Growing up one of my favorite places to be was my bedroom. When my parents moved into a beautiful house on College Avenue (back on 1996), I inherited a spacious bedroom with a walk-in closet and my very own bathroom. My luxury suite also included French doors leading out to the back yard. I have always been so grateful to my parents and God for allowing me to have such an awesome room to call my own. I loved my room so much that I never wanted to leave.

Before long, I had transformed the room into my own special refuge. The blue wallpaper with pink flowers on it had almost been completely covered by my art and random mementos from school and my friends. One whole wall was covered in pictures and the other was covered with “Milk Mustache” ads I collected. This room was where I had sleepovers; where I listened to music for hours; where I dreamed of my future. It was sad the night I moved out of my room. I was heading off to college and I knew I’d never have another room like this one. How true that has been. Where I once had a huge space to myself, I now have very little space that has to be shared with someone else.

Now my room seems like just another part of “my parent’s house.” Although some of my artistic decor has been taken down, a lot of things are just as I left them. My room now serves as a workout room, a craft room, and a laundry folding area.

Over Labor Day weekend I visited my parents and spent some time in my old room. It was fun to look at things and to reminisce.

Bulletin board of the past.  (High School flag, old Polaroid, Ole Miss button, Key Club convention name tag, Reagan/Bush campaign button, picture of the old Busch Stadium, high school graduation tassel.)

My window seat.

Items in my closet from high school.  (Majorette uniform, Girl Scout vest, graduation gown, letter jacket)

Friends.  (the "Fly Honies" then and later)

The French doors leading to the backyard.

Favorite things.  (Squirrel art project, KHS cheerleader bear, Valentines Dance picture 1998, ceramic fish art project, Tatler first issue picture)

The Festival of Nations in Tower Grove Park

Lots of beautiful things.

Music.

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I am not, nor have I ever been, an athlete. I tried hard to be. Really I did. It just never happened for me.

My parents signed me up for summer softball when I was 9. My coaches put me behind home plate as the catcher. Because this was very slow pitch, this was the only position where I couldn’t mess things up for the rest of the team. I struck out almost every single time I came up to bat. But my dad was persistent. He had me in the back yard practicing. I think the embarrassment of being the father of the “sure thing out getter” was more than he could stand.

Just in case this softball thing didn’t work out, for the next two summers in addition to softball I was also enrolled in the youth golf camp at the country club. I was the only girl, and while I showed slight natural talent in the game of golf, I lacked the interest in it.

Over the next few years my softball skills improved, but it was apparent that I would not be the next softball star. I gave up on softball and moved on to volleyball where I quickly failed miserably. In the end I played high school tennis where I eventually landed on the varsity team. Finally a victory for the athletically challenged.

You can imagine my surprise when my husband signed us both up for an adult summer softball league this summer. Suddenly all the feelings of inadequacy came pouring over me. Now it was Jason who had me in the yard playing catch and taking batting practice. He too did not want to be associated with the “sure thing out getter.” A couple weeks into the season I stopped hitting directly into double plays and was getting RBIs. I even got on base a couple of times. I am still the catcher in order to not mess things up, but I’m ok with that. Another small victory for the athletically challenged.

Making contact with the ball.

Jason and I before one of our softball games.

Much, much to my surprise, it seems that I have turned in to my father. I did not see this coming. I started noticing it whenever I would get bored. I found myself doing improvement projects around the house. I would fix something that was broken or enhance something that was lacking. After a brief period of denial, I decided to embrace my inner Treadway.

My latest project was this old chair that I bought at an antique shop in my hometown. It once sat in my closet, but now is a part of our bedroom décor. I painted the frame of the chair and recovered the seat.

This is the chair before.  This is the chair after.

I come from a long line of creativity. If the cycle continues, when I’m older I will be found working in my wood shop behind my house.....which sounds ok to me.

After a two week hiatus, I have returned home from vacation. I have spent the past couple of weeks with my family traveling through Tennessee...all of Tennessee.

Jason and I, accompanied by my mom, dad, brother, and his girlfriend, traveled through Tennessee landing in the Smoky Mountains. There we white water rafted, climbed mountains (either by foot or by Sky Lift), played Hillbilly Golf, went on a ghost tour (one of my favorite things to do), and shopped in the most unusual of stores. We spent time in Gatlinburg, Pigeon Forge, and even Cherokee, North Carolina.

In Cherokee we ran into one of Jason’s old classmates from high school, shopped in authentic Native American shops (where my mother insisted on looking at every walking stick she found), and endured a torrential rain storm. The North Carolina trip was my least favorite adventure due to my sensitiveness to getting car sick in the winding roads of the mountains.

