Tag Archives: UF

The Swamp, Our Awesome Alumni, & $600+ Million in Awards Last Year: Why UF Trumps USC’s Cocks, Pork, & Pyrotechnics

May
29
2012
by Elle Grant | 2 Comments

My loyalty was challenged this past weekend. You see, my sister just started grad school at the University of South Carolina. I went to visit her, as sisters do when their sisters move to a strange, new place alone. (I am, however, living vicariously through her in this situation. What I would give to be alone some days…Out on the deck, just me, some sweet tea, and that little old lizard doing that thing with his neck. Sweet serenity.)

Sign this girl up!

While I have been to Columbia for away games, I’ve never actually wandered around USC’s campus. You see, their stadium is far, far away (relatively speaking – it’s a hike, even when you’re sober…) from their actual campus.

Trying to find their stadium is a bit like this. (Okay, so that's a *slight* exaggeration.)

While my sister was giving me “the tour,” I was forced to come to terms with a few things. I realized (gasp) UF may not actually be the best in every, single, itty bitty category there is as far as colleges go.

I kid you not. This realization was uncomfortable. I mean, genuinely, sincerely, from the pit of my stomach, uncomfortable. Had I been living a lie all these years? No. But this realization did have me taking inventory.

USC’s “Horseshoe” puts the Plaza of the Americas to shame with its humongous space of soft, green grass and towering Oaks (their campus has about a fifty year head start on ours).  And they’re within biking distance to some of the best barbeque and collards I’ve ever had in my entire life. No, really.

BBQ pulled pork. Served in a paper basket. Add some collards, pepper sauce, and sweet tea. Yet another reason I love the south...

Oh, and they have fireworks at their stadium. (That’s a bit irritating when you’re losing to them in football. It sucks to lose. It sucks to lose even worse when the loss is celebrated by a colorful display of explosive pyrotechnics.) And, *sigh*, they have the Ol’ Ball Coach.  While I whole heartedly like Muschamp (partially because he reminds me of Spurrier – he’s got some visor-throwing abilities, no doubt), I love, like L.O.V.E. love, Spurrier. “Once a Gator, Always a Gator” kept me warm at night this past weekend.

Yeah. I think he can get a little fired up like Spurrier...

That, however, is it. UF ranks superior in every other category I could think of, and then some, I’m sure. Our campus has towering Oaks, too…next to attractively designed buildings, no matter the decade of creation. (On USC’s campus, it’s very apparent which buildings were built in which decade. “And just what geometric shape is that building trying to embody?”) UF’s architecture is classic.

Just one of the many examples...

Our stadium is right on campus, and just one crosswalk away, we have a large selection of bars and restaurants (Dad, don’t mind the order there…). The girls are hotter (and smarter). The boys are smarter (and with Southern accents, they’d be just as hot as those South Carolinian boys).

Packed full of smart, fun, beautiful people.

Not to mention the academics and research. UF and the brilliant people who work and study there are responsible for a rather large (cough, cough) number of discoveries and inventions including big-time cancer research and treatment, alternative energy sources (ethanol, nuclear, and solar energy), and of course, Gatorade. Don’t believe me? UF received over $619 million in research awards for the 2010-2011 year. (My mom and 3rd Dad are responsible for some of that – Love you guys!) Over 600 million bucks? Not bad, if I do say so myself.

My sweet mom and Dad 3 goofing off when they're not in their labs working to make UF even more awesome. Adorable, aren't they? They're even more adorable in person...and when they're looking in the right direction when it comes to picture time...

Our list of alumni is impressive, too.  The inventor of the digital computer (John Atanasoff), best-selling novelists (Michael Connelly, Carl Hiassen, and one day, me, just to name a few), governors (including Bob Graham), two Nobel Prize winners, three NASA astronauts, musicians with voices like honey (Easton Corbin), and dozens of athletes in the pros (Tim Tebow, Jack Youngblood, Emmitt Smith, Andre Caldwell, Jarvis Moss, Fred Taylor…the list goes on, and we haven’t even gotten past football…Oh!  And they’re all smart, too!) are all alumni.  (There are, of course, several UF alum family members of mine (7 people, 8 degrees (B.A.’s, M.A.’s, and M.D.’s)) who are famous for their own reasons…Have you heard my dad’s play by play of his Saturday morning golf games?…)

As if we could have too many pictures of him popping up on this site...

