iHateGreenBeans

1. Prescription cough syrup tastes better if taken through a straw.

2. It is possible to sleep sitting up…when you are THAT tired.

3. I’ve become a fan of the Neti Pot. Funny story. If I had the energy, I would write about the ginormous green/brown blob that fell from my sinus cavity in the sink after my second attempt to get water to come out of my nose. Good times.

4. How I Met Your Mother is one of the funniest shows on TV. How have I missed this?

5. If you cough enough, you get an ab workout as well. No need to be upset that this incurable sickness is keeping you from starting that exercise program you were so excited about.

6. Chicken noodle soup loses its nostalgia after eating it for six meals in a row. Replace with pints of ice cream. For the sore throat of course.

7. Laughing hysterically at something you saw on The Office or Ugly Betty will result in a coughing fit that will last approximately 17 minutes. Proceed with caution.

8. I miss Alias and all of its Michael Vaughn goodness.

9. Kleenex/snot rags multiply when you aren’t looking.

10. “Resting one’s eyes” at work for 30 minutes is unacceptable.

Remember the days when you used to sit on your parents’ porch while watching a Civil War re-enactment and laugh in amusement as half the town (who has also gathered with you in the front yard) shouts with glee as the first Union soldier hits the ground after a fatal bullet wound to the gut?

Me too.

Western Days proved to be everything I hoped it would be and more. I have to admit that I was a little nervous about the re-enactment. I was afraid I had hyped it up so big in my head and would ultimately be disappointed in the cheesiness of it all.

I’m happy to report there was just the right amount of cheese.

In a salute to the weekend, I’ve decided to narrow down the countless stellar moments to a simple top 10 list. Enjoy!

10. They draw names to see who will “have” to be the Union soldiers. Alas, someone has to do it. And the funny thing is that there is a gentleman on the loud speaker explaining that these Union solders are strong Southern men who just happened to draw the short stick.

9. Early on Saturday morning, my Daddy had been driving around on the golf cart checking to see if the chili cook-off people needed anything. Big Johh, who cooks his chili in what appears to be an old school bus, asked my Daddy if he knew Lincee Ray. He said he did and asked how Big John knew me. Apparently, Big John couldn’t recall the city in which the Battle of Crawford/Chili Cook-Off/Western Days Extravaganza was taking place and so he Google searched. Naturally, www.ihategreenbeans.com popped up and a new fan was born. Clearly, Big John is awesome in my book. Even if his chili didn’t receive first place, he’s a winner in my heart.

8. My first surreal moment was watching the Confederate soldier watch the UT game on my Daddy’s ginormous screen TV through the window of the den.

7. My second surreal moment was watching the Confederate soldier pour a bottle of Shiner Bock into his tin cup. You know…so he could remain authentic. Then he went to the port-a-john.

6. The cannon fire was severe. They warned you to hold your ears and listen for the ready…aim…FIRE! But it still startled everyone. This is my first attempt to take a picture.

Here is my second.

And here’s cute Sam with his ear phones on. Little guy didn’t even flinch when the cannons went off!

5. My Daddy did not participate in the battle, but did wear somewhat of a costume. He kept saying all morning long, “Oh Belvedere! Come here boy!” That combined with his Macabee beer shirt I bought him in Israel (the shirt says: “The beer the chosen people chose” on the back) made for an interesting fashion weekend.

4. The battle lasted about 45 minutes each day. And each day, the South won. We were down on Sunday, but fought back with the Union soldiers shot the little boy carrying the flag as well as our medic. OH NO YOU DIDN’T! This is a picture right before the doctor went down…

3. The ball in the driveway was a sight. The men were still in colonial uniforms but the women changed into fancy gowns and attached their holiday hair. They learned the Virginia Reel and waltzed and the Pattycake Prance. They kept yelling for “Jamie” to come join the fun. My sister unwillingly obliged. But then we realized some solider dude was named Jaime and they were calling him. Awkward!