One of my favorite parts of the trip was the white water rafting. It was something that I’ve never done, but I would do it again in a heart beat. Not being much of a thrill seeker, this was a stretch for me but I loved it. I would recommend trying it.

Because we take our vacation around the same time every year, I know when I get back that summer is almost over. It is the same feeling this year. The “back to school” commercials are on TV, the stores are packed with school supplies, and I find myself wishing I could go back to school. I miss the excitement of starting a new school year. I still have that “going back to school” mind set.

It feels good to be back in my own house and getting back to my schedule. My dogs are happy to be home too. They’re exhausted from all of the traveling.

Last weekend Jason and I traveled down to Branson, where I graced a Branson stage with my presence.

I take ballet classes at a local dance school and since beginning the classes, I’ve been getting used to being back on a stage. The stage was once a place I felt the most at ease, but now its something that I fear. Dancing has forced me to face this new fear and try to regain my confidence on the stage.

I’ve always loved ballet. I like watching it and I always wanted to be a ballerina. I took ballet lessons as a kid, but when my teacher moved away my mom was unable to drive me out of town to continue lessons. This was my 18 year break from ballet. During my last semester in college I signed up for a ballet class. I ended up really enjoying it. When the semester was over I hung up my ballet shoes thinking it was over for me. A year after I moved to St. Louis, I signed up for a ballet class again, this time through St. Louis Community College. This ballet class was taught by Teresa Daniels of ADIVA Dance.

I have now been dancing at ADIVA for over two years. Last August, I got my first pair of pointe shoes.

Anyway, ADIVA dance school performed at the Americana Theater in Branson opening for The Haygoods. It was quite the experience; one I was glad I got to be a part of.

This past Thursday, I met my Dad in Cape Girardeau. After saying good bye to him, I had some time to kill before returning to St. Louis. I found myself wandering the streets of downtown, looking for anything to catch my interest. As I drove past Shivelbines Music Store (a place I frequented with my mother as a child), I noticed the gem of all antique stores. There, sitting across the street from Shivelbines, was Annie Laurie’s Antiques.

Annie Laurie’s Antiques resides in a fabulously old fashioned building (which I later learned used to be a funeral home – which adds to its charm). The owner uses every space of the building, filling it with beautiful and interesting items. There was so much to look at that I spent nearly two hours in the store.

Annie Laurie’s has everything from furniture to vintage clothing. The basement (named Alley Cat) is even loaded with finds. I loaded up with vintage jewelry and a special birthday gift for my mom. I would drive the hour and a half back down to Cape just to visit Annie Laurie’s. I love this place! To see more visit Annie Laurie’s website!!


(photos from annielauries.net)

I always welcome a nice holiday weekend. This weekend is no different. I hope everyone is having a fabulous 4th of July weekend.

I’m still trying to iron out my last minute 4th of July plans. We’ll probably cook out and take in a fireworks show. I’m not sure which one yet. St. Louis has so many different options when it comes to fireworks displays.

When I was a kid, there was only one fireworks show in our small town. Every year my family would pile into the car and drive out to the country club where we would climb into the golf cart. My dad would head out to our spot out by the airport runway where we would shoot off our own fireworks purchased at the fireworks tent. After setting off our small fireworks with my dad’s lit cigarette (in true hoosier style), we would head off to watch the big fireworks show. We would leave somewhat dissatisfied with the fireworks display and sticky from bug spray, but mostly it was just a fun family outing.

These days I enjoy a nice breezy 4th of July in the city, free of mosquitoes. This weekend is no different.

Happy 4th of July!

One of my new favorite things is the “Groupon Deal of the Day.” For those of you who know and use Groupon, you know how helpful and convenient it can be. Every morning when I check my email, I can hardly contain my excitement as I look to see what the day’s Groupon deal of the day will be.

For those of you who don’t know what a Groupon is, I want to let you in on the deals and discounts.

Groupon is a website that features something to do (eat, drink, shop, play) for a discounted price. When you sign up with Groupon, you receive an email every day with the deal of the day. You only have that day to purchase the deal but you have weeks or months to actually use the discount.

For example this weekend the deal was a gift certificate to Weber’s Front Row Pub. For $10 you get $25 worth of credit to use at Weber’s Pub. My brother is a frequent flyer at Weber’s so he purchased several of these Groupons deals. He can use them whenever he wants during the next year.

Yesterday’s deal was half off tickets to see the Vatican exhibit at the Missouri History Museum.