There are about a gazillion other things UF is great for, but I’ll spare you the rest. This is right about the breaking point when my non-Gator loved ones stop reading (Hi Renee! Love you! Please give the little peanut a hug and head-kiss for me!).

My point is, while I had a moment of panic this weekend, it turns out that, yeah, UF’s more awesome. Besides, we have a way better mascot.  As my sister rightly noted, anyone other than a 12 year old boy would rather say, “Go Gators!” than “Go Cocks!”  Just sayin’.

 

**Photos courtesy of ufl.edu, bleacherreport.com, football.ballparks.com, myrecipes.com, kitchengeeking.com, exitofhumanity.com, and floridaadventuring.com.

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Graduation: The First Day of the Rest of Your Life…That’ll be Tomorrow, Too…And the Next Day After That, etc…

May
04
2012
by Elle Grant | 2 Comments

Today marks a significant milestone in our family. Today, two of my sisters will graduate from the University of Florida. The family tradition continues.

Home Sweet Home

While flying home from Chicago, I got to thinking about things I wish I had known when I graduated. And then I made a list. (Shocker.) On a barf bag. (Oh, the irony…)

For "Motion Discomfort" *and* Note Taking

I will share this advice, advice in which my sisters have already heard a dozen times and which will most likely pass through one ear and out the other as quickly as they dismiss shoes, dresses, and boys. On to the next. However, just in case they happen to feel sentimental at any point, here it is:

1. You can always change your mind. Graduation marks a turning point with endings and new beginnings. That can feel daunting, I know. I’ve been there. We all have in one way or another. The good news is you can change your mind. Whatever you decide, the world will still be here tomorrow, we will still love you, and your feet will still be big. So go ahead. Make a decision. It will all be fine.

It will all be okay. I promise.

2.  There are 365 days in a year. And you have roughly 50+ years ahead of you. That’s about 18,250 days left in your life. And, of course, there are 24 hours in each of those 18,000+ days. That’s about 438,000 hours… My point? You have plenty of time. Lots and lots of glorious time. Enjoy it. I mean, don’t just sit on the couch eating bon bons, but certainly don’t fret about taking a detour or four while you’re on your way.

Plenty of Time

3.  It’s okay to make mistakes. Thanks to Adam and Eve, we’re not perfect. Try not to let the worry of making mistakes keep your feet stuck in the sand. The water is warm. I promise.

"Oops. Let's try that again," is perfectly acceptable.

4.  Travel. Take me with you. There’s a great big ol’ world out there with lots to see. Take some time to see it.

Sign this girl up, please...

5.  Come home to visit.  Tell mom I said hi.

The "other" Home Sweet Home

6.  Remember, you are loved. Sure, love doesn’t pay the bills, but it certainly helps comfort you when the first six job interviews don’t pan out so well. There’s a lot to be said for that much love. I’ll spare you. But just know, you are so very loved.

You're loved. Big time.

So, while graduation may seem a little scary,  it really is going to be fine.  I promise.  You survived (not only growing up with our parents…but also everything else…). You’re well prepared, and great, big, new adventures await you.  Go get ’em.  *And the crowd goes wild as they make their way in the world*

 

**Photos courtesy of starkoutloud.com, nicvee.blogspot.com, fieldandstream.com, toptravellists.net, jewelersfastforward.com, unrad.info, and tickets4sports.com.

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Bigger Discounts, Better Stories, & Being Santa on Random Tuesdays: Why Getting Older Isn’t All that Bad

Apr
20
2012
by Elle Grant | 0 Comments

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “The years teach much which the days never knew.”  Isn’t it strange how the little bits and pieces don’t seem to have a big impact, but when you add them all together, the important stuff happens.  Eggs, ink, flour, paper.  Alone, they’re nothing special.  Together, they’re a delicious, hand-held dessert with wisdom packaged inside.  And so it is with life.

My favorite dessert.

Recently, while having breakfast with one of my college roommates (we’ll call her Rachel), it occurred to me that one of the great things about becoming an adult is that you can maintain close friendships even if you don’t see each other or talk all that often.  I’ve found for many of my friends, we simply pick back up right where we left off.  It’s as if the days and months (and sometimes years) slide away into nothingness, and we’re right back in the dorms or at the old apartment.

Tales of dorm-made strawberry margaritas spilling on my laptop (that was a difficult one to explain to my father…) and going for a run every day at the same time in hopes of seeing that hot guy with the UF cap on warmed us up for the topics to come.

