Author: Big Mama

Well, at this moment I am sitting here in my pajamas trying to emotionally prepare myself for the season finale of Downton Abbey. I know enough to know it isn’t going to end well and, frankly, I’m concerned about my mental state after it’s all said and done. Especially since we have big plans to go to the rodeo tomorrow and it will be tragic if I’m too sad to fully enjoy a corn dog with a funnel cake chaser.

Here’s a question, Julian Fellowes. What’s so wrong with the concept of happily ever after?

(I’m not going to say anymore because I really don’t know exactly what is going to happen at this point. And, please, no spoilers in the comments because there are people who live in caves that haven’t seen Downton Abbey yet.)

(However, I will be posting a complete post on my thoughts on the season finale over at The Pioneer Woman’s blog in the Entertainment section so we can share our thoughts there.)

But let’s talk of happier things, specifically funnel cakes. Because guess what Caroline and I saw as we drove to Houston on Friday afternoon?

If hijacking a funnel cake truck is wrong, I don’t wanna be right.

However, we resisted because I felt like chances were good there weren’t actually people inside that funnel cake booth frying up hot funnel cakes as they drove down I-10. But my long-held belief that turkey leg booths and cotton candy booths and corn dog booths just magically appear at carnival sites along with people that can smoke cigarettes and fry up a Snickers bar at the same time was forever shattered.

So that’s what we did this weekend.

(I don’t mean we smoked cigarettes and fried up Snickers bars because that’s kind of how I just made it sound. I meant we saw a funnel cake truck.)

Caroline and I left for Houston around noon on Friday. On Thursday night I debated letting her just skip school on Friday so we could get an earlier start, but then decided against it. But then she didn’t feel good all night Thursday night so she ended up missing school anyway and we still didn’t get away until noon on Friday. And this is so much more than you need or want to know.

And so we finally packed up the car and made the drive to Houston which I always contend is one of the most boring drives in the history of all drives. Fortunately there was no shortage of Taylor Swift songs to keep us entertained.

When we finally got to Mimi and Bops’s house, we visited for a while and Caroline tried to catch lizards out on their patio and then we ultimately made our way to Escalante’s for dinner where I ate a lobster enchilada that may have forever changed my views on seafood combined with Mexican food in all the best ways.

The next morning we just relaxed until I realized I should probably shower if I was going to be signing books for people. I don’t know much about all this, but it seems like hygiene is a good first step. I think I read that once in How to Win Friends and Influence People.

We finally got to the bookstore about ten minutes early and it was very glamorous as I watched them vacuum the spot where they would later place a small table with a black tablecloth. And have I mentioned I also get very nervous at these things? Like the kind of nerves I imagine an athlete gets before a big game. Although I wouldn’t know that because the only time I’ve played a sport in the last thirty years was for an intramural softball team in college.

(We came in first place. But only because all the other teams didn’t show up.)

Fortunately there was no podium or microphone like the signing I did earlier in the week. Although that did create a great moment Gulley told me about later. Apparently when I started to read an excerpt from a chapter, someone in the audience said, “Wait, this isn’t a poetry reading?” and packed up her things and left. It made me so happy.

(If only she had known that I have a whole notebook of very dramatic poems I wrote between the years 1985-1994. However, I would only show those to someone if my other choice was to be lit on fire.)

Anyway, my nerves weren’t really helped when this is what greeted me at the front of the store.

That is a lot of books. And a lot of my face on that sign.

But it ended up being so fun to have Caroline, Mimi and Bops with me. And I had a great mix of sweet friends I’ve known forever show up along with some relatives and many of y’all who I felt like I knew even though we’d never met in person before. And I was so grateful because there are so many better ways to spend a Saturday. Like at a poetry reading, for instance.

Caroline thoroughly enjoyed herself. She sat right by my side and we shared what felt like an increasingly small rolling desk chair for close to two hours. She even signed almost everyone’s books. I think she’s a fan of the book signing.

