Wherever you go

if my heart was a house you'd be home.

ASHLEY, COMMANDING OFFICER.

I saw my grandaddy this weekend. It was an interesting visit to say the least. There are a few things you have to know about him, such as: he loves golf (a lot), he loves dogs (a lot), he's strong willed and stubborn (like me) and has an opinion about everything.

This is my grandaddy, this is why I love him. My grandaddy tells me the same three stories every time I see him. Here they are, for your reading pleasure:

"One day when you were very little, like 2 or 3, you were laying in bed with me watching TV and I heard you toot. I said, 'what was that?' and you answered, 'I was burkin' (burping)'. A few minutes later you did it again and then you said, 'what was that?!'"

"This one time after a hurricane we lost power. I knew it was gonna be a couple of days before we had it again. You and your momma and daddy were over and I was cookin' up the food with my propane fryer. After about an hour your daddy said, 'Time to go home' to which you answered 'We can't! Grandaddy's cookin'!' Then, ya'll stayed and ate dinner."

Last story:

"You remember all those times we were sittin' on the porch swing at the old house and you was waitin' on the bus? Well every year I would ask you, 'How many years 'till you go to college?' and you would say '8 years grandaddy' and then the next year you would say '7 years grandaddy' and now you've graduated and that makes me so proud. I never got far in my life but you've made me so proud."

My grandaddy is a special guy. He walked me down the aisle on the most special day of my life. So naturally when he asks me to come on to Georgetown, I got on to Georgetown.

So I arrived to Georgetown Saturday afternoon around 1:30 pm and sat on the couch, after being greeted by his several dogs, and watched two hours of a golf tournament. There is nothing more boring than watching a golf tournament. However, my grandaddy plays golf approximately 6 times per week and watches it approximately 7 days per week. So, he told me all the stats on every golfer and how I always called "golf balls"-"boff galls." I was about ready to gouge my eyes out, when he promptly informed me that he was going to have a nap.

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So, I went to the spare bedroom...and had a nap as well.

Then, my Uncle Sammy came over. I haven't seen him in about a thousand years. It was good to see him and converse about the professional world and what not. We all went to a seafood restaurant and chowed, then visited these people who I don't recall knowing a day in my life, but somehow knew me. They had a lot of yard gnomes. I mean, a lot. They were nice enough though, the people, not the yard gnomes.

Then, we watched Gamecock football. We won. I hate Stephen Garcia. That's that. However, every time Marcus Lattimore did something extraordinary my grandaddy would scream out, "That's my boy!"

THEN, this morning happened. E-P-I-C. So this is a Southern Southern Baptist Church. I mean homegrown and deep fried Southern Baptist. So after the hallelujahs and the amens I noticed that there was a man translating to a group of hispanic individuals in another part of the church, then I became very distracted. After a lot of praying, the end of church came...and the oddest thing happened. The Hispanic preacher came to the front and stated to the church, "I have a very special announcement! My cousin Roberto is getting married right after church! Right here! Feel free to stay and celebrate!" My mind is blown. My mind is BLOWN. So promptly the bride is taken to the back of the church and walks down the aisle in front of all these old people who insist on touching/hugging me. Best church service ever, besides the touching. I hate touchy people. Why must people insist on touching?

Strange scenarios follow me. They do, it's true, ask my coworkers.

But anyway, you remember that bit about my grandaddy loving dogs right? Meet his dogs:

This is Copper. Copper is an AKC registered Australian Shepherd, complete with papers. He is also a stray that was dropped of at my grandaddy's house. His owners didn't want him anymore, but my grandaddy took him in with open arms.

This is Brute. Brute's first dad sought out my grandaddy after hearing that he took in strays. He asked my grandaddy to watch his dog for two weeks while he went on vacation. Brute has been with my grandaddy for months.

This is Big Momma. Big Momma was dropped off at my grandaddy's house not very well taken care of. My grandaddy took her to the vet and had Big Momma fixed before he knew she was pregnant, thus unintentionally aborting her pups. This is how she got her name.

This is Duffy and Duncan. Duffy was my childhood dog. He belonged to my biological father. My biological father came to have some hard times in his life and was unable to care for Duffy. Duncan was my biological mother's dog. She didn't want him anymore.

This is Scared Girl. She's scared of people and most dogs. She just showed up one day.

This is Little Baby, she also just showed up one day. She is the only living thing that Scared Girl will let near her.

He also has another dog named Georgia Belle, but she's currently very sick and is probably going to pass away. My grandaddy is very saddened by this, so I'm not gonna post her picture.

So then, there you go, that was my trip back "home." And also, a little self disclosure.

TOMATO, THE HUBS.

We're going to buy a house soon! I hope! We were pre-approved for a loan and are now "actively" looking. It's exciting and scary at the same time.

I just wish he were here for it all. He's literally the best husband ever, and I hate to do such big things without him.

ZERO, THE DRAGON.

...also visited Grandaddy this weekend and had a blast being apart of the "puppy pack."

Song of the Day:

If My Heart Was a House by Owl City