Author: Big Mama

Single white female seeks traveling man

My friend A.J. is a freelance photographer and spends a lot of time traveling to various photo shoots. She also happens to be twenty-six years old and single, which is why I was so excited when I got an email from her the other day that said:

“I’m in Alabama and I think I’ve met the perfect guy. He loves to travel, loves Jesus, and obviously loves dogs. He’s everything I’ve been looking for. I’m attaching a photo.”

Well, I was just beside myself with joy.

And then I opened the attachment.

I immediately called her and told her that if he really loved his dog he wouldn’t let it ride in such a precarious position. He might not be such a catch.

Not to mention, those mules probably require a lot of upkeep.
Popcorn, peanuts, crackerjacks; otherwise known as my diet

I’ve never really been accused of being spontaneous. I mean, I’m not necessarily opposed to making spur of the moment decisions as long as I have time to compile a lengthy list of all the various pros and cons of the aforementioned impulsive action.

So when we decided to go down to William and Erin’s ranch on Thursday night, as opposed to Friday afternoon as originally planned, it was bold move. Especially considering that the weather forecast called for a 105% chance of rain and thunderstorms. But what do weathermen know?

Apparently, they knew A LOT.

Due to all the torrential rain and lightning, we didn’t end up doing much fishing. However, there was a lot of this.

That’s Caroline running back and forth between the barn and the house in the pouring rain. Before the day was over she was on her fifth change of clothes. One pair of jeans was so muddy that I was tempted to just burn them in effigy.

Anyway, we had a great time but our weekend was far from over. Caroline and I left the ranch on Friday night around 6:30 in the evening because I wanted to get home before dark, even though it meant I had to miss out on the big crawfish boil that was taking place that evening. I can’t think about it for too long or I’ll cry at the thought of all the spicy crawfish I didn’t get to eat.

On Saturday morning, Gulley and I loaded up the kids and headed to College Station to take them to an Aggie baseball game that evening. We almost let the ominous clouds steal our joy but we are optimists at heart so we forged on, fortified by occasional glimpses of sunshine and a multitude of Diet Cokes.

Even though at one point Gulley had to threaten the backseat with the fact that we know plenty of babysitters in the Bryan/College Station area who could stay home with whoever decided to keep whining and fighting.

When we arrived at Honey and Big’s house, we were greeted with a huge tray of sandwiches and some hot crab dip that may have changed my life and definitely had an impact on my hips. Best of all, Nena was there to join us for lunch and I could sit and listen to Nena for hours.

At one point during lunch, Nena made a comment about how beautiful Caroline’s teeth are and how much she values good teeth. I told her I hoped they’d stay that way because I already spent all our allotted orthodontia money on myself. Then Nena said, “Honey, listen, I hate to speak ill of the dead, but my mother-in-law had the worst teeth I’ve ever seen.”

And it made me feel that all the trauma, pain and expense of my adult orthodontia was worth it because I’d hate to think people would be talking about my teeth even after I’m dead and buried.

Later that evening, we went to Olsen Field to watch the Aggies play Nebraska. There is honestly not another place I’d rather be on a Saturday evening in the spring. It’s magic and hasn’t really changed in the last twenty years, except that I’m now old enough to be the mother of the baseball players which is really depressing.

Granted, I’d have had to be a teen mother, but still the math works without it being any kind of qualification for the Guiness Book of World Records.

Also, I don’t recognize a lot of the songs they play at the field because some of them are that new rap music the kids are so fond of these days.

Not to mention that the popcorn gets stuck in my dentures.

Caroline and Jackson were so excited for the game to start.

Will was just excited for the cotton candy and the kettle corn which is where he was when the picture was taken.

The Aggies won 10-1, but the real winner was the concession stand who made untold amounts of money through our eating efforts. I’ll just go on record and say I had the best hotdog I’ve had in years. Even Caroline ate an entire hot dog by herself which is more than she’s eaten for the last three weeks combined.

When we woke up Sunday morning, Big had gone to Shipley’s for a kolache and chocolate donut run. Breakfast of champions. Breakfast of champions with high cholesterol and arteriosclerosis.

Gulley and I began to talk about what time we should hit the road for the trip back to San Antonio. We decided it would probably be best to leave around noon so we could get home with plenty of time to unwind and get ready for the week. That was the wise and sensible thing to do.

Look where we found ourselves instead.

We experienced a complete fit of uncharacteristic spontaneity and decided it would be fun to stay in town and go to the last game in the series at 1:00.

