These hips don't lie

An hour of pouring sweat. Completely breathless. Body shaking from sheer exhaustion. Yet somehow wishing it wasn’t over…

I’ve become hopelessly addicted to the latest exercise craze.

When my friend Cat tried to talk me into Zumba classes, I told her the painful truth: I have zero rhythm. No coordination. I didn’t want to make an idiot of myself in a class full of people who knew what they were doing.

But then I gave in and tried it. And despite flouncing around like a total goober, I can’t get enough.

The lights are low and the music is loud. And no one is watching you – they’re too busy trying to keep up with the instructor. With hops and shimmies and hip rolls, who has time to make fun of the rhythm-lacking fool in the back of the room?

Before you know it, you’re drenched in sweat and the hour is over. I leave class in a great mood, pumped from the energy of the music, with an endorphin high like I’ve never experienced with any other form of exercise.

It’s fantastic. I can’t wait until tomorrow night, when I’ll be back in that room full of mirrors, shaking it to Shakira.

Umm, excuse me... what's this fluffy white stuff?

When they said that our small southern town was expecting 4-6 inches of snow last Friday, I have to admit — I was skeptical. I thought, if anything, we'd get a little dusting of white. Nothing to play in. Surely nothing that would stick around for any length of time. Needless to say, I was wrong.

Here are a few shots from early in the day:

Not really sure who's barn this is, but I thought it was pretty.

One of the many trees painted white by the unusual winter weather

Our town square

Our redneck snowman — notice the John Deere cap and Miller Lite eyeballs. Very classy. This is what happens when you build a snowman at a guy's house. Your choices of accessories are slim to none. As a side note, please excuse the way I'm squatting. It looks like I'm trying really hard not to pee my pants.

Me and Cat at work Friday morning

Most everyone cleared out of work by 1:30, and the city closed the roads at 2 - supposedly because us southerners aren't used to driving on ice. To my surprise, we still had snow on the ground in some areas throughout the weekend. And remnants of some snowpeople are still standing around town, which is strange, considering it was a warm, sunny 62 on Sunday. (Unfortunately, it's a frigid 25 today.)

It has definitely been a strange winter, and I have to be honest here... I'm extremely ready for the hot days of a southern summer. Bring on the sunscreen, boiled peanuts, flip flops and days on the lake. You can keep this cold stuff. It was fun for a day, but I've had my fill.

Someone thinks I'm sweet as sugar

Well, apparently my lack of posting has been noticed…. In fact, I’ve just received an award because of it. Now, Scarlethue, I appreciate the gesture, but are you sure rewarding me for my absence is really the way to go? I guess it’s kind of like positive reinforcement, though. “Here, have this award… but you’ll have to actually write a blog post to accept it. Gotcha!”

But I do appreciate this little gem:


Now, I suppose I’m obligated to tell you ten (more) things about myself. I think I’m running out of information – I’ve told you guys almost all there is to know! But I’ll see if I can squeeze out a little more.

• I’m sick. And not just sick in the head… like really sick. I can’t breath, my voice sounds crappy and my chest feels like someone is sitting on it. I guess this is when most people go to the doctor… Instead, I’ve self medicated with enough Mucinex to drug a horse.

• My purse was stolen a few weeks ago. Sad but true. And I made it super easy for the blasted thief, too. Genius here left her purse on the floorboard of her unlocked car. Luckily, my debt card and driver’s license were in my ID holder on my keychain, which was in my pocket. Still, they got my checkbook, a few prescription drugs, my bottle of Burberry Brit Red, my camera and my old iPod (THANK GOD it wasn’t my pretty new 32 gig baby. I would have been sick.) OH, and it was my very favorite purple crocodile Nine West purse. My heart still hurts a little.

• I’m currently addicted to this diva:

I mean, seriously. Check out that album cover. It’s straight up glam-rock. 80’s style. The songs are catchy, upbeat and they make me want to dance.

