An American girl at Omaha

I think I was in the 5th grade when my Grandaddy finally spoke about his experiences in WWII. I had a school project and he sat down with me and a tape recorder to tell me his stories. I was young and unappreciative. And I was most definitely not worthy of hearing the stories he had to tell.

Today Jason and I visited Omaha Beach, Pointe du Hoc and the American Cemetery in Normandy, France. To bear witness to the conditions of the "beach", have memories return from conversations with my grandfather about when he stormed the beaches for D Day and view the ultimate sacrifices of thousands of boys and men who never returned home was humbling.

I do not cry much. I told Jason that this day trip was more for him bc I did not have the appreciation.

I was wrong. I cried. I said a silent prayer and took in all that the museum and thousands of white crosses laid out before me had to offer. 9,000 crosses, actually.


My grandfather survived the invasion of Normandy and the reoccupation of France in 1944. Now I understand why he drank constantly upon his return to the united states. I cannot fathom what a sober life would be like if I watched my friends and comrades die in battle. Actual battle. Not the kind we have today where it is distances and machines. I mean the kind where you see a mans face as you pierce him with a bayonet or shoot him with a gun in your hand.

The nightmares and images that would haunt your sleep would be enough to drive anyone to a bottle to numb and block it out. I'm not saying it was right, but now I can better understand. A family and daughters to raise would be something to block the memories, but the images would always be there in your head as constant reminders.......



I am glad we went.

A married American girl in Paris

Jason is out smoking a cigar and selecting a bottle of red wine as I write this. I love that about him - he's in an element and state of mind that relaxes him. He can be anywhere, at anytime and take in all that his surroundings have to offer. We have spent our days and evenings talking, sharing and hanging out. I love this honeymoon cocoon we are in. I sleep better than I have in months. I have no stress. He has no stress. We can just be as we are, and be together. No deadlines. No errands to run. No where we have to be.

I am still living the high from our wedding - an event that I would do a millions times over again and again. Despite my own self induced stress I had no worries and I had a damn good time. If anyone that attended did not have fun, then that is their fault. The months of planning and decisions and meetings resulted in a wedding that was EXACTLY what I wanted. If anyone is in need of referrals then just ask me.











So the spectacular event in which I became Mrs Jason Burt then brought us to Paris. I love the memories we are making, the fun we are having, the ring on his finger that I make sure to touch and play with every time he holds my hand. Jason and I have fun everywhere we go and we are in love, and it shows. I notice the people around us watch us when we are sitting at a table in a cafe or restaurant. We laugh. We smile. I stare at him when he isn't watching.

I've been told that this will wear off. Life will return to normal. We will fight. He will get on my nerves. Life will get in the way.

I hope that life will hold off for a bit. I am enjoying this phase immensely. Paris has been good to us and we will be sad to leave. We have toured and walked, enjoyed a dinner cruise along the Seine, strolls through a Christmas market with an illuminated Eiffel Tower 100 meters away, holding hands and hot cinnamon wine, window shopping, scarves and cold wind. I wouldn't trade our cold and rainy days in Paris for the warmest and most sunny days on a beach for anything.













I love being a married American girl in Paris.

An American girl in Paris

This is tough to do on an iPad, but I'm trying.

Being an American girl in Paris is easy. I like it. People have been friendly and accommodating. People all speak English. Paris is clean, the people do not smell bad and they are not all chain smokers. All of the notions I had in my head of what the city would be were false. I was warned not to look and act like an American, not to wear jeans and tennis shoes.

I look "American" and there isn't really much I can do about it. Blondes do not really exist here. However, I have blended in bc I have refused to look like a tourist. I do no have a backpack - I have an oversized designer handbag that I tote my camera and iPad around in. I "speak" as much as a I can and remember my manners. Hello, good morning, good evening, please, thank you -- all important phrases to know. My attempts to speak French have been appreciated and everyone I have come across has smiled and immediately returned my arttempts with English. If I butcher a word then I take the opportunity to learn the correct pronunciation.

Being an American girl in Paris has been wonderful. Jason has already promised me that we will come back.


There is so much to see here that it is not possible to see it all in one trip. Seriously. Even a week long trip where we have walked through the city for 12 hours a day. This is the part where I wish I had my tennis shoes...you cannot imagine how badly my feet hurt.