(I also just want to quickly mention that some of y’all have said you’d like to have a signed book. There were books leftover after the signing on Saturday and Caroline and I signed them. So I’m betting you could get Books-A-Million at Katy Mills to send you one of the signed copies if you’re interested.)

After it was over, we had to make the arduous trip back to Mimi and Bops’s house which happens to be near The Galleria area. This might not mean much to you if you’re not familiar with Houston, but here are a few things you need to know:

1. The NBA All-Star event was in Houston this weekend.

2. Most activities apparently centered around The Galleria area.

3. The Galleria area is crowded enough anyway on any given weekend.

4. Bops considers finding ways to avoid traffic a recreational sport. He likes to weave in and out of traffic and take alternative routes and speed up and slow down like it’s a race.

5. I struggle with carsickness issues. Exhibit A: I once threw up on a bus in front of Ann Voskamp.

Fortunately, I have learned to just close my eyes and go to a happy place in my mind. Specifically a place where I’m not in a car but maybe lying in a field. Actually, that’s not true because fields have bugs. So maybe where I’m lying on a bed with a fitted bottom sheet in a really nice hotel.

(You don’t want to know how I feel about the overuse of non-fitted bottom sheets in hotels all over America.)

So while I didn’t actually need a yuck bucket, I did need to take an Aleve and close my eyes for about thirty minutes after we got back home. And then we ventured back out again to meet some friends at an Italian restaurant for dinner. But we took a better route this time because Bops was fully aware of the traffic situation and had plotted an alternative way.

After a couple of pieces of pizza and a glass of wine, I was like a new person. And getting to end the day laughing with friends over good food was perfection.

We also discovered on the news later that night that they’d had to shut The Galleria down because it had reached maximum capacity. If you’ve never been in The Galleria you can’t appreciate what that means so I’ll sum it up by asking you to picture more people in one place than you’ve ever seen in your life and then triple it.

In other words, it would basically be enough to make me never want to shop again.

I’m totally lying.

Nothing could be that bad.

Well, since it’s Valentine’s Day which is King of All Made Up holidays, I might as well start by sharing my tale of lost love.

Especially since it just happened five minutes ago.

No, P didn’t pack up and move to the ranch forever. He’d miss me and the way I can heat up a frozen pizza like no one else.

It’s almost as tragic though.

I just realized I dried one of my oldest and most favorite pair of jeans in the dryer. I’m going to be honest, it doesn’t look good for them. Mainly because they now appear at first sight to not be a whole lot bigger than a pair of Caroline’s jeans.

At some point I guess I’ll have to try them on and assess the damage and the muffin top ratio, but my self-esteem can’t take the hit right now.

I know it’s just a pair of jeans but they were my very first pair of 7s. It was the first time that I decided to give in to the madness of paying too much money for a pair of jeans and they have served me well. I’ve worn them at least once a week for the last FIVE years. Which means they basically ended up costing me less than a penny per wearing.

(Disclosure: I have no idea if that’s real math or if it adds up. Just go with it. I’m trying to prove a point.)

(I have no idea what that point is, but I think it has something to do with paying a little more for quality.)

In other stories of true love, I need to share that Gulley finally bought Will a bearded dragon for his birthday yesterday. His name is Hank.

She texted me that picture earlier and asked, “Is it just me or do you think he’s smiling at me?” I think she’s smitten. Which is remarkable since I’ve never known Gulley to really care about a pet that much.

However, she has let me know that I’m basically the one responsible for the bearded dragon since I told Will about them in the first place. And I didn’t ever feel bad about that until I went over there yesterday with Caroline to meet Hank and realized having a bearded dragon as a pet also requires maintaining a cricket habitat because you have to feed Hank live crickets twice a day.

Which means you have to feed the crickets. And apparently you also have to sprinkle them with vitamin powder to keep Hank healthy.

Honestly, it might have been easier if she’d just decided to have a third baby. At least that doesn’t require insects living in your home. But I’ve assured her it will all be worth it once Hank sits on her shoulder every night while she watches T.V.