Give him a haircut and a UF baseball cap, and you'll get the idea.

Rachel has an adorable son who looks exactly like his father.  Apparently he is finally talking now (and actually making sense).   Rachel was sharing how having a young child in the house completely changes your life.  “And you know what else?” she said.  “Don’t buy good furniture until your kids are older.  To be safe, maybe wait until they graduate from high school and actually move out of the house.”  For a girl whose only child at the moment is a 6 year old cat named Jack, this advice seemed a little daunting.

“Just the other day, P came in the room looking a little sheepish,” Rachel elaborated.  Sheepish.  For a boy who is potty training at the moment.  That could be scary.  “I asked him what was wrong.  All of sudden, two crocodile tears ran down his cheeks and he told me, ‘Mommy, my stomach came out of my mouth.’  Sure enough, I go into the living room, and there’s little boy vomit all over my couch.  *Sigh* The joys of motherhood.”

Oh, P, one day, when you get older, we’ll swap stories.  You are not alone, sweet boy.  The number of times my stomach came out of my mouth as a kid is quite remarkable.  One day.

Your stomach just came out of your mouth? Yeah. I know the feeling.

After spending some time with Rachel, it got me thinking about the joys of getting older.  I’m at the age now where all of my friends are lamenting the fact that the years keep ticking by and they’re simply not ready.  (I admit, I often contribute to these conversations.)  But after my date with Rachel, I realized getting older isn’t that bad.  Here are a few reasons why:

6.  People tend to do the right thing more often.  While the stereotype is that people, especially men, get grumpier with time (and I have a friend who admits he’s quite ornery about certain topics just because he’s older and has that excuse), right and wrong seem to become clearer.  Sure, children know right from wrong from a very early age; sometimes, however, they follow the crowd and screw up.  As you get older, the crowd seems less important.  And that can be a very good thing.

"A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval." ~Mark Twain

5.  People can get away with more.  Ever give your four year old little sister bubble gum?  What happens?  I’ll tell you what happens.  All hell breaks loose when she manages to smear it all over the backseat of the car.  What happens when an old person gives a four year old bubble gum?  Nothing.  Old people can do no wrong when it comes to young children.  It’s like getting to be Santa Claus on some random Tuesday afternoon, and then again two days later, and then again on Sunday after church.

What trouble looks like right before it happens...

Along those same lines…

4.  Children are fascinated by old people.  Once the fear of suspenders and gigantic glasses wears off, children can’t get enough of old people.  Ever seen a five year old get up close and personal with an old person?  Two soft, chubby little hands go right to the soft, wrinkled, worn-down cheeks and those hands push and poke and smoosh up and down.  I look forward to having my cheeks smooshed when that day comes.

So curious...both him and the kids.

3.  Discounts.  What’s better than a student discount?  A senior discount.  Apparently there are big perks at the tire place and the movie theater for making it to old age.

Gotta love 'em.

2.  Your stories get better.  Ever listen to a six year old tell a story?  Did you understand that?  Something about a dog and an Easter egg?  Yeah, me neither.  Ever listen to a sixteen year old tell a story?  It’s almost painful how many times “like” and “you know?” appear.  Ever listen to a seventy-six year old tell a story?  Oh, man.  They’re good.  Really good.  And “Once upon a time, when I was a young man” is often the perfect beginning.

Sometimes those stories plant the seeds for big dreams.

1.  You’re that much closer to heaven.  And heaven is where you get to meet up with your old dogs and your old grandparents.   I’m not exactly sure what heaven looks like, but from what I can tell, it’s gotta be good.

All that's missing is the people, the pets, and the picnic.

So while there are a few disappointments at getting older (I’m sure not being able to do a cartwheel anymore will be devastating to me), the good outweighs the bad.  And because I’m a big fan of not being dead, I’ll take as many years of old age as The Big Guy Upstairs is willing to give me.

 

**Photos courtesy of fasttrackfundraising.com, collegecandy.com, tanakamusic.com, brucemctague.com, flickr.com, ease1.com, newsfeed.time.com, studentsforliberty.org, and elephantjournal.com.

