Autobiography

New rule: When your gut instinct is to work from home, you should work from home.

That was my inclination as I woke up yesterday, surrounded by cats and tucked in under my toasty electric blanket. I had a sales meeting to attend (but couldn’t I call in?). I had an intern to orient. I had a committee to join. I had a class to teach.

If you’ve watched the news in the past 36 hours, it won’t surprise you that only one of those things happened. After the 9 a.m. sales meeting, I emailed my fellow instructors in Tuscaloosa, seeking a sub in case the roads were dangerous. I didn’t expect them to be, but 60 miles is a long way to drive when there’s a possibility of icy conditions. Within half an hour, the university canceled classes and I began to wonder if I should drive home while it was still safe.

Or while I thought it was still safe. My story isn’t exceptional; like many others, I left my office around 11 a.m., expecting a slow but manageable drive home. My usual route is 4.5 miles and takes about 15 minutes to traverse. Yesterday I made it halfway in an hour, got caught on a patch of ice, was pushed off by two gentlemen and a block later discovered that my regular street home was closed. I turned around and pursued the flattest route I could think of; it was longer, but I suspected I would be less likely to get stuck again.

I didn’t need another push, but I slid several times during the remaining three hours of my drive. It was an immersive learning experience for this Florida-raised girl, but I quickly realized that proceeding slowly, avoiding braking on inclines and reversing and readjusting when stuck would help me make it home. After four hours in the car, I hooted and hollered as I pulled into my driveway.

Many others weren’t so fortunate: My roommate hunkered down at the home of a friend’s aunt, and my boyfriend slept in his office. One of my coworkers will spend a second night in our photo studio. But everyone I know is safe and warm, and for that I’m grateful.

I once thought I hated the Auburn University Tigers more than any other team in college football. I’ve been a fan of the University of Alabama Crimson Tide for longer than I can remember; in Alabama, where I come from, football loyalties are a matter of inheritance, not choice. The state doesn’t have professional sports teams, which means our college athletes are our pros. As a result, the annual meeting between the Tide and Tigers is one of the most intense rivalries in sports.

But I spent most of my youth in Florida, where the Florida-Florida State and Florida State-Miami rivalries run deep but college sports also compete with the NFL, MLB, NBA and surely other leagues I’m unaware of for viewership. Kids at my elementary, middle and high schools made fun of me for being an Alabama fan–and perhaps because the school was only an hour away and therefore we lived in a Gator town, the cries of University of Florida fans ring loudest in my mind.

So when I moved back to Alabama in 2003, I was surprised to quickly realize that I didn’t hate Auburn so much after all. (In fact, I often joke that, as a Florida State grad, I would have been more likely to pledge my allegiance to Auburn if I hadn’t already been “raised right.” FSU and Auburn have far more in common than FSU and Alabama, but I love my two alma maters anyway.) The truth is, I want Auburn to win every game except the Iron Bowl. I like Auburn. They’re family. But even though I have a handful of friends who are Gators, I never grow tired of Florida losing.

My dad, on the other hand, grew up with playground arguments about Alabama and Auburn. If you tell him you’re an Alabama fan cheering for Auburn, you’re going to get an earful. Likewise, my friend Melody is an Auburn grad who grew up in Tallahassee. She can’t stand my beloved Seminoles.

So tonight, my dad will cheer for Florida State not only because two of his daughters went there, but because he still bristles at Auburn’s success. Melody will cheer for Auburn because it’s her alma mater, but also because she wants to show all of her hometown Seminoles who’s best.

And although I’ll be pulling for Florida State with all I’ve got, I must admit that a fifth-consecutive BCS championship for the state of Alabama wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen this season. It turns out that my loyalty isn’t just nature, but also nurture. I want my team to win not only for the joy of victory itself, but also to tie (and hopefully soon exceed) Florida’s number of championships. Scalp ’em.

Today’s title comes from the Beach Boys song by the same name. Also, here’s a fun blog post by an Alabama fan who won’t be cheering for Auburn in the title game. As some are saying, Nole tide Nole. 

Flying used to be something of a luxury, I’ve heard, but these days it’s more of a cattle call. I’m not entirely bothered by that; I love that a purchase of a couple hundred dollars can transport me to my parents’ house without the road blindness and frequent potty stops that accompany the 500-mile drive. Even though my two 30-minute flights require a total of six hours’ airport time, I get to read along the way. But the actual process of schlepping luggage around the airport, relocating when your departure gate changes and squeezing into small spaces? It isn’t the best.

I also complain (increasingly, it seems) about the sometimes over-connectedness of social media. But today, I’m grateful for airports and twitter.

