Southern Girls Living Fearlessly - Day 4

Did I fail to mention that if you'd like to remain a UDC member in good standing or still get invited to the annual Camellia Ball, you should probably commit to memory then burn that list you made on Day 3. A small thing I know, but we southern ladies are all about the details.



It's those same details that prevent us from living fearlessly. "Oh, I've thrown caution to the wind," you pshaw me. But have you really?



It's much easier to live fearlessly in the big moments than it is in the small ones. I never had any trouble, during the births of my four children, grabbing my husband by the collar and threatening to levitate off the delivery table and donkey kick him in his sensitivities if he didn't get off the phone with his mother. But I would never have the guts to make that same promise on a random Sunday afternoon.



The reason fearlessness is easier in the big moments is because there just aren't that many of them. There are thousnads upon thousands of small moments in our lifetimes. Adrenalin drives big moments. We wrestle with worry in the small ones. The details detour us from fearless living. We can't let go of our well-laid plans. For heaven's sake, what would people think?



Ladies, I'm here to tell you, that life, real life, is wrapped up in all the moments between the plans. The only way to live fearlessly is to embrace the uncertainty and roll with it. Take for example my friend Heloise, who found herself in a rather tight spot - her day for garden club refreshements and her daughter decides to get a gushing wound. Helpful Miss Betty Sue Renfrew offered to drop by and collect the refreshments early so Heloise could scoot on to the ER with her daughter.



Early! Early was no good. Heloise hadn't purchased the refreshments yet, but what diva of perfection would ever admit that. So she grabbed a container of strawberries from the fridge and arranged them on a platter. She scurried to the back porch and plucked some sprigs of mint for garnish. But she was fresh out of powdered sugar for dip.



What did she do? She grabbed a ladder and visited her secret stash on the back of the top right pantry shelf, where she found a jar of chocolate body paint (she apparently is an old pro at living fearlessly). She poured that chocolate paint into a small crystal bowl, placed it in the middle of the strawberries, and smiled as she passed the whole platter out the door to Betty Sue, who later reported how much the ladies raved over the refreshments.



YOUR ASSIGNMNET: Today, write a letter to that timid woman inside of you, who always whispers "What if," right before you decide to step outside of the plan, to break out of the worry, to let the details fall where they may. Don't fuss at her, encourage her. Ask her why she whispers those worrisome thoughts in your ear. Ask her what it is that she is afraid of. Tell her the story of Heloise. Let her know that if she will let go and let you live fearlessly, you will take good care of her.



Don't scrimp. This is an event. Write this letter on your best monogrammed stationary with your best pen. Don't stop writing until you have poured it all out. Then fold it neatly and slide it into a coordinating envelope. Place the letter in the bottom of your jewelry box for safe keeping.

Southern Girls Living Fearlessly - Day 3

Yes, I know there are easier ways to change my life, be a new person, in 28 days or less. Day 1, go under the knife. Days 2-28, stay at home until the swelling goes down. It's really tempting, since someone else, the plastic surgeon, does all of the work and all I have to do is sit around and wait for the results.

Learning to live fearlessly, however, requires me to change from the inside out. And certainly, I will never discount plastic surgery as a viable means of facing a fuller life (I believe in putting my best face forward), but it won't work in and of itself. Still, following through with the pledge I made yesterday isn't easy. I need some internal prompting to let loose and live fearlessly.

TODAY'S ASSIGNMENT: Get your pen and notepad; you know, the one you use to make those endless lists. If you don't know what I'm referring to, then most likely you're a Yankee interloper here, because all Southern ladies make lists; grocery lists, to-do lists, school supply lists, lists of people who are having affairs, lists of people to whom to send invitations to the annual Derby party, lists of people who fail to RSVP and will not receive an invitation, . . . Nonetheless, consider yourself welcome here. Try and follow along.

Okay, now that you have your writing materials, write down the names of three women whose eyes you would metaphorically, yet gracefully, scratch out, given the opportunity, except that you want to make sure they see the fearless woman you are becoming:
1.___________________________
2.___________________________
3.___________________________

My list:
1. Mary Catherine Poteet
2. Betty Sue Washam
3. Margaret Anne Cawthon

Don't take it personally, ladies. Every girl needs a little motivation.

Southern Girls Living Fearlessly - Day 2

Okay, if you completed Day 1's assignment, you've now got a fearless piece of prized artwork gracing the public domain of your domicile. But have you truly committed to living fearlessly, or do you still feel queasy when you consider it?



Listen to me. This is your life and it's going faster than you may think. Not too long from now, you're going to wake up one morning, wrinkled and gray, get out of bed, and realize that a simple walk to the bathroom is a greater risk than living fearlessly ever was. And after you fall down on the bathroom floor with a broken hip, wadding up dirty clothes to make a buffer between your head and the cold tile floor, you'll have plenty of time to mull over regrets until one of your adult kids finds you and threatens to put you in a home.



