Puzzle Piece #2

SPB, FL: I took this photo when I was home in July for my mom's birthday. I slept 200 feet from this view for 18 years, yet never appreciated it, but now, the beach is in my blood.



I have a ritual when I go home. It takes three bridges to cross Tampa Bay and two intercoastals to reach St. Pete Beach. And when my Mom's car crosses the final bridge... Linds, what is it called? shit! Anyway, I stick my whole head out the window and take a huge breath of salt air.

Without fail my Mom says, "You are such a Tulip." Tulip is a term coined by Lindsay. It means reaching towards and basking in the sun, like you can't get enough. Much like the flower.

There is a sister of a friend of mine from home, who sticks her head out the car windows at stop lights to "work" on her tan. Wha?!! Now tell me, what is your silly ritual?

Goober's Hotpokket

Maybe I shouldn't tell this story, and I apologize in advance for those of you who may be offended. But today, when I heard this story, I was uncontrollably laughing at my desk. And this is a huge feat, mostly because I sit next to my boss, his boss and the head of new business for my office. So overall, I try to keep it down.

That said, my boss is on vacation and my bike is currently parked in his office. PHOTO Op... but I can't bring myself to do it.

So I am catching up with a friend from NOLA (New Orleans, LA), who recently made a large jewelry purchase. We exchange the usual 'sharing-news-between-friends-pleasantries, "oh, that is awesome, congratulations!" etc.

And finally, Goober, (his name for purposes of this discussions) says, "Do you want to hear a funny story?" And I say, "Of course!" And he goes into, "A few nights ago, Sam (his gf) and I were sleeping back-to-back and apparently, I let out a huge five-second fart. It was so forceful that it made Sam's boxers ruffle and it woke her up!"

(I am snorting and laughing at my computer. Because this is sooo Goober.)

And he proceeds, when he knows I am now crying from laughing so hard, "You know, she tried to wake me up. But I was completely passed out. So the next morning she said to me, 'You realize you farted so hard last night it ruffled my boxers and woke me up?'"

Goober, starting to crack-up says "and HP, swear, I had no idea my farts were that powerful!"

(I am gasping for air and now have the Admin assistant asking me what the hell is so damn funny.)

And Goober says, laughing "She actually said, 'You ruffled my boxers!' "

I am so happy for them... they are the real deal, obviously! HP

Training Wheels

My sophomore year of college I met "the parents" of my college boyfriend for the first time. They are in short, the most amazing, lovely people. Yet, they are also much like the 1950's family set-up, and it isn't fake! I pinkie swear.

That first night, during dinner, Mr. Therron, who I still call Mr. Therron, asked me, "So do you have any brothers and sisters?" I answered, in an attempt to be clever, "No, but I have a step mother." No one at the table laughed...

I remember coming home that night feeling completely deflated. I have never experienced a family like theirs. And I hate to admit this, but I thought they were damn near perfect. And although I am wonderful in many ways, at nineteen, I knew I was not perfect and neither was my upbringing. I spent the better half of six years trying to find or create what they had. And it took me a long time to accept that perfect for them wasn't enough and maybe even, dare I say it, boring for me.

I think we all try at some point in our lives to emulate what we admire in others. But I think what we admire is their happiness, their security. Maybe I am wrong, but I know that is always what I envied or wanted.

For the first time in a long time, I am in a place where I am not emulating or trying to be anything or anyone. And I find that although empowering, I am flat-out scared shitless. Mostly because it feels real and I know it is finally me in my life, instead of playing a role I thought I wanted.

I think it is easier sometimes to deal with others than to deal with yourself. And I am real good at concentrating on the other person to avoid dealing with my own issues. It has been almost a year since I finally accepted what wasn't and I find I am in my own element of perfect. I have a wonderful person in my life. I have true, life long friendships. I have strong, loving relationships with my parents. And as of right now, I am still employed in a job that I want to be better at.

It even turns out that Mr. Therron always loved me for me. It just took me a while to embrace her and love her too.

Now, I find myself freakin' out about my element of perfect, because I was so use to the dysfunction. I have to train myself not to look for the next shoe to drop or for something bad to happen.

And maybe this is coming off self-absorbed, because I know I am lucky, damn lucky. But I feel like I am in training and I don't deserve all of this good. Because at the end of the day, I still don't fully believe I am worth all that I didn't see growing up.

I know. It is ridiculous, intellectually. But I have those dark places. And I know it will be something I deal with and improve upon my whole life.

Kevin and I rode bikes to work today. If you can do it, go try it -- so fun! I felt like I was ten years old again, carefree and having fun! I even gave into the urge to scream like Tarzan as we crossed over the Conn. Ave. bridge from Adams Morgan. I realized then that I am my whole self around this person, at all times, for better or for worse. And I really like the stability of that.

But I still need training wheels. I still need good people to balance me as I test my ability to balance on my own. ... Even when I don't feel like I deserve it. I am blessed that I have those people in my life.

Perfect is overrated. Balance, love for who I am and love for who I am not, I'll go for that mess any day. HP

Time for a new pair of...

Orginal thought:

I realize I sound like my parents, but man, how about the weather this weekend?! huh? huh? It was absolutely beautiful in DC - crisp blue air. You almost needed a sweatshirt.

