beth lately

march photo challenge day one

2012-03-01T21:14:00.000-06:00

march photo a day challenge

day one: up

No regrets

2012-02-23T14:46:00.001-06:00

Ten years ago I had it all figured out. I was going to marrythe boy. I was going to have the house, the puppy and the American dream. I wasso lucky. Until I had to walk away.

It hurt realizing the situation wasn't for the best. It hurtknowing the last decision I wanted to make was the one decision I had to make.But eventually that hurt went away.

Five years ago I had it all figured out. I was going tomarry the boy. We already had the house and the puppy. All we needed tocomplete our American dream was two boys and a girl. I was so lucky. Until hetook a job a thousand miles away.

It hurt watching himload up and drive away out west. The three-hour phone call that came a weeklater hurt more than I thought possible. It hurt watching Maggie wander aroundthe house looking for him.

It still hurts he never bothered to find out if my dad’scancer treatments worked or not. It hurt to be sick and scared and all alone.It hurt to be robbed and have no one to protect me.

I don't know if this is the kind of hurt that every goesaway. Or if it's the kind of hurt you adapt too. If anything, it's the hurt youwake up one day and realize it's gone. Nothing more, nothing less.

But at the end of theday, I don’t regret saying no. I don’t regret not moving. I don't regretputting me first for once. No regrets.

At the end of the day, you leaving was just my newbeginning.

the Beth in Beth Lately

2012-02-13T23:07:00.000-06:00

Linking up with Neely at A Complete Waste of Makeup.

Beth Lately is all about me. I’m a girl. Born in the north, living in the south. Trying to find my place in this world. I have a master’s degree in communications, an awesome job, a convertible, a cute house and a dog named Dr. Maggie. All that’s missing is a swimming pool and a trampoline.

I have an immense fear of lightbulbs and blood pressure machines. I believe a good batch of chocolate chip cookies can cure cancer – just ask my dad. I love armadillos, antiques and all things Air Force. My passion for the First Amendment runs deep. My disillusionment with the state of journalism today runs deeper.

I have a story for everything and every occasion. I’m embarrassed of my laugh but love my ridiculous accent. I’m extremely shy and often told my brain doesn’t work the way others do. My friends call me BMac. You can too.

These are my confessions

2012-02-10T09:36:00.000-06:00

It's time for a little confesh sesh with Leslie over at A Blonde Ambition.

I confess. I bruise easily. So easily I have a perma-bruise on my left shoulder from my seatbelt. Lame. At least no one will ever be able to get away with abusing me.

I confess. If I was in a store and I wanted to look at something the boy didn’t and he was trying to steer me away from it, I use to yank my hand away and yell, “You’re hurting me!” to embarrass him and get my way. I should probably add that to the reasons we didn’t work out. But seriously, I’m hilarious.

I confess. I think it’s really gross when people put cheese on hamburgers or mix meats. Club sandwich? Gross. Bacon hamburger? Double gross. Bacon cheeseburger? Triple gross.

I confess. All the clothes in my closet are hung by season then by type then by color. All the hangers are the same. All the clothes face the same direction. There is definitely a wrong way and a right way to hang up clothes. It’s the one place in my life that has any type of order.

I confess. Confession time, real talk and truth table with the bff over the past week has been good for the soul. He’s the best at saying what I need to hear, not what I want to hear. I love him anyway.

Wekkend Recap

2012-02-07T11:47:00.000-06:00

It's a good thing confessions happen on a Friday and not on a Monday. Because a lot of text conversations happened with the bff that went a little something like this:

I kinda want to but I'm not sure if it's a good okay or just totally trashy.

Well. If you have to ask ...

one. birthday party with friends.

two. forgetting we're 29, not 19.

three. Maggie upset the Patriots lost the Super Bowl.

Confesh Sesh

2012-02-03T10:22:00.001-06:00

It's time for a little confesh sesh with Leslie over at A Blonde Ambition.