• I loathe the cold. I know I don’t have it near as bad as Diane, Andy or Jenners who are all battling some MAJOR winter weather right now, but this southern girl is pretty miserable in any temperature below about 65. Right now, it’s 41 with a wind chill of 32. We have a 70 percent chance of snow on Friday. SNOW. In Andalusia… Y’all, I live 20 minutes north of Florida. The Sunshine State. What’s up with the arctic wind that’s drying out my skin and chapping my lips?

• I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my mind, as is evidenced by the fact that I recently ordered Beachbody’s Insanity workout program. It’s 60 days of crazy hard, fast paced torture. I’m going to start it as soon as I beat this nasty cold. Pray for me.

• I got my hair cut last week for the first time in over a year. Yes, you read that right. Scissors had not touched my very damaged hair in close to 14 months. Because the LAST time I got a hair cut, I was a little traumatized. Check out this whack job from last fall (as in Fall of 2008):

Now, this is my hair a few weeks ago:


See how long it had grown? I was so proud. I wanted to keep the length, but add a little sumpthin’ sumpthin’. This isn’t a great picture (I don’t know why it’s so grainy?), but here’s my hair now:


You can’t really tell from this picture, but I have side bangs and layers now. I’m kind of loving it.

• I have an unhealthy addiction to Lay’s Kettle Cooked Jalapeno chips. They’re crunchy and delicious. And I could probably eat an entire bag in one sitting. Right… did I mention that I ordered a crazy hard workout program? I need it. I blame the chips.

• I’m wearing Crest Whitestrips Advanced Seal while I type this post. I have a thing about teeth. My teeth are actually pretty white, as is. I just want to be sure they stay that way. I drink a lot of coffee and diet Coke and always stress that my teeth are going to get discolored. I don’t know about y’all, but one of the first things I notice about someone is their smile (right after their eyes). I just want to be sure mine stays presentable.

• I don’t understand people who can’t branch outside their normal clique. I’ve always had a wide variety of friends, spread over several different groups. It’s great, but the problem arises when I’d like to do something with ALL of them, but they don’t get along with each other. Then I have to decide who to hang out with and I get accused of picking favorites. We’re adults, people. Why can’t we all just get along?

• I sorta maybe have a Valentine… maybe more than a Valentine, as that is kind of limited to one day. Details later…

Well, there you have it – ten more random things about me. And now to pass the love along.

I’m going to give the Sugar Doll award to Brunch at Saks… because she is definitely a doll. And she posts some of the prettiest, sweetest things you’ll ever see.

Weekly writing assignment from Mama Kat: A song you can’t escape.

Call it fate. Call it a coincidence. Or call it plain ol’ annoying dumb luck. But shortly after me and The Ex broke up, there was one song that haunted me everywhere I went.

See, right after the big break, The Ex called A LOT. He sent texts telling me he missed me. No one would ever compare to me. I was the one that got away. Yada Yada Yada. I finally reached a breaking point and told him that I just couldn’t talk to him anymore. It was too hard. So, from then on out, he said the lyrics of this Lady Antebellum song always made him think of me:

It’s a quarter after one
I’m all alone
And I need you now
Said I wouldn’t call
But I’ve lost all control
And I need you now
And I don’t know how I can do without
I just need you now

Up until then I’d only heard that song once or twice. Ever. Suddenly the song was on every damn radio station. Nonstop. I’d go into a store and it’d be playing on the speakers. I’d turn on CMT and the video would be on. I’d get in my car and it would be the first song I heard. I’d change the station and inevitably find it again. Do you have any idea how obnoxious that became? There I was, trying to get over him, and every time I turned around, I had to hear some stupid song that he said reminded him of our situation. Then I’d have a weak moment and call or text him, and suddenly we were right back to that place I didn’t want to be in anymore. Trying (in vain) to be friends, when it was clearly impossible.

