Happy Halloween

This may come as a surprise to many of you.  The more people I've told about this the more I realized that I probably needed to explain myself.

I don't like costumes.  Mascots terrify me.  Clowns are the devil.  I don't want to dress up.  Its a miracle that I get up everyday and put on my "Professional Sherry" costume.  And I am not going to lie - there are a lot of days that I don't even manage that.

My fear exists on several levels.

First, I think people willing to put on costumes like Mickey Mouse or Daffy Duck are probably pedifiles.  Or at the very least really, really weird people.  I don't want to be around that.  Characters that sing and dance and talk funny are not natural.  They have always scared me and they always will.  Don't try to convince me otherwise.  They are just down right freaky and I don't want anything to do with them.

Second, Halloween scares me.  Not the scary haunted houses or the ghosts or pumpkins... although those are scary.  Just the idea of not really knowing who you are talking to.  Adults dressed up as something else is just bizarre to me. And guys, calm down... she will NEVER put on the slutty nurse costume again.  She wore it once.  Because her friends dared her to... she isn't a slutty nurse.  Kids dressing up I get.  Its so cute ... little lions, and pumpkins, and bears and lobsters... those are adorable... but past a certain age you just look awkward and a little bit uncomfortable.  And frankly, there is good TV on and all that doorbell ringing keeps interrupting my shows. 

Third, mascots are terrifying.  I have no problem with the real deal.  I will stand next to Bevo, or Ralphie or Reveille... but put me next to Pork Chop that motorized pig from Arkansas and I will faint dead away.  I can't explain it, but it just isn't natural.  It scares the shit out me.

I have dressed up for Halloween once in my adult life.  I was an ovenmitt.  It was awesome.  Marla's mom has pictures.  There was even a freak cold front that blew in that day... all the slutty nurses, and slutty maids were freezing.  I was toasty warm in my giant ovenmitt costume.  I did it to prove a point, to prove that costumes were ridiculous.  That plan backfired.  The ovenmitt was a huge hit.  A pain in the ass to drive in, but a huge hit none the less.

So, as we approach Halloween, I felt it right to let my public know that you won't see me shopping for a costume... slutty or otherwise.  You won't see me dressing up with a knife sticking out of my head and you won't see me on the sidelines with Rowdy (that annoying guy that is the mascot for the Cowboys.)  However, you might just catch a glimpse of me as I run home to turn off the lights and lock the doors before anyone knows I am home.

Happy Halloween.

The Break Up Part 2

Thanks to one of our loyal readers for sending in this response to yesterday's blog:

I can't believe you would dump your pair of shoes for a new, younger model. This sort of behavior really pisses me off, Woodard. Maybe if you had taken proper time to take care of the shoes, the shoes would still be able to take care of you.


But instead, the shoes are worn out and have nothing left to give.

And so you just give up on them... you’re just going to throw them out for a new relationship with a tighter, prettier version with fewer miles on them. Those old shoes were there for you during your hard times... they got you through.

When you were beat down and reduced to tears...to nothingness... they loved you and carried you... they never complained about the sacrifice they were making... and now what are they supposed to do... they'll never find another someone to love them... they are all used and washed up... and you just abandoned them.

JERK.

So This Break is Really a Break-Up?

Dear Tennis Shoes,

I remember the first day I met you.  When my friend Andrew at Luke's Locker first pointed you out to me.  You were so beautiful.  And we seemed to just fit together so well.  I was so excited for our first walk together.  The joy I felt in those first few trips through the park together.

You were good to me.  But my schedule got busy and I found it harder to spend time with you.  I saw you there, available, willing to spend time with me.. but I couldn't.

And then you took from me and it hurt.  You took the skin off the back of my heel, you took the skin off my big toes... and you gave me such pain in the calfs.  I could tell you where trying to hurt me, to prove to me that you shouldn't be neglected.

But relationships are hard to maintain and frankly, you started to lose some of your charm.  You got dirty, your soles weren't as bouncy, the shine on your stripe was just a little less. 

So, I know that we've both hurt each other and I know its time for me to move on.  I need to feel the joy of  the first test step, to see the sparkle in the stripe and to feel the hope in the first trek around the park.  I know that we'll see each other again, for lake trips, maybe for some house work or even on a muddy day.  But I think we both know that it will never be the same.

Love, Sherry

In case you didn't catch on... I simply need a new pair of running shoes.

Its Not Like You're a Phi Beta Kappa

My father was a poet.  Not literally, no one named Bubba would have ever been accepted in literary circles.  But I spent the first 16 years of my life being educated by a man with colloqial wisdom that truly bordered on poetry.  For those of you that knew him, you know exactly what I mean... a few little samples from the wisdom of Bubba Woodard.

1. What, Sherry, you think your shit doesn't stink like the rest of the worlds?
2. Referring to his two beautiful daughters:  Snotty little curtain climbers.
3. That dog just ain't gonna hunt.
4. Sherry, you are not the only pebble on the beach.
5. In response to something I MIGHT have said that was less than intelligent:  Well, its not like you're a Phi Beta Kappa.

For YEARS, I had no idea what a Phi Beta Kappa was.  And in case you don't... its some kind of honor fraternity for truly brillant people.  And my dad was right, it wasn't like I was a Phi Beta Kappa.  And here is the point of my story today.  I actually know a Phi Beta Kappa.  Yup.  I am even related to him now.  My sister married a genius. 