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Sleepless in Gator Country: When Unruly Sheep Take Turns Shooting the Breeze and Cutting in Line

Apr
13
2012
by Elle Grant | 0 Comments

It’s 2:37 in the morning. You know this because, well, you’re awake and you’ve only looked at the clock about four times in the last two minutes. You’ve changed positions roughly six times, fluffed your pillow, flipped it over, and then gave it a good one-two punch to the sides for good measure.

It looks a little something like this at first…

To make matters worse, everyone, including your cat, is snoring. You know this because you can hear them, well, because you’re awake. As you have to get up in three or four hours, it’s too late to take any heavenly sleep drugs. If only you would’ve known you’d be wide awake at 2:30 am, you could’ve warded off that pesky insomnia with a little modern medicine. Dang it.

This was me last night. This insomnia was particularly painful because I had to be up at 5:00 am. Have you ever watched two and a half hours click by on a digital clock? Pain.ful.

*Sigh*

I, of course, tried the good ol’ standby of counting sheep. Sadly, I’m a failure at this. It’s ridiculous. Those sheep, my sheep, are completely unruly. How is that even possible? Picture a grassy field. Then picture a cluster of big oak trees. Somewhere in front of the oak trees, there are two wooden fence segments. (The rest of the fence is suspiciously absent.) Theoretically, a person, or a sheep, could walk right around either side of the fence. And, *sigh*, that’s just what many of them do. Walk right around the dang fence they’re supposed to jump over. Then there are a few eating grass, milling around completely oblivious to their cue. Finally, there are some over-eager sheep who want to jump over the fence as fast as possible, causing me to lose count after about seven. “Hey, can you slow down?!”  No. They stubbornly refuse. And I have a front row seat for their disobedience. I give up and watch them take a detour, eat grass, or race for some imaginary finish line for a bit. And then I start the count all over again. (I’m not even kidding.)

Something sort of like this…more grass chewing, more wandering…

This, needless to say, is ineffective in trying to fall back asleep. When you find yourself having conversations with four-legged animals in your brain, frustration and embarrassment make it difficult for sleep to take over. After realizing I stink at counting sheep, I tried numerous other traditional tactics, none of which seemed to work. I moved on to new, untested sleep-inducing waters. For example, I tried opening my eyes creating animals and palm trees and things from the shadows in the room. (*Note to Self:  Do Not hang your dress for work up by the closet.  It *will* look like a person standing there watching you…creepy…) As these were also ineffective for the task at hand, I figured I would make you a list of some not-so-good ideas, a list of what not to do when you’re trying to fall back asleep.

When trying to fall asleep, I would suggest avoiding the following:

5.  Think about going for a run.   While it’s great to partake in physical activity outdoors, going for a run when only you, the bats, and the scary people are out of doors is not a good idea. It’s dark outside, and it’s kind of creepy, and by the way this night has been going already, something terrible would probably happen when you’re half way from home, far, far away from anyone awake enough to help you. Thinking about what scary things might happen is exhausting…buuuttt not quite exhausting enough to seal the sweet sleep deal.

Maybe this is what some of my over-zealous sheep see that I don’t…

4.  Plan a vacation.  Or six of them. Or, if you’re like me, fifteen of them. I traveled the world about four times last night and stopped off at all my favorite places like Andros (where the fishing is good) and visited new favorite places like Bora Bora (with a name like that, how can it not be a fantastic place to visit?). Then I remembered my passport expires later this month. And then I started to think about waiting in line at the post office to renew it…and while that certainly isn’t stimulating, it doesn’t seem to induce sleep.

Oh, yes please. I’m pretty sure this is what my heaven looks like.

3.  Curl your hair.  I have a sweet little burn on my thigh from sitting cross-legged on the floor curling my hair, not taking into account that while no, I’m not sleeping, I am, in fact, sleepy, which apparently impairs my sense of judgment. Take it from me, after being burned by a curling iron, you’re wide awake. *sigh*

Sure. This is a little something like how it looked right before I burned myself.

2.  Plan your day.  While this may seem like a productive use of your time, once you realize just how much you have to do that day, the urge to actually just get out of bed and get started is hard to fight…Hence the curled hair and the burned thigh. Save yourself some anxiety and physical pain and plan your day when you’re brushing your teeth. Much safer.

I wonder which color of this planned day represents killing time until the alarm goes off.

