Author: Big Mama

McLetDown

Thank y’all so much for yesterday. It was so interesting to read everyone’s questions and thoughts. Although it will take me a good two weeks for my mind to process all that information.

I promise that Sophie, Shannon and I will figure out a way to share some of the information from the She Speaks Conference on our blogs. In the meantime, you may want to check out Blogging Basics 101.

Anyway, Gulley usually volunteers at her son Jackson’s school every Wednesday. But last Wednesday she skipped out on the opportunity to watch kindergardeners eat paste in favor of getting her hair cut and highlighted. Clearly she is a woman with her priorities in order.

No woman can be expected to cut out shapes, teach future generations to read, and eat cafeteria food when she’s worried about her roots. I mean this is America.

So, Gulley asked Jackson’s teacher if she could volunteer on Thursday instead and asked me if I would mind keeping Will. And I told her I wouldn’t mind at all because she watched Caroline for me most of the day on Tuesday and because Will seriously cracks me up.

He just turned three in February and hanging out with him is kind of what I imagine it would be like to spend time with Simon Cowell. You know he’s a little belligerent and out of control but yet manages to be charming and endearing all at the same time.

Plus they both have hair that defies the laws of follicular science.

Gulley dropped Will off on Thursday morning and, since I am really a modern day Mary Poppins, I had our morning all planned out. These plans involved cleaning our back porch with scrub brushes and soap.

The kids can’t get enough of it.

Tell Toys R’ Us to figure out a way to package that kind of fun.

Finally, after a morning of hard labor I decided to reward them with a trip to McDonalds for lunch. And, because it was such a gorgeous, sunny day, I purposely drove further away to the dying breed known as a McDonalds with an outdoor playground.

We went in, ordered our food and then started to head outside, when we saw this.

Oh cruel hand of fate. Why do you torture me so?

I told the kids to eat their lunch and promised that after they were done I would go ask the manager if they would consider opening the playground since the weather was no longer inclement.

So they pretended to eat half a nugget for the next ten minutes and then started asking about the playground. I felt like I was being interrogated. My palms got all sweaty as I tried to prepare them for the very real possibility that the outdoor playground wasn’t going to happen.

“Okay, I’ll go ask but y’all need to know that they may not open it. They may say no. Okay?”

Will quit eating his ketchup out of the paper cup long enough to look me dead in the eye and say, “If they say no, I’m gonna bust their tails.”

And don’t think he wouldn’t.

Unfortunately the answer was no. It appears that two prior days of inclement weather rendered the playground in need of a good scrubbing.

They should totally use child labor like I did with my porch. The kids can reach cracks and crevices that an adult will never see.

There was great disappointment but we left with some cool Happy Meal toys so all was not lost. And I knew Will had a good time with me because when Gulley came to pick him up he hugged me and said, “See you later, Babe.”

Which is exactly what the Banks children called Mary Poppins.
Questions about questions

So, I have a little favor to ask of y’all today.

I am in need of some information but first I will share my thoughts on something very important.

I don’t know that there is a show on television that annoys me more than “CSI: Miami”. Unfortunately, P discovered it comes on at 10:00 every night and now I spend that hour trying to avert my eyes from the television lest I see dead people. It’s like my own private version of “The Sixth Sense”.

The problem is that no matter how much I look away, I can’t block out the bad dialogue. But on the plus side, P and I have both adopted the phrase, “It’s a little thing I like to call…MURDER ONE”, which we use completely out of context and at inappropriate times. It was uttered by David Caruso in a bit of acting that should be shown to acting students everywhere in a class called “How Not To Act”.

That has nothing to do with my favor, but it needed to be said.

In about two months, I’ll find myself standing in front of a group of people who would like to know more about blogs and I probably need to tell them more than “A blog is something that can be found on the internet. It is an online journal for all the world to see on this marvel they call the World Wide Web. People can access this World Wide Web by using a computer, which is an even better invention than the Brother Word Processor that I used in college.”

Because as thrilling as that presentation would be, it’s probably not the most critical piece of information unless I am talking to a group of people that have been cryogenically frozen since 1972.

