Child's Play

While living in Washington, I've been going to school full time to finish my degree. Before I had a stroke last November, I did a little babysitting for extra cash (in case you were wondering, as thankful as I am to have social security disability checks, it doesn't quite cover all my bills). I noticed that the kids I watched were into (obviously) all kinds of technologically advanced toys and games. I'm not about to say, "When I was a kid, we only had sticks and rocks to play with!". Growing up in the late 1980s and early to mid 1990s, we had some pretty nice gizmos to play with too. Who could forget the Tomagotchi which was the absolute perfect pet?! But lately I noticed a pretty young child of a friend who has their own Facebook account. I'm talking about a middle schooler. I have no stance on this in any way, but it got me thinking about what life would have been like for me if I grew up with the whole world just a click away. Frankly, it'd be total hell. I feel so bad for kids today who can't make one mistake without it being chronicled on the internet for all of history. That awkward phase you're going to go through with braces, no boobs, lanky limbs, and a face full of zits will be broadcast to LITERALLY the entire world. Luckily, my awkward phase(s) can be hidden if I bribe the right people. My cousin, Jordyn, who is an incredible teenage girl visited me this summer. During her visit, her mother (my Aunt Jennifer) called and texted Jordyn several times to see if she knew what twerking was and if she or anyone she knew posted twerking videos online. Honestly, my mother never had to have that conversation with me. Thank God.

Photo Credit: Google Images

Growing up, my parents gave me their huge, clunky "Danny Tanner- style" VHS recorder when they replaced it with a more slim-line one (yet still huge by today's standards). Most of my friends growing up were made at church. The core group consisted of me, my cousin Stacy, Andrea, Kelli, April, and Becca. We had sleepovers at each other's houses, went to school together, spent summer weeks at camp together, and saw each other at least twice a week at church. One of our favorite things to do at all of our sleepovers was make movies. I'd bring my ginormous camera, tripod, and tapes, and we'd make shows or music videos. I remember a few times we decided to act out our version of the Sally Jesse Raphael show. We called it "The Penny Panties Show." We weren't crude or anything like that. I think we just thought the word "panties" was humorous. We dressed up like trashy characters with idiotic problems. We teased our hair, caked on eyeshadow and lipstick, and stuffed our training bras with toilet paper. We made up silly stories and filmed them then laughed and giggled while watching them later. Our other favorite was making music videos. Once we made a cover of several Spice Girls songs. I dressed up as Scary Spice by flipping my frizzy curls upside down and dousing them with a can of Aqua Net. Naturally, all vocals were done by the original Spice Girls by playing the cassette close to the microphone on the camera. Once during a visit from Tennessee, my cousin Betty, Stacy and I had a sleepover at my house. This time we decided to make homemade peanut butter ice cream (which was a complete messy disaster, by the way). While it was supposed to be freezing, we decided to make cover of TLC's "Waterfalls". Stacy and I were T-Boz and Chili while Betty played the role of Left Eye. We used LOTS of black liquid eyeliner to make sure Betty looked the part. After dancing down the staircase for our music video, we decided to clean up and watch our work. My mom had recently bought decorative white guest towels with little monograms on them. At the time, we hadn't lived in our new house long. I had a mini stroke after seeing that Betty and Stacy washed off all their black makeup with mom's new towels. But, I digress...

Photo Credit Google Images

My point is, my friends and I did some really embarrassing stuff growing up. I can't imagine if those music videos or talk show clips were on YouTube, Vine, or Facebook. I'd definitely say we had it quite good back then. And by the way, if you girls who starred in those embarrassing videos are reading this, I still have them. And I'm taking bribes ;)

Living A Horror Film

It's October and tis the season for all things scary. Frankly, I hate scary movies and being scared in general. To kick this month off, I'm going to tell you about the time I lived a real life horror film.

Leslie, Me, Brandi in my and Bran's apartment

In 2009, I was living in Little Rock with my friend Brandi. We had a cute three bedroom place on the third floor of a gated complex in a decent neighborhood. Both Brandi and I worked jobs with no set hours, so our schedules were always varying. Our best friend, Leslie, (who introduced us to each other) lived not too far away with her husband. Brandi and I shared a passion for late night murder mystery shows like "Dateline", "48 Hours", and other 'who-dunnit' real life shows. We liked to think of ourselves as couch detectives. I mean that pretty literally because we put two couches in the living room so we could both stretch out and watch the shows when we had insomnia. If we weren't solving crimes, we'd be watching ridiculous reality tv or medical marvel shows. (We had lots of insomnia during our time together... ).