I also need to mention that the expected lifespan of a bearded dragon is ten years. Gulley said, “That means I’m going to have this situation until I’m fifty years old.” She and Hank are going to grow old together.

(Not that fifty is old. I didn’t mean to imply that. Especially since I’ll be there in nine years.)

(Now I feel kind of depressed.)

Anyway, I had big plans to write a post and make a list of the worst love songs ever in my opinion, but now it’s late and the only song I can think about that really gets on my nerves is Sergio Mendes “Never Gonna Let You Go”.

I can’t explain why. I just know I’ve never liked it.

And, while we’re discussing love songs, I was looking at various lyrics on the internet and did you know that REO Speedwagon’s song “Keep On Lovin’ You” says “You played dead, but you never bled. Instead you lay still in the grass, all coiled up and hissin'”?

How have I never known that’s what it said? I mean, dude, he calls her a snake. That is rough. REO Speedwagon isn’t messing around. And I have no idea why I just called you dude.

Anyway, I think the problem is that I’ve always been a sucker for a good love song, especially a power ballad. I’m looking at you, “Forever” by Kenny Loggins.

But I know there are some bad ones out there. However, all I can think of at the moment is “Shake Your Love” by Debbie Gibson. Which you have to admit is a terrible song and I’m not just saying that because I did a pom-pom dance to it in high school.

So you tell me. What are the love songs you don’t care for? Which ones really get on your nerves?

And, most importantly, will you be singing “Shake Your Love” in spite of yourself all day?

I know.

I didn’t post yesterday. I am the worst.

But I have to tell you that at some point on Monday I began to come down off of some sort of high I’d been on since Thursday afternoon and ended up almost comatose on my couch. I needed twenty-four hours to just spend with my people and decompress a little bit.

It was like I was just tired down to my bones. Like that kind of tired like little kids get when they just burst into tears for no reason. And so I stayed in my pajamas most of the day until I decided that maybe the reason I wasn’t sleeping had to do with my pillow.

Here’s the thing about me: I am a picky sleeper.

I need to have my pillows arranged just so. In a type of nest configuration. I have a body pillow on one side and a king size pillow with a standard size pillow on the other side. Which is really the same as a body pillow but makes me feel like less of a bed hog since I can say I don’t sleep with two body pillows, just a body pillow and a king size pillow with a standard size pillow and that’s not selfish at all.

Of course who am I worried about appearing selfish in front of? P? He’s the only one that knows my pillow situation and has to deal with it on a nightly basis.

But then I need a feather pillow to actually put my head on. And it can’t be too fluffy. It needs to be squishy. Truth be told, I don’t know that I’ve switched out my pillow in the fifteen and a half years P and I have been married.

I realize that Oprah says you should change out your pillow every six months or something but that’s easy for her to say because she’s a bajillionaire and can afford to buy multiple pillows stuffed with the essence of unicorn. Meanwhile, I have to wait for a 20% off coupon from Bed, Bath and Beyond.

Anyway, as I tossed and turned on Sunday night, I decided my pillow was to blame. It’s lost all its integrity and shape, much like my rear end. I blame advancing age for both. And so, while it has served me well, it was time for a replacement.

(My pillow. Not my bottom. I would replace my bottom but I hear it’s a very painful procedure.)

(I’m sure staying up until 1:15 a.m. watching two hours of Downton Abbey had nothing to do with my insomnia. Especially not the way my heart raced when we found out Thomas knows about O’Brien and the bar of soap.)

So I drove up to Bed, Bath and Beyond looking like refried blech and perused the pillow section. I ended up buying a new standard size pillow and a new king size pillow.

(I have now turned what should have been a twenty word story into 465 words. I apologize.)

The point is I was super excited to go to bed on Monday night. Like thought about it all day kind of excited because I just knew I’d found the key to world peace and the federal deficit with the purchase of my new pillows. And so I crawled my weary self into bed at 8:30 p.m.