When we were in Italy last spring I walked through the streets and imagined myself living there. I had not been able to imagine the same thing about Paris until yesterday. I could definitely be an American girl in Paris :)

how many hours are in a day???

For months and at the very least weeks (which when totaled together equal months...) I have felt there are not enough hours in the day.

I enjoy my job. No, really. It's true. I enjoy the friends I've made in the process. Maybe that's why I enjoy my job as much as I do. My job is crazy and hectic and filled with never ending phone calls, hands to hold, bank accounts to reassure, be a marriage counselor and communicate "husband speak" and "wife speak" during home renovation projects, piles of paperwork, and knowing enough about almost everything because since I've been with my company longer than most I have a relatively good understanding of how things work because I get asked a LOT of questions every day. I'm a leader, teacher, researcher, project manager, sales person, communicator, secretary, gatekeeper, and smiling face.

I leave every night and still think about all of the things I havent gotten to yet. Important things. Things my boss is relying and counting on me to do. I have been so busy trying to be the best that I can be for everyone else that I have had a hard time keeping my head above water. I need more hours in the day.

Did I mention that I'm getting married in 2.5 weeks?? I still have meetings to attend, appointments to make it to, thank you cards to write, seating charts to make, more meetings to attend, checks to get to the correct vendors, and my sanity to keep.

I also have an amazing fiance, recently home from a four month deployment in Afghanistan, that I absolutely must make time for. I need more hours in the day. Period.

At some point my life will calm down and I will be on a plane to Paris. I will apologize to Jason in advance because that flight will probably be the first time in 5 months that I have absolutely nothing to do and I will sleep like a baby. He'll have his ipad to keep him entertained.

Until then I will constantly update my to do list. Squeeze in meetings where I can. Come home and spend an hour with Jason at lunch and watch The Price is Right. I'll make the most of my day and do what I can before I go to bed.

Eventually I'll get it all worked out. Or I'll figure out how to generate more hours in a day.

The Duke and Duchess

I should be in bed asleep. I should be focusing on all of the good things in my life. I shouldnt be thinking of the reason why I came to belong to Duke 18 months ago. I should be thankful for the incredibly heavy ball of fur laying at the end of my bed while I type this -- which, I am. I love that cat even though when I first brought home a screaming, vampire teeth baring teeny ball of fluff I was positive I had made a mistake. He was meant to fill part of the huge hole in my heart. And slowly that screaming ball of fluff grew into a sleek seal point snowshoe siamese that SOMETIMES allows me to have reprieve from the reminder of how he came to be with me. He's a little bit of her... the breed that I love more than all others.


Never again in my life will I have something that is "just mine" the way I did ONCE. Just one time. She was mine. All mine. I went to the Anderson County Animal Control just after my 21st birthday. I wanted a cat. I'd grown up with them all of my life, and in college I wasn't allowed to have one in the apartment I lived in. In the summer before my senior year I didnt care about the rule -- I wanted a pet. So, my friend Ashley and I packed up a cardboard box and some towels and went to go find me a cat. There were lots of animals in need of a home, but one caught my eye in particular. She was beautiful and shy and turned around just once to look at me before turning away again. Her name was Sugar, and her tag said she was there because she was pregnant. The description didnt make sense to me so I inquired with a staff member about it and found out her owner had dumped her off because SHE was pregnant and didnt want the cat anymore. That was all the info I needed -- I had a soft spot for this beautiful creature who had a heartless owner, and at 3 years old was now homeless. I took her home with me.

The first night didnt go so well and Sugar slept under my bed, and as far away from me as she could. The next day I renamed her Duchess -- because my mother is the queen, I am the princess, and the next in line was her. Sounded good to me!!! Within two days of coming home with me she was attached to my hip -- literally. She followed me everywhere. She snuggled up and used my arm for a pillow at night (and eventually put her head on the pillow, too), she slept under the covers with me. She knew the sound of my footsteps in the hall, the jingle of my keys in the door (everywhere we lived she memorized my sounds), and the time of evening I would be home. She always sat by the door waiting for me.


She loved only me, and tolerated few others -- mainly just my mom. My dad said she was neurotic. I said she was particular.


