Monday, May 31, 2010

Dorito Pie

Jimmy got this recipe from someone at work. I mean, look at it. It's a disgusting mixture of
Doritos, cream of mushroom soup, cheese, chicken, and I think rotel.

And yet, I didn't hate it.

Dorito Pie? What kind of fat-filled southern culture do we live in where Dorito Pie is an actual recipe that you exchange with co-workers?

Clearly, it was a hit in the Reda/Moore household. The proof is in the pudding. Although my stomach now feels like pudding.. and my thighs.. and my behind..

Oh Dorito Pie, you are grossly munchable.



Wednesday, May 26, 2010

It's Nice to Meet You, Grumpy.

The latest addition to my wine glass collection.

Friday, May 21, 2010

My World Just Shook A Little

Today, within an hour, I learned that two married couples we know, are splitting up.

One couple, married 10 years with 3 kids.

The other couple didn't get to celebrate their first wedding anniversary.

Jimmy and I attended this wedding. We saw them exchange their vows. We danced with their family and ate their Italian (magnificent) themed dinner. We took shots of Sambuka from the ice luge they picked out together. We STILL have a miniature bottle of Tabasco served with some seafood appetizers. I wanted to keep it, instead of eat it. It sits on our stove. I still have pictures from this wedding on my camera. I looked at them 2 weeks ago.

But what's worse? 10 years and 3 kids, or having the wedding still fresh in your head cause IT JUST HAPPENED. Both to me, are equally as heartbreaking. As much as everyone says it's probably for the best, it feels like the worst.

My parents split when I was too young to understand, so I was never devastated by that news. I am devastated by this news, eventhough I hear nothing but bad news all day at work.

If I can be selfish for a moment, I guess it's just hard to hear, especially since the "M" word has come up in several conversations lately.

These couples are a statistic now. And the numbers are adding up. And it's just... discouraging is all. But I do know life goes on. It always has a way of working out.

But by the way...

I'm NEVER getting married. Although a dear friend assures me, "You will get married, and you will make it work."

My world shook after this getting this news.

Not crumbled, just shook.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

House Divided.

This is far beyond any Gamecock v. Clemson rivalry. As you may know, Jimmy and I work at competing stations yet again, as we did in Myrtle Beach.

Our morning coffee has become a ratings war.



Me - 15. Him - 13.
Me - 7. Him - 4.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Failure?

There are no failures - just experiences and your reactions to them. ~Tom Krause

Life is hard. For everyone, I know. I mean, if you say life is easy, I can't even talk to you, because YOU ARE A LIAR.

Lord knows I've done enough complaining and venting on this blog.

Between fights with friends, work stress, and other added problems, my stomach has been the equivalent to what a 14-year-old's room looks like. A mess. With shit everywhere. Pun intended.
Moving here and taking a new job at a bigger TV station, in a bigger city was incredibly scary. And there have moments where I questioned the move. I had the world's largest comfort zone at home. World's largest.

I've been at this station/city for 5 months now and have met some new, colorful people. (Some bitchy ones, too.) I've learned a heck of a lot. But I was forced to learn by being thrown to the wolves. My first two weeks here, I was expected to do things that I never imagined I'd be doing.

Getting up to speed, and getting there, fast. No pressure. Except, there was A LOT of pressure.

Stomach = knots. Hard, hard, hard.

I never thought I'd make it. I almost gave up and walked away. Who needs work?

Oh yeah, I do. Effing bills.

My first 30-days here were the toughest, perhaps, of my life. After working in one newsroom for 6 years, and then suddenly having a whole new set of rules, policies, technical must do's.. aye. I was a crying baby at home after work a lot of days.

Thank God for Jimmy and how he kept reassuring me that I was bettering myself and that I would get it.

Looking back, I know the pain was necessary. The failures I made, I learned from. And It made me better, now months later. Maybe I'll be even better in a year or two.

I feel like I went through a rehab program, and have recovered.

Looking from the outside in, watching myself evolve.