A lot of words to say a lot of nothing

Apparently I have a blog.

Huh.

The problem with taking close to a week off to eat myself into a stupor, the likes of which will require an 85 Day Shred Workout DVD before I’ll be able to wear jeans instead of stretchy pants, is that so much has happened, SO MUCH FUN HAS BEEN HAD, that I don’t even know where to begin.

The irony is I read a blog post over the weekend that discussed ten things that bloggers do wrong and I was only slightly surprised that I am guilty of eight out of ten, chief among them being that I use too many words when I write a post. At least now I know that my failure to build any sort of media empire is largely due to my inability to use less words and I’m okay with that because I can’t help myself. As Caroline told me yesterday as we decorated for Christmas, “Mama, the details make everything better!”

Okay, Martha Stewart, hand Mama some more of that ribbon and that sparkly tinsel.

Caroline was out of school all last week so we left for Bryan/College Station with Gulley and her boys the Friday before Thanksgiving. As soon as we drove into town we headed straight to Reed Arena to watch the Aggies play basketball and to purchase three buckets of popcorn so that each child could eat four pieces.

On Saturday we went to Kyle Field before the A&M vs. Baylor game. The kids got their faces painted and then found a prime spot to watch the band and the Corps march in.

Caroline decided to wear her zebra pants which I felt was a good choice since any occasion is more festive when you’re wearing zebra pants. It’s worked for Aerosmith for years.

Then Sunday night we went to Santa’s Wonderland to see the Christmas lights.

But wait, there’s more! (Of course there is. Media empire FAIL.)

Nena came by on Saturday night and brought a shirt that she wanted Honey to try on. She said she’d originally bought it for Uncle Johnny, but it turned out to be a shirt for a woman so she thought Honey might want it because doesn’t every woman want to wear a shirt intended for her older brother?

Here it is. (The model’s head has been cut off because there are limits to what should be on the internet.)

It’s made of fleece and the brand is Bugle Boy. The best part is all of us have figured out a way to contort our bodies when we try on Nena’s clothing offerings to ensure they don’t fit. Gulley called me on it last time by declaring she never knew my arms were so long as I made sure to bunch a jacket up around my shoulders causing the sleeves to be way too short.

Anyway, it turns out that it’s okay that none of us wanted it because Nena’s friend Dorothy Kay said she’ll take it and has plans to cut off the sleeves and turn it into a chic (chick) vest. In the words of Tim Gunn, make it work, Dorothy Kay, MAKE IT WORK.

But enough of all this, let me tell you about the most important development of the past week, my new talent. I may never reach the heights of success with my faux media empire, but I’ve discovered I can weave a potholder like a son of a gun. Thirty years ago, when I was a wee young member of Brownie Troop 4032, I managed to weave a few potholders with some modicum of success. However, I always struggled when you had to tie off the edges so that you could actually take it off the loom.

WELL, Gulley and I decided to take the kids to Michaels to buy them each some type of craft to entertain them since the weather was wet and cold outside. Caroline chose (with perhaps a little direction from me in the form of saying “LOOK AT THIS LOOM! DON’T YOU WANT TO MAKE POTHOLDERS?) a weaving loom.

Look! It includes everything you need for only $6.99 plus tax!

Unfortunately it didn’t include everything we needed because the plastic loom was already broken on one end when I opened the box. I was too lazy to return it, but thankfully it didn’t hinder my potholder-making abilities.

Much.

The kids sat at the table and did their crafts for approximately eight minutes, but I totally got sucked into the loom. In fact, I kept the loom by my side the rest of the weekend and worked tirelessly to create four potholders of less than mediocre quality. I’m considering opening up my own Etsy shop because I believe there may be high demand for homemade woven potholders that are smaller than my hand.

Maybe I could market them as coasters.

Or rugs for Barbie’s dreamhouse since I’m pretty sure that’s what I used them for back in 1978.

Either way I think this idea holds promise which works out well since I’m up to 857 words on this post and haven’t even gotten to Tuesday. Goodbye Media Empire. Hello Big Mama’s Woven Creations: a woman, her loom, and a dream that wouldn’t die.

And yet I keep on writing with all the words.

Tuesday we went down to the ranch and spent time with some friends.

Caroline and her friend, S, went deer hunting with P. I can’t believe that they didn’t scare off every deer in a fifteen mile radius due to all the giggling, but they managed to get one.

Then we sat around the campfire and ate S’mores.

I spent most of Wednesday making desserts and some other stuff for Thanksgiving lunch while P and Caroline stayed at the ranch.

And then, FINALLY (970 words) it was Thanksgiving Day.

Caroline and her cousin Sarah continued the time-honored tradition of the kids’ table.

You may notice that Sarah chose to dine on the more traditional Thanksgiving meal of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a side of goldfish crackers. She’s a gourmet.

That night we watched the Aggie game.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

Except for this. (Seriously, I CANNOT stop the words.) I kept saying that if we won I wouldn’t gloat or rub it in, but I feel that I should confess that I would have totally gloated. In fact, when we were only down by a few points with mere minutes left to play, I’d already devised a plan for Caroline to wear her Aggie sweatshirt to school every day next week to torment her very Longhorn teacher.

I may have even considered weaving her a maroon and white potholder.

I’m not saying it’s right. It’s just who I am.

Love,
Melanie
Big Mama’s Woven Creations
Founder, Craftsman and Owner