But then – after a few weeks of talking to him nearly every day, I had a revelation: he didn’t need me then... so why would he need me now? Sure, I was the one who ended our relationship, but only because I felt a distance that I couldn’t shake. I didn’t feel wanted anymore. Definitely not needed. So WHY would I let myself believe that anything had changed just because of some stupid song?

As it turns out, he was already dating someone new during this time. He was calling and texting me, playing this song and telling me that I was the only one for him – while he was with her! Poor girl… I feel bad for her. She has no idea that her new boyfriend is a manipulative man who will try every trick in the book to mess with someone’s emotions.

So I told him to give his new girlfriend the attention she deserves and quit calling me. I asked him not to text. I told him – once again – to leave me alone. And so far, he’s respected that.

I still hear that song from time to time. But now – instead of feeling nostalgic – I just laugh and roll my eyes.

Weekly writing assignment from Mama Kat: Share one piece of great advice you’ve received from someone who knows stuff…

Wow – it seems like I’ve only been posting assignments lately… I guess I haven’t taken the time to do much else. Sorry about that. Maybe I’ll get back to regular updates eventually. In the meantime, enjoy (or skip?) my response to this week’s prompt.

Why is it that we rarely take advice from people who have obviously had more life experience than ourselves? Or is that just me?? I’ve always been a “learn as I go” kind of person – and while that has provided some interesting (though sometimes painful) memories, I could have spared myself many headaches (and a lot of heartache) if I had just listened to some of those golden tidbits that had been passed my way over the last 25 years.

One of the greatest pieces of wisdom ever shared with me came from my mother. Growing up, Mama told me (on numerous occasions) that “friends will come and go but family is forever.”

I never really paid much attention to it – naively believing that the people I called friends would always be my friends. While a select few have remained a part of my extended family, the vast majority of people I once considered friends have, indeed, come and gone (sometimes multiple times over the past several years).

I had to learn the hard way that some “friends” are actually mere party buddies – there for a good time, but suddenly unavailable in the face of a crisis. You can call them at 2 or 3 in the morning if it’s to invite them out or suggest a bar crawl, but not to have a meaningful conversation if something is truly bothering you.

And that’s fine as long as you understand the dynamic of your friendship and don’t start counting on them for anything more than a fun night out.

The last part of her statement has also proven to be so very true: family is forever, or at least mine is. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve screwed up over the years, or the number of screaming fights I’ve had with my parents. I’m sure I’ve embarrassed them, let them down, stressed them out and generally driven them crazy. But when it comes down to it, I’m always forgiven and loved all the same.

And I’m so thankful for that. It’s good to know that at any given time, no matter how late or inconvenient, I can call my parents (either set) and spill my heart to an open ear. It’s a wonderful feeling – knowing that no matter how bad things get, I have four people who are always, always on my side. Always proud of me. And always just a phone call away.

Seven houses in five years...is that a record?

Weekly writing assignment from Mama Kat: “How many homes have you had? Write a journal entry about ALL the places you’ve called home in your life.”

Look, let’s be honest here…if I were to write about ALL of the places I’ve called home in my life, you’d still be reading this time tomorrow. I’ve only lived in five different cities, but have had a multitude of houses in each one. Four or five in the Mobile area, two in Madison, MS, two in the Birmingham area, seven in Troy and three since I’ve been in Andalusia – so we’re up to nearly twenty, right? Yeah… we’re not going into all of that.

What I will do, however, is give you a brief overview those seven, short-lived college homes: the good, the bad and the absolutely crazy.

• Hamil Hall: My freshman year, my friend Christen and I decided to do the dorm thing together. We packed up our belongings and crammed them all into a little 10x10 cinderblock room. A few short months later, I was trying everything I could to get out. We shared a community shower with the whole hall, including the entire girls soccer team, who repeatedly washed their muddy cleats in the sink and shower stalls. YUCK. The heat NEVER worked. And then, of course, there were the bugs. No thank you. Next home, please?

