Bragging Rights

Okay, Internet. If Brian gets on here and reads this he’s going to either be a) mad that I shared this with you, or b) really happy that I’m so proud of him. At the risk of sounding a little hypocritical (you know, after my High Maintenance post the other day), I really am proud of my husband. He makes me nuts a lot of the time, but he is so smart, so responsible, so put-together, so completely opposite of me that we just work. Can’t explain it, just is.

Brian has been actively pursuing an MBA for a couple of years now. In both our graduate school cases, we decided to take three courses first before officially applying to our programs of choice. The advantages to that are that we can get a good idea of what the programs are like, get to know the faculty a bit, and have professor recommendations when we actually do decide to officially apply. The other thing you have to have is a certain score on either the GMAT or the GRE, depending upon which program you enter.

I’m a fairly decent test-taker, or as I like to call it – guesser – but BB gets super stressed out and has quite a bit of test anxiety. Consequently, he’s had to take the GMAT several times, along with some test-prep classes to help him get a grasp on the material. Every time he studies for that thing, I look at his notes and I’m all Are you kidding me? That’s MATH? Looks like a bunch of doctor scribbles to me, if you want to know the truth.

In reality, Brian is super smart and has taken to these classes like a fish to water. Something about that GMAT though, just gets him every time. So yesterday afternoon he headed off to Raleigh for the third and final time to just make damn sure he gave that GMAT all he had. Internet, it was 3 1/2 hours of hell and…

HE PASSED!

He needed a certain score to guarantee him admission to his MBA program and he got it, plus some. I could not have been more excited if I tried, I swear to you. I called my mama, his mama, my aunt, my best friend, everyone that knew he was trying and we all squealed together because finally, finally he relaxed enough, believed in himself enough and had the courage enough to prove to himself what we have known all along: that he could do it.

And y’all, that’s all the Christmas I need right there.

Follow Friday

So Internet, do you hang out on Twitter like I do? No? You should get on that, and soon. (Check out my Twitter updates over there on the right!) I adore Twitter, and I think I feel about Twitter what most of my friends feel about Facebook: sheer guilty pleasure. I can stalk celebrities without them knowing that I stalk them, I can make new friends through newish friends through old friends, I can write 140 characters about anything on earth that I want to, and I don’t have stats to check, which means I don’t ever really feel bad about myself on Twitter.

Except, that is, on Fridays. Fridays on Twitter are #Follow Fridays, which means you tweet about people you like so that other people will follow them. Are you following me? No? Then probably Twitter isn’t for you. I don’t have all that many followers, so sometimes I look little pathetic on Twitter. Anyway, today my Twitter friend @AshleyGross gave me a shout-out and compared me to @altgeldshrugged (the inimitable Jen Lancaster) which made me feel all googly inside. And right after that, my devoted reader Vivian told me this: “I’m not sure if you are writing a book (like Jen Lancaster would) but if/when you do, I promise to buy it and tell everyone else I know to do so as well.” How sweet is THAT?!

So to all the followers and readers, thank you very much. I am sorry to report that there is not a book deal yet, but there are still 21 more days until Christmas. A girl can dream.

I will leave you with this: if we were all on Twitter right now, I would so tell people to follow you all. Promise. Happy #Follow Friday!

9 Clues You’ve Arrived Down South

They’re baaa-aaack! (My lists!) This week I’m giving you an inside look at what it’s like to be innately Southern. Just because you moved here from Ohio doesn’t mean that you really know what’s going on. Here’s some help:

1. I am the seventh person in my family to be named Margaret Elizabeth, though not necessarily in the same order. Also, my brother and my cousin have the same name as my grandfather, ditto for most of my other cousins and their immediate families. I pity the fool that has a baby and picks a name because they like it. Possible grounds for getting disinherited.

2. My husband prefers bow ties to neck ties. Because they’re hot. And he thinks it gives him a better chance of getting laid. (He’s not entirely wrong.) Also, neck ties are kind of passe. Down here, at least.

3. We recently joined a social club whose sole purpose is to get a group of people together for drinking, dancing and debauchery. It’s called Cotillion and it could not be more Southern if it tried. Also, it’s awesome.

4. We refer to people’s houses as “The Austin House” or “Bloom Farms” or “Mulberry Hill” with a straight face. And if we live at such a place, we add that title to our return address embossers.

5. I wouldn’t dream of calling my friends’ mothers by their first names, unless a) they have instructed me to, or b) I put Ms. in front of it (e.g. Happy Thanksgiving, Ms. Anne!).