Then I tossed and turned and fluffed and re-fluffed my new pillow until, sadly, I had to face the fact that it is too fluffy for me. I could feel a neck cramp coming on.

And so on its very first night, it got demoted to new standard pillow on the side instead of CEO of standard pillows. Which still leaves me in need of a new pillow. I’ve been so tempted to try a My Pillow but haven’t been able to commit. I was also intrigued by the Snoogle but part of my nightly routine involves fluffing and re-fluffing and shifting all my pillows around and the Snoogle doesn’t really allow for that since it’s all-inclusive.

Clearly, I am in the midst of a serious first world dilemma.

However, I did get a little more sleep on Monday night because by going to bed at 8:30 I managed to quit tossing and turning and worrying and obsessing by 11:30. It is super fun to be me in case you’ve spent this whole post wondering how it feels.

Then yesterday I couldn’t deal with the pillow situation so I ran a bunch of other errands I’ve been putting off for the last week or so, including a much needed trip to the grocery store. And then I came home and showered because last night was my first book signing and I didn’t want to frighten small children or even large children.

I walked in Barnes and Noble and it was so bizarre to say, “Hi. Um. Hi. Um. Well, I’m the author? That’s here for the signing?” And then sweet mercy there was a podium and a microphone which I was not really expecting. Apparently I was expected to say something.

So I read half a chapter because that was all I could manage without passing out.

But it was seriously fun and I got to meet some really sweet people that have read the blog for years and it just felt like I was with friends and family. It helped that my Aunt Rita, Uncle Carl and cousin Brian were there too. And even P’s uncle and daughter showed up.

Most of all, I had Beth Moore to help me through.

I’ve got another signing this Saturday, February 16th at 1 p.m. at Books-A-Million at Katy Mills mall in Houston. Would love to see you if you’re looking for a way to kill a Saturday afternoon.

I keep saying this but you have just been so kind and supportive. Thanks for spreading the word about the book and I’d so appreciate it if you’d keep telling friends and neighbors and your mailman about it.

I’d also love any pillow recommendations if you enjoy a flat, shapeless pillow filled with feathers the way I do.

I have started this post and stared at the screen and typed stuff out and deleted it for the last forty-five minutes and now it’s almost time for Downton Abbey to start and I need to pull it together and just write.

But sometimes there just aren’t words.

(This is usually where I will follow up with over 1,000 words and I don’t see why today is going to be any different.)

Friday will go down as one of the most surreal days of my life. Kind of like if you were walking through the forest and saw a unicorn run by. I am so appreciative and grateful to all of you for your support. And I know I keep saying that but it’s the truth. You bought the book and tweeted me pictures and sent encouraging comments and Facebook messages and I stayed in my pajamas all day Saturday and read every single one.

I cried and I laughed and sometimes I just put my head in between my knees because I was overwhelmed. I spent most of Friday talking VERY LOUDLY WITH A LOT OF ANIMATION because I had enough adrenaline in my body to kill a horse. Or at least a Shetland pony.

Then at church Sunday morning we were in the middle of worship and it hit me. Just the goodness and mercy of God who uses flawed people to fulfill his plans. And, y’all. I went right into what was too ugly to even call an ugly cry. Right there on the fourth row of church. Because why cry in the privacy of your home when you can look like a lunatic in public?

P kept asking, “Do you want a tissue?” and I kept shaking my head no because I didn’t want to call attention to myself. Yes, because no one could hear me snorting and snuffling like an elephant with a head cold.

So that’s where I am. Emotionally unstable. It’s my wheelhouse.

Pass the Kleenex.

On Friday morning I had a hair appointment at 9:00 a.m. so I spent two glorious hours getting my hair cut and colored and styled. Originally I was supposed to go earlier in the week but my hair stylist called to see if we could move the appointment to Friday which was perfect since my friends were throwing a little party for me that night and it’s always a score when I don’t have to fix my own hair. I can never achieve the volume that my hair stylist can. Mainly because she knows how to use a round brush like a magician and when I use the round brush it just results in me having to cut some of my hair to get the round brush out.