It was so fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants and devil-may-care that I felt like we were in college again, except we traded the beer for three kids, two husbands, and a couple of thirty-year mortgages.

We packed up the car, went back to the baseball field and watched the Aggies beat Nebraska 10-1 AGAIN. It was about the most glorious weather you can imagine and I celebrated with another hot dog because apparently I am trying to kill myself with a steady diet of processed pork with a side of cotton candy.

Totally worth it.

I also may have eaten some peanuts as evidenced by the cuff of my jeans.

I didn’t use the cuff as a peanut shell receptacle on purpose. I also didn’t intend for my sunglasses to sit totally crooked on my face. Gulley pointed it out to me because she couldn’t take anything I said seriously. Instead of looking like Tammy Taylor from “Friday Night Lights” in my Ray-Ban knock-offs, I looked like Harry Caray.

Actually, I looked more like Will Ferrell playing Harry Caray.

We were all so happy to be there. Even Caroline and Will were totally in love yesterday.

And when it was all said and done, the kids got to run the bases.

I just wish we could do it again tomorrow.

Our plan to brainwash them into becoming future Aggies is working beautifully.
Edition 58: Fashion Friday

As I mentioned earlier, we’re down at the ranch with some friends right now. We didn’t get in until fairly late last night, but of course Caroline was still up at 6:30 a.m. P asked, “Doodle? Do you want to get up and eat breakfast?” She replied, “OF COURSE I DO.”

Last night, my friend Erin helped me find cute stuff for Fashion Friday and I have to say that I liked having a consultant. It made me feel less alone as I weeded through all the fashion choices. The only problem is that Erin is 18 weeks pregnant and has 18 month old twins, so she kept telling me about the cute maternity dress she just found at Destination Maternity or all the sweet dresses that Baby Gap has in stock right now.

I tried to convince her to just write a whole post on maternity fashion for me, but she turned me down. So now I am stuck with the responsibility of churning out some mediocre fashion advice.

Also, we did find the world’s softest hoodie. Erin showed me hers last night and I can confirm that it is indeed the world’s softest hoodie. And if there’s anything you can benefit from, whether pregnant or not pregnant, it’s a hoodie that feels like pudding in a cloud.

Now for the questions:

1. Heather asks: “I would like to have a cute sundress or casual church dress to wear occasionally, but when I go to buy one, they seem to be either made for women under 21 or made for women over 65. Also, I am a D cup, so anything strapless or strappy or that wraps just makes me look smutty or desperate or something worse. So, any cures for dress phobia?”

Well, Erin’s first thought was the aforementioned maternity dress and, while it is cute, you may be like me and have a hang up about wearing maternity clothes when you’re not actually pregnant.

I love to wear dresses in the summertime because they are so cool and comfortable, plus if you find a really great one you can dress it up or down depending on the jewelry and shoes you choose.

I fell in love with this white dress. It’s so simple and pretty. Plus it would look great with a cute wedge heel shoe or even a simple thong sandal. I realize it’s white, but sometimes you have to take a risk in life.

This embroidered floral dress is also cute and has straps that are a little thicker to provide better support.

You could also go with a casual knit dress like this one. Best of all, they’re only $12.00 so you could buy them in a couple of different colors and change them up with accessories.

Hope that helps.

2. Amanda asks: “We are going on a trip to Africa. I hear that it is pretty sunny there! I’m really not a hat person, but believe that this trip may call for one. Can you recommend a good one?”

Amanda, you are in luck because my friend William has been to Africa and he recommended this Insect shield adventure hat from Orvis. You can pack it in your suitcase, plus it provides some kind of ultra sun protection combined with a built-in insect repellent.

That’s a lot of responsibility for just one hat.

I also found this Outdoor Research Oasis Sombrero . I have no idea if it actually works well or not, but I might have to go with it just so I could tell people, “Hold on. Let me grab my Outdoor Research Sombrero and I’ll be ready to go!”

It just gives an air of sophistication and intellect to whatever you’re doing.

3. Sarah asks: “Could you make a spring jacket recommendation for the mommy on the go? Who is also on a budget?

Target always has the best trenches this time of year so that would be the first place I’d look. You could either go with something simple like the black trench or go a little more springy with a trench in yellow.

And I also love and adore this rainyday mac from Boden, but realize it may be a little pricey although it is a lot of fabulous wrapped up into one convenient jacket.

That’s all for today because my people are waiting on me to go fishing and mudding with them, which means they will be doing the fishing and the mudding while I stand back and take pictures. It’s a system that works for us.