One night, I had actually been tired and decided to go to bed at a decent hour. I left Brandi on her couch while I turned in. Our bedrooms were on opposite sides of the apartment from each other. I assumed I'd been asleep for a few hours when I heard loud knocking (actually, more like banging) on our front door. It was so loud that I jolted awake and rushed to the door. I peered out the peephole half asleep and saw a shadowy figure of a woman about our age with long dark hair. She wasn't knocking though. The knocks were coming from another person who was straddling the banister hidden from sight. Instead of opening the door or vocally responding, I went to Brandi's room. She was asleep in bed apparently not hearing the commotion. I shook her awake and asked, "Hey are you expecting company?". Groggily, she replied, "I told them we don't have eggs." Confused, I was sure Brandi was having a weird dream about eggs. (Just an extra piece of info: I'm proud to say I taught Bran how to boil eggs during our time as roomies. Now that she's a great cook, I like to take a little smidge of credit!). About that time, the knocking got a bit louder. So, Brandi got up and peeked through the hole for herself. We decided it best not to answer the door and not to reply to the knockers. Instead, I got my security weapon (read: butcher knife I kept under my pillow) and we hunkered down away from windows on the floor between the two couches. With my knife clutched in my hand, Brandi tells me that when she was still in the living room after I'd gone to bed, someone had knocked on our door. She looked through the hole and saw the lady that was out there now. Since she was shadowy, the lady kind of looked like Leslie. So Brandi opened the door assuming it was Leslie. Instead, the lady asked if she could borrow eggs. Brandi told her we didn't have any and shut the door. Then she decided to go to bed. Now the lady was back, but she wasn't alone. The vibe was very eery since there was clearly a man hiding over the railing knocking on the door and the woman was standing too far back to intend to talk to us or come inside if we opened the door. At the corner where she stood, we thought we saw her turning to talk to someone else around the corner, out of our sight. Brandi decided the whole situation reminded her of a movie she had seen called "The Strangers". In the movie, a couple staying in an isolated vacation house receive a knock on the door in the mid-hours of the night. What ensues is a violent invasion by three strangers, their faces hidden behind masks. The couple find themselves in a violent struggle, in which they go beyond what either of them thought capable in order to survive, (credit: IMDB because you know I didn't watch it). For reasons I could not even begin to tell you, we didn't call the police. We didn't call anyone or do anything. We just stayed on the floor of the living room, me clutching a butcher knife practicing in my head the best maneuver for stabbing the heart of an intruder. We stayed there long after the knockers left. In the wee hours of morning, we felt safe enough to return to our beds. As if common sense had been sleeping through it all only to wake up in the morning and greet us, we discussed calling the apartment security manager. We informed them of what happened and spoke with a police officer who lived in an apartment in our complex. He told us it was smart of us not to have answered the door (duh). It seemed like the initial knock when Brandi answered was a way for them to find out who lived in our apartment. If a male lived there, he'd most likely be the one to answer a door late at night. Since Brandi answered, they were sure only females lived there. Later, when I heard the knocking, the girl had returned with at least one male, possibly two. Had we opened the door, the man knocking and hiding to the side could've easily pushed his way in and overpowered us. Kind of scary to think about.

Photo Credit: Google Images

Now, when Micah is out of town and I'm home alone, I keep that same butcher knife close by. Although I live in one of the safest towns in America, I'm not taking any chances. I keep 911 on speed dial. And if you're thinking about trying something tricky on me in the middle of the night, beware. My heart stabbing maneuvers have only improved since then I'm sure!

A Tribute To My Granny

One year ago today, my family lost a wonderful mother and grandmother. Even though 365 days have passed since Granny passed away, it still feels like it was yesterday. She is greatly missed by all of us. There will always be a place in our hearts where she touched and molded our lives. There's nothing I can say here that would do her life or legacy justice. So, I'm going to post photos and different things honoring her here.

I had the honor of writing and giving the eulogy at Granny's funeral last year. It appears below. 

Eulogy

Shelby Fay Hollingsworth Dawkins passed away September 26th in her home at the age of 76. She was born February 9th, 1936 to Stillman and Eva Hollingsworth in Reform, Alabama. She was married to the late Clyde Dawkins for 52 years and both were members of the Higginson First Baptist Church. She was preceded in death by her parents, husband, a son named Jerry Dawkins, and a brother named Jerry Hollingsworth. She is survived by a son, Terry Dawkins, his wife Jennifer Dawkins, their children Jordyn and Evans Dawkins of Searcy; a daughter, Eva Dawkins Boyles, her husband Roger Boyles, their children Courtney and Nathan Boyles of Higginson; another son, David Dawkins and a grand dog she adored named Max of Searcy. She also leaves behind three brothers and three sisters, Douglas Hollingsworth of Gordo, Alabama, Don Hollingsworth of Auburn, Alabama, Bill Hollingsworth of Tuscaloosa, Alabama, Pat Hollingsworth of Higginson, Betty Owens of Foley, Alabama, and Jeanette Nowell of Kosciusko, Mississippi. 

