Author: Big Mama

This was Wednesday. It was uneventful.

Yesterday started off a little rough. Caroline and I decided it was a good morning to skip swim practice and sleep in because man cannot live by butterfly stroke alone. And P even remembered to turn the air conditioning down before he left for work so the house was super cold and utterly delightful.

But then my phone rang and it was the sweet lady who cleans our house once a month. She was at the front wondering if we were home because it was her day to clean the house even though I thought she was supposed to come on Thursday morning. And so I let her in while I was still in my pajamas which felt just as worthless as it sounds.

Then I had to scurry around and pick up and straighten all the things I normally do the night before she comes because everyone knows you can’t let your housekeeper see how messy you are.

So basically I started my day with an inconvenience that’s so absurd it goes beyond first world problem.

Caroline was determined to enjoy our lazy morning so we hid out in my bedroom until she was finally ready to get dressed so we could go run all our fun errands. Like the bank! And to take P a sandwich at his job site!

And to White House Black Market to return a jumpsuit that I thought I’d love but had an unfortunate fit in the front that made me look less chic and more Sally O’Malley.

Then we met my sister and niece for lunch and it was fun to catch up. But poor Sarah really wanted to come back to our house and play and couldn’t understand why our playroom full of toys was all torn up. The answer is “because your Aunt Mel is a little obsessed right now and also forgot that maybe she should have cleared everything out of the room before she started tearing down walls”. I told her she could come play next week when the room was finished and Caroline looked at me out of the corner of her eye and said, “You really think that room is going to be finished in a week?”

Why is everyone a critic?

After lunch Caroline and I ran around to several stores in town because I was shopping for a friend and eventually made our way home where I fell on the couch in a heap because the heat is going to kill me. And then I had to think about cooking dinner which is when I made the executive decision to make chalupas because they’re easy and require little to no effort. At least they require little to no effort when you actually have beans and lettuce.

We loaded back up in the car to run in HEB to buy lettuce and refried beans and some Tic-Tacs that Caroline talked me into because I didn’t have the strength to argue about it.

But by the time we made it home, P had gotten some of his employees to clean up a lot of the sheetrock from the playroom AND told me he’s going to have them come back in the morning to help him finish tearing out the rest of the walls. Then I’ll just have to decide if I want to paint them white or gray or some other color that I haven’t thought about yet.

Thursday? You’re looking pretty good.

Maybe the room actually will be finished in a week and that’ll teach Caroline not to question her mother.

And now I’m going to go watch the new Dallas on T.V. because I need to see Larry Hagman’s eyebrows to believe them.
Tear down that wall

Yesterday was the twenty-fifth anniversary of the speech Ronald Reagan made at the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin challenging Mikhail Gorbachev to “tear down this wall”. Of course this was in 1987 so I only have vague memories of the actual event since at the time I was busy spiral curling my hair, teasing my bangs to new gravity-defying heights and wondering if George Michael from Wham! would ever love me back. As it turns out, communism had better odds for success.

And since I’m such a knowledgable history buff (as long as by knowledgable you mean that most of what I know about the Revolutionary War I learned from watching Mel Gibson in The Patriot) I decided that I’d commemorate the historic challenge issued by President Reagan by tearing down a wall of my own. Specifically, the walls in our guest bedroom.

That’s actually not really why I decided to tear down the walls in our guest bedroom yesterday, but it makes for a compelling story. Plus it’s a lot more interesting than the actual story and you have to admit it feels serendipitous that I chose June 12th as the day to tear down a wall. It’s like it was meant to be and I’m hoping it bodes well for the overall success of my spontaneous decision.

What really happened was the Texas drought. We live in an old house on a pier and beam foundation and the severe drought caused our house to undergo some shifting. Which is a nice way of saying that the walls in our guest bedroom bore the brunt of the damage and the sheet rock was actually cracked and jutting out from the walls. It looked terrible. Like so bad that Gulley’s son Will was scared to go in there because he thought spiders might live in those holes in our wall.

But P said there wasn’t any point in fixing it until the house stabilized a little because it would just crack again. So we’ve had gaping sheetrock for over a year. It’s super classy. Think Martha Stewart in a crack house.

About a month ago we began to get bids from various people about fixing the cracks in that room along with some other more minor cracks we have in the living and dining rooms. And it was at some point about two weeks ago when one of the men bidding on the job said, “You know, you could always just tear out this sheetrock in here and have some really cool exposed wood walls even though it looks like they might have some wallpaper on them.”

