This pup just gets me #bellyrubs #dogsofinstgram #SoBeSol #wordpress

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This is how I will remember Prince…his last performance was spectacular 

Paying tribute to the one and only, read my personal experience attending his final concert here: https://spanishmossseries.com/2016/04/29/prince-last-concert-my-personal-experience/

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My Adoption Story: Finale

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If you’ve been following along with my personal story of being an adoptee let me begin by saying THANKS! It’s a major part of who I am and the road I’ve traveled and I really appreciate all the love, support and feedback you all have given me! If you missed the first three parts you can catch up here: Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 otherwise away we go with the final chapter.

I began to spend weekends with my birthmother, brother and step-father. Even my maternal grandparents ended up staying with my birthmother so I was able to get to know them as well. Learned my grandmothers Sicilian sauce and meatballs recipe and how to make her famous lasagna. Watched the Mets with my grandfather when they were on a hot streak (actually won the WS that year 86′) and helped him “walk the property” which was his code for grab a smoke outside. It was wonderful to really get to know my family, create that lifelong bond and be accepted as part of their lives, them as part of my life and grow our heritage. Continue reading

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My Adoption Story: Part 3

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Yes its been quite a story and now we’re at part 3 of my adoption story. You can get caught up by reading Part 1 or Part 2 here….otherwise here we go:

I was settled in with my new high school, making lots of friends in NYC (you know who you are, love you ladies) and had figured out the subway system for the most part. My birthmother and I had set a date to meet in the city for dinner, I don’t actually remember the date, she might, but I do recall it seems like it was October. I had asked my family to join us in NY for the dinner and our first meeting so my adopted father, and two older brothers came up from NC to join me and be supportive.

My mother didn’t join us, she probably said she had to work or would stay back to give me some space but I understood her position, who wouldn’t? She was supportive but it was most likely very hard for her to watch the two of us meet, chat, hug etc. So I’ve never put her in a position that would make her uncomfortable and recommend other adoptees do the same. Be respectful, think about how it would feel for the other parent, the parent who raised you, gave you a home, a family, and lots of love. Too much for most people to swallow so I respected her decision and never questioned it. Continue reading

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My Adoption Story: Part 2

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And so continuing my personal story of being an adopted, if you missed Part 1 you can read it here, otherwise we left off with my adopted parents telling me that my birthmother reached out and wanted to have some sort of dialogue with me if I was interested.

My adopted father was and still is at 86 very thorough kinda man and he explained that they had vetted my birthmother at least to validate that she was in fact who she claimed to be and how her current family felt about me coming into their lives. My father had collected all the letters, copies of original birth certificates and other documentation into a black three ring binder. As I reached for the binder to read through, a picture of a teen boy dropped out of the binder. I picked up the picture and instantly noticed that this kid looked just like me but with short hair. He could be my twin! Continue reading

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My Adoption Story: Part 1

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So I’ve been asked my adoption story countless times and after years of questions, suggestions from friends and family that the story should be told, a little time of the holidays, and just plain desire to pass along some inspiration to others who might need it, I thought it was time to write it down.

I was adopted at birth, well actually at 3 days old.  I always knew I was adopted and what that meant. It’s important to my story that you know there was never foster care or orphanage time spent, I would suspect that would have a very different effect on my childhood, as I’ve heard from other adopted children. I don’t remember a specific time where my parents sat me down to “tell” me but they said in fact they did just that. I must have been very young three or four years of age since it was always known and not a secret. Continue reading

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Rules for a Football Widow

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As the summer comes to a close and cooler weather creeps in, football season begins. Now I’m a fan, a big fan of fall weather, changing leaves, apple cider, and of course a fan of football. However being married to a man who played college football and who likes to attend several games every season, thus leaving me alone for a few weekends, I’ve become a true #FootballWidow.

My husband and I spend a lot of time together but we also believe in time with our girlfriends or guys. It’s healthy to be apart some and good to enjoy your friendships. We attend football games together even went to the UGAvsUNC game to kick off the season but there are weekends where it’s a guy thing and I’m ok with that.

Over the years I’ve found ways to fill in the free time and even though I miss my man, these widow weekends have become quite enjoyable. This weekend was the kick-off of #FootballWidow for me, hubby’s pilgrimage to Indiana to attend the Michigan State vs Notre Dame game occurs every year when it’s on the schedule. So as it’s fresh on my mind, here’s my top rules to follow for coping with the loss of your man or partner during football season:

Rule#1 – Always drink something wonderful!
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So he leaves you on a Friday afternoon and your evening is free…sip something bold, beautiful and just enjoy a little quiet time. If you’re any bit like me, you rarely take time for yourself to just center, refresh and refocus. Take the moment and reflect with a nice spirt of your choice. This Friday I choose something new out of our wine refrigerator, it was light, sweet with notes of berries and just down out perfect to end a long hot week in Georgia. Cheers! Continue reading

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