Author: Big Mama

The real surprise was the casserole

On Friday morning, P walked in to wake Caroline up for school and she literally leapt out of bed, ran into the kitchen and stood there trembling with excitement and firing off words at a rate that would make the speed of light jealous, while I did my best to match her enthusiasm in spite of the fact that it was 7:00 a.m. and I was slaving over frozen waffles as opposed to lying in bed. The reason for all that excitement was due to two reasons: pajama day at school and a road trip to Bryan/College Station with Gulley and the boys for the weekend.

That was the sixth attempt at a photo and the only one that wasn’t blurry due to ALL THE EXCITEMENT. It was the kind of energy that would make Richard Simmons suggest that maybe you should settle down and I’m talking about the Richard Simmons from the height of the golden age of Sweatin’ to the Oldies.

I picked her up after school and we came straight home because Gulley and the boys were on their way to pick us up. We made one quick stop at a convenience store to ensure we had the proper amount of candy for the trip (You know what excited kids need? MORE SUGAR.) and then we made the rest of the almost three hour drive without stopping. Read that sentence again and let the weight settle on you. We DID NOT STOP for the next three hours. It was a road trip miracle.

However, when Will began asking “How much longer ’til we get there? Two thousand hours?” at fifteen second intervals about twenty minutes into the trip, I banned them from asking any version of “How much longer?” until someone saw the Aggie water tower which would signal that we were about ten minutes away from Honey and Big’s house. I guess the Aggie water tower became like a mirage in the desert because it was astounding how many times they saw it over the course of the next two and a half hours.

We finally arrived at Honey’s and she had a pot of shrimp creole on the stove and some of the best dip I’ve ever tasted waiting for us. In all seriousness, I am sad for all of you right now because I don’t know if you’ve ever had this dip and your life won’t be complete without it. I vow to get the recipe before the week is over and post it because no one should have to live without this kind of goodness in your life and on your crackers or Fritos or what have you.

Nena was also there when we arrived and she’d surprised Honey by making a vegetable casserole to go along with the shrimp creole. Ever since a few assorted cooking incidents, including the time she nearly poisoned her Sunday School class, people in the know are a little frightened by what kind of homemade goodness might come from Nena’s kitchen. I knew all I needed to know when everyone went to serve their plates and no one helped themselves to Nena’s casserole. I think we were all scared because when Gulley asked her specifically what kind of vegetables were in her vegetable casserole, she replied, “Vegetables”.

That’s the sort of vague answer that you just know contains a can of Veg-All somewhere in the mix.

After we all finished dinner, Nena cornered me in the kitchen and said, “Melanie! I want you to taste some of my vegetable casserole while it’s still warm!” And it was at that moment that Gulley, my best friend of twenty years, threw me under the Veg-All bus. She couldn’t even look at me, but I saw her holding in the laughter as she fled the scene. In fact, the whole family fled the scene and just left me there. Alone and defenseless.

I picked up a fork, wondering all the while how I could get out of this situation gracefully, especially since I’m finicky about the texture of my food. Water chestnuts have been known to make me dry heave so you can only imagine my fear of canned mixed unidentifiable vegetables.

Just as I knew my casserole fate was sealed, Caroline yelled out, “Mama! I need you to come help me get in the bathtub!” I was saved by the bath.

The next day I told Nena that her casserole was delicious. In all honesty, I didn’t try the casserole but for all I know it could have been delicious and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

And then she gave me the recipe which did, in fact, contain a can of something she referred to as Stockley’s Mixed Vegetables. So while I can’t give you the recipe for one of the best dips I’ve ever tasted, I am completely prepared to give you the recipe for vegetable casserole.

I apologize.

And on a perfectly delightful note, this was the front of the Sports page in the Bryan/College Station Eagle yesterday morning.

Yes, it was a total surprise that the Aggies beat Tech in Lubbock for the first time since 1993 (I was still a student at the time so that means it was approximately FOREVER AGO) but the fact that the headline said “Surprise!” made me so happy. You know your football team isn’t quite the powerhouse of yore when the local sports page leads with “Surprise!” when you win.