I confess. I’ve been spending ~~a little~~ way too much time with my dad watching Wheel of Fortune. Now I secretly wish (that’s why it’s a confession you guys) that I was super rich and could quit my job and do scientific studies on the show. I strongly feel that I need to know someone’s chances of going to the final round if they won the prize puzzle versus if they didn’t win the prize puzzle. Because I think the prize puzzle is the whole ticket to winning the show. And I need some numbers on this. These are the things that keep me up at night.

I confess. I also secretly wish someone will just lose their shit on Wheel of Fortune. Seriously. How great would that be? I want to see somebody throw the Wild Card at Pat Sajak when they go bankrupt. Or storm off the stage when they lose a turn. I need this to happen in my lifetime.

I confess. Valentine’s Day has always given me the heebie-jeebies. I can’t help it. The one good thing about ending a serious relationship is I no longer have to worry about being proposed to on Valentine’s Day. Because gross. We would have to break up immediately. Sorry bout ya.

I confess. I looked up round-trip flights to London yesterday. Which I should not have done. Because that $700 price tag is making me want to say, “Peace out, America!” But me and the BFF only turn 30 once. Or in this case 29 twice.

I confess. I think if women want to lie about their age, they should tack on some years. People might think I look a little rough for 21, but I look damn good for 45. Am I right, or am I right?

I confess. I still feel a little skeezy going into a liquor store. I always want to announce to everyone, “I haven’t even been in here in almost a year!” or “This isn’t even for me! It’s a hostess gift!” Really it’s for a BYOB party I’m attending that I don’t want to show up empty handed for, but “hostess gift” sounds so much classier.

dog math

2012-01-25T12:34:00.000-06:00

When Maggie was a baby I decided she was not sleeping in the bed. No way, no how. But the boy was enamored with her puppy dog eyes and all three pounds of her charm. And somehow she magically kept finding her way to the promised land.

Now that she’s 61 pounds of all grown up, she’s big enough to get on the bed by herself and stubborn enough to not take no for an answer. So I’m stuck with a cover-stealing, bed-hog, wet nose for the rest of my life. Because Maggie is going to live to be 98. Or at least 98 minus 27. Cause you know, that’s how math works.

the good, the bad, the ugly

2012-01-23T21:47:00.000-06:00

the good

Last week I broke down and went to the doctor. Some poking, prodding, blood work and an MRI later, I'm the proud owner of two new prescriptions. And while it could be just wishful thinking on my part, I think I might actually be feeling better.

the bad

Maggie has cost me approximately $200 in the past week in vet bills. The good news? She's healthy.

The bad news? I'm completely neurotic.

the ugly

My biggest fear is I'll never get past this point in my life. But since I haven't even attempted to for the past year and a half, and now I'm actually trying – that's all I can really ask for.

2012-01-19T12:21:00.000-06:00

Hey y’all. Here’s the dealio. Last night was the inaugural meeting of the 2^nd Thursday Book Club. On a Wednesday. I know that doesn’t make sense, but just follow along.

Someone moved to vote me out of the book club. Rude. I said something genius. Then immediately moved to let the record show I made a valuable contribution to said book club. I can’t remember what it was, but if it’s in the record it must be official.

We only have two rules. One. It can’t be set before 1920. That may or may not have been my rule. Two. No depressing stuff that makes us want to break up with ourselves. With these rules, it took us a good thirty minutes to actually find a book to read. Books are complicated y’all.

We looked up what’s trending for book club groups. Don’t ask me how. They are better at the Internets than I am. The number one read right now? Sarah’s Key.

Synopsis: Paris, July 1942. Sarah, a ten-year-old girl, is taken with her parents by the French police as they go door-to-door arresting Jewish families in the middle of the night. Desperate to protect her younger brother, Sarah locks him in a bedroom cupboard - their secret hiding place - and promises to come back for him as soon as they are released.

Immediately overheard at book club. “What? Why are people reading this? Book club people are sick.”

But I have been wanting to read this forever. “It’s not sad. They find each other. They’re reunited 20 years later when they realize they married each other unknowingly. Kidding, just kidding.”

Later, in bed. I cannot stop laughing. Because that’s exactly how I would have written the book. Please be true.