And I thought that sounded mildly interesting but like it had the potential to be a lot of work and trouble and mess. Then Gulley and I went to visit Jen and I noticed that they have exposed wood walls in their house which was built around the same time as ours, as in the days when walls were made of solid rows of 2 x 10s or 1 x 10s or whatever it took.

Then I realized that Gulley’s husband had created a similar look in their master bedroom. And, finally, I saw this picture on Pinterest.

Source: thecastingdock.com via Halley on Pinterest

So Monday night I casually mentioned to P, “What if we just tore out that sheetrock in the guest bedroom and had exposed wood walls that we could paint?” And he got up from where he was sitting, walked into the guest bedroom and tore an enormous chunk of sheetrock off the wall while he said, “It would be easy enough to do. You could totally do it.”

And I was so pleased with his enthusiasm and the ease with which he appeared to tear part of the wall down that I missed the emphasis on the word “YOU”.

With great enthusiasm and vigor I set out to tear down the walls yesterday morning after Caroline and I got home from swim practice. I even had a crow bar. The first section of the wall tore away with almost no problem which gave me a false sense of confidence, but the other sections didn’t budge quite so easily.

Fortunately, Gulley’s boys came over to stay for a little while so she could run a few errands and I sold the kids on the fun of tearing down walls. Otherwise known as free child labor.

But I quickly realized they all needed to have on some sort of safety goggles.

Or maybe just goofy-looking goggles. Either way.

By the end of the afternoon we had created an unholy mess, enough dust to give us asthma for years to come, and fun summertime memories of that time I made them think tearing down the walls in our guest room was better than summer camp.

But it must have worked because the last thing Caroline said to me as I tucked her in bed was, “Mama, I can’t wait to tear down some more of that wall tomorrow.”

I bet that’s just how Gorbachev felt.
If I named this what I’m thinking I would owe Michael W. Smith an apology

So I think I left off with my bangs yesterday.

My bangs that I really like when I take the time to blow them dry and fix the rest of my hair but are currently pulled back in a bobby pin because it was 102 degrees today and I couldn’t deal.

On Tuesday night, while Missy was still at the house and we were evaluating Pinky and Pinky’s cheap sister, Angie dropped by and we decided it might be fun to go toilet paper someone’s house.

(I would say wrap a house. Some people say roll a house. Maybe it’s regional? Or generational? I don’t know.)

Anyway, I can’t really explain why we were so enamored with the idea other than it’s perfectly normal for a bunch of forty-year-old women to load up a twelve pack of Charmin and hit the neighborhood. Initially we were going to wrap our friend Hite, but ultimately decided on our friends Jamie and Trevor because they have three boys ages ten and under and would never suspect us because who does that?

We do.

So we woke up Jen’s husband to let him know we’d be back in a little while after we finished wrapping a house and to his credit he didn’t even question us or our sanity. Then we loaded up in the car, piled the toilet paper in the baby’s carseat and headed out like a group of twelve-year-old girls. Except without all the fake drama.

As we circled the block calculating our plan of attack, Angie voiced a concern that the police might show up and arrest us. But we decided we could explain that Jen couldn’t spend the night in jail since she had chemo early the next morning and a baby waiting for her at home.

Yes.

This is a normal scenario.

Ultimately we parked right in front of Jamie and Trevor’s house and went to work. Sadly, it became evident that our toilet-papering skills weren’t what they used to be. I must have thrown one roll of Charmin in the air fifty times before I could get it over a tree limb.

(I realize this is a horrible photo but I was scared of getting caught and trying to be very stealth-like.)

Our decidedly un-ninja like skills paid off and we made a clean getaway.

Then we went home and crashed.

The next morning Gulley and I kept Linc while Jen went to chemo and we decided we’d forgotten how exhausting it is to have a one-year-old baby. I’m sad to report that it took both of us to change his diaper even though I tried to be a self-righteous diaper changer and told Gulley, “Here, just let me do it” right before he squirmed out of my reach and crawled his naked bottom away from us as fast as he could. That’s when Gulley looked at me and announced, “It’s only 9:15.”

But Missy showed up to cut my bangs and then our friend Hite stopped by to visit and showed us his car with its new fancy technology.

Assuming that you time travel back to the early 90s when built-in car phones with a cord were fancy.

Hite helped us load up Linc and we went to lunch so we could visit more and eat this plate of cheese fries.