I’m putting up Mr. Linky. Please remember to link to your specific post. Also, please make sure your post is actually about fashion since that’s the whole point.

Y’all have a great Friday.
We have a slight delay due to fun

We’re down at a friend’s ranch tonight. It’s 12:10 a.m. and while I have managed to find a few links for various fashion items, I haven’t put them into any kind of actual narrative structure because we’re having way too much fun.

Also, thanks to my friend Erin, I found myself all caught up in the search for the world’s softest hoodie. In fact, I am still searching.

My point is that I will get Fashion Friday up by noon today. I guarantee it.

And if I find the world’s softest hoodie, I’ll let you know.
She’s shattering the glass ceiling or window or whatever

Last Friday, Gulley and I were talking on the phone. Her youngest son, Will, asked if she was talking to Mel. She told him yes and he said, “Tell her I need to get with her about a time she can pick me up from school”.

Okay, Mr. Trump. Let’s see when we can get that on the calendar.

I told Gulley to put him on the phone so we could work out the details of our impending date. As it turned out, Tuesday was a good day for both of us. Our calendars were wide open, which isn’t easy when you’re dealing with a four-year-old who has a social schedule jam-packed with time spent eating fruit snacks and remembering to go potty.

Seriously, I love both of Gulley’s boys like they are my own, but there is something about Will that just does me in. He is a little bit of a rebel with charm to spare. Apparently, my taste in men hasn’t really changed over the years.

This is Will giving me what he refers to as his “sweetest smile”.

I’m powerless to resist him.

The thing about Will is that he reminds me so much of Caroline. Gulley and I often marvel at how similar their little personalities are. They both have a flair for the dramatic, can hold a grudge for days, and will make you laugh out loud about twenty times a day. And when you get the two of them together they are like fire and ice.

At Will’s birthday party this year, Gulley was talking to P and said, “We better hope Will and Caroline never decide to date each other because there would be way too much drama. They’re either loving or fighting”.

P replied, “Sounds like a perfect marriage to me”.

I have no comment.

Anyway, Caroline and I picked Will up after school yesterday so he could spend the afternoon with us and then go to Caroline’s t-ball game where Gulley would pick him up. I took the kids straight to a nearby candy store because the Easter Rodent only brought about three pounds of candy and that would never get us through an afternoon.

We secured our bags full of gummy butterflies, rattlesnakes, and one SugarDaddy sucker that proved to be an unfortunate decision, and headed back to our house to play. I don’t know why I was caught by surprise that they were so wound up considering that I’d let them eat massive amounts of sugar and they both tend to be overenthusiasts even without the high fructose corn syrup, but they hit the house like a pair of Tasmanian devils.

Caroline suggested they roll a ball back and forth to each other across the kitchen, which seemed harmless enough until I realized that by “roll” she meant “hurl across the kitchen with force”. Fortunately, the picture frame and toaster managed to survive intact, if not a little battered and bruised.

I sent them to the backyard in the hopes they would run enough to sweat some of the sugar out of their bloodstream. They immediately began to chase each other around, climb trees and make an attempt to pull Bruiser around in our red wagon. It was turning out to be a wonderful afternoon unless, of course, you were Bruiser.

After checking to make sure they were okay, I called Gulley to finalize our plans for the t-ball game. We were in the middle of our conversation when I heard the unmistakable sound of shattering glass.

The word that came out of my mouth when I heard it was not a word I learned in Sunday School.

I hung up on Gulley and ran outside to see what had happened. Caroline was standing by her t-ball tee and crying hysterically. Will was standing a few feet away from her with a look of shock and awe on his face.

Our bedroom window was completely busted.

There is no doubt that I am a true South Texas girl because my first thought was “How on earth am I going to make sure that my room doesn’t lose too much air-conditioning tonight?” High maintenance much?

I attempted to calm Caroline down while I did what I always do in situations that require some type of solution and organized thought process, I called P.

“Hello?”

“CarolinewaspracticinghittingtheballandbrokeourwindowandwhatamIsupposedtodo? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN FOR OUR AIR-CONDITIONED ROOM?”

“You need to settle down. It’s no big deal.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Tell her it’s no big deal. Accidents happen. See if you can clean up the glass and I’ll be home in a little while.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He has no sense of drama.

The kids danced around me while I picked up the shards of glass. It helped the situation some, but there was still a big gaping hole in our bedroom window.

In the meantime, Caroline began to feel a sense of pride over her accomplishment and told me she’d like to call Bops to let him know how hard she hit the ball. She and Bops have really been working on her swing and, judging from the window, their work has really paid off.