After my hair appointment I came home and sat on my couch with the freshly-washed slipcovers for about two hours until my friends Jen and Jamie showed up because I didn’t want to risk getting my hair messed up and this is San Antonio and there can be humidity. They drove in from Dallas for the party and we spent the next three hours laughing and talking and catching up on life and discussing important things like Jen’s growing-out-her-hair strategy post-chemo. My other friend Kristie stopped by and we had a champagne toast with cupcakes because OF COURSE.

And then it was time to get dressed for the party. This is the part where you’re about to subjected to a bunch of pictures which is the blog equivalent of HEY, DO YOU WANT TO SEE THE SLIDES FROM OUR TRIP TO THE GRAND CANYON?

I apologize.

Oh wait. Before I show pics from the party, I need to show you a few pictures my friend Debbi took of the book all around town Friday.

It made a stop for a chicken biscuit at Chick-Fil-A.

And then a late night stop with some construction workers who may or may not have agreed that their next tattoo should be the book cover. Which makes sense because this is totally my target demographic.

It also made the rounds to the large cowboy boots outside of North Star Mall.

God bless Texas.

And now for pictures from the party. Here’s Jesus with the invitation.

This is Gulley, Jamie and me before we left my house.

And Jen and me.

Here’s some green punch. Please notice that no lime sherbet was used in the making of the punch. It was just prosecco with green food coloring which is the classier cousin of the green beer we used to drink in college on St. Patrick’s Day.

(Side note: Is it just me or do you pronounce it “sherbert”? I’m shocked there is no second r. My life has been a lie.)

This is my sweet sister. I know I needed to tell you that because there is no family resemblance and otherwise you never would have known.

At some point someone handed me that green boa and so I wore it and it caused my neck to sweat the rest of the night but I left it on because it’s what Miss Piggy would do.

Mimi was there. Bops made an early appearance but left it to the girls after a while.

Honey made the trip in from Bryan.

And here’s one at the little place we stopped at on the way to the Grand Canyon.

Oh no, wait. That’s just me laughing like a hyena. I threw this one in because it sums up Gulley and me. She’s yelling something and I’m doubled over laughing. And my poor friend Debi is standing there like “What’s happening?”

Then this is my sweet birthday club group that threw the party.

It was such a fun night and I loved being surrounded by so many people I love. Gulley even had such a good time that she decided to end the night with a little baton twirling.

She also may have signed someone’s copy of the book with “Stay Sparkly! Love, Gulley”.

We actually really did party like rock stars or at least very unlike forty-one year old mothers because I didn’t get home until 2:30 a.m. The last time that happened probably involved green beer which means it was over twenty years ago.

And it explains why I spent all day Saturday in my pajamas. Until 5:00 p.m. At which time I showered and put on a new pair of pajamas. Then I went to bed at 8:30. Because when you’re my age and party like a rock star one night, you go to bed like a senior citizen after a Luby’s platter the next.

Lastly, (and then I’m going to shut up because, OH MY WORD, QUIT TYPING ALREADY) I will be signing books at the Barnes & Noble San Pedro location in San Antonio this Tuesday night, February 12th at 7:00 p.m.

(I realize the rodeo is also in town so if you have a chance to go eat a corn dog and watch some bull-riding you might want to do that instead. Also, I will sign as many books as you bring, but I’ve been told that they prefer if you buy at least one book in the store while you’re there since they’re allowing me to be there. I feel awkward telling you that, but I’d feel more awkward if I didn’t tell you up front.)

Okay. That’s it.

Except one last thank you from the bottom part of my heart and a promise that tomorrow is going to be about something that isn’t my book.

***I closed comments on Friday’s giveaway post. The winner of the book and Kendra Scott earrings according to Random.Org was:

Congratulations, Colleen! And thank you all for entering!