6. I am in stiff competition with the rest of my friends and family for “The Refrigerator with the Most Party Invitations.” The more covered your fridge door – particularly with Crane’s or Caspari invites – the more popular you are. And speaking of popular, it is custom for us to sneak into our friends’ kitchens and spy on their fridge doors to see what parties we weren’t invited to, and who isn’t getting a Christmas gift from us this year.

7. When someone invites me over for a glass of wine, I dare not show up empty handed, unless otherwise indicated. Acceptable take-alongs are cheese straws, pimento cheese and crackers, a cute package of cocktail napkins or a bottle of wine. (Side note: this is the perfect opportunity to regift those ugly napkins you got last year for Christmas or to get rid of that expensive Costco cheese you thought would be delicious but which actually tastes like shoes.)

8. We kiss cheeks. Doesn’t matter if you’re married, single, man, woman or child. When I hug you, I will also kiss your cheek. Might tell you I love you, too, if I’ve had a couple drinks. But don’t worry, it isn’t a come-on, it’s just a term of endearment.

9. Every Southern woman knows where to find the perfect ham biscuits, because chances are, she can’t make them as good herself. Ham biscuits are good for breakfast, brunches, company, cocktail parties, tailgating, and the list goes on and on. Once you find that lady out in the country that makes them by the hot, buttery dozen, you can bet on keeping her in business for as long as she’ll make them.

For other Monday listers, visit Anna @ abdpbt.

It’s Wednesday, November 18th.

Probably you already knew that. But what you might not know is that it is the combined birthday of two more of my most favorite people.

My BFF Kathy turns 30-ish today, and I wish I could find words to encapsulate her right here, but I don’t have enough storage space on this here blog. Kathy has more wit than Jon Stewart, better taste than Clinton Kelly (sorry Clinty, you know I still love you oh my god we are SO soulmates please don’t leave me please please), fiercer loyalty than a golden retriever (no, Kat, I’m not comparing you to a dog) and was a better roommate to me than Chandler was to Joey. Also, she does a mean running man. I adore her in every sense of the word and strive to be like her every day. (Except on the days that I’m lazy. On those days I’m not like her at all.) She knew me when I dated my husband, she put up with me for a solid year when we were wedding planning, and she has remained my steadfast and true blue friend even after I’ve become a jaded, cranky wife. The only supper club I have ever belonged to also belongs to her, and I’m eternally grateful. Happy birthday, Higs!

Finally, I have to wish my aunt Ruthie a marvelous *&th birthday. (I’m not naming numbers, even though I think it’s incredibly exciting, but let’s just say it falls somewhere between 69 and 71. Approximately.) Ruthie is the fabulous little devil that sits on my shoulder day after day to tell me that life can be more fun if you make it that way. She is the person in my life who reminds me not to set limitations on my dreams and my talents, and she is one of my most vocal cheerleaders. Ruthie will drop everything in a second to be with her friends when they need her, and I’m proud to say that our baby pictures look eerily similar. If that’s a sign of what’s to come, I’m gonna continue to be smoking hot for quite some time. Ruthie is a spitfire, she is a treasure, and she’s mine all mine.

I love you both and wish you the happiest of happy days!

Spooky little girls like you

So actually, I have misled you a little bit, because the girls I’m about to brag on are not at all spooky. However, today is Friday the 13th, also known as ALISSA’S BIRTHDAY! and aren’t all Friday the 13th’s a little spooky? I forget why…

Anyway, this weekend two of my besties are turning, um, 30ish and I want to tell you a little bit about them. So here goes:

Alissa, of haley+rose, is one of the sweetest souls in my life. She is thoughtful, kind, creative, loyal, fiercely awesome and is my stationery hero. When I think of her my face lights up from the inside out because she’s one of those people that makes you feel warm and sunshiney, even if you’re not. Happiest birthday to you, lovey! Alissa lives near Hollywood, which, according to Miley Cyrus, is the land of fame and excess. I would not say that Alissa fits the excess mold, but she is famous and I am lucky to know her.

Alissa, Elizabeth and Josie

And Josie – oh Josie! – Josie is my partner in several crimes, none of which you will find out about here. She writes over at She Don’t Know Come Here From Sic ‘Em, where you can learn about a) her pregnancy, b) her love of the law and c) Hubs, an Army dude that supports her in her efforts to take over the world. Josie tugs on my heartstrings because she lives so far away, and I can’t rub her preggers belly like I want to. (She’s filing a restraining order RIGHT NOW.) She turns 29 (again) tomorrow, and if I were in Louisiana, I would bake her a big cake and let her eat the frosting with her fingers.

November is full of friend-type birthdays, so you can expect some similar posts to come. And if you don’t like to read about how awesome my friends are, SUCK IT. Happy Friday!