Today, I wanted to tell you guys a little something about my brother in law.  He's a badass.  He is the nicest, kindest human being I know.  During my sister's wedding I was really sick.  A couple days after the wedding I actually had my gall bladder removed.  Eric was traumatized that I didn't get to eat the tenderloin and seabass at the event.  I thought he was going to cry when they brought my two course of soup.  I don't think any other member of my family even noticed. 

Eric is also a badass lawyer.  This kind, gentle giant is tough, too.  The reason I want to tell you about him is because my boy Eric is busting his ass right now for a trial and I couldn't be prouder!  So now my prayers go like this:

Dear Baby Jesus, thank you for Mack Brown and Colt McCoy's arm.  Please give Eric wisdom and look over my mom, my sister and my future husband.  But most of all, thank you for Will Muschamp.

So, really the point of this blog is to introduce you one my heros, and someone I respect more than I could articulate.  Todays blog is dedicated to the Phi Beta Kappa that was smart enough to marry my sister.

Go get 'em Eric!

Can't Take My Eyes Off of You

I saw the best thing ever last night.  I don't know if I can put it into words and truly give it justice.  Last night my friend Kathy got married.  She absolutely without question is marrying the love of her life.  Kathy and Chap are PERFECT for each other. 

And last night, they danced their first dance as man and wife.  And it was F-ING AWESOME.  Seriously.  OK, how do I explain this.  Well, lets start with the fact that the crowd SANG ALONG.  I have mad respect for the fact that they danced to Frankie Valli... but they had a routine.  A routine that was awesomeness.  You know what,  I can't put this into words. I just know that the crowd cheered, clapped, laughed and then sang "oh, pretty baby, if its quite alright, I need you baby... trust in me when I say... I love you baby" at the top of our lungs. 

There were twists and turns and dips.  It was truly fun to watch.  From now on, I have a new rule.  Everyone should choreograph routines for their first dance.  Its so much more fun that way!!!

She danced with her dad next.  And it was crazy fun too. When Kathy was a little girl her mom would play "You Light Up My Life" on the piano and she and her dad would dance and sing along.  She danced to that song with her dad.  They looked like Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers... and once again the crowd SANG ALONG.

Wait, you know what... maybe it was the crowd that was awesome.  Yup, that's it... we were badass.   

I honestly can't believe that I am writing about wedding dances but they were so great that I had to talk about it.  I am not doing them justice.  So if you're getting married anytime soon, give Chappy and Kathy a call ... they can tell how to do the dance part of the night up right.  And if you need an awesome crowd and you've got an open bar, give me a call.

There are Rules for Everything

 My friend Kathy is getting married today.  I am thrilled for her.  She has spent the past year planning every detail.  And it got me to thinking...  There are always a few elements out of a brides control. The one that has been on mind the past few months is the wedding party.  So, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to present you with wedding party rules by Sherry Woodard.  If you are goingo to be a bridesmaid, a maid of honor, best man, usher, house party or anything in a wedding anytime soon.  I recommend you read these and take them to heart.

1. Do whatever the bride wants.
2. Do whatever the bride wants.
3. Let me be more clear... do whatever the bride wants.  Do not be difficult.  You do not matter in all this.  You are replaceable.  Whatever your role, there is someone else they can put in that spot.  Do not add to her stress.
4. Don't ask too many questions.  The bride has already belabored over every decision.  Asking questions just makes her think more.  Just don't do it.
5. Do not get drunk at the rehearsal dinner.  No bride wants hungover friends on her wedding day.
6. Going home with a groomsman, bridesmaid, usher, whatever is not acceptable from the rehearsal dinner.  You wanna hook up after the wedding, fine, do whatever you want but Friday night before the wedding - the bride still REALLY cares what everyone thinks.  She does not want her aunt talking about her slutty high school friends. 
7. Give a toast.  If you are terrified of speaking, fine... write something out and tell the bride ahead of time.  Apparently being toasted is kind of a big deal.
8. If you have a speaking part - practice. Our friend Tammie is speaking at Kathy's and you know what - she has practiced - I applaud that.  Do not be the funny part of the ceremony.  The bride and groom are really the only ones that should do anything funny.  If you do it, well then, you just ruined her perfect wedding.
9. Do whatever the bride wants.
10. Don't be difficult.  No one, I repeat, no one gives a shit about your needs.  Our friend Margaret... she gets this rule.  She will eat what she is served and by God if she has to use the Epi Pen cause it was cooked in peanut oil.  Well, then she'll use it.  But quietly, in a bathroom, so as not to pull attention away from the bride.

I say all these things with love and offer them to you now - so that you will all be real, real clear about my expectations when my turn comes.

Childhood Comforts

So many thoughts, ideas, fears and woes are crashing around in my head.  I worry about this, did I do that, did I say the wrong thing, did I imagine my success.... always worrying, always, doubting.

So tonight after a little tossing and a little turning.  I decided to find the cure for my worries as a child.  I always escaped in a book.  A few specials ones were frequently visited.  So tonight, to help me rest, to clear my head and maybe find a little peace.  I would like to read you two special poems to me.  They both come from one of my very favorites "A Light in the Attic" by Shel Silverstein.  I could quote most of his poems to you as a little girl and as I juggle my 30s now - I find his wisdom still holds true.

INVITATION by Shel Silverstein

If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer...
If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!

God's Wheel by Shel Silverstein

GOD says to me with a kind

of smile, "Hey how would you like

to be God awhile And steer the world?"

"Okay," says I, "I'll give it a try.

Where do I set?

How much do I get?

What time is lunch?

When can I quit?"

"Gimme back that wheel," says GOD.

"I don't think you're quite ready YET."