A collection of grievances, memories, occasional musings, and everyday happenings

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We Still Love You

And continued:

It was Wednesday.  I was so excited about it. I even wrote a blog on it: Notaworkday Wednesday.  This day was particularly wonderful to me because it was my day off.  My place of employment has its employees work Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday (if there’s a wedding), but never on a Wednesday.  Bliss.

My plan was solid.  (1) Attend Senior Bible class.  Take quiz.  Get irritated by other classmate’s opinions.  Attempt to disprove other classmate’s opinions.  (2) Go to Will’s house and finish painting the bed boards.  (3) Finish bed boards in exchange for a “Good job, Holly!” and a kiss from Will (Our relationship isn’t actually founded on whether or not I complete a task well).  (4) Have lunch with Will at his house.  (5) Enjoy my new purple yoga pants.  (6) Get a manicure and a pedicure.

It was a simple and easily flawless plan.

Item #1 was accomplished – I did go to class.  I did take a quiz (I think I did well?).  I did get irritated.  I didn’t disprove (ran out of time), but I did disapprove of other classmate’s opinions.  Half of item #2 was successful (arriving at Will’s house), but the other half was a depressing disaster.

On this day, I was wearing my navy blue TOMS, my new purple yoga pants, and a sweatshirt.  On this day, I chose to paint the bed boards (2) in this outfit.  On this day, I went against the ‘Don’t do it…’ warning in my head and decided I would put the boards on the sawhorse, which was currently located on the back right side of the driveway.  Done deal.

The reason I ignored the little Holly-voice of warning going off in my head was because I had never so much as gotten a splatter of this black stain on my hands.  I’ve always been beyond careful while staining because I don’t want to have to wash my hands and arms in Acetone in order to remove the stain.  It smells bad and I like to be clean.

So there I was – Smiling and humming beneath the sunshine, painting the first board without a single black dot on my skin.  I finished the first board and moved to the second.  From there, I still can’t fully describe what happened.  I don’t know if my hand got tired of holding the paint can and decided to act by its own will in order to relax, or if, perhaps, I miscalculated my grip on the paint can and thought I was holding on well enough to begin painting the last board.  Whatever the cause, the paint can left my hand.

Remember this?  The time Will accidently knocked over brown stain all over his parent’s nicely washed and white driveway, and Chip said he would have yelled at Will if it wasn’t for my presence, and we made fun of Will continuously for months?

Well this is what I did:

“I’ve made a huge mistake.” -©Gob Bluth, statement yelled and confirmed by Holly Greene.

I couldn’t believe it.  One minute I was holding a full can of Classic Black Stain, the next I was watching it bleed onto the driveway.  Panic and dread swept over me, and the only things I could say were, “Uhhh… ummmm!!! What… What do I do?!”

First, I looked at my shoes.  My fabulously worn out TOMS now had a nice splattering of stain on them.  Because TOMS tend to absorb any and all liquid immediately, I took them off.  **Special Note – If you ever spill paint/stain on your TOMS and still need to clean up the paint/stain, don’t take your shoes off.** I then looked at my new purple yoga pants.  Also splattered.  I didn’t take those off though.  I figured spilling black stain and being reported for public immodesty would be too much for my first day off.

Second, I thought back to the last stain mishap.  We used Acetone to try to remove the top layer of the stain.  Bingo.  I ran, now barefoot, to grab the only Acetone can I could find and proceeded to pour it onto the ever persistent spreading of the stain.  This probably would have helped, except that the can of Acetone was in fact not Acetone, but sludge, which was also black.  This brought back all panic.  Not only was the stain continuing to run, but now there was black sludge on top of it, destroying the possibility of Acetone saving the day.  During my panic, Mendy called.  I didn’t answer.  I’d give myself away and she’d know I was up to no good.  I winced, let the phone ring, then continued on.  I tried Paint Thinner, but all it did was create a small white spot through the stain, giving me nothing but false hope.  Water was my last and stupidest idea.  All it did was cause the stain to start spreading in a different direction – down the driveway.  I ran into the garage, grabbed paper towels, and tried to build a paper towel dam so the stain would discontinue its ruin.  The dam worked well enough.

Distraught, defeated, and now black-feeted, I sat myself down in the middle of the garage and waited for the end.  Will would be home any minute.

For the duration of the incident, I never cried.  I desperately wanted to, but I held it together.  I held it together until Will walked into the garage.  His truck pulled up, right to the front of the garage, which was open.  He could see me from the inside of his truck, but of course was unsure as to why I chose to sit on the ground, among all the machinery and garage-things.  He got out of his truck, asked me what was wrong and why my feet were black, and all I could do was point.  At first he didn’t know what I was motioning towards, but then he saw the blackness.

“Oh…”, he said.

When he turned to look back at me, I became like a child who has just fully realized that he or she is in trouble, but is truly, truly sorry.

Only, I wasn’t in trouble.  I burst into tears and told Will the story.  He was so sad that I was so sad, and all he could do to console me was say, “It’s ok!!” over and over and over, and over again once more.  We walked out together and looked at the damage, then at my feet.  Will laughed and spent the next half hour of his lunch break trying to convince me that his dad wasn’t going to disown me as his future daughter-in-law or yell at me when he got home.  I had to walk into the house with paper towels under my feet so the stain wouldn’t be tracked inside.  I showered, but left several black footprints on the shower floor.  During lunch, Will called his dad to explain what had happened.  He began with, “There’s been a small mishap… I uhh drove up to the garage and found Holly sitting on the ground crying, her feet were black…”

I could hear Chip laughing loudly on the other end.

