Another day

Before I say anything else about the weekend I need to talk about the Aggie game. By all appearances it seemed like someone must have given a terrible half-time speech in the locker room. Or that maybe our quarterback’s girlfriend texted him to let him know she wanted to break up. How else do you explain the complete and total third quarter implosion? But I’ve decided that my days of letting my entire mood for the weekend be dictated by how a bunch of 18-22 year old boys play a game of football are over.

Until next weekend.

And obviously I think we all know that I’m thrilled with the official Aggies to SEC announcement that came yesterday afternoon.

But that’s not what I’m really here to discuss. I bet at least three of you would like to know how the dotMom conference went.

First, the bad news. My toenail (oh, I hate that word) didn’t even make it through Friday. When Sophie and I walked out on stage we had to kick a bunch of faux cinder blocks out of our way.

(I realize this makes no sense if you weren’t there. You’ll have to trust that there was a purpose and not just us doing an impersonation of the Incredible Hulk.)

(Not to mention that if we were going to do an impersonation of the Hulk it would make much more sense for us to lift the faux cinder blocks over our heads and throw them.)

Needless to say, the toenail didn’t survive that process. As soon as I began to say my opening lines, I realized my big toe was causing me a bit of pain. But I pushed through the pain because that’s what a good host does. However, I was traumatized when I finally got off stage and realized there was a jagged crack across the middle of the nail. I just prayed it could hold on for the rest of the day because I was wearing open-toed shoes and no one wants to see half a Lincoln Park After Dark painted toenail on display.

But the show (and the nail!) must go on.

Now for the good news. It was an incredible weekend. DotMom was the best conference. I went into it without a lot of expectations because I had no idea what it was going to be like and I had some serious questions about their choice of emcees. But, y’all, it was so good. Like go ahead and register for next year good. Seriously. Just click over to the registration page for more information.

Here’s a quick picture of a few of us this weekend. I’m going to post it because it’s the only picture I have in my possession to prove I was there.

(Not that it really proves I was there. It just proves I was with my friends in a room with a large bowl of salad.)

So you may be wondering why it was so good and if I’m just saying that. I’m not. I don’t just say things I don’t mean. Unless it’s to tell Caroline things like “if you say you’re bored one more time then I’m going to give away all your toys”.

I’m kidding. I’d never give away all her toys.

I’d sell them.

The platform speakers (Vicki Courtney, Angie Smith, Priscilla Shirer, and Angela Thomas) were incredible. But I knew they would be. Melissa Greene led worship and it was amazing. But the part that totally took me by surprise was how great the breakout sessions were. They really gave all of us a great chance to hear from other women that are walking the same road. I mean, obviously everyone was there because they want to be good moms so we all have a common goal. But I sat in on the session for moms with kids under age 13 and learned about sixty-eight new things. And not just from the women on the stage. I loved that women in the audience stood up and shared how they’d told their kids about puberty or how they’ve helped them with friend drama. It just seemed like everyone was able to really connect in a tangible way.

(I hope that makes sense. I am very tired. And spent most of Sunday afternoon drawing pictures with Caroline using scented markers. It’s possible I am high.)

Anyway, the whole weekend was so much fun and I loved getting to meet so many sweet blog readers. And naturally I loved getting to wear a headset mic just like Janet Jackson wore in her Control video.

(I wish I had a picture to show you.)

Oh, the Duggars also showed up. Like all forty-six of them. Nothing in life prepared me for that moment. Or the amazement I would feel when they all lined up by height in under six seconds before they walked out on stage.

And, much to my relief, I think Sophie and I must have done a decent job because they asked us to do it again next year. Naturally I’m going to need to negotiate to have green M&Ms and sparkling lime-flavored mineral water in my dressing room.

Which reminds that I also need to ask for a dressing room.

But I’m certain we’ll be back because we both had the best time. To those of y’all that were there, HUGE thanks for being so sweet and supportive. It meant the world to us. And HUGE thanks to the LifeWay team who did an AMAZING job. This conference had so many moving parts and I have no idea how y’all made all that magic happen.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch by which I mean back at our house in Texas, Caroline and P appeared to have a great weekend themselves. Especially if you judge greatness by how many times you get your face painted in one weekend.

(I was going to post a picture here of Caroline in her face paint but that function of my blog has decided to quit working.)

(This is terribly inconvenient.)

All of a sudden I’m at a loss for how to tie up this post, so I guess I’ll just tell you it’s safe to assume I’ll be back at the pedicure place later today trying to get some help for my toenail.

Or at HEB buying a big box of Band-Aids to cover that sucker up.

Because, sadly, it’s back to being 100 degrees here again and boots aren’t an option.

I hope y’all had a great weekend.

It was one of those days where I was all over the place. I’m not sure how this differs from most days, but I managed to put what felt like 60 miles on my car while only making repeated trips between our house and Caroline’s school.