• The Paden House: Unfortunately, since we were freshmen, we were required to live on campus for our first year. Luckily, a room came open in one of the school’s on-campus houses. Think of it as a sorority house for girls who decided not to go Greek. We had a formal dining room, work out room, living room, kitchen, big back deck and semi-private bathrooms. I spent the second half of my freshman year here. Then I met Kailie – a wild child who quickly became my very best friend. By the beginning of summer, we were looking for somewhere off campus. Somewhere we could have… large study groups. *Ahem*… So, bring on home number three.

• Park Street: Imagine our delight when we discovered a brand new, two bedroom, three bath townhouse less than a mile from the fraternity houses school. The house was great – we had a big back deck and covered front porch that we shared with our very cool neighbor, Clint. For my grades, this house was the beginning of a long downward spiral. We never slept. There were people at our house nonstop. By happy accident, we discovered that the window in my room offered easy access to the roof. We had cookouts, bonfires, card games… all of the necessary social events for college students went down at our house. It was all going along swimmingly until Kailie found out she had a little bundle of joy on the way. So mommy-to-be packed up her stuff and high-tailed it back to her parents’ house – leaving me with no living room furniture. Queue Brooke – long time bestie from back home. Less than a month later, she moved in and the party resumed.

• Troy Place: At the end of our lease, Brooke convinced me to move into an apartment complex with two other girls. Now, I’m not sure how many of you realize this, but FOUR girls sharing ONE apartment… not a genius idea. In fact, it could possibly be the worst idea in the history of the world. Brooke and I lived with Erica, a grad student from Oswego, NY, and Julie, a general screw up from Nebraska. I don’t say that lightly, as I typically get along with pretty much everyone. But y’all…this girl drove me insane. My parents came to visit one day, and she answered the door in a pair of boyshort underwear and a bra. In front of my step-dad and then nine year old brother. It’s not her fault, really. That’s pretty much all she ever wore. As she laid around the house eating candy and bossing people around. The girl would call you ON THE PHONE when you were a room away to ask you to get her a glass of water because she didn’t want to get off the couch. And she hocked lugies in the kitchen sink…Anyhow, three short (yet waaay too long) months later, I was desperate to get out of that apartment. So I packed up and headed to home number five.

• Forest Acres: My friend Jennifer had a three bedroom trailer and graciously offered to let me stay with her for awhile, so I could escape the crazy. My goal was to find a one bedroom apartment somewhere close to the school, but there was a waiting list. So for about six months, I lived with Jen. It wasn’t horrible. She was a sweet girl, even though she and her boyfriend would get into screaming fights and slam doors, stomp around and cause general mayhem on a regular basis. But it was fine for the short time I was there.

• Thomas Circle: Finally, a one bedroom apartment came available and I was once again on the move. This place was SMALL. And old. And generally not very well taken care of. But it was MINE. And I loved it. Downstairs was a tiny little living room and even tinier kitchen, all in one room. The stairs led straight up into my bedroom – no doors, just a railing that looked down to the stairs. I had an itty bitty little bathroom. And two closets. I stayed here for awhile – until the rampant street parties that took place in front of my building were taking a toll on my sleep and making me pretty irritable. By this time, I’d been through my party phase and was in the “graduate and get the hell out of Troy” phase.

• South Brundidge Street: And for the finale: House number seven! It was an old home near “downtown” Troy with a huge front porch and even bigger back deck. I lived here with two of my best friends, who happened to be sisters. The house had…. Charm. You know: sloping floors, unfinished baseboards… but it didn’t matter much to any of us. The deck was perfect for sunbathing, and there was a doggie door that led to our fenced in back yard, so the puppies could come and go as they pleased. Oh, I almost failed to mention that I lived in the living room. It was only a two bedroom house, but the living room was really long, so I built a divider and made half of it a bedroom. It was pretty cool actually. I bought a few unfinished doors from Lowes, a handful of hinges to connect them all, and a gallon of paint and got to work. Then I found some of those nifty wall transfer things with the words “Live long, love much, laugh often” for the side that faced the living room. It turned out pretty cute. And waaaaaay less expensive than any room divider I could’ve bought. My roomies were great, I liked the house and everything was finally feeling normal.