The plus is -- holy shit, no more swamp ass! The minus is - summer is winding down. Which means, time to repair the fall shoes. Sunday, as I was completing my list of to dos, I pulled my pile of 'to be fixed' shoes together to take to the shoe repair guy, or as my Mom calls him/her, the cobbler.

Insert additional thought:

Saturday, I did nothing. I recovered from my final birthday week bash and basically relished in the fact that I have the coolest friends ever... no really, the absolute coolest, evvvverrr. I don't remember a lick of the cab ride home, but I remember waking up wondering how long I could hold it. Because the longer I held it, the longer I could sleep. And as soon as I walk to the bathroom, the dog will be up and ready to go. Not to mention the shear pain of my headache while lying horizontal was hard enough to stifle.

Then there was the whole thought of Kevin waking up to my screaming, pondering, "why the hell did I let this person into my house last night?" So what did I do. I put my big girl pants on and went to the damn bathroom. Because for fuck sake, I am twenty-six years old. What were my other options? And you know what, it all worked out. P.S. My dog is my hero. He slept until 12:30 on Saturday. YES!

Back to original thought:

Today like a good doobey, I went to the cobbler, who happens to be a dude. I show him my favorite boots. I purchased them three seasons ago in NYC. Yes, HP loves, LOVES shoes. Anyway, the damn cobbler says he can't fix my boots because the heel has a huge chunk of wood missing... and says, "I don't think they are safe." I immediately began to plead, "can you please just re-do the heel, forget about the missing chunk. I'll wear them until they break. No one will even see the heel under pants."

He repeats, this time squinting his eyes,"I don't think they are safe. But you can call the manufacturer and learn if they can send you a new heel. If you bring me the heel, I'll fix it for $60.00" In my mind I think, "Well, I'll put a $60.00 boot in your... Send me on a wild goose chase only to charge me 60 bones that could go towards brand new boots. Pbbsfftst!That is just bunk!" Instead, I say, "Thanks. I'll try it and see if it works." Grumbling as I walk away I think to myself, "How the hell did I take a chunk out of my boots and not realize it? Who does that?!" And then it hit me, "Damn, hotpokkets!"

By the time I made it back to the office, I was laughing at the ridiculousness of the entire scenario. I mean, seriously!? It is time for some new boots. What they hell was I thinking taking them there to begin with.

Pop!!

Yo! I turned twenty-six this week. Weeee! And I am having the best possible birthday week on the planet. Yes, birthday week. We all should celebrate the week... trust me, a-m-a-z-i-n-g.

The reason the "birthday week" is so wonderful is that you can fit in the quality friend and family time through the week without worlds colliding. This is an extremely valuable feature when you have many friends and family that live in different worlds, literally, planets apart...

I eat it up, because all who I love and adore, although maybe not in each other's galaxy, are in my mine. And I am able to celebrate my friendship, relationship with them throughout the week, using my birthday as an excuse. Because by twenty six, all that really matters is being able to spend your birthday with those you love most.

You know who you are -- thank you for being a part of my life. I love you all very much. I am a happy, happy girl.

Now, if only I could figure out how to insert audio on this post. I would have the constant sound of champagne being opened, POP!!! As Rita says, "shiza," the pic will have to do.

Pour vous!! xxo HP

Puzzle piece 1

My grandmother, Dee Dee, loved daisies. They were her favorite flower. When I would ask her why she would always say, "because daisies never tell."

And I guess that is true. If you play "he loves me, he loves me not," you can end on the one you want if you allow the 'yellow' center of the daisy to act as a petal. Obviously, when I was little, I always wanted to land on he loves me. And if I pulled the last petal on he loves me not, I for damn sure pulled the center. I vividly remember pulling the yellow petal and proclaiming with a huge grin,"he loves me! yes!"

But what intrigued my Gram the most about daisies was their ability to represent the blessing of today and the excitement of the unknown. Life is unpredictable and incredibly humorous. Daisies remind me of the importance of "keeping it simple, stupid," a Gram saying. They are my favorite flower and by far, a cherished puzzle piece.

Puzzle pieces - the random things that make HP, HP.

The Lake | Boats on Boats 2007

Outside of being incredibly beautiful, what I love most about Lake Norman is the person who drove me there.

I don't pretend to know much about real love. But I figure a person who sincerely offers his hand, because he just wants you, is a great way to start.

Boats on Boats 2007 has been a tradition for going on three years. It begins with lots of whiskey and a constant line at the beer pong table. And it ends with a huge poker game and lots of time on the floating dock! Oh, the middle is all fuzzy...

One funny...

Kevin told me on Saturday morning that I had difficulty remembering where the dog was before we all went to sleep. Apparently, it went something like this -

5:45 a.m. Saturday, September 1:

HP says, "Baby, where is the dog!?" He responds, "The dog is in the crate." She says, "Oh, ok. Good." Cut to, HP letting the dog out of the crate. Then, dog and HP going outside for a nite cap.

Immediately, Kevin catches the dog, who does not have his lease on, and puts him back in the crate. 20 minutes passes, rinse and repeat -- three times!! whoops...

This is why Kevin and I get along so well. We both want nothing more than for all of our friends to be in one place, hanging out and having a good time. There is truly, nothing better.

Hope everyone had a great Labor Day!