Public Service Announcement

This is a public service blog.  Here are some tips you might be dating a serial killer. This is not from my own personal experience.  At least not that I'll admit to.

1. He doesn't like Oreos.
2. He's got an American Flag hunting knife in his tuxedo pants.
3. He's got duct tape and plastic wrap in his truck.
4. You look at his magazines and various letters have been cut from the pages.
5. You see him on Dateline: To Catch a Predator.
6. He's got "nephews" that aren't related to him.
7. Your cat goes missing.
8. He offers to install an alarm system for you.
9. We writes in a stabbing motion.
10. He asks if anyone knows where you are whenever you go out.
11. He doesn't like Oreos.
12. All his ex girlfriends are missing or dead.
13. He has barn but no animals.
14. He offfers to give you a pedicure.
15. He has a lock on his basement door.

If you have seen anyone matching this description, please let me know... I'd probably want to date him.

For My Mother, With Love

I promise, I am not writing on this blog anymore but my sweet mother just called me and she was crying.  She doesn't often cry.  She wanted me to write something for her.  She wanted me to use my blog to pay homage to someone that has been a part of her life for almost 20 years that she lost today.  And I simply cannot refuse my mother, especially when there are tears involved.

My mother is lovingly known to me and others as Big Sara (in reference to her big hair, big personality and tiny stature).  She has taught eighth grade English since God was a boy.  She might have taught Him grammar, I don't know.  She is animated, and dramatic, and tough and brilliant.  She is, without question, one of the very best teachers I ever had.  She is truly passionate about what she teaches.

For those of you she taught, or anyone else that feels so inspired... once you read this... you might send her a note - sara.woodard@pisd.edu.  It will mean the world to her to hear from you.

For as long as I can remember, my mother has taught "The Diary of Anne Frank" and the book "Anne Frank: Remembered."  She is passionate about teaching about the horrors of the holocaust, the hope of that little girl and the extraordinary courage of Miep Gies to hide the Franks in Amsterdam.

When I returned home from my post high school graduation trip through Europe, the only thing my mother really wanted to hear about was the Anne Frank annex in Amsterdam.  Then later I went to Poland and spent two days at Auschwitz.  It took me 4 days to tell her everything I saw and experienced.  She was riveted.

Over the years, I think my mom has grown to consider Miep Gies to be a friend.  So yesterday, when at 100 years old, Miep Gies died.  My mother lost a friend and she is mourning that loss right now.  It might seem a bit strange to anyone that doesn't love literature the way my family does.  But my mom has studied her life, studied her work, watched every interview ever made of her and holds her in high esteem.  So for my mother, the loss is palable.

Miep Gies was 100 years old.  My mother said "you see, she must have been a good person, she lived so long."

She is the last survivor of the Anne Frank legacy.  She safeguarded their lives the best she could and then saved and cherished Anne Frank's Diary.  Without her courage the world would never have known that coming of age, even in fear and hiding and terror, is still coming of age.  Without Gies, we would never have the words of a young girl facing death to remind us that "Despite everything, I believe that people really are good at heart."

Gies has never considered herself a hero, never considered the risks she took to hide the Franks... when asked about why she agreed to help... she simply said

"I could foresee many sleepless nights and an unhappy life if I refused. And that was not the kind of failure I wanted for myself. Permanent remorse about failing to do your human duty, in my opinion, can be worse than losing your life."

So tonight, half a world away, a Baptist Girl from Louisiana is morning the loss of a 100 year hero from Vienna.  Mourning the loss of someone that had grown to be her hero and maybe even a friend, at the very least a trusted companion.  The type of friendship that can only be born from reading and reading stories year after year and inspiring students to do their very best through the words of real people that have been through extraordinary circumstances.

So I write this eulogy of "My Mother's Miep" because she asked me to.  And hopefully to help her understand why she grieves.  She grieves that the story has finally ended.  She grieves that one of the very last pure good souls is gone.  She grieves that her hero is human.

And though Miep wasn't Jewish, I somehow feel the mourner's Kaddish is an appropriate way to commemorate her life.