2012-01-17T12:29:00.001-06:00

Monday, Monday - Can't trust that day

Yesterday was not a good day. I let smug, anonymous jerks on Twitter get the best of me. I was not perfect at my job. I let the past control my present. Yesterday was hard to accept.

On the rare occasion I open up to people they always say the same thing. “Oh but Beth – you have three degrees. You own a car and a house and a cute puppy. You have a great job. You’re living the American dream.”

Except society doesn’t define success on one’s ability to successfully graduate from a state-run university. But they are quick to judge you for wasting too many years on someone who eventually ran away to join the circus and left you with a house and a job and a puppy and no back-up plan. And now I’m too old and too jaded and too scared to start over.

So yes. Yesterday was not a good day. But today? Today will be better.

2012-01-15T23:24:00.000-06:00

Daddy Mac went to the doctor Friday and found out he has to have a somewhat experimental surgery in the coming months. Not gonna lie. He took the news a lot better than I did. Of course the last time my dad had a major surgery, he didn't wake up for almost a week. And I'm not the biggest fan of 5 a.m. visiting hours in ICU so I'm okay with not exactly being on board with the whole surgery thing.

My dad's been sick for 1,344 days. I found out he had cancer on some lonely stretch of highway between Texarkana and New Boston, Texas. It was a day that changed everything. And most days it's hard to remember what it was like before he was sick.

2012-01-11T20:28:00.000-06:00

Monday night I had dinner with Daddy Mac and was telling him a rather riveting story when he starting asking all sorts of pointed questions. “Wait. Are you trying to turn this into some sort of life lesson? You know I hate when you do that.” Truer words have never been spoken.

Once we got past that rudeness, we watched my boyfriend play in the BCS Championship game. He doesn't know it yet, but me and Alabama's #52 Alfred McCullough are getting married asap. One. He can get an NFL contract and buy me lots of Kate Spade accessories. And two. I won't even have to change my last name. Genius.

Speaking of Kate Spade, I spent way too much money on this little gem. But I needed it. It's going to inspire me to be a better person. True story.

2012-01-09T13:44:00.000-06:00

I’m thinking of renaming my blog to “Hello Hydrocodone!” But instead I’m sitting here stuffing a Quizno’s turkey sandwich into my mouth instead of dealing with the heater repair man at my house. “No, dad. I can’t go home. I have a very important lunch meeting at work today.” That’s what dads are for right?

But seriously, back to me. And my love affair with narcotics. Why can’t I quit you? Were you jealous of my love affair with Advil? Because really, it’s not even that serious. I really don’t want to go back to the doctor. And I really don’t want to have any more tests and any more surgeries. So let’s cut this nonsense out.

This weekend I decided to come up with some awesome monthly goals for myself. Up this month? Not hitting the snooze button. We’re not even going to talk about how that went down this morning. It’s a nasty habit I picked up during my time with a certain somebody who always had three alarm clocks going full blast starting two hours before I had to be awake. So thanks for that.

At least I have this one waking me up on the weekends. Worse than a two year old.

2012-01-06T21:11:00.000-06:00

Today was a two diet coke, one cup of coffee, one diet dr. pepper kind of day. Tonight is an oxycodone cocktail kind of night. The last time I had to bust out the bigs boys was the night before an impromptu drug test for my new job. Oops. Here's hoping I don't have to pee in a cup tomorrow.

2012-01-05T11:58:00.000-06:00

Last night the mystery illness would not be ignored so I spent the night on a heating pad watching ABC Family’s “Switched at Birth” and drinking diet ginger ale out of a champagne glass. There’s no shame in my game.

Then I went to the iTunes store to find songs to add to my workout playlist and instead found a couple hundred that were so sad I wanted to break up with myself immediately. Of course I wanted to buy them all and have a pity party for the next month, but I limited myself to one.

In other hilarious turn of events, the heat went out in both my house and my car this week. Good thing it’s January and 60 something.

And I’ve decided to change my New Year’s resolution to simply get my shit together. Seriously. Screw that other stuff. I’m out of control.