2. The children of Western Days…
Benjamin playing in a potted plant.

Sam playing in a Confederate tent.

Random re-enactment boys playing on a pile of dirt.

Best t-shirt ever.

1. My favorite moment of the weekend was when the Confederate soldiers were lining up for battle. They began marching down the driveway past the house where I was standing taking photos. A few steps in, the general calls out, “Gents! Eyes right!” They all turn and look in my direction and the general says, “MERCY!” and the boys answer, “LORD HAVE MERCY!”

I think I actually swooned.

I love my roots. Reese Witherspoon’s line in Sweet Home Alabama rings true when she says, “It feels right in the city, but then I come here and it feels right too.” Sure my accent gets a little thick when I go home and I’m amazed at some of the things I see and hear, but there’s a little twinge of nostalgia too. A longing for a simpler life. Parades that consist of little league football boys, horses and Miss Hallsville contestants. A funnel cake stand in your back yard. A pile of dirt or hay stack to play on. Reconnecting with the guy you shared your locker with for four years in high school (HEY BOBBY!) and dragging Daddy’s old lazy boy out on the back porch so Mimi can elevate her leg while watching the battle and sending the cousins to fetch her samples of chili. Weekends and memories like this help make me who I am. And I loved every minute of it!

There was a lot I did to prepare for Ike. I made sure my iPod was charged, I loaded up on Halloween Oreos and bottled water and filled my car with gas. You know…everything you do before hunkering.

I had every intention on keeping everyone up-to-date via Facebook and Twitter. While having a conversation with my friend Rebecca on how I hoped that my Blackberry would work after the storm hit (realizing that it would be my only form of communication since power would inevitably be out) she had a mini intervention with me.

REB: “Lincee. You need a new FB picture. Chewbacca and the Ewok are a little dated.”
Lincee: “Seriously? Chewy is awesome (making wookie sound) and who doesn’t love Ewoks?”

REB: “I’m just saying…it’s time to change.”

Whilst pursuing other profile pics on FB to get new ideas, I noticed the Ottos had all changed profiles. Will, Tara and Nancy Jane (married and Will’s sister) had used an AMAZING new tool that can be found on www.yearbookyourself.com.

Needless to say, I had a ball yearbooking my face into different decades.

I currently have 1964 as my profile pic, but I’m willing to take suggestions. Is there another year that better suits me? See below and let me know your thoughts in the comment section.

1960

1964

1978

1980

1984

1990

2000

I know I’ve promised a hurricane update for weeks now. It just seems like I still don’t have my feet back under me from Ike’s vicious sweep of the legs.

It was tough. And there are people here who STILL don’t have electricity. Not to mention the devastation in Galveston.

But there’s one thing I would like to report before giving my full description of Ike:

The apartment cat is okay. He’s alive and well actually.

I have to admit that when I made the trip home to survey the damage, I was sort of nervous that no one thought to take the apartment cat inside during the storm. I didn’t see him anywhere. And you know he smells my dislike. That’s usually when he chooses to rub up against my legs so that tripping over him or a sever rash is inevitable.

But for days he was a no show.

Then on Wednesday night, I heard the familiar scream of horror that those of us living in my complex have learned to tune out. He was scrapping with the neighbor’s cat. Oh happy day! He survived the storm!

The next morning, I open the door, check my stoop for “presents” and left my apartment for work. The cat is catching an early morning nap beside the stairs. Feeling a bit sentimental, I take my foot and rub three times on his belly. Only three.

That’s when home boy decides to grab my leg with his filthy cat claws and hang on for dear life while I flail my leg about to try and get him to let go. As I swing him round and round with all my might, I can feel scratches on one side and a single claw digging deeper on the other.

There was blood people. And a semi infection that’s not too bad, but STILL AN INFECTION.

This is why cats are evil. Never again my feline friend. Never again.