Seriously.

Heart attack on a plate.

We felt like it was a developmental milestone to introduce Linc to his first plate of cheese fries. But we made sure he steered clear of the jalapenos.

After lunch we all needed a nap. We put the baby to bed and Gulley and I both collapsed, ready to crash. Unfortunately this was timed with a surprise visit from some of Jen’s relatives who decided to stick around and keep us company and share all manner of theories on life. None of which I really wanted to hear, but felt forced to nod politely instead of saying, “WELL, GOODBYE NOW. I NEED A NAP.”

The good news is Jen made it home from chemo, took a nap and then felt fine the rest of the night. We were able to catch up some more and eat dinner and just enjoy being together. But we refrained from wrapping any more houses.

I told Gulley that night as we crawled into bed that our visit to Dallas caused my inner junior high girl to come out. In the span of twenty-four hours I let someone I barely know cut my hair just because I thought hers looked cute and threw a twelve-pack of perfectly good toilet paper all over a friend’s yard. All I needed was to call someone and hang up when they answered and then unlock my diary and write all about the heartache of seventh grade while listening to Air Supply and the cycle would have been complete.

But more than haircuts or chemo or toilet paper, our time in Dallas was so precious to me. Gulley, Jen and I met over twenty years ago. We’ve been through deaths, births, breakups, marriages, career changes and every other form of drama you can imagine. We’ve laughed and cried and gotten on each other’s nerves and run up phone bills back in the days when long distance calls still existed.

There is something that is indescribable about old friends. You can tell new friends about a story from your past and they may laugh and appreciate it, but the old friends lived it with you. They remember the 1965 Mustang you all had to push across Villa Maria the night it died or that you’ve never been a fan of someone asking how you REALLY are or those ugly red jeans from Express that you never should have worn. You can tell them a story without having to fill in all the details because they know them already. They can look across the table at you and say, “That situation hasn’t changed in twenty years” and make you feel normal because you know they get it. They get you. With all your flaws and quirks and insecurities.

They’re your family when you need a family. Your therapist when you need to talk.

And your co-conspirators when you get the urge to wrap someone’s house.
Visiting Dallas

I’m going to attempt to tell y’all about our trip to Dallas to see Jen even though there is no way that words will do it justice. It’s times like this that I wish I had a video that would just hit all the high points even though there would probably be a lot of inside jokes that no one else would understand.

About two months ago Gulley and I began to attempt to figure out a time to visit Jen. And we finally came up with the first week in June. Our original plan was to drive to Dallas but since gas is about $74 a gallon it made more sense to fly after we realized Southwest was running some kind of special fare. So I booked our flights and we counted down the days because when one of your best friends is sick you just want to get there and see them in person and know that they’re okay.

I’d never thought about it much before this trip, but in all the years Gulley and I have been friends we have really never flown many places together. And travel by air is a different animal than a road trip. Normally when I fly I like to bring a book or a bunch of magazines, but I know Gulley well enough to know that she was going to ask me why we were even flying somewhere together if all I was going to do was read a book and so I didn’t even bother to pack one.

Over the last few years I’ve flown quite a bit. I’ve kind of gotten it down to a science. At least as much of a science as you can get when dealing with finicky airplanes and overzealous security and four ounce containers of liquid. At some point I’ve also apparently voiced my objection to having to check a bag instead of carrying one on since Gulley kept apologizing to me for not having a bag that was small enough to carry on. I finally asked, “Why are you so worried about it?” And she replied, “Because you hate traveling with people that check bags. You told me that.”

I have no recollection of this but I know it’s true because I tend to go off on passionate rants about things that I really don’t feel that strongly about in the whole scheme of life. And I guess at some point checked luggage fell into that category. Other favorite rant subjects include Chinese food, pizza with thick crust, the way library books smell, and motorized carts at the grocery store.

So after many conversations assuring Gulley that she could check her bag and that her purse didn’t really count as a carry on item, we finally made it to the airport on Tuesday morning. And it turned out that all that discussion was for naught because her bag was small enough to carry on even though she worried it didn’t fit in the Southwest air carry on “Sample” bin. I’ve always believed that sample bin is just a suggestion and not a rule. How else do you explain some of the monstrosities they allow people to put in an overhead compartment?