2012-01-03T19:39:00.000-06:00

Be happier, be healthier, be better.

It's hard to admit, but the past year and a half I've found myself in a black hole and I need to work on climbing out of it instead of sitting complacently in the dark. I need to learn to let go of the past and start living the life I have fully instead of waiting for the life I think I should have to come along.

I want to accept all invitations instead of hiding behind my fears. I want to take Maggie on a walk everyday. I want to pay off my car loan and contribute fully to my IRA. I want to travel internationally and take a trip somewhere by myself.

I have to be healthier. Anybody who knows me or has just happen to walk by me and any point in time knows that I'm far from healthy. I gained 50 pounds living in Fort Smith. That was four years ago and it's time to stop ignoring it. This year I will get back in to running, and I will run a 5k. This year I will go back to the doctor for the mystery illness despite my trepidation toward more tests and more surgeries. And this year I will go gluten free. Not out of health, but out of necessity.

Simply, I will be better.

2012-01-02T20:28:00.000-06:00

Last night I had a slight mental breakdown. It's okay. It happens. Especially when you can't let go of anything and have the inability to just move on. So I decided I have some things to work on in 2012:

be happier, be healthier, be better.

But it also gave me a lot of time to reflect on 2011. It was a rough year, but it bright spots too.

January 2011 I started the year off with a bang and one more surgery

February 2011 Daddy Mac got his heart fixed and some contraband cheeseburgers

March 2011 Maggie turned the big O-N-E

April 2011 I got an awesome job at an awesome company with awesome people

May 2011 Four of Conway PDs finest showed up after someone kicked my back door down

July 2011 My lifelong dream of wearing a costume at work comes true

August 2011 Juli gets married and I get to be the maid of honor

October 2011 Trip of a lifetime to China where I walked on the Great Wall

November 2011 Maggie got dad a new prostate for his birthday

December 2011 New Christmas traditions including breakfast at my house

2012-01-01T20:56:00.000-06:00

This time last year I was recovering from surgery number four. I spent Christmas in a drug-induced, pain-filled haze. Then I spent the New Year's in a drug-induced, pain-filled haze. It was the first holiday season without you. The first Christmas my grandmother's Alzheimer’s took her memories. The first New Year's the mystery illness decided to stick around for a while. The 2010 holiday season was a rough one, so I wasn't exactly looking forward to the 2011 one.

This was the first year in my 29 years we didn't travel to my grandparents. So this year it was just the four of and my grandparents. And really, I was completely okay with that. I missed the traditions, but it was fun to make Christmas all about my grandparents from our traditional Christmas Eve gifts to Christmas morning presents from Maggie to even their very own stocking from Santa.

I got my grandpa pans so he can cook me delicious things when I come to visit. My grandmother is past the point of cooking so my grandpa has taken over those duties after 86 years of never cooking anything. He told me he watches the Food Network to learn how to cook things - I die from cuteness.

The next morning was Christmas breakfast at my house. These ~~poor saps~~ lucky people had to eat it.

Maggie got her two favorite people poptarts and a coffee maker. It wasn't completely innocent though - she was hoping they would share.

Then she gave them one more present - herself! She's really good at this gift-giving stuff.

Maggie must have been good all year because Santa left her a bone as big as her. She wasn't sharing though.

2011-12-28T16:20:00.000-06:00

My dad is a cancer survivor. I can’t say that’s exactly true because he will always have cancer according to his doctors and he’ll still be fighting the good fight when he’s older and grayer and living in my garage because I’m not wasting my hard-earned money on a nursing home. And he’s still having surgery next month, and he’ll probably still have multiple surgeries every year. But the point is, he’s alive. He’s here.

And I often feel really guilty about that. Because I have a lot of friends who parents fought the good fight and weren’t as lucky. And I really think that’s what it comes down to. Luck. Because you can take all the medicine and have all the surgeries and endure all the treatments and the doctors can do everything right and it still not be enough.