Here’s where y’all come in. What questions would you ask about blogging if you could ask anything?

What would you want to know? Do you have any blog pet peeves? Did you start out blogging with a goal in mind or just for fun? How do you measure your blog’s success? Is it traffic, comments, or just writing something that you feel good about it?

I mean, I’m not saying that I have the answers. I would just like to be prepared for all the questions that may leave me standing at the front of a room looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

Which, if that happens, I’ll totally resort to my new phrase and say, “It’s a little thing I like to call…MURDER ONE.”

Because it always seems to work out well for David Caruso.
Winner!

Random Integer Generator

Here are your random numbers:

38
Timestamp: 2008-04-14 12:32:33 UTC

Thank y’all so much for participating in the Fashion Fiesta. I think everyone had a great time and several of y’all emailed to suggest we do it again in the fall, which I’m totally for. Because why would I be against it?

Anyway, the winner is Kiddies and Ghillies!

Congratulations! Email me at [email protected] and I’ll put you in touch with Jules so that you can get on her waiting list for your free blog header!
The road to College Station and back was paved with good intentions

Ay Carambe. Muchas fiestas this weekend.

See how those four semesters of college-level Spanish are the gift that keeps giving?

Despite my best efforts I have only made it through half of the Fiesta so far.

Ayudame.

That means help me in Spanish. I actually learned that from “Go Diego Go”, not Spanish class.

But if I haven’t made it to your fiesta, I will. And I’ll also announce the winner of the new blog header around noon central time.

The main reason that I haven’t made it through all the fiestas yet is because Gulley and I loaded up the kids on Saturday morning and headed to College Station to take in a little Aggie baseball.

Caroline had been so excited for this trip that I truly thought her head was going to explode by Friday night and it would have been so tragic that after days of repeatedly asking, “IS TODAY SATURDAY? ARE WE LEAVING TODAY? CAN WE LEAVE TODAY?”, that she would have missed the trip due to head explosion.

It’s about a three hour drive from San Antonio to College Station if you make the drive without any children in the car. For us, it took about the same amount of time it took the Ingalls’ family to make it across the Northwestern plains in the dead of winter as they fought wolves, Indians, and the bitter cold.

At the halfway point we stopped at McDonalds so the kids could use the bathroom and order a Happy Meal so they could all have a free toy and eat a combined half a Chicken McNugget and four paper cups filled with ketchup.

Gulley and I decided we couldn’t stomach another meal at McDonalds. We are grown women. We needed something a little more sophisticated, a little more refined.

We made a run for the border.

Which for us is a true delicacy because Taco Bells are next to non-existent when you live in San Antonio, TX, home to over eight hundred and fifty-two Mexican restaurants.

In spite of the easy access to some of the best Mexican food in the world, Gulley and I still crave Taco Bell from time to time. Which just goes to show you can take the girl out of East Texas, but you can’t take the East Texas out of the girl.

We finally arrived at Gulley’s mama’s house with just enough time to change clothes and head to Olsen Field for the game.

Will really wasn’t up for the photo op. He’s a complex fellow and needs his space.

Poor Will. Why can’t we all just leave him alone?

He sent us a clear signal that he wanted to distance himself from the pack when he insisted he sit in a booth behind us at McDonalds, not with us. Because the age of three is filled with emotional turmoil. He needed a few moments alone to journal his thoughts on the side of his Happy Meal bag.

Anyway, once we arrived at Olsen, we bought about $150 worth of cotton candy, popcorn and snowcones and settled into our seats. For about five minutes. And then someone had to go to the bathroom.

But in between the trips to the bathroom, we saw a few fights on the field, three coaches get ejected, and an OU team that liked to meet on the pitcher’s mound and talk more than any other team I have ever seen. At one point Gulley yelled, “Take it to Starbucks, Ladies. We’re here to play some baseball.”

Because we are delicate flowers at sporting events.

In the end all that chit-chatting didn’t pay off because we completely demolished them.

It was a good night.

Until the kids realized they were exhausted and then muchas meltdowns ensued.

But Gulley told me to quit crying and get Caroline in her pajamas and put her to bed.