By golly, you're going to need some stories to live off of in that home. You need some stories to tell right now, at Girls' Night Out tonight. And I promise, you can live fearlessly without putting dark meat in your chicken salad.



TODAY'S ASSIGNMENT: Put on your reddest shade of lipstick, paint your toenails, and repeat after me, OUT LOUD, LOUDLY- Today and every day, I will live fearlessly. There is no excuse. This is my life. This all the time I get on this earth. I will not live forever. Today is my day! I will do it now.

Southern Girls Living Fearlessly - Day 1

I present to my readers, the Day 1 of the Southern Girl's Primer on Living Fearlessly. Make sure you do the assignments found at the end of each day. Before long, you'll be living a new, more vibrant life, without ever giving up your neutral decorating pallet:

There are opportunity costs built into everything we choose. We often overlook the fine print at the bottom of the contract and sign a waiver without reading it. If we didn't we would never make a decision or move forward. Making an informed decision is preceded by long periods of failure to act.

I've decided enough is enough. I will live fearlessly. I'm throwing caution tape to the wind, unfurling it like big yellow celebration streamers. Let it wrap someone else in complacency.

Oh heavens! What am I saying? A good southern woman can't do that! We have rules, we have standards, for goodness's sake, we have etiquette to follow. I would simply die if I thought my neighbors disapproved of my behavior.

But there must be a way. Certainly living fearlessly doesn't mean wearing a black dress to a wedding or a hot pink cocktail number to a funeral. I don't have to paint my monogram on the garage door or hang out in a juke joint to live fearlessly. Southern girls can honor their heritage, keep their proper prim, and still throw a buttered biscuit now and again. We can know who our people are, compose a polite invitation or thank you note, deliver casseroles to the sick and deceased, and still sweeten our tea with pure sugar.

Take me, for example. For six years a bare bulb hung from the ceiling of my 1915 home. I decided when we moved in that I would buy a crystal chandelier to match the huge ones in the living room and dining room. I feared marring the traditional architecture of my home by hanging something more modern. After six years of concern, worry, saving, angst, searching, I found myself in a lighting store making an impulse buy.

I purchased a walnut colored pendant fixture. After my husband hung it, I looked up and realized what a fool I had been all these years, tangled up in caution tape. It wasn't a crystal chandelier that the room needed, it was a touch of me.

YOUR FIRST ASSIGNMENT: What your life needs is a touch of YOU in it. Today go buy a piece of canvas, an old board, a slip of tin roof, anything with a paintable flat surface (but, do be tasteful, no saw blades or birdhouses). Using whatever paints and brushes you have, create your own folk art, abstract art, self-portrait, etc. There are three rules to this:
1) Do not paint what other people expect you to paint.
2) Your finished work must be displayed in a common area of your house, where guests to your home will see it.
3) You may never, under any circumstances, including being pressured by a realtor or interior decorator, make excuses for it, diminish it verbally, or move it to a less conspicuous area; that would be like badmouthing YOURSELF and hiding away in a closet and we all know a proper lady would never poor mouth the family name.

Grit Biscuits Unveiled

For my May book signings I decided to unveil the legendary Chocolate Chip Grit Biscuit. Book signing guests received a complimentary Grit Biscuit with the warning, "They're good if you're hungry." I received overwhelming response from my readers. The following are some of the more memorable comments:

"No, thank you, I'm trying to give them up."

"A what? A what? A what? Oh."

"You put a grit in this thing?"

"Are they really made with grits?"

"Is the recipe in your book?"

"Oh, you shouldn't have. You really, really shouldn't have."

My Chocolate Chip Grit Biscuuits have made a statement from Aiken, SC, to Statesboro, GA, to Savannah, GA and to infinity and beyond!

Too Good to be True

I heard on the radio last week, from a faceless morning radio show personality, that NASA is seeking subjects to participate in a microgravity study. It pays $17,000 for three months of work.



What is the work, you ask? What must the human lab rat do to earn his feed? Stay in bed for 90 days.



That's it. Rest and relax for 90 straight days. And as busy as the last 30 days have been (and no one is paying me for carting kids around, doing their laundry, preparing meals, clapping proudly at a hundred different end-of-year programs and recitals, or doing the wave at little league baseball games), I think I could tolerate getting paid to put my feet up for awhile.



If researchers want to examine me flipping through a magazine in bed, reading a backlog of books, spamming my friends with forwarded e-mails, and being an all-around good-for-nothing loafer, AND pay me for the privilege, sign me up!

Still Living Fearlessly . . . Sort Of

Just a question. I've been thinking a lot about my March-made New Year's Resolution to take life by the roots of its hair and pull until it cries, "Uncle." And while contemplating this questionably unladylike behavior, I've encountered a bit of a quandary, even a possible quagmire.

Can a southern lady truly live fearlessly without risking her virtue or her neutral color palette?

My dilemma is a crimp in the curling iron, for sure. What's a girl to do?