My Pawpaw and Granny instilled many great qualities in their children and grandchildren. Among those were to be hardworking which we learned by getting paid a nickel for every stick or tree limb we collected from the yard before Pawpaw would mow. We learned to be disciplined which Nathan may have had a harder time learning. He had more meetings with the fly swatter, bar of soap to the mouth, and even a chase around the kitchen with a house shoe. We learned to be compassionate & selfless. When I became very ill with my heart condition and couldn't afford my medications and treatments, Granny sacrificed what little she had to make sure I had the proper care. We learned to be grateful for everything we're blessed with. As she often reminded Evans, she didn't have a tv to watch growing up, let alone an iPod or video games and most the time didn't have running water in the house (which he was shocked to hear). We learned not to value possessions, but to cherish family. Our family is the definition of a loving and caring family. We always loved to gather at Granny & Pawpaw's house for holidays, dinners, or even just snapping peas until our fingers turned purple. Growing up, her children never wanted for anything. My mom once said that all their clothes were homemade and never store bought. She said that their family was considered "dirt poor", but she and her three brothers never knew it. My Papaw and Granny created very rich lives for everyone they loved. They were both wonderful examples of love and devotion. 

Not too long ago, Granny asked me if I remembered something she and I had done or places we visited when I was a kid. I couldn't remember what she was talking about. She said, "I did all those things with you when you were little to create memories for after I'm gone and you've already forgotten them all!" As frustrating as that was for her, I do remember the most important things which I learned from her example. I remember all the lessons she taught me, even up to the very end when she fought her toughest battle with dignity and grace. As a child, I'd tell her that I was going to move to California and be a writer. We made plans to move there together so she could be my typist. She was always great with shorthand and typing. She told me several times that if she couldn't have been a housewife, she'd loved to have been a secretary. She encouraged all of us to live our happiest lives wherever that meant to lead us: Nathan as an artist, Jordyn as a recreational therapist, and Evans as a "cooker" one week or maybe a "magician" the next. 

While she may not be here to bake us her legendary peanut butter icing cake for our birthdays, cheer us on at our ballgames, recount the love story which was hers and Pawpaw's, or even attend our own weddings or graduations-- I know that she is in Heaven with the loved ones that have gone on before and the angels who are rejoicing at her homecoming. We'll miss you greatly Granny and look forward to the time when we're all reunited. 

Sticks and Stones

Lately, I've been thinking about how much our words hurt each other. I've had the nasty habit of name calling when I get upset. I don't necessarily call Micah a nasty word, but I have been known to say things like, "You're being a jerk," etc. I've learned that this is the same as name calling. It's something I'm working on and have actually improved upon. But back to where I was going before I incriminated myself.

Photo Credit: Google Images                                                                 

I remember being 15 and in high school sitting at lunch with my group of friends. Mostly, these friends were ones I'd made from my church youth group. We'd all grown up together. I guess you could say that we all knew what buttons to push when we were upset with one another. I remember one particular day, one of my guy friends was upset with me. As he stood to put away his tray, he called me a pig. For an average teen girl, that would be bad enough. For me, it was even worse. I mean, it is 15 years later and I STILL remember it. From that day on, I made a vow that I would never again allow another person to see me eat. I figured if somebody wanted to call me a name, it could not be "pig." Silly as this was, I managed to follow through with it for the most part through sophomore year of college. In retrospect, I realize this could almost be classified as a form of an eating disorder. I snuck around and took over the counter trucker speed. I was determined to not be a "pig" ever again. That one little word did so much harm.

Years later, when I was about 26 or so, I was living in Little Rock and working at American Eagle while recovering from one of my heart surgeries. I had dinner plans with a friend, but he asked me to stop downtown so he could run a quick errand first. I obliged, and dropped him off while I parked on the street. One of his friends who was outside leaned into my car window and said, "You're really pretty. You know, for a big girl." No, you know what, I don't know. How is that even a compliment?! Did this individual not think how his words could impact me? Again, that was years ago, but I still remember it. I didn't even know this guy, but it still bothers me. I have no idea why.

Around the same time, I was dating a guy who we'll refer to as "Adam". My relationship with Adam ended shortly after he compared me to a dented can of corn at the grocery store. (When you pick up a can of corn, see that it is dented, then put it back on the shelf and get a regular one. In this scenario, my heart condition was the dent in my can). This guy was clearly an idiot. But for some reason, I still think of myself from time to time as a dented can of food. When I buy canned goods, I always buy the dented ones now. Really, I do. So weird.