The next morning, we woke up to a veritable carbohydrate heaven consisting of Shipley’s donuts and kolaches courtesy of Honey and Big.

And just like that, it was time to turn around for the long drive home.

I would tell y’all about it, but I don’t like to use profanity.

All I can say is if our drive was any indication of what Ma and Pa Ingalls went through then I wouldn’t have been surprised if The Little House books contained this phrase, “…and then Pa kicked us out of the wagon, left us on the prairie and said ‘Good Luck’.”
Viva la (first annual and perhaps only) Fashion Fiesta!

Welcome everybody, it’s finally here.

I’m sure many of y’all had to take a Tylenol PM last night just to help you sleep in spite of all the hype and anticipation.

I didn’t need the Tylenol PM, but I do find that a Hunt’s Chocolate Snack Pack is the perfect nightcap.

One Snack Pack and I’m all, Buenos Noches, Suckers.

I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m giddy with all the anticipation.

So, I thought long and hard for the better part of three minutes about what my own personal Fashion Fiesta! would look like. I finally decided that I’m going to keep it totally real and show y’all the items of clothing I would most likely have on my body if Ed McMahon were to show up unexpectedly at my door with one of those large checks.

Then, I will show you a few items I would like to go purchase with the aforementioned large check.

Do you hear me Ed? I’m here waiting. Waiting for my oversized check and the girl with the balloons to show up at my door.

First up is what I like to call the parade of t-shirts.

The observant reader will notice these are all college baseball t-shirts. Part of the reason for this is that I like baseball and part of the reason is that I received each of these t-shirts FOR FREE IN COLLEGE while I was a Diamond Darling for the Aggie baseball team.

For those of you playing at home, that means, at the very least, they are all over fifteen years old.

Clearly I am not one to quit on a garment just because it has a little wear. Or because it has SWC Champs 1993 on the sleeve, which is the equivalent of a neon sign declaring I am old.

But let me say a few words about these shirts. First of all, kudos to the cotton industry because WELL DONE, MY FRIENDS. You have created some superior garments that have withstood almost two decades of continuous wash and wear. And while they have all seen better days, there is nary a hole in any of these shirts.

And also, the Duke baseball shirt used to belong to Gulley but I either stole it from her sometime back in 1994 or she gave it to me. I’ll never give it back because it has become a part of me even though I’m not necessarily a Duke fan or really know anything about their baseball program.

Although I hear their basketball team is decent.

Next up.

Yoga pants.

Y’all didn’t think I just wore those t-shirts did you?

These are my beloved yoga pants. Looking at this picture either one of these pairs is too short or one is too long. Clearly, both are way faded and in need of replacement but we had a nice, cozy winter full of good times.

So, now that it’s hot enough to put the yoga pants out of their misery, what’s my casual go to?

Oh yes. The gray Soffe brand shorts favored by cheerleading squads all over America and some bright yellow Abercrombie shorts that I brought on my honeymoon. Ten and a half years ago.

Those are my backup t-shirts for when I grow tired of the baseball shirts because a girl needs options.

Next up, is what I wear when I’m actually in public doing something other than dropping Caroline off at school or hosting a hobo convention.

I bought that white shirt at Target and it is so comfortable, but it looks cute with my variety of pink bottoms and also with my jeans. It works for trips to the HEB, childrens’ birthday parties, and going out to lunch.

Here’s my other option.

This works well for when I get to the point in the summer where it’s so hot I’d like to just take off my skin and sit in front of an oscillating fan. I adore the skirt option and have a closet full of cotton skirts in various colors and prints.

I highly recommend the cotton skirt with tank or tee option depending on your comfort level in baring arms.

As for shoes, I have two different levels of footwear.

Cute shoes.

Practical shoes.

I will wear those black Reef flip-flops until there is a three-inch deep outline of my foot or the straps break, whichever comes first. They are the Hunt’s Snack Pack of my shoe inventory.

Comforting and will never let me down in my time of need.

I hesitate to even show y’all this last item because I don’t want to cause anyone to stumble in the tricky area of coveting what belongs to your neighbor.

If you are in fact now wondering how you yourself could acquire such a fine garment, then let me just go ahead and let you know it’s not possible.

