Christmas Lights and Choo-choo trains

Over the Thanksgiving break I was able to go to Callaway Garden’s Fantasy in Lights. Now, typically, I take my holidays one at a time, and hate to put one in front of another, but I was really looking forward to this. My Mom, sister DeAnna, my roommate Folsom, my sister-in-law Edie, my 23 month old niece Elizah, and myself tagged along with my fiancé’s family. Some of the smaller kids in the family rode in David’s aunt’s van, but for the most part, we rode in the trolley. I hadn’t been to see the lights in years, but it was magical. Listening to Christmas music with the cold air stinging our cheeks was a great way to bring in the holidays. Even more fun than seeing the Christmas lights was watching the reactions of both David’s nephew Michael, who just turned two, and my niece. Elizah was in awe the entire time, well, until she finally fell asleep. Michael on the other hand was only too happy to shoot the lights out! Upon entering the path of lights Michael begin yelling “pow” while pointing at the lights. It was so funny! He did this for about the first 10 minutes of the ride, and then randomly throughout. Apparently he thought they were too bright, too loud, or just too there. After the ride was over, my crew ventured to the Christmas village, where there were vendors selling jams, ornaments, nutcrackers and the like. The Christmas village was also where Santa was. We took Elizah to the gates outside the line to sit on Santa’s lap so she could see him. Instead of being interested in him, she was interested in the train circling around the top of the “hut” that Santa was sitting in. Elizah didn’t want to take her eyes off of that train. She would ask for it when it would travel out of sight, and when we could see it again, she would get so excited! I think that she probably would have stayed and watched that train all night. I think that maybe Santa needs to bring little Liza one for Christmas! We all had such a good time, and it brought back so many memories of when I was a little kid.


This time of year always brings back so many memories, and “stories.” So, for your entertainment, I’ve decided to try to come up with one story for each day leading up to Christmas. Think of it as you very own, very different advent calendar. I’ll begin on the first of December, but to tide you over for the next few days, I’ll give you a teaser. Some of these potential stories involve: a pair of red ropers, a red dress, a purple hippopotamus, singing around the Christmas tree, and reindeer sausage, just to name a few.

Wedding Crasher

I have a confession to make. I crashed a wedding last night for the free dinner. Did I know the bride? Well, we might have met, once. My roommate was invited to the wedding and I attended as her “date.” The bride is a sorority sister alum, so we do have mutual friends, a few of which were in attendance. I feel like this justified my presents. It was a beautiful wedding (and I normally don’t enjoy weddings), and even though I didn’t know very many people there, I had fun. The food was great, typical wedding type flavors.
As strange as it may seem, I think that this wedding will be one that I won’t quickly forget. Not having the money for groceries, or the desire to go buy a few with just short time before Thanksgiving break, was the drive behind both of us attending the wedding. These moments when we resent still being in college, when all that’s in the kitchen is ramen, well, these are the memories that you hang onto. These are the times that build character and ingenuity. These are the moments that feed you.

one down four to go...

I finished my last week of clinic today. I had assumed that by this point in the semester I would be so relieved to be finished with clinic that I would celebrate its end with a MEDIUM strawberry margarita. Surprisingly I’m kind of sad. I feel certain that after finals I’ll be ready for that margarita, but right now, I just wish I’d had one more week. A few more sessions in order to reach the goals. Another opportunity to help these children improve their communicative abilities. Don’t get me wrong. There are days that I dread clinic. There are days when I’m tired and stressed and my creativity is all tapped out. There are days when I would much rather do summersaults than work on one more /r/ sound. I’m ready for a break. I’m ready to go home and sleep late and spend time with the ones that I love. But all in all, ending clinic is bitter sweet. I realize that this is what my professors were talking about when they told us that we would know if this profession is for us when we hated the classes but loved the clinic. I’m looking forward to the new challenges that next semester will bring. I’m ready to have adult clients (and if I never have to work on /r/ again, I won’t be in tears).
But first, that margarita.

3 little Grad students standing in a row...

This isn’t an emo blog. Neither is it deep or thoughtful. It’s just a story that I told today…a true story.

We (some people from my cohort) we eating lunch today and talking about how sensory oriented we all are. The conclusion was made that I win at being overly tactile sensitive because I wipe off my hands when I touch something I don’t like, and if I really don’t like it, I flap. The conclusion was also made that I’m the most “autistic.” You see, I made the mistake of explaining that as a child I would just sit on the floor of my room and count. Just count. Not count things, or objects, or sheep in my head. I would just sit and count. And my mom would pop her head in my room to see what I was doing, and I would proudly tell her what number I had just reached in my counting. “I just got to 5, 783 Mom!” It would get really bad if I was somewhere unfamiliar, but then I would count things. I would count bricks on the wall, rocks on the ground, and stitches on a pillow. After I had satisfactory counted my way through the room, I would let someone I trusted (normally Mom) know how many of each object were contained in that space.
I’m officially the weird one now….
Just need to learn to keep my mouth shut.
By the way, there are 17 girls in my cohort. 6 from Montevallo. 2 non-background. 1 from Alabama. 1 from Ole Miss. 2 from Auburn and 5 from AUM.
5 of those girls are married. 1 is divorced. 3 of us are engaged. 2 are in relationships and 6 are single.
There are 3 people who’s last names are Smith
2 are from other countries.
3 redheads

I can’t tell you all of their last names….

It is well

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
* Refrain:
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.