XOXO

HE SAID THE "L" WORD!!!... on the flybridge of a 4 million dollar yacht... with the Friday night Charleston fireworks ablaze in the background... Ace told me that I was the most perfect person he had ever met (boy is he fooled!) and that he LOVES every tiny piece of me.

Soulshine. Lemme tell ya. It was one of the MOST PERFECT moments I have yet to experience in my 26 years of roaming this earth.

With fireworks exploding all over my heart, I said "I love you, too"! Sigh

LOOK OUT WORLD - THIS LADY'S IN LOVE!

"Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep... wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you're just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky he is to have you.... The one who turns to his friends and says, 'that's her'.” — Anonymous

Somewhere over the rainbow....

way up high.... there's a land that I heard of once in a lullaby.

Somewhere over the rainbow... skies are blue... and the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.

**LISTEN HERE**


Hi, you've reached Courtney! Physically, I am in the office today, but you will have to leave a message at the beep, as my mind has wandered off into a daydream.....

BEEP!

You Say Goodbye, And I Say Hello

When Cari D made the decision to pack her memories and leap from Charleston to her current hometown, DC, I must say that my heart was a bit broken. Together since the age of 14, she's been my leaning post... Saturday afternoon beach buddy... roomie... late-night back porch gossip gal... the first person I called the day I passed my driver's test... truly my greatest girl-friend. Even though this move occurred almost 2 years ago (and she is wonderfully happy, I should add), I still feel a twinge of home-sickness for her when the salty beach air is warm or I hear the churning of margaritas in the blender. She's an incredible lady and Charleston will never truly be the same without her daily presence.
Shortly after her move, she came back bearing gifts. Mine - a dainty blue clay pot etched with tiny white flowers. It was filled with dirt and contained the beginnings of a "Forget-Me-Not" plant - soon to become a blossoming of delicate sky-blue flowers. Although I'm sad to say that the precious plant is long deceased, the beautiful pot still adorns my living room. In the midst of Spring cleaning this week, I ran across the message that was enclosed and it just served as one more reminder of why I love her so...


"Don't be dismayed at good-byes. A farewell is before you can meet again. And meeting again after a moment or a lifetime is certain for those who are friends." -- Richard Bach

My luz muffin comes for a visit to Charleston in less than a month bringing a wonderful new surprise... a baby bump in her belly.

*happy tears*

TWIZZLERS....

Candy or Plastic????

That is the question!

Anyone care to explain why the world continues to be so hyped about a non-flavored piece of candy that has the consistency of plastic? I just don't get it!

The thing that gets me... people "love" these rubber-like sticks (which in my opinion are the red-headed step child of candy) so much that I'm certain someone out there, right now, is pissed at me for daring to speak such words. Some avid Twizzler lover is soon to bombard my in-box with hate mail, i'm sure of it!

All of that aside, I am a strong supporter of the Hershey Corporation. Did you know that every time you purchase a piece of Hershey candy, the proceeds are filtered into a trust for an orphanage founded by Milton Hershey and his wife? See for yourself.... click HERE! That’s just one of the great things that Mr. Hershey did while he was alive! You've gotta give it to the man, even though his company did invent the "plastic candy". ;)

So maybe instead of Twizzler, I'll stick with his much cooler brother, Hershey kiss. All in the family, right!

DANCING QUEEN

The Dancer believes that his art has something to say which cannot be expressed in words or in any other way than by dancing... there are times when the simple dignity of movement can fulfill the function of a volume of words. There are movements which impinge upon the nerves with a strength that is incomparable, for movement has power to stir the senses and emotions, unique in itself. This is the dancer's justification for being, and his reason for searching further for deeper aspects of his art.

~~ Doris Humphrey (acclaimed dancer & choreographer), 1937

***

I took dancing when I was a little girl. I remember pouring into my tiny black leotard - a piece of cloth that, now, would be just enough to manufacture a pair of gloves for my hands. Although it barely clung on to my petite frame, that black leotard made me feel special… beautiful… inspired. With ballet slippers and tap shoes in hand, I would mosey off to Ms. Susan’s Dance Studio.

Ms. Susan - a story in herself. A woman legendary for the deep lavender painted home in which she lived; an old goat who years later would make repeated attempts to charm my high school boyfriend (30 years her junior). That’s the lady who taught me how to dance. Although she was a harsher gal who had be-friended the better end of the bottle for some years, she always remained graceful in front of that dance mirror - like a willowy branch on the banks of a river, allowing the breeze from the water to tickle the tips of its leaves. There, through the crack of a door which led into the “big girl” studio, I would watch her, as if my life depended on it. Little blonde curls and big blue eyes exploding with all the wonderment a five year old could possess – I watched her. Her pirouettes were perfection and tap precisely polished.

She passed away recently, and although we weren’t close, it still felt like the world had shifted a bit when my mom called to tell me. The fact is, she scared the hell out of me as a child. Even still! It doesn’t take much for my imagination to collect images of her torturing 4-year-old girls across the southern state – her bony little finger pointing, disappointingly, for the misuse of jazz hands and high kicks. Yep, she was frightening all right.

My mom, god love her, had to sit in the studio the whole first year that I practiced. Her departure would bring an immediate swell of tears & terror. Fortunately, total trepidation gave way to slight apprehension which eventually dwindled into the occasional nightmare.

I still have that black leotard in the depths of my parent’s attic back home, tucked neatly beside my tattered pink slippers. I gave up on dancing when I was 13 and still wonder where those feet could have taken me had I continued on...

Tissue Please

5:30, yesterday afternoon: The moment I've been anticipating ALL day. WORKS OVER and I can finally take my runny nose, sore throat, non-functioning brain HOME. To the couch I go!


9:30, last night: Me! Drowning in a sea of tissues and vicks vapor rub! I extinguish the last ounce of energy in my body to prepare a bowl of Campbell's Homestyle Chicken Noodle Soup (the cure all) and bury my face into the coolness of my blue suede pillow.


10 o'clock: A slight tap on the door, ever so faint. Who could that be?


It was the new squeeze, who, for Soulshine's sake I will now refer to as Ace - my Ace of Spades (I smile). He was there to rescue me from my sneezing, coughing, and inability to breath, and like a scene from a Harlequin romance novel, my hair caught the wind as I reached to embrace.


SNEEZE! (all over his blue cotton shirt sleeve)


He didn't care. He kissed me.


SNEEZE! (into his left ear drum, which I'm sure wasn't the most pleasant moment of his life)


He told me I looked beautiful - the liar! My nose painted a color red that Granny Smith only wishes for her apples, hair has somehow formed a bird's nest in the back in which I'm certain that something has taken residence, no makeup, no shower, chloraseptic breath, and holey Pink Floyd t-shirt paired with the most hideous sweat pants that somehow make my sore throat feel slightly better as I slip each leg in. BEAUTIFUL - HA!


At any rate, he is there to take care of me. What more could I ask for?!


Sighs & Sneezes,

Love Struck