I guess I should get to the point of my PSA. Words hurt. We should all think carefully before we let things spew from our mouths, myself included. If for some reason my words have ever hurt you, I encourage you to let me know so that I can seek your forgiveness. Often, things we say can hurt someone as much as punching them. You never really know how long someone will hold onto what you say or how it will impact their lives. So, if you're reading this, then I'm challenging you to speak nicer to those around you. Control your tongue when you're upset. Think before allowing anything to come out. We can work on it together.

I know the tone of this post is a little different from most of my posts. I appreciate the outlet to vent my thoughts, share my experiences, and connect with readers. More light hearted stuff coming soon! :)

A Letter To My Teenage Self

Recently, I've talked to a couple teens who are struggling with the ins and outs of being in high school. I almost caught myself saying what I had heard thousands of times as a teen which was, "Enjoy it now because it is the best time of your life." Actually, it isn't. If you're a teen and reading this, please know that these are definitely not the best times of your life. I know that this is all coming from an ancient source since I'm on the brink of 30 (gah, I still can't believe that one). But you have to trust me on this one, ok? If I could write a letter to high school Courtney and send it back in time, it would go a little something like this....


Teenage Courtney,
Give yourself a break. You think all your peers are judging every aspect of your appearance and every move you make. In reality, they aren't. They're all far too busy being insecure about themselves. That group over there who act like they rule the world because they don't have a zit or extra ten pounds are just putting on a show. Trust me, they are feeling the exact same thing you are when you're getting ready for school each morning. So that boy you've grown up with and who sits at your lunch table called you a pig? You definitely aren't. He just knows what button to push. A good lunch doesn't consist of a Diet Coke and a trucker speed pill (ps: you become a huge advocate for cardiac care by the time you're 25 and are very disappointed in your 16 year old self). 

Be yourself. It's ok to like what you like and not like what everyone else does. Just because the "ring leader" of your group of friends likes something doesn't mean you have to. Develop your own tastes and introduce your peers to new things. While you're at it, stand up for yourself and what you believe is right. Your resolve will be tested many times before graduating high school. Don't cave to be someone you think everyone wants you to be. Stand up. Be the you that you know you are. Trust your gut. It has rarely steered you wrong. 

Your parents aren't so bad. I know they seem really disconnected and unfair a lot of the time. Believe it or not, your mom will one day be your best friend. You'll actually go to her first for advice and have fun hanging out with her. Your dad, well, he'll always be a goofball. But that goofball has always and will always put you above the world. Your parents have their faults like everyone else, but cut them some slack. You sure aren't making things easy for them. Besides, later you'll realize that when times are the worst, your parents will always be by your side. Always. So stop acting like a jerk and spend some time with them while you still live in the same city. 

Question everything you're taught. Just because someone tells you something is fact doesn't mean it is. This goes for teachers in school, church, friends, coworkers, etc. Always be inquisitive. Don't take things at face value. Form your own opinions and beliefs through knowledge and faith. Trusting your gut applies here too. You're a smart girl. Think for yourself. 

You don't have to have it all figured out. In fact, from what I've gathered so far, you may never actually figure it out anyway. 

Not all friendships last forever, but cherish them while you have them. You aren't going to stay close to those you're best friends with now. As you grow up, your decisions will take you to many new places and phases of life. Every friendship you have serves a purpose. Try to look at your relationships with others and see what you can learn from them. Be grateful for these people. You wouldn't be who you are without them even if you drift far away from each other. 

Your life isn't measured by anyone else's. When you're almost 30, you'll still be struggling with this one. Don't compare your achievements or lack thereof to anyone else's. Set your own standards and goals and work hard to reach them. There is no set formula or map for everyone to follow. You chart your own way. So, don't try to follow the map someone else has made for themselves. If you keep that up, you will never know happiness. By the way, it is ok to be proud of yourself. That doesn't make you a bad person. You are working hard and should be proud of your achievements. 

Smile more. It may not seem like much, but it really is. Besides, your parents paid a fortune for that smile. You should show it off. Plus, it scores you a few admirers later in life. 

All my love,
29 years & 10 months Courtney
PS: Maybe 40 year old Courtney will write us to take it easy on turning 30...
PPS: You really should focus on driving when you're behind the wheel. Seriously. No distractions. No acting up. Focus. 