I have more stories from the weekend, but I’ll have to fill you in later because there’s a line of storms headed this way and it’s just a matter of minutes before Caroline senses imminent thunder and needs to get in our bed and spend the rest of the night kicking me in the back.
Edition 71: Fashion Friday

Caroline had class pictures at school on Thursday so I felt like we should up our wardrobe game for posterity’s sake. I had mistakenly thought we’d decided on an outfit a few days ago, but she informed me at 7:35 a.m. that she didn’t want to wear that particular outfit. I find that to be a confusing set of circumstances because she pledged her undying love and devotion to the aforementioned outfit when I brought it home from the Gap a month ago and asked her if she liked it. Apparently she is suffering from fashion schizophrenia.

There is nothing quite as enjoyable as a last minute scramble to get ready, so I was understandably totally relaxed and calm as I pulled out the rest of her fall clothing to find something suitable for her to wear in the picture. I laid four pretty outfits on the bed for her to choose from and she responded by wailing “WHY DON’T I HAVE ANY BEAUTIFUL DRESSES TO WEAR?”

“You do. They are right here on your bed.”

“NO. I MEAN BEAUTIFUL DRESSES.”

And by beautiful she means the six sundresses that she refused to wear all summer long in spite of the many bribes I offered in exchange for her agreement to wear just one of them. JUST ONE. FOR MAMA. PLEASE.

But, oh no, she didn’t want to wear them during the summer because she was saving them for school picture day in October on a morning when a pretty significant cold front had blown through the area.

She finally deemed one of the outfits I’d selected as worthy to be worn, but only because I threatened that I was about to make the final decision if she didn’t make a choice. Basically, the morning served as a catalyst for a new rule, if I buy it and you tell me you like it, then you’re wearing it whether you want to or not. Choose carefully because once it’s in your closet, it’s yours for better or worse.

As a bonus, think how well that rule will serve her once she’s married.

Be careful what you put in your closet, ladies. You can’t just cart him off to Goodwill when he begins to show a little wear.

You will probably notice that I’m just listing ten things again this week. I’ve decided that, at least for now, this format works better than trying to answer individual questions. It’s just too hard to pick and choose, plus so many of them are so specific and I get totally stressed out and might as well be trying to make one of Christopher Columbus’s ships out of thin air.

So I’m going with a list of ten things indefinitely. Of course it won’t always be ten things. Some weeks it may just be five or six things. Some weeks it might include some beauty products. There’s just no telling because I am flying by the seat of my pants and making it up as I go along.

1. Denim skirt

I have been on a quest to find the perfect denim skirt for many a year, only to find myself disappointed time and time again. However, I saw this one at Gap yesterday and knew immediately that we were meant to be together forever. It’s the perfect length, the perfect wash, the perfect fit. Plus it had a cute cousin skirt in a darling plaid material, perfect for pairing with a denim jacket, tights and tall boots.

It called out to me from the rack and I said, “Shut up, denim skirt. Just shut up. You had me at hello.”

2. Plaid double weave shirt

I’m a huge fan of the plaid shirt this season. In fact, I have always loved a good plaid shirt even when they weren’t cool anymore. Which is why I bought an old plaid flannel shirt of Gulley’s from a garage sale she had a few years ago. She’d totally forgotten about it until I reminded her the other day and then she was more astonished by the fact that she actually charged me $2.00 for the shirt than at my fashion foresight in knowing that $2.00 was a DEAL for a shirt that I’d be able to pair with skinny jeans and boots three years later.

I think a plaid shirt looks especially cute this season when paired with a tank or tee underneath and with a coordinating scarf wrapped around your neck for a little extra flair.

Unless you don’t like talking about your flair.

3. A thousand tiers dress

I don’t know where I’d wear this dress but I think it is totally and completely adorable. Love the ruffles, love the jersey, love the whole look. Adorable.

4. Maternity pleated ruffle jacket

See? This is how rumors get started and grandparents get excited.

I am not pregnant. I repeat, I am not pregnant. But I saw this jacket at Target the other day and nearly grabbed it to try it on before I realized it was maternity. And then I still thought about trying it on, but that would be a little thing I call tempting fate.

But it is just so cute and would be the perfect piece for any maternity wardrobe because you could dress it up or down depending on the occasion.

5. Patron party coat

How cute is this coat with it’s three quartered sleeves and button detail? It would look adorable paired with some black leggings and boots or even with some jeans.

