to the other extreme by wearing stretchy pants and t-shirts way too frequently. Once, while eating lunch with a group of girls from my sorority, a friend glanced my way and asked me, "Didn't you wear that shirt yesterday?"

Without missing a beat, my roommate piped up and said "Yeah, and she slept in it too." Not my finest fashion (or hygiene) moment.

But back to the issue of transportation. It kind of makes me feel like a grandma or grandpa with the proverbial story of walking to school up hill both ways in the snow. "In my day, there weren't any high falutin' buses. We had to walk to class (uphill both ways)."

The thing is, walking was good for us. I actually miss all the walking I did in college. And I enjoyed getting to walk with people, and talk to them while we walked. Nobody had his or her phone out because cellphones were for 'emergencies only' and mainly just used at night, when the free minutes kicked in.

[Another side note - My freshman year of college, I was the only person I knew with a laptop computer and I never once took it to class with me...that's what my spiral bound notebooks were for, duh.]

In so many ways, I'm grateful for what we didn't have back then. I'm grateful there was no social media, no Twitter or Facebook, no Instagram.

[As if! Our Blinky van was never this cool looking]

One thing we did have while I was in college that I doubt still exists on UT's campus is Blinky. Blinky was a 15-passenger Ford van with a blinking strobe light on the roof. This phantom cab of sorts made one wide continuous loop around campus after dark, picking up and dropping off mainly unaccompanied ladies and people on crutches so they wouldn't have to walk unsafely to their destinations. I spent many a night outside my dorm or the dorm of a friend, scanning the horizon for that dimly blinking light, hoping that Blinky was on its way. Blinky drivers really made the experience what it was too, some not speaking a word while others talked your head off, taking each curve on two wheels.

I know these are just silly stories. But there's more to it than that.

Each subsequent generation will have different experiences. And each will probably think they had it harder than the next one. And in some ways maybe that's true. But I know that kids today face different challenges. In many ways, I think it's harder now than ever before.

One day people who haven't even been born will teleport to their college classes and their parents will bemoan the way they used to have to ride only solar powered buses (the audacity!).

But for now, I'll reminisce about the way it was for me. And maybe you have some fond memories about the way things were in your experiences. I hope so!

Why You Should Always Marry the Funny Guy

As a bride-to-be, I've spent a lot of time thinking about marriage...what it means, and what it might be like. Even before I was engaged, I thought about it. Heck, before I ever met my beau I thought about it then too.

As a little girl, I sometimes imagined the man I might date and eventually marry. In my teen years, I had a ridiculous list of qualities that I wanted in a mate...written on a sheet of paper torn from a composition book, now lost (thank goodness). I'd be too mortified to read what my 14-year old self sought in a life partner, let alone want to share it with y'all.

Whatever was included in that magical list of must-have qualities, I'm positive I thought it was a combination that would equal true love and happiness.

I'm sure lots of researchers would say there's a science to matchmaking. That based on a thorough list of qualities and personality traits, it can be determined what partner might be best for you. I haven't done online dating but I was always intrigued by how those types of sites pair people up. I've known several couples who met online and are very much in love so I'm not disparaging that method at all, but I just wonder how a computer can determine who might go with whom.

When I first met my beau (soon to be husband), I never considered him to be someone I'd end up dating or potentially marrying. He was friendly enough, but I thought he had terrible fashion. When he finally asked me out on a date, I said yes because it had been so long since I'd had a date and I was caught up in the excitement and terror of getting ready to graduate from college a few weeks later.

Over the next decade, our relationship has deepened and gone through all sorts of wonderful and challenging periods. Hopefully we've both changed for the better. But one thing that has not changed and I hope never will is his ability to make me laugh.

I don't mean the kind of jokes that you politely chuckle at to spare someone's feelings. I'm talking about belly laughs. The kind where you can't believe something could be so funny and you need to say "please stop, it hurts to laugh anymore."

Whether it's something he's doing on purpose to be funny (ask him to tell you about the high society of Birmingham) or just being himself (accidentally using the dog's toothbrush, mixing up the meanings of popular phrases "pigeon hole" vs. "pigeon toe", etc), he never ceases to make me laugh and laugh.

Of course I think he's attractive to look at too, but we all know that looks can change, as can any other physical qualities.

I'm no relationship expert. I've really only had the one so there's not much for me to compare it to, but I know we've been able to laugh our way through some trying times. And I'm certain more challenges are ahead. But it'll be okay. Because we can laugh about them. Eventually.