May His great Name grow exalted and sanctified in the world that He created as He willed
May He give reign to His kingship in your lifetimes and in your days,and in the lifetimes of the entire Family of Israel, swiftly and soon.
Now say:
Amen.
May His great Name be blessed forever and ever.
Blessed, praised, glorified, exalted, extolled,
mighty, upraised, and lauded be the Name of the Holy One
Blessed is He. beyond any blessing and song, praise and consolation that are uttered in the world. Now say:
Amen
May there be abundant peace from Heaven and life upon us and upon all Israel.
Now say:
Amen
He Who makes peace in His heights, may He make peace, upon us and upon all Israel.
Now say:
Amen

~~I write this for my mother, who taught me to love the great characters of history, especially, the real ones~~

Time to Say Goodbye

Today is a sad day for me.  For the past couple of months I've had big fun writing about my ramblings and putting my various ridiculous notions to "paper".

Most of you have gotten it, most of you have laughed or cried along side me.  But sadly, some haven't.  Though I warned that I might offend, that I would speak my mind... its come to my attention that a few followers have taken offense and are frankly, holding some of my ridiculousness against me.  Some of its just that well, frankly, its not the best idea to put your every thought and idea on the internet for random strangers to read. 

I'll be open about this one last time, I think its very silly to be bothered by something you chose to read.  I only REQUIRE a few people to read this.  So this fun experiment for me, this journey of publicly sharing my journey of self discovery has come to an end.  Because I simply cannot abide people reading what I write, and then talking bad about me to others.  You may not agree with my opinions, or hearing about what I had for dinner and that is just fine, but sadly, I've taken your disagreement personally. 

I can't change the fact that I've taken in personally.  That's just who I am.  All prickly on the outside, but really pretty sensitive.

So, I'll be signing off of sherrybelieves.blogspot.com.  Thanks for reading while it lasted.

Well, I Believe in the Texas Longhorns.

Last night, I, along with the rest of America, watched something amazing.  Today, my heart truly breaks for the Longhorns.  A few weeks back I talked about hope and that I truly hoped the Longhorns didn't break my heart.

And you know what, it wasn't them... it was the game. 

A part of me thinks its wrong that I cried.  I had said since December, after watching the SEC Championship game... that I hoped we would win, but I didn't think we would.  But I never imagined it going down like that.

All season, I have called Garret Gilbert "The Freshmen".  If you asked me why I would tell you that its because he hadn't done anything to earn a name yet.  Garrett Gilbert did last night.  It wasn't a pretty performance, and I know - there were 4 interceptions and I think 2 fumbles.  But he kept on trying.

I have never hoped for anything like I hoped last night.  Not so much for the Longhorns, as much as for that kid, Gilbert.  I hoped he wouldn't have to bear the weight of that game or the loss on his little 19 year old shoulders.  I hoped that something miraclous would happen and that Colt McCoy would jog back on the field in a blaze of glory.  I hoped that Will Muschamp could stop Alabama's offense (and it looked like he would a little bit there.) I hoped that Marcell Dareus would somehow disappear off the face of the earth, and especially out of the Rose Bowl.

And today, in the light of day,  I don't know if I have ever been prouder to be a Longhorn.  I know he cried, but Colt didn't do it on TV like Tebow.  Made me proud.  I know that Ingram deserved the Heisman for his performance on the field.  But he kind of acted like a punk.  Made me proud of our boys for being stoic.  But you know what really, really made me proud?

What made me wear my burnt orange today?

That with seconds left to win the National Championship against a true freshman quarterback - McElroy didn't look to the crowd and cheer for Bama, he didn't look to his maker and thank him for the opportunity he'd been given.  Nope.  He didn't do any of that.  He did a Horns down.  Because in his victory, he wanted to celebrate our defeat. 

It felt really, really good to matter that much to someone.  Because, I will gladly take all the hate over indifference.  So keep on hating, keep putting us at number 2, keep underestimating.... because after last night I really, really can't wait to see what the Horns have in store for me next year.

Hook 'em.

This Should Make Me Feel Better....

Today I spent most of my day frustrated about all the incovenient things I had to do... wait for the maintenance guy to fix the closet, wait for the insurance adjuster, sit on a one hour conference call that could have been recapped in an email.  So yesterday I just laughed at the ridiculousness.  Today I need to vent about it.  To get some of it off my chest.

My friend Nikki, has this kick ass blog with two of her friends called "Badder Homes and Gardens".  It makes everything I write seem tame, maybe a little sweet and surely sentimental.  But its absolutely funny as shit.  If you are looking for another blog to add... check them out... http://www.badderhomesandgardens.com/.

But that's my point right now, the point is, in one of her entries she mentioned "Things that she thinks are for pussies."  It was an inspired list of things.  So ladies and gentlemen... here are a few things that I think are for pussies.

Oh, and I've already taken my Ambien (at 6:40)... so this list will probably be pretty short or make no sense at all.