You could even add a fun scarf for a little pop of color.

I have a thing for jackets. My closet is full of them even though I live in South Texas and I rarely get to wear them. I can’t help myself.

6. Leggings

Okay, I know this is boring because it’s just a pair of leggings. But it’s a pair of leggings for only $10.00. And they are comfortable and well made and not so thin that your legs show through them when you sit down.

What more could you ask for in a pair of leggings? Other than maybe control top and built in Spanx material?

7. Faux leather jacket with ruffle

I realize a faux leather jacket doesn’t sound all that great, but this one is really cute AND it has a ruffle. How can you turn away from a jacket that has a ruffle, yet all the toughness required to be part of a motorcycle gang?

Actually, I feel fairly certain Harley Davidson would turn over in his grave at the thought of a motorcycle jacket with a ruffle, but let’s pretend otherwise because LOOK! A RUFFLE! ON A LEATHER JACKET!

8. Cap sleeve plaid coat

Even P just looked at this and said, “Cool”. And with some jeans and boots, it totally would be.

9. Ruffled open front cardigan

I told Gulley the other day that I cannot escape the ruffled front cardigan. It has stolen my heart because I am a fan of the sweater in any form, but especially when it’s extra comfortable and looks stylish to boot.

10. Kamischel suede lug boots

I’m not sure how I feel about these boots being gray since I haven’t seen them in person. But I love the style and the look. Plus, they’re only $39.99 which is a total steal for a great pair of boots.

And there you have it. Ten things.

I can’t commit to coming up with ten things every week because it’s a lot of work. Not to mention that Thursday is an unusually busy T.V. night and I hate to get behind on my T.V. Although I think I’m about ready to quit Grey’s Anatomy. There was a day that I would stay up until all hours to watch it and now I can hardly be bothered. I’m not sure what went wrong, but I think it all went wrong for me somewhere around the whole Private Practice spin-off nonsense.

I realize that without the concept of the spin-off we never would have had the television greatness that was The Jeffersons, but Addison Montgomery isn’t Weezie Jefferson. Or even Mr. Bentley for that matter.

Here’s an idea. Why don’t I go take some more cold medicine and quit typing?

Y’all have a great Friday.

Here’s to movin’ on up.
The Nina, the Pinta, and the clinically insane

I’ve been so busy over here trying to breathe and watching Youtube video demonstrations on the proper use of a neti pot that I’ve completely neglected to tell you about something that consumed the better part of my week last week.

(By the way, I’m totally lying about watching the neti pot demonstrations. There isn’t enough money in the world for me to watch someone do that.)

(Also, when Andy Warhol came up with the notion that we all have 15 minutes of fame, do you think he could have imagined a world where people would rinse their sinus cavities for all the world to see?)

Caroline had the day off school last Monday for Columbus Day. We celebrated in our usual way, which is to say that we decorated our Columbus Day tree and left cookies by the fireplace in the hopes that the ghost of Christopher Columbus would show up and hide eggs in our yard.

What? Is that not how you celebrate?

I’m glad that we commemorate Columbus Day because I appreciate that he took the time to load up some ships and head off in search of a new world. If not for him, there would be no Starbucks and who would want to endure that kind of existence?

When Caroline got home from school the following Tuesday, I opened her take home folder and discovered a note that said her homework assignment for the week was to create a replica of one of Christopher Columbus’s ships and include five things in the boat that they would have needed to survive the long voyage. The end of the note said that this was something fun to do with your child and to remember “the joy is in the journey, not in the destination”.

I’ll bet five dollars and a raging case of the scurvy that Christopher Columbus would beg to differ with that statement.

The note also suggested that we could use a shoe box or perhaps a can to construct our ship. Because, yeah, you want your kid to be that poor kid that shows up with an empty Spaghetti-O’s can with a paper sail attached to the top of it.

I asked Caroline if she knew what she wanted her ship to look like because I realize now that she is in first grade that I need to involve her in these high-level academic decisions. She looked at me blankly and replied, “I don’t know. How many Twizzlers can I eat before dinner?”

“Well, which ship do you want to make?”

“Maybe the Santita Marita”.

Perfect.