1.  Match-make your siblings and your friends.  While playing cupid can be fun, having your sister date your college next-door-neighbor who had an affinity for pot, video games, and anyone named Stacy, is simply not quite as good of an idea in the daylight as it is during an insomnia-induced haze.  Danny, you know I love you, and we know you’re a Gator (and not bad to look at), but on your wedding day, I don’t want to be fighting off images of you playing Madden in your boxer shorts, Doritos, donuts, and Bud Light on your coffee table, the same table you got from the dumpster behind our apartment.

Oh, Danny. You know we love you.

Tonight, I will be sure to avoid all of these things. Although, knowing me and my disobedient sheep, I’ll have envisioned a herd of cows pummeling over any attempted rapists on their way to Tahiti to marry off their mother for the fifth time. To you, I wish you a comfortable bed, a full eight hours before you’re required to do anything productive, and sweet, sweet dreams. Me? I’ll probably go look at my empty freezer for the fourth time on the hunt for something sweet for dessert…or breakfast…depending on how the rest of the night looks.

 

**Photos courtesy of sflchronicle.com, pyschologiesmagazine.be, qi-spot.com, lets-go.com.hr, and trutv.com.

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Saltwater, Sand, and Smiles: Three Simple Ingredients for a Happy Childhood…and a Blessed Adult Life

Apr
06
2012
by Elle Grant | 0 Comments

“They” say everything is better in the Bahamas. While I haven’t had the opportunity to try “everything” in the Bahamas, from what I have experienced (Thanks Bradley – the fishing is always great!), it sure does seem like it’d be better there. In Spain, I was a stalker attempting to catch people at their finest unbeknownst to them (with my very large Nikon…not so sneaky…). In Andros, people, particularly children, were flocking to me.

Not only were they flocking to me, they were happy about it. Smiles were everywhere. Beautiful brown skin and shining white teeth surrounded me for most of my days on my last trip. Now granted, during the day, I was at a school…a school where their motto is:  Learn while you can. So much to say about that…maybe another time.

Instead, here are some photographs of the happy people I had the opportunity to spend my time with. A day with these children offers a great deal of perspective. Their childhood playground consists of sand and water. That’s it. And they’re happy with that. In a time where we are bombarded with advertisements for video games and dolls that cry when they’re hungry, it’s nice to see kids happy with what they have, essentially nothing more than the land and sea The Big Guy Upstairs gave them. I don’t blame them. I’d be happy with that, too. **Fantasizes about a move to the islands** So without further ado, the stars of an island vacation.  (Next to the fantastic fishing, these smiles make it all worth it.)

Maybe it’s because I’ve actually met these children and spent time with them playing “ball and bat” (a version of baseball utilizing a UF squish football I’d brought, random tree stumps and ropes for bases, and our arms for bats), but every time I look at their smiling faces, I can’t help but laugh. Even though they have holes in their shoes and stains on their collars, these kids know how to have a good time. So if you’re feeling a bit overworked and underpaid, consider taking a trip to paradise. The sandbox is huge, the water is warm, and I have no doubt you’ll be welcomed with open arms and, of course, big smiles.

 

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Finding the Good in Just About Anything: How Losing Your Lunch Leads to Respect, Appreciation, and Love

Feb
22
2012
by Elle Grant | 0 Comments

Blow your biscuits. Chew backwards. Insult your shoes. Fertilize the sidewalk. Whatever you want to name it, I’ve never been a big fan of tossing my cookies…which is why I was never a big fan of traveling when I was younger. Within two minutes of sitting on a plane with my tray table in its upright position, I was usually keeling over making close friends with the lovely little bag they shove in those seat pockets in front of you. Yes, I’m sure I was a joy to travel with as a child.

My Saving Grace as a Traveling Child

Don’t get me wrong. I was pleasant. I was polite. I was smiling. I was “the good one.” That did not, however, protect me from the rumbling that would most assuredly attack at some point on any adventure involving moving vehicles traveling anywhere past my school…or beyond the local pet store. (*side note:  I was always a sucker for animals I couldn’t possibly bring home.)

"The Good One." I'll give you one guess as to which one is me...

I’ve blown my groceries:

In the backseat.

In the middle seat (on a plane).

On a male flight attendant’s shoe. (I’ve sent happy thoughts up to The Big Guy Upstairs for this guy).

On my pancakes (that was attributed to altitude sickness).

In a blue bucket, on a boat, during a bachelorette party (I love you, Beck!).

In a teeny, tiny bathroom in a super huge airplane.

In brown paper bags.

In glossy white paper bags.