About an hour after the incident, I got a text from my future father-in-law:

“Don’t worry about it!!! I love you anyway!” 

Phew.  Still loved.

The good news is, item #6 (manicure/pedicure) not only happened, but was then a requirement for work purposes:

The bad news is, the Black Stain Incident has now been added to the “HA! Remember when Holly…” list.

And the list will continue to grow.


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Quite the Daughter (in-law)

My future in-laws are what I call “light heartedly and graciously forgiving”.

Thank.  Goodness.

Due to the fact that I’ve never exactly been the brightest of the bright, I often give my in-laws, particularly my father-in-law, a pretty big laugh.  Never on purpose.  It’s embarrassing.

Sometimes it’s because of things that I do, other times it’s things that I say:

“Do we still have to pay for our electricity even if we use our own lamps?”

I regretted it the second I spoke.  Even 12 year old Seth knew the answer to that.  My father-in-law had to pause the episode of *M*A*S*H* that we were watching so he could finish laughing before we could continue.


The laughs usually come from the things that I do, however.  My first doozie of a mishap happened just a couple of months after Will and I started dating.  Will was a very important person at that time (Talon Editor), and used a Blackberry to conduct his important business.  Will would frequently invite friends of ours over to his house to hot tub, so we picked a Friday and everyone piled in to get warm.  The hot tub is tucked away in an open-roof deck, with lights that Will never turns on, and a chair in the back right corner.  It is on this chair that people tend to place their towels.  Unbeknownst to me, it was also on this chair that Will decided to place his important Blackberry.  We hot tubbed and talked – talked and hot tubbed, then I got hot and wanted a glass of water.  I got out, for some reason decided to pick the towel on the bottom of the towel pile, yanked the towel out from beneath the pile, and voila!  A Blackberry learned to fly.  The group watched in silence and shock as the Blackberry flew through the air, bounced a single bounce on the deck, then plunged to its ultimate demise into the hot tub.  Will was going to break up with me – I was sure of it.  He yelled, “The Blackberry!” and the group began searching for it through the jet streams.  At last it was found and thrown ashore, desperately needing a CPR of sorts.  We watched it flicker its last light, similar to that of a dying firefly, and with that, it was no more.

During the months that followed this tragedy, I had to watch Will be taunted by his parents who thought it was actually Will himself who dropped the Blackberry into the hot tub.

“I don’t know if I should let you hold on to this… You might break it or drop it into a hot tub! Hahaha remember that?  Like your Blackberry?  Oooooh what a dumb thing to do.  Way to go Will, way to go.”

Truly – I was scarlet red with embarrassment and shame right down to my little toes.  I wanted so badly to shout out, “IT WAS ME!  It was me!  I’m the one to blame!  I’m the one who ruined the important Blackberry!  It’s ME you should be taunting!”  But I couldn’t.  They’d throw me out – I was sure of it.  ”A terrible girlfriend”, they’d say.  The one time Will was asked how it happened was by his mom.  She looked at him, waiting for the truth, and Will looked at me, unsure of how I felt about being told on.  My eyes were pleading with him – “Nooo!  I’ve only just got here!  They can’t know I’m a dingbat yet!”  So Will told a fib to his mother and father, and they believed him until the truth came out on a hot June day.

Will’s dad picked us up from the Dallas airport and we began the 3 hour long journey home.  I’m not sure why, but his dad started picking on Will about the Blackberry again.  Ashamed and feeling sorry for my boyfriend who had told me two weeks earlier that he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me (talk about guilt…), I made the mistake of uttering a single noise in my throat and giving Will a sideways glance that said it all.  My father-in-law immediately knew something was up and, laughing, demanded to know the truth.  With my face buried in my hands and my hands buried in my lap, I came clean.  I explained how I accidently picked Will’s towel up from the bottom of the pile, causing his Blackberry to be murdered by an overwhelming amount of hot bubbly water.  I explained that I was afraid I’d be hated forever and tossed out into the cold if they knew the truth, so that’s why Will took the blame for all those months.

It’s amazing we weren’t on the news that night for getting into a horrible car accident.  My father-in-law laughed, and laughed hard, all the way back to Edmond.  I think he may have actually frolicked into the house to tell my mother-in-law about his latest discovery.

To Be Continued…

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I wasn’t actually aware that today is day 30 of the ever long wait to the altar until Brianna announced it to me at midnight.  I later informed Will, whose eyes grew slightly larger than normal, then informed my soon-to-be Father-in-law who laughed and said, “Oh man. You have no idea what you’re getting into!”


Naturally, I’m ecstatic.  Will and I have been waiting for this since what seems like forever (September) and now the countdown has begun.  I told one of my bible professors (he’s 75) that I would be using one of my unexcused absences on Thursday, the day before my wedding.  He said, “Ha – no you don’t.  I’ll give you two unexcused absences for that.”  I told him that didn’t seem right (we’re pals), but that I would come to class that morning if he really needed me to. “No, no.  I’m just kidding.  You’re going to be so nervous you won’t even know what’s going on!”

He then led the class in prayer for my wedding.

A few things I am nervous about:

-Fainting in my dress

-Crying my makeup off

-My birth control not being 100% bullet proof (get it?)

-Honeymoon baby

That’s really my main concern at the moment: An HB.  I wrote a post awhile back complaining about my birth control woes.  I’m now on pill type number three with all fingers crossed.  If I could cross my toes I would.  So uh, pray for me and my pill.  We really need a team effort here.

You can also pray that Will will let me have a really cute puppy in a year.