Fortunately, I was scheduled to volunteer at her school last Thursday and was able to do some ship reconnaissance and check out the ones that other classes had already made. If these ships were made by first graders, then Caroline is going to school with some future engineers. There were some sails made of rope material that would make Christopher Columbus weep at the beauty and structural integrity.

I went to Michael’s armed with my limited knowledge of faux ship building and decided that popsicle sticks were the way to go. I’m pretty sure the staff at Michael’s refer to me as “the crazy lady who comes in here once every six months with a desperate look about her and has no idea where anything is located”. However, I found the popsicle sticks, some brown paint and a few other ship-building necessities.

When I picked Caroline up from school that day it was a total score because she informed me that she wanted to make her ship out of popsicle sticks. We were totally simpatico. Unfortunately, about five minutes after I put her to work coloring popsicle sticks with a brown paint pen, she totally lost interest.

But that’s when P happened to come home. He was lured in by the sight of the shoe box and the popsicle sticks and apparently forgot for a moment that these types of projects bring out my particular brand of crazy. I was trying to configure the sticks in just the right way and he said, “I think they’d look better with straight ends. I’ll go get something to cut them with so it will be more symmetrical”.

I don’t know that I’ve ever loved him more.

Sadly, he ultimately decided that it was too difficult to cut every one of the approximately 112 sticks we’d need to complete the project but, for a brief shining moment that was my Camelot, I thought I’d finally brought him around to my level of OCD.

Caroline and I worked tirelessly on her float for the next few days. And by tirelessly, I mean that she watched several episodes of Phineas and Ferb while I tried to figure out how to make a sail out of foam and construct a ship’s wheel from parts from her old train set.

By Sunday afternoon, I knew I needed to reign it in a little bit when I heard P tell Caroline, “Be careful with that. You don’t want to mess up Mama’s ship.”

Is this what I’ve become? A neurotic Thomas Andrews wannabe?

But, you know, without the whole iceberg debacle.

So I handed the paintbrush and the glue to Caroline and she finished the rest of the ship. In fact, she even came up with the five items they would have needed to make the voyage after she rejected my suggestion of wine, toilet paper, and Pepto-Bismol. Our ship contained a barrel of apples, a wooden cow, some hay for the animals, rope and a compass.

Oh, and the piece de resistance was a pink rooster absconded from her old train set and glued to the top of one of the wooden things that holds up the sails. I want to call it the mast but I don’t know if that’s correct and I’m not about to look it up.

In the end, we looked at our replica of the Santita Marita and we were well pleased.

And still reasonably sane.
I blame this on Benadryl and pollen

I never got out of my pajamas yesterday. Actually, I did get out of my pajamas but only to take a shower and then put on new pajamas. Just because a girl is possibly dying from a sinus infection/cold/seasonal allergies doesn’t mean she shouldn’t practice proper hygiene. Plus I was hoping the steam from the shower would help me breathe.

And, also, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror while I was in the bathroom getting a new box of Kleenex and I was frightened.

Hopefully I’ll feel better tomorrow but in the meantime I’m just sitting here cuddling my box of Sudafed with a side of Bendadryl whispering, “You complete me”.

Also, I know someone is going to tell me that I need to use a neti pot. And I totally would except that every time I’ve tried to use one, I am certain that I am drowning. Am I doing something wrong? Is it supposed to feel like that?

Because, personally, I’ll take the Benadryl hangover over drowning by a plastic teapot.
Fresh from heaven

A few mornings ago the weather had finally cooled off a little and so I decided to walk Caroline to school. As we walked down the street side by side, she looked at me with a serious look and asked, “Mama, what does heaven look like? I used to remember because I’d just been there, but now it’s been a long time and I can’t remember anymore.”

Oh, my heart.

I replied, “Well, God sits on a throne that looks like it’s surrounded by a rainbow. There are beautiful jewels everywhere, streets of gold and a sea of glass where God has thrown all our sins. Angels bow down and say ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty’ and there’s no more sadness or tears ever again.”

She stopped walking and looked at me for a few seconds before she said, “Wow, Mama! It’s even better than I remembered!”

And then my heart officially exploded into a million pieces.

The end.
Down at the ranch

We went down to A.J.’s ranch on Saturday after the mighty Rainbows won their soccer game. It was really no surprise that they won given their intensity for the game as depicted in this photo.