I received a year subscription to St. Louis Magazine for $8.

When you go to the Groupon website, you pick your city and let the fun begin. Enjoy!

http://www.groupon.com/stlouis/

This past weekend I attended the 12th annual St. Louis Susan G. Komen Race For The Cure . I was one of over 71,000 people participating in the 5K run/walk for breast cancer.

It was such an amazing sight to see the sea of people walking through downtown St. Louis. The different t-shirts worn by groups and team represented loved ones who had suffered through cancer. Some in honor of someone and some were in memory of someone.

There were over 4,000 women wearing pink shirts, which meant that had battled and beaten breast cancer.

This was my second time participating in the walk and my first time to be there alone. I was walking along, enjoying the sights and sounds when I heard a voice behind me ask, “Are you walking alone?” I turned to see a middle aged women walking beside me. “Yeah for now,” I lied. I didn’t want her to know that I was alone all day; that no one was with me like the big fat loser that I was.

The woman, whose name was Shelley, proceeded to tell me about how her team had decided not to do the entire 5K and had turned off on the 1 mile fun walk. Much to my disappointment, Shelley stayed with me until the end of the race, making small talk and telling me about her life.

Shelley was born and raised in Jefferson County and that’s where she currently still lived. She had three grown children; two boys and a girl. Her sons lived in New York. One had moved to New York right after school and the other had moved to L.A., but when he fell in love when a girl who got a job in New York he moved with her to the east coast. There, both of her sons lived unemployed. Her daughter lived in St. Louis and worked for Wells Fargo. She was in Toronto this weekend with her husband, who played hockey. I didn’t ask if he played professional hockey or just for fun.

Shelley’s mother and father both had had cancer, but she was trying to stay healthy to avoid such illnesses. We chatted for 2.5 miles until we crossed the finish line. Shelley turned to me casually and gave me a “see ya later Angela.” I knew I would probably not see her again so I simply said, “it was nice to meet you Shelley.” She walked off to the right and I proceeded left.

Although I would have enjoyed being about to finish the race alone, it was nice to be with someone; even if it was a random woman I didn’t know.

Over all the day was fun. I got some exercise for a good cause and made a new friend.

St. Louis is my favorite city. One of the reasons I love this city is because of its love and devotion to its St. Louis Cardinals. Having always been a baseball and Cardinal fan, its no surprise I ended up here in St. Louis.

One of my favorite things to do in the city is of course going to baseball games. This past week, I got to go to 2 games in 1 week. One with my new friend Bridget and the other with Jason. It was a baseball-filled week, but I enjoyed every minute of it.

Well its Memorial Day weekend. I don’t have a whole lot to say. So far I’ve spent the weekend lying out by the pool, cooking out, shopping, and relaxing. Tomorrow I will hopefully be taking in a St. Louis Cardinals game. Everyone have a safe and happy Memorial Day weekend!

After a bad day (which I had recently) or just a bad mood, there is one website that puts me in a great mood every time!

I love this website so much I had to share it with everyone I know.

Awkward Family Photos are hilarious! This website has different categories of random awkwardness. Look at these photos and have a great day!

There is a special tradition I have started for myself. This traditional outing comes around twice a year; once in the spring and once in the fall.

The St. Charles County Bi-Annual Yard Sale is one of my new favorite things. This is a county wide yard sale that takes place on the parking lot of an entertainment arena. There are hundreds of vender booths selling anything and everything. It’s a bargain hunter’s paradise. Being a bargain hunter myself, I couldn’t resist such an adventure.

My first experience at the yard sale was an excellent one. My brother and I went together and were surprised by the rows and rows of huge van and trucks pulling trailers piled high with new treasures. These people were here to buy some yard sale goodies.

It took us most of the morning to look through all of the booths. We had found a few small things, including some 1904 World’s Fair postcards for our mother. I was thinking about calling it a day when I heard a girl behind me say, “That John Stamos t-shirt is bitchin’!”

Sure enough I turn around to see a t-shirt from the early 90’s with John Stamos’ face on it. Being a Full House fan myself, I walked over to examine the shirt. It was my size and even had a signature on it by the one and only, John Stamos. This price had been reduced, so I took this opportunity to snatch up this excellent buy. I proudly took my bitchin’ t-shirt home with me.

The second time I went to the yard sale, I took my mother. She, too, enjoyed the sights and sounds of this slightly hoosiery gathering. This time we found a booth of bootleg DVDs. As the woman selling them tried to talk me into buying the Sex and The City movie, I wondered if she knew it was illegal to sell such DVDs.