Photo Credit: Pinterest

Crazy Encounters

Throughout my life, especially adulthood, I've had the privilege (read: misfortune) of coming across some very interesting strangers. This past weekend I happened to have two such encounters. I wish I were exaggerating or making this stuff up. Sadly, I'm not. In fact, I could even be playing down the whole thing.

Friday night Micah mentioned us going to dinner and a movie with Ben and two of his friends. The movie they wanted to see didn't much appeal to me. It was something about two guys who do a pub crawl and fight robots. Instead, I opted to see the new funny film "We're the Millers" on my own since it started about the same time as their robot flick. I was a little bit early and was the first one in the theater. I chose my seat and settled in. A few minutes later, a biker clad bald man standing about 6'4" walked into the theater. He looked at me, smiled, and said, "Finally, we're alone." In response, I lightly chuckled and continued browsing my phone. I just assumed he was making a socially awkward joke. In reality, he probably was. But his joke became a bit creepy when he chose a seat right behind me out of the entire empty theater. Finally, others began filing into the theater and I wasn't alone. By the way, the movie was really funny.

Saturday Micah and I journeyed to the great land that is Ikea. I've been in serious need of a dresser. Seriously, most of my clothes stay in laundry baskets after being washed and dried. But I digress. We had a fun afternoon exploring Ikea, window shopping designer stores in Bellevue, and eating dinner at our favorite Seattle restaurant. While Micah wandered into the Apple Store to play with the newest gadgets, I stepped outside to drool over the sparklies at Tiffany & Co and the buttery leathery goods of Gucci. (Sighh..). While window gazing, a lady side stepped beside me and whispered something a bit inaudible. I asked, "Excuse me?". While talking through the side of her mouth, she repeated, "So you the one from Craigslist?". I was a bit shocked. I looked around and everything seemed to be business as usual. I told her no and she looked around as well before disappearing back into the crowds. In retrospect, I wish I had responded, "Are you a cop? You gotta tell me if you're a cop." But witty comebacks for strangers never really hit me on the spot. I don't know what about me says, "I'm shifty." I have no idea what the craigslist ad was for. But with the lady's apparent secrecy, I assume it was not so great. But why meet in such an upscale locale? I'll never know.

Another time, while I lived in Jonesboro, AR attending college at Arkansas State, I lived in an apartment that my friends deemed the "treehouse" because it was basically a crappy wooden building in the trees. We had a dumpster on site for tenants to put their trash. One day, my friend Leslie was helping me clean out the place. She's the best organizer I know. We collected a bag or two of trash and walked them to the dumpster. As I'm throwing the bags in, a man (seemingly homeless) comes from behind the dumpster to say, "Hey baby! I mean, ma'am. I'm crazy!". Yes, that last part could have gone without mentioning. As I turned to seek security in numbers in Leslie, I notice that she as already begun to run back to my front door completely leaving me at the mercy of this lunatic. So, I tossed the bags in the dumpster and quickly followed her back up to the treehouse apartment. Les is a great friend, but if you're ever in a situation with a mentally unstable homeless person, you're on your own.

Lastly, while trying to recount all the insane encounters I've had, I'm reminded of the time I got my hair trimmed and styled before Leslie and Jonathan's engagement party in 2007. My friend at the time who was styling my hair was managing a salon in the mall. As an employee in the mall, I usually used the employee entrance doors to get in instead of using the main mall doors. This time was no different. I went inside, got my hair looking great, and was leaving through the same narrow corridor in which I had entered. In front of me was an employee of Cinnabon (I only know this from her uniform) walking with another woman. I was about ten feet behind them. Suddenly, the woman stopped walking, hiked her right leg, and farted so loudly that it literally echoed off the concrete walls. Stunned, I just stopped mid step in silence and awe. I couldn't believe it. Seconds later, once the shock faded, the stench settled in my throat and airways. I couldn't avoid letting out an audible gag. The Cinnabon girl and the gassy gal turned around to see me. Ms Flatulence apologized repeatedly and only made the bad situation worse by explaining that she had eaten shrimp for lunch. And shrimp "really plays a number" on her gastrointestinal system. I could literally taste that atrocious shrimp fart until I finally made it outside. I know what people released from prison feel like. Fresh air never ever felt so great.

So, really, where do these people come from?! Really? If you're one of them, reevaluate things like social etiquette. I'd be happy to suggest some reading material. And, by the way, if shrimp makes you uncontrollably gassy, order the steak.

 Photo Credit: Google Images                                                             

Instagram!

So, I'm a bit late to the party (sort of), but I'm officially on Instagram. Apparently, I've been on Instagram for over a year, but I haven't been using it or whatever. Now, I've created an active account. Below is a link to follow me if you're interested in seeing whatever photos I happen to post.