In large shopping bags filled with presents from our trip:

Me: “Mom, I feel sick.”

Mom (absentmindedly): “Here honey, use this.” (“this” being the shopping bag filled with presents from our trip).

Me: Well, I’m sure you can figure out the rest.

*Side note: My mother always took me seriously after this particular event.

Gifts for All...Topped with Love from Lauren

Question: How do you know Lauren Grant is an honest person? Answer: She will tell you up front that it’s not looking good…and then sadly follow through…and then write about it later.

I think, because of my overactive ability to liberate my lunch as a child, I made it all the way through college without getting sick for any reason other than the flu. (I’ve since made up for that. Twice. One time on a date of sorts. Smooth, LG. Real smooth. Question: He pulls over to the side of the road multiple times, waits for you to decorate the parking lot, and the grass, and an ant pile, and then actually lets you back into the car? Answer: Yeah, he’s probably a keeper.)

So, as a child who was not a fan of painting the town green, I developed a survival kit of sorts for any trip involving time in the air. This kit included:

A potpourri sachet (to shove in my face when the exhaust fumes started to permeate into the cabin).

A hoodie to rest my head against the plane window.

A diet entirely made up of Saltine crackers starting a day before the trip.

Drugs. Lots and lots of drugs. The ones that make you sleep. 

Sweet Sleep...

This survival kit was so successful that instead of me actually tossing the tiger, my family just drew pictures of me tossing the tiger as I slept peacefully on the plane. All the way from takeoff to touchdown. I would wake up to find napkins with stick figures of me (distinguishable by my long hair and pen streaks like a rainbow coming out of a hole in my head) placed neatly on my lap. Love. That’s what I call love.

Close. But not quite.

As an adult, I have yet to ride the meal-go-round on a trip. **Knocks on wood. Hard.** And so, I love to travel. All the time. Stick me on a plane or a boat or in a car, and I’m ready to go. I write this as I plan a trip across the country (Texas) and a trip across the world (Spain). I’m leaving the potpourri at home, but the sweet sleep drugs? Those are still coming with me.

So while losing your lunch is never really fun, it can lead to respect from your mother, a new appreciation for modern medicine, and signs of affection scribbled on paper napkins. Just like John Wooden said, “It’s the little details that are vital. Little things make big things happen.” So, cheers to tossing your cookies and caution to the wind. World, here I come. I’m ready. Suitcase, sunglasses, sweet sleep drugs, and all.

And off into the sunset she goes...

 

 

**Photos courtesy of sodahead.com, alldayplay.fm, columbia.edu, and 123rf.com.

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What’s Love Got to do With It? Almost Everything: Why the 14th is Just as Good as Every Other Day of the Year

Feb
14
2012
by Elle Grant | 1 Comment
I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.  Now, before you start making assumptions, let me clear a few things up.  I don’t *not* celebrate Valentine’s Day for lack of a willing and able other half.  Even when I wore my hair in pigtails and had to stand on my tippy toes to ride Space Mountain, I had my fair share of “Valentines.”

That extra inch or two will take you places...and tippy toes are extremely effective...

In Kindergarten, it was Patrick. He was also my first kiss. Well, of the “Let’s run behind the tree, and I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” kind. Then there was James. Sweet James. Benji, Jeff, and Paul got me through elementary school. There was David in middle school. Then Mike, and Mike again, and Mike again, oh for about eight years. Then there was someone who will remain nameless in order to squash any urges I may have to create clever pseudonyms that might not be too complimentary.  He was around for too many V-days.

"Lauren and Patrick Sittin' in a Tree..." Or a sandbox...

So, there have been opportunities to celebrate.  I just chose not to.  (Those in my life will vouch for this fact.  Many a boyfriend have been grateful for my wallflower ways when it comes to V-day.)

Some people avoid Valentine’s Day because they think it’s become a Hallmark holiday. I can see that. However, I’m all for commerce and capitalism and people having an extra day to buy their loved ones presents. I don’t *not* celebrate it because it’s commercialized.  If people want to have an excuse to buy chocolates and cards and big “I love you!” balloons, who am I to judge? Have at it. Keep our economy chugging along, please.

Sure, Valentine’s Day is supposed to be about love, but for those that don’t have an other half, the day can be disappointing. Having always had at least one friend who feels that way this time of year, I can attest to the fact that this type of disappointment, like any other I suppose, is not fun. And so, for solidarity to my friends, I let February 14th pass by just like any other day.