I’m not sure if it was P’s pep talk or their pride in being able to balance their Gatorade bottles on their head that pushed them to victory, but they came from behind to defeat the Purple Flakes.

As soon as the game was over, we loaded up our gear like a modern-day version of The Beverly Hillbillies and headed south. There was barely room in the back of P’s truck for our suitcases due to all the weaponry. I wanted to point out that it seemed like overkill since a person can only shoot one gun at a time, but I knew he’d turn it around on me and my multiple pairs of boots. Which is totally different by the way because one gun goes with any sort of outfit but black boots with a brown sweater? So wrong.

We arrived at the ranch a little after lunchtime and I hopped out of the truck to open the gate because I have been chief gate opener since the day P and I started hanging out over fourteen years ago. He gives me the combination and I jump out, search the area for any rattlesnakes hiding in the grass, open the gate and close it after he drives through. We are a well-oiled machine.

I walked up to the truck and discovered another driver had taken over the wheel.

It’s our very own Toonces the driving cat.

After Toonces got us safely to the ranch house, we unloaded all our stuff and spent some time visiting with A.J.’s friends. This was important because Caroline had composed a list of our scheduled ranch activities and the number one thing on it was “Chat for a little bit”. The next thing on the list was “Go fishing” but we decided to wait just a little while.

P was on the riding lawn mower (I could tell you why he was mowing, but it’s a long story that involves needing to see any pigs that might come to a feeder) when he saw a rattlesnake. He attempted to run it over with the lawn mower in what would have been a truly grisly experience, but the snake flattened itself out so P jumped off the lawnmower, stomped on the snake’s head with his boot (hence the need for tall snake-proof boots) and killed it with his knife. He’s my very own Bear Grylls.

Best of all, A.J.’s friends told him they wanted the dead snake because they were going to cook it (I will spare you the sight of smoked rattlesnake because there are some things that just aren’t right), and they were sweet enough to cut off the rattle and give it to Caroline.

Look at the pleased look on her face. It’s the same way I used to look at my Ballerina Barbie when I was a little girl.

But the fun didn’t stop there.

We played some pool.

Caroline and A.J. found something they wanted to show me.

What is it? Maybe a bouquet of wild flowers?

It’s a giant Iguana that’s about to eat my baby.

Or maybe it’s just a Texas spiny lizard.

Either way, make the screaming in my head stop.

P missed that precious moment and when I showed him the picture I said, “Can you believe that?”

He replied, “No, I can’t believe it. How did that thing’s tail not fall off?”

Because, clearly, that’s the biggest wonder. Not the fact that I have a daughter who will hold an enormous lizard which is just a distant relative of a snake.

Later they went hunting because Caroline desperately wanted to shoot a pig. While they were gone I took a Tylenol Allergy and Sinus pill because I’m either coming down with a horrible virus, a terrible cold or just suffering from seasonal allergies. Unfortunately I didn’t pay attention to the part of the package that said “Nighttime Formula” and so I fell into a dead sleep due to my low tolerance of diphenhydramine, otherwise known as Benadryl.

(I know stuff like this because of my drug rep days when I was practically a doctor but without the eight to twelve years of school. I learned all I needed to know from a workbook and two week training sessions, otherwise known as just enough to be dangerous.)

Anyway, I woke up just as the hunters were coming back from the evening hunt and happened to catch a glimpse of the Texas A&M vs. Kansas State score. I was sure the cold medicine had made me delirious and there was no way we were losing by that wide of a margin, but unfortunately after I sobered up from my Bendadryl hangover yesterday morning I realized that it was real. We are just that bad.

And I’d had such hope that maybe we were pretty good in spite of getting killed by Arkansas since Arkansas almost beat #1 Florida on Saturday. But, alas, it was just my optimism getting the best of me.

P and Caroline didn’t see any pigs on Saturday night so they were as sad about their loss as I was about the Aggies loss. Fortunately, they went out Sunday morning and she made a perfect shot on a javelina, which is like a pig but uglier and with bad teeth.

(Picture to follow. Do not look if you don’t want to see a dead javelina.)

Thanks for having us down, A.J. It was the perfect weekend.

Except for maybe when I overdosed on Benadryl.

And when the Aggies got destroyed.

Love,
Melanie, Bear Grylls, and Toonces