Why the nostalgia? Because two years ago I slept on the floor, as far under the bed as I could get, to fall asleep as best I could with my hand on her. She was sick and I knew it would be the last night I'd ever spend with her again. In my heart of hearts, the sickening and dread of knowing what the next day would bring did not allow me to not lie on the floor with her. She was too weak to jump off of the bed in case she had to cough, or worse. Even as she bled internally (which I found out the next day), she would try to make it to her litter box so that she wouldn't make a mess anywhere else. I only had seven years with her. Seven wonderful years, and the only thing I've regretted in life involved my cat.


I spent a year without her having chosen a boyfriend over my faithful, forgiving, loyal and loving Duchess. Hind sight is 20/20 and a guy who didnt love or understand my love for animals wasn't someone I should have spent my time with anyway. Nuff said. When I went to my parents house Duchess always purred and snuggled and never left my side. She missed me as much as I missed her.


I still miss her. terribly. I used to think my connection to her was something that everyone experiences with a pet, but I was mistaken. I picked her at the animal shelter just as much as she picked me. Our personalities were similar, we were just as selective on who we love and allow to love us, aloof but loyal. She was my kid -- vet visits, medicines, responsibility, feeding her.


I know a lot of people that say pets are just pets. They dont get super attached to an animal. I dont know if I'll ever be able to love in that way again. When the vet called to say "it's about that time" a part of me died instantly. I was at work and it was a gorgeous day -- a warm day with a slight breeze, lots of sunshine and not a cloud in the sky. I dropped everything I was doing and sped to the vet's office. When I saw her I could tell she was fading quickly -- and that she had been hanging on just long enough for me to get there. Animals are perceptive -- much more than people give them credit for. I truly believe she needed to say goodbye to me and held on for as long as her weak body would allow her to. I snuggled her for a bit in my Jeep. Just she and I. I talked to her and stroked her ears like I always did. She purred a little bit for me and just watched me. I finally had to take her back inside to the room where the vet was waiting for me to give the "ok" to give her a shot to relieve her of her pain.


I'll never know how it happened but she began bleeding internally. Massive bleeding and there was nothing I could have done even with all of the money in the world. I could not have saved her. It took a few minutes to move through her system and put her at ease. And in that time I cried and cried and just held her and whispered how much I was going to miss her. My mom got a picture of that moment and I treasure it.


I've had my heart broken several times, but those events pale in comparison to that event in my life. It changed me. I constantly look for her in other cats -- her traits, her personality. but I never find her. My mom said that's a good thing because I would never be able to love another pet that resembles her in any way because I would only compare them to Duchess.


I wrote this for myself. A release of the sadness that still overwhelms me at times. This year is a little easier than last, Duke is nothing like her, Dinah resemebles her quite a bit, Haley snuggles like she did. I have bits and pieces of her to remind me, and the photo on my nightstand for the days that I manage to forget.


Duke helped fill the hole, and time will heal the rest.

I love you

It's not about what you think. That's actually the name of a song on a cd I picked up tonight. And yes, I STILL buy cd's. I dont care what you tell me -- I think they sound better than just downloading songs. So, the song is on the new Eli Young Band cd and it's about how everybody does something to fill a void they may have, or to keep them entertained -- stealing, drinking, fill in the blank. The guy in the song, however, loves her.

So I started thinking about how I used to fill the void in my life with something other than love. And what I substituted turned into an obsession and was a double edged sword. I ran. I ran like Forrest -- I just kept run-nen. I dropped nearly 35 pounds and looked phenominal. For a while. Then when I continued to lose weight I guess I looked bad. Or so my friends and family tell me now. But, when I'm back to my original weight it wouldnt be very nice of them to tell me how bad I look now!

I started running again on a daily basis about two weeks ago. Not because I need something to fill the emptiness in my heart. Lord knows my that if I could get any happier then I might explode and shower everyone around me in glitter, rainbows and kittens (because I associate these things with being happy). I'm marrying the most wonderful man in 6 weeks, work is going well, I have amazing friends, and supportive family. I'm pretty friggin happy!

I started running again because I have not been diligent or paying any attention whatsoever to what I was eating and I was "too busy" and "too tired" to exercise by the time I got home from work. I ran around Dunwoody this summer because it was easy and right outside my door when I had an urge. I didnt enjoy it though. I havent really enjoyed running in a very long time.