And while I feel guilty for being on the surviving end when so many of you were not so lucky, the bigger truth is I feel even guiltier for missing my dad. Because pre-cancer Daddy Mac is gone. Sure, we still have the occasion shenanigan, but the quick-to-laugh, slow-to-anger dad I once had is gone. And I miss the old days. I miss my old dad. The one who always had a joke. The one who was the ever optimist. The one who would be completely silly with me just because I asked.

I miss him a lot.

2011-12-27T15:51:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I lie awake at night in my bed anticipating the sound of the back door being kicked down (again) and thinking about my plan of action: step one. Pick up gun. step two. Kill intruder. step three. Loudly announce “there’s more where that came from.” step four. Repeat as necessary.

2011-12-15T10:06:00.000-06:00

I am a girl. Born in the north, living in the south.

I have two bachelor's degrees. I have a master's degree. I own my own car. I own my own house. I have a relatively good job. Yet I feel unaccomplished.

I've traveled to all 50 states. I’ve had the privilege of going abroad. I do not live in the same town I was born. I’ve felt immense heartache and extreme happiness. Yet I still feel sheltered.

I have a family. Small, but amazing. I have a sister who is always there for me at 3 a.m. with no questions asked. Always. I have a mom and a dad who are always there to pick up my pieces where they fall. I have grandparents who love me unconditionally.

I am so shy it’s crippling. Looking at old pictures of myself makes me want to go to the gym and get a haircut. I lost my faith in journalism a long time ago, but I still believe in the power of words. I want to make a difference in the world.

I have been told I’m not a good person. The source was unreliable so I’m still trying to discover the truth.

My goals in life include having a garage, a trampoline and a dog. I’m two thirds of the way there.

I do not have a husband. I do not have a baby. I do not have a trampoline. I often feel I’m the only one.

I have an irrational fear of light bulbs and blood pressure machines.

My dad has cancer. I didn’t tell many people. During the hardest times, I never once turned to God, and I don’t know what to think about that.

I had a dog I loved who suffered and died much too young. I have never gotten over that. At church, I was told dogs do not go to heaven because they have no souls. I never went back. I refuse to believe in an afterlife without animals.

I pray every time I see Angel One take off from Arkansas Children’s Hospital. My anger should not affect the life of a child or the success of their doctors.

I have a tough exterior but care too much about people and often get hurt because of it. I am not good at showing or sharing my emotions.

I often feel guilty I never joined the Air Force. So many have done so much for this country, and I have done nothing.

I believe people have the right to burn the American flag, but the thought of someone doing so makes me sick to my stomach. I often feel so strongly about things I get sick to my stomach. My love for the First Amendment runs deep.

I am fiscally conservative and socially liberal. I will not apologize for my opinions. I believe you have to know and understand both sides before you can choose one. I don’t trust people who are so close-minded they refuse to acknowledge another position.

I normally think there is a right and a wrong way to do something. I’ve often been told I don’t think the way other people do. Once I was told I was “too different.” I cried for weeks.

I love dresses and armadillos and Mexican food. I can’t comprehend how people worked before e-mail. My office has a box of green pens, and it completely baffles me why.

Sometimes I wish I was less responsible. Things usually make me nervous. I can’t remember a time I wasn’t anxious. In elementary school, my dad was convinced I would give myself ulcers. It only made me worry more.

My mom instilled in me a love for antiques. My credit card routinely suffers because of this.

In college, a dear friend gave me the nickname Bmac. It warms my heart when people still use it today.

Also in college, my roommate’s brother killed himself. It affected me deeply. For months I couldn’t answer telephone calls, open e-mails or read letters for fear it would bring more death news. I broke down on a trans-Atlantic flight terrified someone was waiting to tell me someone else had died. I had panic attacks. After I was done being scared, I was very angry. She was my best friend, but the experience changed us too much. Our friendship didn’t last.

I think I am an easy person to walk away from.

At night, when I can’t sleep because my brain won’t quit thinking, I imagine a series of white boxes one after another until I remember nothing and it’s the next morning. I am a writer. I often write my thoughts down while the rest of the world is asleep.

I don’t want someone who complements me, I want someone who challenges me.

I am a girl. Trying to find my place in the world.