So if you find yourself looking for a mate, my advice is to find one who makes you laugh. And keep him/her around for the long haul.

Only in the South: Toilet Love

If you were shocked to see a toilet (yes, it’s mine) on the ol’ blog today…hang on to your socks. There is a reason for this post and it has nothing to do with anything gross. This picture might not look like very much to you. It’s just your average bathroom commode. But when I came home from work last night and saw it, I almost swooned and promptly took a picture.

You see…a couple (ok, three) years ago, yours truly was doing some routine plumbing adjustments to the toilet tank when the ceramic tank lid slipped from my hands and broke into 78 pieces on the bathroom floor. This was not my finest moment. For whatever reason, hardware stores don’t sell just the tank lid….you have to buy a whole new toilet. But my toilet was fine and I couldn’t justify spending the money on a new one while the current one worked ok (minus the tank lid).

So I lived without the lid for all this time, mostly having gotten used to it, but also secretly hating the whole bathroom situation. My dad kindly offered to buy me a new toilet for Christmas, but, not wishing to see one under the tree on Dec. 25, I declined his offer.

Sunday afternoon, I had a small crying jag in which I moaned to my beau about all the unfinished projects around my house, including the toilet minus a tank lid which “embarrassed me to the point that I can’t have people over and have taken to compulsive clothes shopping to soothe myself.” {drama, I tell you}

My southern beau, who didn’t realize this was such a tragic issue for me, calmly said he’d be happy to visit a salvage shop where he was sure he could find me a replacement. I didn’t think he’d be able to find one, but lo and behold, one trip to the salvage store, $5 and 1 canister of Lysol disinfectant wipes later, I have a toilet tank lid that could pass for the original. {If you’re wondering why it took us 3 years to figure out this was such an easy fix, I have no answer for you. I, too, am wondering this.}

So yes, I love my toilet. Only in the south would a girl get so worked up over something like a toilet and only a southern beau like mine could save the day with such quiet bravado. If only he’d waited a couple of weeks to present me with the lid…it could have gone down in history as the best/worst Valentine’s Day gift ever. 

Hart of Dixie

Is anyone else kind of secretly excited (but embarrassed to be so) about the new CW show called Hart of Dixie? What is it about the adventures of a city girl who moves to the south being such fodder for entertainment?

Maybe I’m just happy to see Rachel Bilson acting again or maybe I’m just a sucker for anything set in the sweet south. I guess come September we’ll see. Who else is going to watch? No judgment!

Friday Funny

This isn’t what I was planning to post today, but a friend shared it with me and it just made me smile so much! From her southern charm to her frank way with words, Jeanne is a treat! I know it’s a bit long, but give it a watch if you can…you won’t regret it.

Only in the south: Small town laughs

I hope everyone had a fabulous Thanksgiving and that you were able to spend some time doing something you enjoy (eating!). I wanted to take a break from the traditional holiday content and share a story that I found hilarious. I'm not sure if this falls under the "only in the south" category or maybe just "only in a small town," but either way, it cracked me up.

I spent several days in my hometown for the long weekend and each time I return there, I am reminded of all the sweet and simple things that are afforded by small town living. On the flip-side, I am also reminded of how life in a fishbowl has its pitfalls too. Early Friday morning the phone rang at my parents' house and I heard my mom having this conversation. "Well, I'm not really sure what kind of cologne he wears....I think Polo?" Then a pause..."Oh so you want to know exactly? Ok, hang on. Let me go look in the bathroom closet." Footsteps down the hall. "Yes, it's Polo, Double Black. In a black bottle. Yes, Double Black. Oh, ok well you can tell her that."

The person on the other end of the phone was my aunt. Apparently, her good friend works at the dry cleaners where my dad has always taken his shirts to be cleaned. The friend said that his shirts smell so good when they get dropped off that she just had to know what kind of cologne he wore so she could buy some for her husband.

I'm not sure what I find funnier about all of this. The fact that someone smells my dad's dirty shirts or the fact that she was curious enough to ask about it, but tasked my aunt with the job of inquiring. Maybe the thing we should be most concerned about is the fact that my dad is spraying so much cologne on his shirts. But only in a small town in the south would this scenario play out. I bought him the cologne for his birthday so I guess I should feel good that it is such a hit with the ladies. Who thinks I should contact Polo's advertising department and tell them I just found their new ad strategy?

Happy Monday!