I found a new place to run near work. I dont give myself the opportunity to wimp out. But I forgot my ipod at home yesterday and "damnit!!!" was what I said as I scolded myself. About 3 minutes into my run I was SO glad that I didnt have Taylor Swift, Kesha, or whomever else may have flooded into my ears singing to me. Instead, I had a chance to listen and remember why I love running. I expereienced the pounding of my feet on the boards of the boardwalk. I heard the crickets. I heard birds singing and conversing in their own dialects and sounds through the trees around me. I heard the wind rustle the plants along the edges of the boardwalk. I noticed the changing of the color of the leaves. And I was able to concentrate on my breathing and pushing myself to run farther. I became a runner again instead of just someone who runs.

I may not have the void to fill anymore, but I can still enjoy the thing that filled up the hole in my heart until something else more wonderful and lasting came along.

so maybe I'm a little bit different, afterall

"I'm not high maintenence. I'm mid maintenence" This was my favorite way to describe myself for years, but I was only fooling myself: everyone else already knew this was a lie. And it wasn't a very good lie, either.

I wouldnt say that I lived a spoiled rotten life, but I dont recall ever wanting for anything when I was a kid. When I was 16 I wanted a car. What did I get????? NOT the shiny red mustang on the showroom floor. I got a J-O-B instead. And then I got the shiny red mustand coupe on the showroom floor. I worked damn hard for that car -- I've made more pizza than you can shake a stick at, baby sat lots of kids, juggled my AP and Honors class schedule, orchestra, student government and anything else that I thought would get me into a great college, and then made some more pizza. I had some rather lofty goals for myself and I was going to make them happen.

And I did. sort of.

I got into my second choice school (I'm still bitter than Ga Tech didnt accept me. I often wonder if I would have included a picture with my application if things would have been different. It worked for Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde, right??) within three weeks. That's pretty much unheard of. So it was decided -- I was going to be a Clemson Tiger majoring in Chemistry. Blonde of not, I'm a pretty smart chick. Goals were being accomplished and I was doing it on my own.

All of this goal setting and attaining would some day make it difficult for men to live up to my expectations and requirements -- not because they lacked in anything, but because I was doing it on my own and didnt need them to be fullfilled. I bought my first car, I got into a great school, I paid for 80% of my out of state school on my own, apartments in and after college, clothes, shoes, different cars. I wasn't ever the girl that wanted to be showered with gifts. I didnt need a boy to get me something -- I'd get it myself! What I wanted was intellectual stimulation. I wanted someone who would make me laugh and not let me be so serious and high strung all of the time.

The girlfriends that I have been fortunate enough to surround myself with are a LOT like me - headstrong, witty, smart, focused, and remarkably wonderful, and we can all talk each other off of the ledge when we're wound a little too tightly. So what makes me so different???

My daily life. For the better part of the past year, and for most of the upcoming year (and then who knows) I will live separated from my husband. I guess it's a military-ish life we live. Jason loves his job and I love that he loves his job. I dont watch the news if I can help it. I am glued to my phone and computer because it's how we communicate. I curse the battery life on my phone daily. We live Groundhog Day each day, every day, on opposite sides of the planet -- wake up, go to work, have dinner, talk via instant messaging, go to bed. Get up and do it all over again. Thrown in the mix are workouts and for me an occaisional dinner out. I manage the distance. I keep the lonliness in check and look at the big picture instead of just the short term separation.

What else makes me different? The fact that I dont have a single girlfriend that would live the life I live. Days, weeks, months away from their husband. Let alone have a husband that lives on a military base. I have my moments of sheer panic, I wont lie. When he's on a transAtlantic flight I can't focus on anything but the clock. I know what time he should be landing and I hold my breath until my phone tells me that I've received a message from him. Next I get to worry when he gets on a plane and heads to the base. He tells me that I have nothing to worry about -- but he knows I will anyway. I worry because I love him. I worry because the short term is hard enough...the thought of permanent is unthinkable. There are days that I dont even hear from him. Those days arent very fun because I dont sleep well when I dont know that he's 100000% ok.

I'm a little bit different because I'm a faux military wife (or close enough right now at least). The independance that I attained so early on keeps me sane here at home and I'm ok with that. I appreciate the life I live. And it'll make for some good blogging!

Where do you go from there?

This is my first blog -- so I apologize in advance for how "unfancy" and rudimentary it may be.