Unless you can find a time machine to take you back to Old Navy for the summer of 2002.

And if you want to know how much I wear them, then I’ll confess that I had to pull them out of the dirty clothes to take this picture.

Remember how when you were in 8th grade and your Guess overalls were dirty and you’d beg your mom to please wash them because life would not be complete until you had your Guess overalls back in your closet, clean and ready to wear?

That’s how I feel about these shorts.

So, if Ed McMahon were to show up at my door and I could purchase a new summer wardrobe I’d probably buy these outfits. And these.

And this skirt.

So, you know, the entire Boden catalog.

I’d also throw in a few things from Anthropologie. Including this shirt.

Oh, and these shoes from Nordstrom.

But I still wouldn’t give up my baseball t-shirts and my Old Navy shorts because you can’t buy that kind of comfort anymore.

Except at your local Salvation Army.

I can’t wait to see what y’all have to share. Just make sure you leave the link to your specific blog post down below. If you don’t know how to link to a specific blog post, then go read this. I’ll close the Mr. Linky at midnight on Monday, April 13th and announce the winner of the new blog header on Monday morning.

Viva fiesta and Happy Friday, y’all!
The ghosts of fashion past

For twenty-three Fridays I have dispensed fashion advice to anyone who takes the time to read it.

God bless you for reading, ma’am.

Then I was looking through some old photos the other day and found disturbing evidence as to why I may not be the best person to dole out fashion wisdom.

So, in honor of tomorrow being the big Fashion Fiesta and so many of y’all being worried about baring your fashion souls, I’m going to share some sins from my past.

Because we must look at the fashion past to embrace the fashion future.

Coco Chanel said that.

Actually, she didn’t. But she could have.

I am nine years old in this picture.

Please note that I am not wearing a sweet, white Yo-Yo on my other foot because it is wrapped in an ace bandage. Although now that I look closer, it’s not so much an ace bandage as it is just a footie sock.

So, clearly, SERIOUS INJURY.

“Nurse, we need a footie sock, STAT.”

I spent most of elementary school with some sort of bandage on various appendages, not because I was accident prone as much as just a chronic hypochondriac with a touch of drama queen.

It’s a shame because that footie sock really detracts from what would otherwise be a stellar look complete with Suntan pantyhose. I mean who doesn’t want tiers of fabric cascading down their body creating a triangle configuration that blends in perfectly with some quality 1970’s draperies?

By the way, that pole was used to hold up the T.V. in my mama’s bedroom.

Because the 70’s were a time of technological innovation.

This is my sister and me. Easter 1985.

I could talk at length about the influence Madonna had on my dress and lace tights (and I’m not talking about Jesus’ mother), but I think the real story here is my sister’s hat.

Amy spent most of her childhood wearing some type of hat on her head. In fact, for an entire year of her life she wore a yellow satin nightgown on her head and pretended it was long, blonde hair. She’d even walk around with a brush and demand you style it for her. I can’t tell y’all how many hours of my life I spent braiding the sleeves of a yellow nightgown to appease my sister.

That’s not strange.

Honestly, looking at those bangs crowning my sick mullet, a hat wouldn’t have been such a bad thing.

This next picture is Gulley, my sister, and me.

Between the three of us, I feel certain we helped Leslie Lucks fund a European vacation for her entire extended family.

When I first saw this picture I was impressed at how small our waists appear and then I realized whose waist wouldn’t look small when you add three times your body’s dimensions to your shoulders with foam padding?

Especially combined with hair that has seen more than its fair share of perm solution.

And nevermind that I look more like I’m on my way to some sort of Fandango dance show than Easter Sunday services.

I remember this Easter fondly because Gulley came home with me to spend it with my family. We all went to lunch at Steak and Ale and my Big Bob asked my stepfather to bless the meal.

My stepfather was about halfway through the blessing when my Great Aunt Maddie had a delayed response to the whole event and just yelled out, “OH I THINK THAT WOULD BE GREAT!”

I don’t know that I’ve ever laughed louder or longer at such an inappropriate time.

Well, until I found these pictures.