We wheeled our bags through the security line, but then Gulley’s bag got flagged for a hand check. They had to confiscate her bottle of Big Sexy Hair Volumnizer. Which meant two things. First, Gulley was going to have flat, unsexy hair in Dallas. Second, she apologized to me again for being a high-maintenance traveler.

(Related note: You would think that security wouldn’t be concerned about a bottle of Big Sexy Hair flying between two Texas cities. It seems a given.)

As we walked to the gate I assured her it was fine. That kind of stuff happens. But then she confessed that she didn’t want to be a pain to travel with because she really wants to go with me on my book tour. And this is why I love her. She believes in me enough to think there’s going to be a book tour. Where I’ll fly to places. In reality I’m pretty sure the closest thing to a book tour I’m going to have is if I pack my own table and drive it to the neighborhood Walmart and put up a poster board that reads “BOOK SIGNING – FREE BOOKS HERE”.

And four or five people will drive over in their motorized carts to check it out.

Anyway, we made it to Dallas. Jen’s friend, Angie, picked us up from the airport and had Jen’s baby, Lincoln, with her. We squeezed his fat little thighs and made him laugh all the way to Chuy’s where Jen met us for lunch after a doctor’s appointment she’d had that morning.

The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up while Linc took a nap and then walking to the park where we met some more of Jen’s friends and Gulley and I were reminded of how hard it is to have a group of toddlers. Especially toddlers who thought they were going to get to swim only to discover that the pool was closed and their only option was hot playground equipment. Sad times. But Linc got to crawl around and eat some playground mulch so the adventure wasn’t a total bust.

Later on that evening Gulley and I made a run to the store to stock up on essential snack items for girls’ night. Chocolate chip cookie dough, spinach dip, cheese and crackers, and chips. While we were visiting Jen’s friend, Missy, came to pick up Jen’s wigs to wash and style them.

A sweet woman that had cancer several years ago gave Jen her wigs. The original wig is named Pinky. And then she gave Jen a second wig that isn’t quite as nice and we just referred to her as Pinky’s cheap sister. She told Jen she could cut them or do whatever. Jen’s goal was to have one cut into a simple bob and have the other one long enough to pull into a ponytail or messy bun. It’s always good to have hair options.

Anyway, Missy stopped by to evaluate the wig situation. She explained that she isn’t a licensed hair stylist but has been cutting hair forever and also styles people’s hair for weddings and special events. And so she was so excited to be able to help Jen with Pinky and Pinky’s cheap sister. While we were talking I couldn’t quit looking at Missy’s bangs. They were kind of the bangs of my dreams. I felt like they were the bangs I’ve been looking for.

So I asked her if she thought she could cut my bangs to look like hers. And she said she could but didn’t have her scissors. Then she offered to come back the next morning and cut my bangs for me. It was like a dream come true.

And that’s how I ended up having my hair cut and styled by an unlicensed beautician. I’ve never been so happy about it. Even though I forgot that humidity is not a friend of bangs. I still don’t regret it. That’s what bobby pins are for, to get you through the bad bangs days.

This is Gulley and me holding Linc after Missy cut my bangs and gave me a cute fishtail braid. Please disregard the fact that I have no makeup on and my eyes are droopy and I look like I have antlers growing out of the top of my head. I believe that’s what they call irony.

Since this post is so long I’m going to wrap it up for tonight and tell you more tomorrow. Which I realize is assuming you care to hear the rest. But I’m going to tell it either way. So you can come back tomorrow. Or not.
Fashion Friday: Edition better late than never

This may be a new low for Fashion Friday. Not only did I not get it written in a timely manner, but I didn’t even find ten things. I’m not sure if I was tired of looking or if there just isn’t that much out there to see.

Maybe it’s the time of year.

Anyway, here are a few things I found this week. I’m not even going to give them any commentary because that takes time and words and a thought process. Thank you in advance for understanding.

1. gone with the wind scarf

2. ruffle romper

3. joy joy maxi dress

4. starfish sandal

5. karlie stripe summer layer maxi dress

6. openwork t-shirt

7. rosanna ikat orange and grey handbag

That’s it for this week.

Y’all have a good Friday.
Friends

I know I’ve been a bad blogger this week. But in my defense I’m in Dallas with Gulley and we’ve been visiting our friend Jen and taking care of her sweet baby while she was getting chemo.

And, y’all. We have had the best time. Laughed until we’ve cried. I can’t wait to tell you all about it but right now I have to get back to the conversation.

See y’all tomorrow for Fashion Friday.