I’m so proud.

And also probably a few hundred dollars poorer.

My knight in shining armor pulled into the driveway and immediately pulled out the duct tape. He taped what he could, but it was obvious we needed something to cover the window for the night. Because did I mention the need for maximum air-conditioning?

He disappeared behind the garage and came back with a solution.

At least it’s good for something.
And now we’re back to where I left off a week ago

As I briefly mentioned, before I took my blogging sabbatical, I’d spent the weekend in New Orleans. And by weekend, I mean I was there for about twenty-four hours. Six of which were spent in the Louis Armstrong Airport.

Sophie and I were there to blog for Allaccess and after the first part of the Living Proof Live event ended on Friday night, we felt like we needed something to eat in spite of the fact that I’d eaten a crawfish po-boy that was bigger than my head only a few hours earlier.

So we did what most people do when they’re in a city that’s world renowned for its cuisine; we went to Domino’s Pizza.

We originally debated just ordering room service, but $26.00 seemed a little pricey for a cheese plate, even if it did promise homemade pecan bread and various cheeses from around the world. Instead, we ventured outside the hotel but were too exhausted to find a real restaurant. Our choices boiled down to a Quik Mart that offered four-day-old fried chicken kept warm by a thirty-watt lightbulb or Domino’s.

Several people were already waiting for their orders in the Domino’s waiting area and I immediately sensed they’d been waiting for their pizzas for a long time. I have an intuition about these types of things or maybe it was the fact that one customer had curled up and fallen asleep on the bench. I’m not sure.

The girl behind the counter was on the phone when we walked up to the order window and she looked up long enough to ROLL her eyes at the very nerve of us interrupting her personal conversation to order a pizza. What did we think this was? A pizza place?

She put the receiver to her chest, adjusted her Domino’s visor, and said, “Mmhe melo hou?”

“Um. Sorry to bother you. Can you tell us how long it would take to get a pizza?”

“Shnme melm.”

“Beg your pardon?”

Big eye roll.

She put down the phone, glanced back towards the kitchen that contained no indication that anyone was actually making pizzas, and said what I believed to be “Fifteen minutes”.

“Okay. Then we’d like the four for $4.00 special with pepperoni!”

Hooray for optimism.

We paid for our pizza and I could tell as we faced the waiting room crowd that we’d made a huge mistake. Why didn’t anyone tell us that it was too late for them but we should save ourselves? It was as if they were all bound by some unwritten code of Domino’s Pizza silence.

For the next hour we watched people give up on their cheesy breadsticks and Philly Cheesesteak pizzas and go back from whence they came. But not us.

Oh no ma’am, we were prepared to die on that Domino mountain or uncomfortable bench or whatever. We’d shelled out $16.00 for our pizzas, we’d invested the time, and we were going to get us a pepperoni pizza if it killed us. There was no going back to the comfort and safety of the hotel and settling for a $28.00 plate of global cheese.

The Domino’s patrons were looking sketchier by the minute and that’s when I began to wonder if I was going to meet my demise in an establishment that serves mediocre pizza at best.

About that time, one of the other customers decided to impress those of us still waiting for any semblance of food. He got on his cell phone and proceeded to call everyone he knew to tell them about the party he’d just left and the party he was headed to after he got his pizza. And how awesome all the parties were and how he didn’t put up with anything from anyone.

Well, except for maybe the folks at Domino’s who had kept him waiting for over an hour for his pizza.

It was fascinating.

At some point during his fifth cell phone call, he realized all his party plans were failing to draw us in. I hated to tell him that he was dealing with two mamas in their late 30’s. The only party we’re looking for at this point in our lives is a comfortable couch and some sort of reality show marathon on Bravo, preferably involving Rachel Zoe.

So he got off the phone and began to tell us his Domino’s Pizza conspiracy theory. According to him, they purposely make you wait so you’ll leave without your food and they’ll keep your money. Apparently it’s how they make a profit. I don’t really give that theory any credit because it doesn’t make any sense and, also, because I heard it from a drunk guy in New Orleans.

After spending an hour watching the girl at the counter repeatedly gaze into the kitchen and tell prospective customers that it would be “about fifteen minutes”, we finally heard her call out, “Joikobnse”. I wasn’t totally sure it was us, but it looked close enough. We grabbed it and ran back to the hotel.

It was one of the best pepperoni pizzas I’ve had in at least a week.

In fact, I’d like to say it was worth the wait.

But that would be a lie.

However, you have to believe that it was better than four-day-old chicken.