While killing time before this morning’s first flight, I posted that I was Florida bound. One of my former interns and dear friends, the incomparable Melody Kitchens, replied to ask if I happened to be flying through ATL on my way to TLH. She was one for two–and she arrived in Atlanta from New York before I left for JAX.

I can’t overstate how great it was to start my week over coffee with this sweet girl. Although we talk regularly (email, Facebook, Twitter, text), I didn’t expect to see her in person for months, at best. Instead, we got 45 minutes or so of catch-up and caffeination time.

Sometimes, the little things are the big things. Merry Christmas.

Around the office I’m known as something of a grinch. I’m normally a cheerful person who is fairly adept at accepting life as it comes (despite my preference for a detailed schedule of what to expect). But when it comes to certain festive events, my inner cynic comes out. I’ve been stuck in lunchtime traffic by one too many parades, and writing holiday stories months in advance can really throw off your inner calendar.

But I still respond with almost childlike joy to Christmas lights. I live near Mountain Brook, which fills the trees of its villages with lights beginning in November. I find the consumer-driven push to begin the gift-giving holidays early as exhausting as anyone else does, but I will never complain if Mountain Brook flips the switch a few days (or even weeks!) early. I often go out of my way to drive through the city at this time of year.

I considered skipping the Christmas tree ritual this year, leaving it to various neighborhoods and friends to bring that extra cheer into my life. I could save a few dollars by not buying a tree, and spend the time allotted to decorating on my book instead. I wouldn’t have to worry about sweeping away bits of Fraser fir for months afterward. Besides, space is at a premium in my 750-square-foot cottage. And how would I transport a tree in my sedan, anyway?

Excuses, excuses.

Tonight I stopped by the Howell Christmas Tree lot nearest my house, selected a larger tree than I intended and crossed my fingers as an employee loaded it into my trunk. “How far are you going?” he asked when it didn’t look like the tree would fit. I would have been willing to risk the half-mile drive with less-than-secure rigging, but with a little manipulation, he was successful.

My Christmas tree and its decor aren’t special, except in the way that all Christmas trees are special. As I pulled out ornament after ornament, I shared their history with my roommate. I’ve got a ceramic dove and a brass baby in a manger that date back to my first Christmas in 1981. A number of cross-stitched ornaments from the ’80s remind me of my Mimi. Penguins were surely a gift from my Aunt Laura, as were a number of other animal ornaments (I particularly like my elephant, giraffe, cow and fish, all of which were Aunt Laura gifts, if my memory serves me). I laughed when I pulled out the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine, and my boyfriend said his mother the librarian would surely appreciate the University of Alabama’s Amelia Gorgas Library hanging in a prominent position.

I attempted to tie the eclectic mix together with crocheted snowflakes I purchased during college. But the truth is, it doesn’t much matter to me whether this tree meets anyone else’s definition of beautiful. Once the Christmas lights are up, I abandon all sense of grinch-dom. For the rest of this month, you’re likely to find me curled up at night and in the early mornings, staring with wonder at a squat, glowing little tree.

Today’s subject line comes from “O Christmas Tree.”

Give me a to-do list and I’m all over it. I love few things like a mission, and so in the past several days I’ve already tackled several items on the “to-buy” list that resulted from my closet cleanse.

Friday night I set out for the outlet mall. This is always my first stop when I’m on a serious shopping mission; I’m a bargain shopper, after all, and stores such as Banana Republic and J. Crew can often fulfill my demands. That proved the case on this trip, as between the two stores I found four pairs of pants, two skinny belts, a shirt and a scarf for $150.

It’s important to me to find deals, even as I try to overhaul my wardrobe. I have a little bit of extra money set aside for this purpose, and I’m trying to maximize it. There are enough clothes in my closet to get me through the winter, so I can take my time filling in the holes.

But a Banana Republic friends-and-family sale motivated me to fill in some of those gaps immediately. All of my purchases at their outlet store were 40 percent off, as was the pair of jeans I ordered online today. (I tried a similar pair at the outlet, but the denim’s wash wasn’t quite right.) Meanwhile, J. Crew Factory offered an additional 40 percent off of clearance items, and I’m eligible for another 15 percent off because I’m a teacher. I also noticed that Anthropologie was running a sale for an additional 20 percent off all clearance dresses this weekend, so I pounced on a couple of those.

All of this shopping has been a bit exhausting. I loved hanging out at the mall when I was a teen, but these days, it isn’t my ideal way to spend time. But I feel good about the purchases I’ve made, and I continue to feel as though I’m taking care of myself in this process.

http://www.pinterest.com/inkstainedlife/things-i-should-wear/

Today’s title comes from Vanilla Ice’s “Ice Ice Baby,” but I suspect you already knew that.