Now Love, that’s a whole different story.  Love is what makes the world go ‘round, right?  Well, love and ambition and The Big Guy Upstairs and that whole earth orbiting the sun and spinning on its axis thing. That, too. While many of us hope for life-long love, marrying the person of our dreams, having beautiful and intelligent children with that person, and then growing old and dancing to Etta James and doing the Electric Slide on our 50th wedding anniversary, it doesn’t always work out that way.

My mother, God love her, is on her third husband.  I’m not quite sure how these men perform in the “Husband” department, but all three of the men she married have been great dads to me.  She knows how to pick good fathers, that’s for sure.  (And they’re all Gators, so clearly she has good taste.)  Because my mother has had at least three Great Loves in her life, we now have a blended family, and while it’s not “happily-ever-after love” the first (or second) time around, it’s still not half bad.  Here’s why:

1. Extra Family Members.  Because my mom and dad broke up, I now have a lovely (and hilarious) step-mom, a lovely (and kind) 2nd dad, a lovely (and generous) 2nd step-mom who is married to my 2nd dad (and her super fun daughter/my most recent sisterly addition), and three lovely (beautiful, smart, and funny) sisters.  (We’re mutt sisters, sharing one parent by blood and one parent by love.)  A little confusing, I’m aware, and not too pretty on paper, but most certainly entertaining in real life.

Now that my mom’s on to her third husband, I now have *another* great dad (who likes to hunt and fish and claims he’s going to take me one day soon…cough, cough…Mike?  You reading this?) and a brother and sister-in-law (who live in England!)…and as of April of this year, I’ll be an aunt.  I’m pretty sure Baby Gator cheerleading outfits look just as cute in England as they do in Florida.

Baby Gators in England? Absolutely!

And because all these husbands have sisters and brothers, I also have a bunch of fun aunts and uncles and extra grandparents and cousins.  Yes, the family tree is huge and gnarly, but it sure does make things interesting, especially around the holidays…which brings me to my next point…

2. Extra Celebrations.  Up until about the age of 23, birthdays are really fun.  Getting to celebrate your birthday multiple times with your various families, and then again with your friends, makes for a busy birthday month.  Busy and fun and lucrative.

Christmas?  Just as good.  Not only do you get (and give) extra presents, you get extra food, too.  Grant family Christmases are classic for holiday dinners, but the rest of the families certainly know how to cook a feast.  (And when all the families (ex’s and current spouses, etc.) get together, which has happened countless times in my life, we can feed an army.)

Sure, there are extra celebrations (birthdays, graduations, getting accepted into UF parties, etc.) for everyone else, too. These can be detrimental to my pocketbook (and my shoe and travel fund); however, the good times make it all worth it.  At all these events, memories are made and stories are spun.  The history of our good times as a blended family grows longer with each event.

3. Independence.  Independence goes right along with extra celebrations.  Because I come from a fractured family, I am used to being passed around the state (and country) for family gatherings.  I am not traumatized by not being with a certain family member for a certain holiday, and they are not traumatized by me not being there.  We all know we’ll get around to celebrating sooner or later.  And because I’m all about delayed gratification, “sooner or later” works out perfectly.  While I certainly admire families who *must* be together during the holidays, I find it comforting to know anticipation replaces disappointment in my family when it comes to absences around those times of year.

4. Love.  I feel very loved.  All the time.

5. A Good Example.  While many divorces end in life-long resentments, I know nothing about that.  My parents, all of them, have done an amazing job of being responsible, respectful, quality human beings.  All the husbands (current and ex’s) get along and share “Maria” jokes, and all the wives (current and ex’s) get along and share pointers.

I know not of bitter fights and angry battles.  I know only of adults behaving like, well, adults.  Because of this, I have seen how it’s done and I know it is possible, this life of a happy, blended family.  And while one day I hope to have one, just one, husband, I know that good can come from situations other than a traditional “happily ever after.”

My Family Tree: An example of (and heavy on the) Love...and all that it entails.

So, while I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, I do celebrate love. Lots of it. And with all the various family members I have, with all of their various characteristics, I feel as if I’m qualified to do so. 365 days a year.

 

**Photos courtesy of scoop.it, zazzle.com, community.trendmicro.com, firebellymarketing.com, footballfanatics.com, and twentytwowords.com.

 

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