traditions

There is something to be said for traditions….I’m not sure exactly what because to me traditions come with more of a sense of pride. It’s a feeling you get, all swollen up inside you, that makes you so excited and proud at the same time. Or at least that’s how I feel for most of the traditions that I have been a part of. Some things are so special that they cannot and do not need words of explanation; they can only be expressed through feelings.

I have been a part of and witnessed many traditions over the years. One in particular, I got to re-live last night: “the Schindlers trip.” Ever since we were old enough to drive ourselves, a few of my friends and I have been making trips to Schindlers, always sitting at “our” table and ordering the exact same thing to eat: order of skins and baloney burgers all around. Our names were written on the wall several years ago, and have recently been covered by a “Boulevard Brewery” sign about a year ago, permanently (and now secretly) designating that area for “our” table.

In high school we typically visited “the hill” about once every two months, but now that we’re all in school and spread out all over the map, we can only go when it fits into our schedules. Every time the door opens and the smoke of the bar fills my lungs, my heart begins to sing, knowing that I will shortly be singing my favorite songs from the juke box, trying to play pool, and chowing down on a deliciously greasy baloney burger…and more than likely, finishing off the afternoon/night with a short road trip over the “sisters” and wherever else Mamie the navigator decides to take us. The simple word “Schindlers” brings up some of the best memories that I have ever made and always makes me anticipate the next trip. Last night’s trip ended in an obvious trip of “sisters out on the sisters” (inside joke), levee riding, bed surfing, and running through a pivot. Nothing short of anything I would expect to experience on a typical Shindlers night. I guess you can take the girl out of the Bootheel, but you can’t take the Bootheel out of the girl.

I was also really happy to see some familiar faces in the smoky, little hole-in-the-wall, last night. A small group of girls from Sikeston high school were gathering as we were leaving. The thought that they might be continuing our tradition made me smile.

I cannot believe how fast summer is flying by. It seemed like it was going to last forever until July hit. Now I will be leaving for school in a short four weeks. I haven’t even been to the river yet this summer! AHH! Guess I need to get on that soon, along with moving furniture from Murray, and picking out decorations for my new room in Mississippi. I bought some throw pillows the other day, but that’s as far as I have gotten. I found a rug that I liked, but of course it was $600, so I think I’ll pass. I have learned that my latest hobby is home décor, but it is a depressing hobby because I usually find that the things I love the most are the most overly priced. That’s when inspiration strikes and I get my “I’m pretty sure I can just make that” ideas. So far I have made three pieces that I fell in love with, and saved almost $100! Yay for creativity, sewing machines, paint, and glue!

I’m so happy with the way that this summer has turned out so far and I still have one month left, that if all goes as planned, will surely top the rest of the summer by far! I love where my life is heading and can’t wait to see how it all turns out. Not that I don’t ever run into setbacks, but I always try to stay positive about life and understand that without the bad, we couldn’t appreciate the good. Resiliency and humbleness are some my favorite words to live by. I love when I can feel the joy in my bones…today is definitely a good day! Keep smiling!

Love always,

Addie

“Dating is like trying to make a meal out of leftovers. Some leftovers actually get better when they’ve had a little time to mature. But others should be thrown out right away, No matter how you try to warm them up, they’re never as good as when they were new.” –Lisa Kleypas