On my last trip I found a shabby trombone with flames painted on the bell. If it hadn’t been priced at $60 I might have bought it. It would’ve looked nice next to my bitchin’ John Stamos t-shirt.

Now that I am older, one of my favorite things to do is travel down south to Arkansas and visit my grandmother. When I was younger this was a burden that I felt was unnecessary. Visiting grandma usually meant I was missing out on something more important.

As an adult, I realize how important it really is to be with family; especially the older, more entertaining family. I now like to go visit my grandmother and her two sisters. All of them are in their 80’s now and they still bicker and argue like they did when they were young.

My Great Aunt Rita is the oldest and the most quiet and courteous. She would give you the clothes off of her back....literally. My Great Aunt Virginia is the next and a fashionable spitfire. She will tell you like it is. The youngest of the sisters is my Grandmother. She is spoiled and has to have what everyone else has.

When ever they get together its always entertaining. As they get older I know the importance of spending time with them. They are the last three siblings left of six kids. It’s sad to think that they once had three brothers, now they have each other.

This past weekend my family and I traveled down to Arkansas to celebrate Mother’s Day and my Aunt Virginia’s birthday. It was a treat as always.

I have been a baseball fan my entire life. For as long as I can remember I have enjoyed watching and playing the game.

I remember my parents taking me to my first professional baseball game when I was young. Then a few years later I went with my then boyfriend’s family. It was a blast. I love the atmosphere of a baseball game. I love the sights, the smells, and the sounds.

It was no surprise that I married a baseball fan. My husband played baseball in high school and in college. I noticed how much he loved the game. I found it endearing how he could care for a sport so much.

I started noticing things about baseball I had never noticed before. All of my life I had just watched baseball; outs, runs, innings and so on. I never knew or even noticed the statistics and strategies. Batting averages, RBIs, hits, wins, losses, saves; all of these strategic decisions were things I was completely unaware of. I had always just watched the game. To my surprise, the batter does not just walk up to home plate and start swinging away. He has a strategy. Does he need a base hit? Does he need to move a runner around the bases? Is he so good that the pitcher will intentionally walk him?

My husband spent hours trying to explain away my baseball ignorance. He finally gave up. I eventually read Buzz Bissinger’s book 3 Nights in August to help me understand the game better. It did help. Baseball is numbers, numbers, and more numbers.

I eventually looked forward to the end of baseball season when “summer guy” would go away and “winter guy” would emerge. When my husband and I watched the movie Fever Pitch (starring Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore), I found myself relating to it a little too much. Thus the use of the terms “summer guy” and “winter guy.”

“Summer guy” is baseball obsessed guy. This is when I can say anything and do anything and my husband will not notice. He won’t listen when I talk. He won’t pay attention to what I do. If I need to talk to him, I had better not do it during a baseball game; he will not be listening. If he does pretend to listen, he will keep his eyes on the T.V.

“Winter guy” is when baseball season is finally over. My husband will pay more attention to his real life outside of baseball. He will strategically plan for spring training when “summer guy” will reemerge.

Silly me I thought, much like the female character in the movie Fever Pitch, that my husband’s obsession for baseball would eventually be redirected. Boy I was I wrong. He is now planning how our future children will enjoy baseball. He wants a room in our house completely dedicated to baseball and his favorite team.

Instead of trying to understand the game to its extent, I have gone back to just watching and enjoying. I ignore my husband when he complains about numbers and strategies. I want it to be like it used to be; when I just enjoyed baseball.

I will continue to anxiously await the return of “winter guy.”

I’ve always had very thick hair. It’s thicker than just about anyone else’s I know. When I was little, it was a huge burden for me and my mother. My mother would fix my hair every morning resulting in physical pain for me and emotional pain for her.

As I got older, I learned how to fix my own hair in the best way I could. I became very good at it and would get compliments on my hair daily. I would eventually consider my hair my best asset. Very few people had hair like mine.

I first got the idea to donate my hair to Locks of Love a few years ago. My hair had almost always been long. After a brief “short” phase in high school, I continued to keep my hair longer. A little over a year ago, I decided to actually go through with it. I started growing my hair out longer than usual.

After a year of not cutting it at all, my hair came down to the waist band of my pants. It was by far the longest it had ever been in my life. While I enjoyed having long luscious hair for a while, I eventually became annoyed by it and knew it was time. Unfortunately I was always chickening out. I was second guessing myself. I had spent so much time growing it out that I hated to lose it. My vanity was taking over my good will.