For Pussies:
Emo
My Space
Lord of the Rings figurines
Cutting your Own Bangs
Whitman's Samplers
Soccer
Pollen (that stuff is a mother f-er and I could do completely without)
Gun Control
The Jersey Shore
Math
Underground Physics (only Dr. Tom Banks will understand this one)

That's all I can think of right now... but feel free to send me things you think are for pussies.  Cause I really want to get a good list going.  Send em now and send em often.... srw8900@gmail.com

Sherry and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day

Do you remember that book from when we were kids, Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day?  I've thought about it quite a bit this afternoon.  Kid starts the day with gum in his hair, falls in the mud, has lima beans for dinner.... I know how he feels.  And here is why.

I've had a Terrrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day and the only thing I can do about it is laugh - hysterically. 

The beginning of my day was rough, the middle was fine and the end has been down right funny. Today was my first day back at work from the holidays and I was actually optimistic and excited about getting back to work.  There's lots to be done and things are hopping at Heart - so I liked the idea of getting back in the office.  Frankly, January has historically been a total crap month for me.  Seriously for the like the past 20 years, if bad, annoying, frustrating or inconvenient things were going to happen to me - they happen in January.  Really, truly... people die a lot in January that are related to me.  I will worry about my mother until the 31st... if she lives through January, well, then, I've got her for another year.  Things would always break on my house in January.  I tend to get random large bills in January.  I'll get mysterious medical ailments that no team of "House-like" doctors can figure out.  I once went to the hospital in January for what turned out to be gallstones... and they diagnosed me with mono.  Anyway, I provide you all this insight into MY VERY RATIONAL fear of January.  To tell you the story of my day today.

If you've had a rough day, take heart, mine was pretty shitty.

At about 4 this morning there was a large bang from my closet.  I awoke with a start certain that my serial killer had finally come for me.  In my freight, I knocked the remote control into that no mans land between the headboard and the floor that you'll never be able to reach without moving the bed.  Of course, I can't move my bed because I am alone and unmarried.  So I have no husband to help me.  Anyway, if I'd had a husband I would have sent him to check out the scary noise and recommended he take a gun.  But again, no husband to do these things.

Not that big of a deal really, until you add it all up.  Simply the fact that entire rack of clothes, shoes, jewelry etc. had fallen in my closet.  Literally, ripped from the wall.  For a normal person this might not be traumatic or even that messy.  But I have a lot of shoes.  I think it even scuffed my brand new burnt orange cowboy boots.  So, my closet is an asshole and the remote is dead to me.  But not the end of the world.

I go back to bed... the rest of the morning isn't that eventful - minor slip but no fall on water from the shower.... but I head off to work and a slew of meetings.

Forget to eat lunch because I am sealing Heart Ball invitations frantically but again... nothing too dramatic.

As I leave the office for my last meeting of the day... this is where we start to slip into the No Good Very Bad part.  I patiently wait my turn to turn right onto the 610 service road.  I signal, and then turn.  Some jackass making a U-Turn hits me.  First thought, crap... now I am going to be late.  But hey, I am ok... car is ok.  That's what matters, right?

Get back into my car, head to meeting.  Granted I am guilty of everything that happened next.  Its technically my fault.  But a whole bunch of it could have been avoided if... you guessed it, I had married young.  Because then I would have a husband that would have taken care of the following:
- put a copy of my updated insurance in my car
- put the front license plate on my car
- renewed my registration
- made me go get a new drivers license when I lost my wallet

Since all of the above plus speeding are what I got tickets for this afternoon within minutes of being hit my an errant u-turner.

So now, I am just sitting here, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Though I don't really know how, since all my shoes are already on the floor.

Wanted: This Guy

I think this blog is utter genius.  http://rulesformyunbornson.tumblr.com/

Its literally a brilliant list of 1001 rules for a guy.  And now I am looking for the guy that tries to adhere to at least half of these rules.  Apparently my standards for gentlemen callers just went way up for 2010.  I used to be looking for someone that was single, straight, and a smoker.

Now I want the guy that tries to follow these rules.  Here's a sampling... its genius, I tell you, freaking genius...

1. Carry two hankerchiefs.  The one in your backpocket is yours, jacket pocket is hers.
2. Real sweaters don't have zippers.
3. At the ballpark, never start the wave.  But never let it die.
4. Sometimes your best bet is to bet on her.
5. Be confident on the subway.  Bronx is up; The Battery is down.

So, gentlemen... if you'd like to attempt to follow these rules... I would like to attempt to date you.