What do you do when you live in a small, redneck fishing town who has boat loads of holiday cheer?
Find a hole in the wall that serves alcohol on the dock and watch the “parade” of boats with lights and fireworks float around the bay.
At least it was a beautiful sunset tonight. :]
Home sweet home.
Walked in the door and was greeted by our dog, Rusty, and my dad holding one of my favorite beers. Drank with dad on the couch until mom came home and she is now cooking my absolute favorite, her super amazing spaghetti sauce and ravioli. Lost some followers today apparently? But you know what? Fuck it. I am happy and home. Deal with it.
Confession: Aubrey showed me this video on her phone after the hockey game.
This explains so much of my upbringing it’s not even funny.
1. I still say buggy and that is apparently weird.
2. My mom sold Longerberger baskets and my godmother sold Mary Kay.
3. To me Christmas season starts the second the Halloween decorations are put up.
Things not covered:
“We missed ya’ll at church last weekend.”
“Hush your mouth.”
“Ya’ll wanna go muddin’/crawdaddin’/baitfishin’/grillin’?”
“Sweatin’ like a hooker in church.”
“Don’t get ugly.”
SEC football is God.
Pearls, Northface Jackets and boots.
And a few others.
I saw this on Facebook.
Whoever made this, THANK YOU.
A friend of mine who used to work at the local paper messaged me today. He knew the reporter who was covering the story about Mr. Griffith’s death and asked if I could call and talk to the reporter. I asked the reporter if I could send his number to classmates of mine, and one of our classmates posted it on Mr. Griffith’s facebook asking that as many people as possible call the Daily News to tell them how much Mr. Griffith meant to us.
It turns out that Mr. Griffith had written his own obituary before he passed away, which is going to be printed by the Daily News as is. Tom McLaughlin is the reporter who will do the follow-up piece that stems from the impact Mr. Griffith had as a teacher for over twenty years at Northwest Florida.
I was lucky enough that my friend e-mailed me a pre-print copy of Mr. Griffith’s obituary. The obituary is brief, and doesn’t do nearly enough justice of what kind of inspiration he was to people, but it’s in his words.
Mr. Griffith’s last lecture for his 9:30AM class, in February 2012.
Take the 30 minutes at some point today and watch this video. Everybody should have Mr. Griffith as a teacher, even if just for 30 minutes online. My only wish now is that Mr. Griffith’s words could be shared with the world.
RIP Wendell Griffith.
June 12, 2012
RIP to a proud patriot, excellent role model and one of, if not the very best, teacher I have ever had, Mr. Wendell Griffith.
He was my American History teacher in high school and one of the most memorable teachers I have ever had. When we graduated in 2008, Mr. Griffith had already decided that we would be the last class he’d teach at the high school level. He walked with us at our graduation and after the ceremony everybody rushed to get a picture with him in our cap and gowns. Everybody in my graduating class knew and respected him.
I will probably post his last lecture later today from YouTube. Everyone should hear at least one lecture by this man.
Mr. Griffith-Semper Fi and if I am ever in Russia I will always remember your story of being kicked out of the USSR for flipping the bird to the statue of Lenin.
My mom sent me this scan of our local Bluewater Bay newspaper from back home.
Congrats again to my friend and old roommate, Sarah on all her accomplishments! :)
Next time you use the Knights Pantry, now you know who to thank.
I only did it the one time because the car club I was in wanted to get shots put together for a calendar of the club’s cars for a buddy who was deploying. The owner of the corvette asked if I’d pose next to his car. Thinking he was kidding I said, “Only if I get to drive it! And I’m going to be fully clothed.” He threw me the keys at 10am that day and told me he’d be back to pick it up at 3pm. He so didn’t go home with the same amount of gas in his tank, I’ll say that much.
Also…
HAY FIRST CAR, HAY:
18 year old Kelli. Out and about in good ol’ Destin!
I don’t even remember the last time I had one of these bad boys.
My dad has been on a mission to recreate this Creamsicle blended drink he had in Key West, so he bought these.
Also, I’m not staying in my room this trip due to the fact my mother’s things have overtaken my old room. So I’m in my sister’s room instead.
Benefit to this? There are so many nice clothes she has left in her closet for the past six years. Hello, free shopping! Ralph Lauren button downs? Great condition jean jacket? American Eagle jeans in my size? Don’t mind if I do!
P.s.- The inevitable pun joke:
“Who Loves Orange Soda?”
“Kel(li) Loves Orange Soda!”
I’ve had so many awkward run-ins already.
I feel like Reese Witherspoon in Sweet Home Alabama.
O___O
The guy I had a crush on at 16 who led me on and then blew me off while I worked at the movie theater? He still works at that movie theater.
I had a friend’s ex/ ex-HS classmate hand me my order at Chik-fil-A. He even asked how my friend was doing. Halfway through my “Oh she’s great, she has a career and is getting married soon and has a dog and is happy..” I was thinking, “Damn you fucked up.”
My neighbor down the street who was the popular girl in middle school has a kid who will be starting pre-K soon.
And everyone I talk to who never left Niceville asks me the same thing, “You’re still living in Orlando? Aren’t you afraid of being like shot or killed? Isn’t it really dangerous there?”
Bitch, what do you think I do every day? Wake up in the morning, throw on my armor and have to army crawl my way to school while avoiding gang shoot-outs and evil warlords? It’s just central Florida!
Then on Thursday driving 6 hours north to good ol’ Niceville for a week.
So if you’re wondering, driving from one end of my state to the other is roughly 12.5-13 hours of driving.
Florida Problems.
There is this place in Florida called Niceville.
Like seriously.
But there’s a reason it’s called Niceville. It used to be called Boggy Bayou, but someone had a great idea to rename it to make it sound more pleasant for tourists.
It’s in Central Time Zone. Yes, there is a western part of…
For anyone who ever asked about my hometown, read this.