I like to talk, but not really. I'm fantastic at small talk but not good with the intimate conversations and telling everyone everything that's going on. To my close friends I can spill the beans and the tears and the emotions as if the dam had sprung a leak. But to a total stranger? Not so much....until right now.

I've thought about blogging in the past few months. I have friends that do it, so why not do it too? I mean all of my friends seem to be jumping off of a bridge so I'll follow suit. But, when I thought about it I didnt consider my life to be all that exciting. I have a fairly normal life. Sort of. I work, I come home, I sleep, I talk to my fiance (who is half way around the world), I sleep, I do it all over again. It's like the movie Groundhog Day.

This morning my thought process shifted. The rose colored glasses that I've been looking at the world through cracked. Reality has snuck in.... I hate reality. I prefer my lovely glasses much more.

I get up every morning by the aide of my phone, even though I have a perfectly good alarm clock that I've had since I went away to college in 1999. The problem with my phone is that all of my emails are linked to it; so I get the pleasure of laying in bed a few extra minutes to be lazy. I get to read what Groupon is offering, what Banana Republic is selling, and any other promotions that have come my way since I went to bed. What I wasn't expecting to see was an email from my mother at 1:07am.

My mom was a school teacher for over 30 years, and she's still conditioned to go to bed before 10 pm, and now that she's retired she allows herself to sleep in till at least 8:30am. Getting an email at 1:07am is just not something that happens. My parents try not to worry my brother and I if it's not necessary and we appreciate that -- most times. This is a time I wish they had called me.

My dad's parents lived in Miami when Hurricane Andrew destroyed south Florida in 1992. I was 11 at the time and the following winter they moved in with us just before another natural disaster happened -- a blizzard (this was not a good year for weather). They never moved out and I grew up with their presence (another blog for later) in our home. It's never occured to me to NOT have them around. Until today.

My Nana, as she's called, was a smoker most of her life. I think she finally quit when I was 16? We all know the dangers of smoking, we've taken health classes, seen the lungs on display during field trips, etc. What we know now wasn't known then. Nana has never really been a strong person, and I dont mean physically and being able to hold up cars while. She's not a fighter when it comes to anything -- it's easier to admit defeat than push back and fight. I've noticed this trend and mental attitude becoming more prevelant over the years, as her health has deteriorated.

My grandfather, PawPaw, is just the opposite. He's the domesticated one -- does laundry, makes dinner, feeds the animals (Canada geese that live in the backyard year round and their cat and parrot), drives to all of their doctor's appointments, and he mows the yard. When he's sick you know he's sick. But, he never complains -- he just sucks it up, deals with it and gets better. How their marriage lasted this long is beyond me, but today I observed and started to think. Today.

Today sucked. Today sucked really badly. I am not a person that can hold herself together easily unless I am compelled to do so. My mom has always joked that I am the perfect person to own a cat (or cats) because like cats, I dont like to be held. I like to be loved and petted for a short time and then be on my way. On my schedule. As I've gotten older, and grown both mentally and emotionally, I'm becoming more emotional outwardly. Maybe I'm just getting soft in my old age... Today I wanted to break down into a million pieces but couldnt. I'm the person that rarely cries publicly and if you happen to be around me when I cry then you will inevitably cry as well. Today I couldnt. Today I was compelled to hold myself together.

So, my email from my mom said that she and my dad took Nana to the hospital yesterday afternoon and she is now in ICU. COPD and congestive heart failure. We all know what the outcome will be.

Today I was an observer, for the most part. Today I observed how to pick the right person to build a life with. I observed what the glorious result is from weathering out the ups and downs. You stick it out, thick and thin. I observed that you flirt when machines are beeping and humming. You keep moving forward, you put on your big girl (or boy) panties and you dont let the fear in your heart and knowledge in your head show to the other person -- the one with the tubes and IV's and machines. You dont ignore the inevitable, you just persevere. You carry the burden and worry and fear for both of you. You put your most loving face forward, and you pray silently.

My grandparents have been married for 60 years. Not only is that a damn long time, if you've ever met my family you know that's an even longer damn time.

I'm marrying the right person, the person I want weather life with, in December. I hope that when Jason and I have to say "I'll see you later" that we will flirting with each other and not letting our fear show, too.