Then I started my internship and moved to Andalusia.

There are SO many stories I could tell you about each of these homes and my five long years in Troy – but this post is already ridiculously long. Aren’t you glad I didn’t attempt all twenty? You’re welcome.

Interesting... or not

The extremely sweet mommy-to-be, Trudy at Third Time’s a Charm, has bestowed this lovely little award upon yours truly:


In order to accept, I have to share seven interesting facts about myself. Unfortunately for all of you, the word “interesting” is loosely interpreted as “random” in my book. So – interesting or not, here are seven things you might not already know about me:

• I’m double jointed in my left thumb. You would think this makes me a killer thumb-war opponent, but it does not.

• When my feet are cold (which is pretty much all the time), I get insanely excruciating cramps in my toes and up the side of my foot (from the big toe back through the arch). I’ve been getting them since I was a kid. I vividly remember sitting on the floor of my room in elementary school and crying because I couldn’t make my foot stretch back out. Now I feel it coming and know to stand up IMMEDIATELY and start stretching my toes.

• People have a hard time remembering my last name. It’s Irish and starts with an O. You’d think it’d stand out in their memory. But in the last few months, I’ve answered to O’Keith, O’Rook, O’Rourke and O’Malley. HINT: None of those are right. And it’s funny because all of them could have been avoided if people would just call me by Heather. You know, my first name. Instead, most people I’ve met here greet me with my last name. So it should go, “Hey! O’Quin!!” when I walk into a room. But it rarely ever does. Now it’s become a huge joke, so I doubt I’ll ever actually hear my real last name again.

• I used to check behind the shower curtain every time I went to the bathroom to make sure no one was hiding there. I don’t know why that used to worry me so much. Too many scary movies as a child, I guess. I still check the closet in my room before I go to sleep. Some paranoias never die.

• I have horrible veins. No one has ever (ever) been able to draw blood from my arm. Ever. I tell people not to even try anymore. All blood work must be done from the top of my hand. And even those veins suck. They’re tiny and they run from the needle. This had led to blown veins, which are about the grossest thing I can think of. Imagine watching the top of your hand swell up like a big blue golf ball of trapped blood. Then imagine hearing the nurse nervously laugh and say, “Oops, let’s try the other hand.” And then having it happen AGAIN. Yeah. Did I mention I had to have blood work done yesterday? New doctor. New nurse. Thankfully no disasters this time, but I still broke out in cold sweats from sheer anxiety.

• You can’t tell from my pasty-white profile picture, but I have an unhealthy addiction to sunshine. Even fake sunshine. I know it’s bad. I know it ages my skin. I know it can cause cancer. I know. But it feels so good. And it makes me happy. So… bring on the UV rays.

• I am the most unorganized person I know. It’s borderline ridiculous. No. It’s past ridiculous. Every now and then I reach a breaking point and get everything super sorted. It usually lasts about two days before things are gigantic disaster again. The bad thing is that I KNOW what a mess things are, yet generally don’t take action until I absolutely cannot find something I’m looking for. Then I get frustrated, throw a mini tantrum and swear that I’m going to get things put back in their proper place.

• AND (An eighth fact! As an added bonus!) Yesterday, a friend told me that I don’t know how to be serious. He’s wrong, of course. I just generally choose NOT to be serious. I tend to answer questions that I don’t like with sarcasm. Shoot – I often answer the ones I do like with sarcasm. I smile and laugh a lot in person, and I tend to say silly things when I’m in a good mood. If that means I’m not serious, then I’m not sure it’s something I want to be anyway.

So, there you have it. Don’t you feel enlightened now? Weren’t those facts just the most interesting things you’ve read today? No? I figured not…

And now I’d like to pass this one along to Scarlethue at A Beautiful Truth. Because I think she’s a pretty interesting chick (and I bet you would too!)