Then one day while I was at work, a young woman came into the store where I worked. She was very skinny and frail looking, and had a hat covering her bald head. She in fact had cancer. As she proceeded try on different hats it hit me like a ton of bricks; I had to cut my hair so that people like her could have hair again. That day I made an appointment to cut my hair off. She was here trying on cute hats to cover her head and I had more than enough hair to share.

Last Thursday, I cut 11 inches off of my head. I was amazed how much lighter I felt. Once the hair was gone, I didn’t think about it again.

I love my new haircut and I love the idea of giving someone with cancer a chance to feel better about this terrible time in their life. I was blessed with thick hair so why not share the blessing?

I am not, nor have I ever been, a party girl. I’ve never even been that big of a drinker. I’ve gone out on occasion, but I’ve never been too crazy. I can recall the moment I was scared “sober,” allowing me to dodge any kind of drunken behavior.

When I was in college the last Friday of the semester before finals was known as “Dead Day,” because the university would cancel all classes allowing students to study and prepare for finals week. The night before “Dead Day” (Thursday night) was obviously known as “Dead Day Eve.”

“Dead Day Eve” was the biggest party night of the entire semester. This is when students would go out, get drunk, and party into the wee hours of Dead Day. This was a college tradition that my dorm roommate, Shayna, couldn’t resist. She and her high school friend, party girl Jessica, had the night planned out and encouraged me to come along. With our other friend Brooke in tow, the four of us headed out for our first fabulous Dead Day Eve celebration of freshmen year.

Brooke and I were not party girls and were not experience in the college party atmosphere. We ended up at a house party on the edge of another university campus in town. This house was a small two bedroom shack with very little furniture and an overabundance of people. A thick cloud of smoke welcomed us as we walked through the front door. I noticed that the smoke didn’t always smell like cigarettes; a smell I was familiar with. This smell was…..sweet. I would later find out that the sweet smell was marijuana.

When a minor beer run was announced, Shayna and Jessica bolted for the alcohol leaving Brooke and I alone in a room full of strangers. We had both just gotten brand new winter coats and were regretting wearing them into the house when a drunken guy stumbled into us almost lighting my coat on fire.

“Hey!” I exclaimed as he stumbled away. Brooke and I looked at each other with horror. Where were we and how much long did we have to stay? There was no room to move in the house because of all the people. We found the one and only couch in the house but it was occupied a girl who had passed out. She lay sideways on the couch, eyes closed and mouth open. Two guys sat on both sides of her smoking and drinking. I wondered who this girl was. Who was she here with? Did they know she was passed out? What if something happens to her? What would her mother think if she could see her daughter right now? Brooke interrupted my thoughts when she asked if I was ready to get out of there. I happily agreed.

We finally found Shayna and Jessica and asked them if they were ready to leave. They had just paid some guy to go buy them beer and weren’t ready to leave yet. Brooke got the car keys from Shayna and she and I spent the rest of the night outside in Shayna’s car. We waited for what seemed like hours until finally Shayna agreed to drive us home and then return to the party.

When Brooke and I finally made it back to the dorms, we vowed never to do that again. For the rest of our college careers we spent Dead Day Eve at the movie theater.

To this day the image of that disgusting house with drunk and high people everywhere has stuck with me. I think this is probably why I stayed away from hard core partying. I never wanted to end up like the girl on the couch.

I am reluctant to say that I have abandoned my blog the past week and a half. There is no excuse for my behavior, but that doesn’t mean I will come up with several excuses to make myself feel better.

After my laptop had a meltdown, I went to my hometown for a visit two weekends in a row. With all of the computer trouble and traveling I barely had time to think about what to blog about. Really.

Our new dog Sammie is adjusting well to her new home. After a few mishaps, she is learning the schedule of things. She now knows that she is to go number 1 AND 2 outside and not inside. Unfortunately, my new bundle of puppy joy sheds like an Eskimo on a hot day. Luckily, I’ve invested in a Swiffer. Without it my apartment would be one big hairy mess.

After driving south to spend Easter with my family, the shop where I work shot a commercial and segment for a local news program. On Wednesday, I arrived at work an hour and a half early to shoot the segment. After modeling that morning and working the rest of the day, I went to ballet class where I worked on a hippy-artsy routine with my fellow ballerinas. The long day must have taken a toll of me because I slept late on Thursday morning. This wasn’t a big deal because that is my day off. I spent the rest of the day Goodwill hopping where I managed to find several pieces of designer clothes and a cool baseball lamp. That made the busy week all worth it.

So there. Those are my excuses and an update. I feel a little better. I'm posting a picture of my mom, brother, and I on Easter and the link to my shop's segment on Show Me St. Louis.