I’m leaving for Birmingham tomorrow morning (which will be today by the time you read this) and so I’d agreed to eat lunch with Caroline because OH THE MOM GUILT that overtakes me when I leave for the weekend. But then we got a note home reminding us of the Book Fair and so I ended up spending half my morning at the book fair buying books and a soccer poster that I will live to regret. Then I dashed home to finish my fashion presentation for the dotMom conference this weekend because procrastination is alive and well at my house.

And then I ordered a couple of sandwiches for lunch, picked them up and headed back up to the school so we could catch up on everything we’d missed about each other in the forty-five minutes we’d been apart.

After I left the school I ran to get a quick pedicure. Not so much because I needed a fresh pedi, but more because my big toe incurred some sort of unfortunate injury that left the toenail in need of repair.

(For the record there are few words that gross me out more than “toenail”.)

(Also on my list would be “ointment”.)

Lucky for all involved in the dotMom conference, I was able to get my toenail repaired and then I headed straight to pick up Caroline from school. She had just enough time to grab a quick snack at home before I had to drive her right back to the school to interview the participants in a local parade for an after school class.

Thirty minutes later I had to go back to the school to pick her up, get her dressed for soccer practice, help her finish her math vocabulary (What’s a quotient? Who cares about quotients? Why can’t everything just be a sum?) and try to fix dinner while she and P were at practice.

Oh and then I needed to pack for my trip to Birmingham since my flight leaves first thing in the morning.

And I hadn’t even thought about what I was going to wear.

Which isn’t like me AT ALL and made me concerned I was coming down with the flu. Or the yellow fever.

Anyway, at some point I managed to get dinner on the table and homework in the folder and I fried up bacon in the pan and never let you forget that I’m a woman. Enjoli.

That commercial has been deeply embedded in my subconscious for most of my life. It also explains some lingering questions I’ve had about why my Nanny’s Fleetwood Cadillac always smelled like perfume. Because eight hours? That’s a long time for anything. Much less something that reeks of musk and orchids.

And now I realize I’ve told you about my entire day and this whole thing is probably completely boring and I feel really bad about that. I’d do something about it if I wasn’t so tired and just wanting to go to bed.

But I have to be up at the crack of dawn to finish cramming things into one carry-on suitcase and obsessing about all the things I’ve potentially forgotten that can’t possibly be purchased at a CVS store in Birmingham, Alabama.

All of this is a long way of saying that I’m not entirely sure that I’ll be able to write Fashion Friday. I know that makes at least three of you very sad but I just don’t think I’m going to have time. Rumor has it that I have to do things like soundcheck and memorize cue cards.

At least I think there will be cue cards.

What if there aren’t cue cards?

Now I’m never going to sleep.

(In case you have no idea what I’m talking about, Sophie and I are emceeing the dotMom conference this weekend in Birmingham. And I’m teaching a breakout session on fashion. And Sophie wrote a hilarious background post about the whole thing that you can read right here.)

(Also, if you’re going to be at dotMom this weekend please come say hi. My nerves and I would love to meet you.)

Hi.

How are you?

I’m fine. I’ve just finished looking through my new Pottery Barn catalog and am now sitting here feeling bad about myself. It made me want to put out my stylish mercury glass pumpkins and write a recipe for pumpkin soup on my rustic chalkboard adorned with twigs.

But then I remembered I don’t own mercury glass pumpkins or a rustic chalkboard and I wouldn’t know a good recipe for pumpkin soup if it jumped out of a cookbook and bit me. Because I don’t know that pumpkins and soup need to go together. I prefer my pumpkin in some bread.

I realize there are some people that are totally inspired by the latest Pottery Barn catalogs. They pore over the pages and think to themselves, “I COULD TOTALLY GET SOME SILVER PAINT AND RECREATE THAT DISPLAY USING ONLY PUMPKINS AND A SINGLE GOURD!”

However, I am not one of those people. I am a person who thinks how fun and quirky it would be to host a Halloween party and have some spooky skeleton hands to hold the punch dispenser.

But I know that all I will actually do is put out a couple of mums on the front porch that will be dead by November because I’ll forget to water them. And I’ll accentuate them with five pumpkins Caroline will talk me into buying at the pumpkin patch and leave them there to rot until it’s time to hang the Christmas lights.

I make Martha Stewart sad.

I’ve always told myself that I would really get into seasonal decor if I just had enough money to buy all the stuff and not have to resort to any type of craft. But now I realize that’s not true. I’d need to have enough money to buy all that stuff and then to pay someone to come put it all out for me in an artfully arranged display.

So what I’m saying is it looks like another year of dead mums and rotten pumpkins for our house. The neighbors will be so pleased.

In other news, I promised to fill you in on our weekend. I think it will speak volumes when I tell you that Caroline had a friend spend the night on Friday night and I made an enormous pallet for the girls in the middle of the living room floor and ended up leaving it there all weekend. Because you never know when you might not make it all the way to the couch and just fall face first into a nap-like state in the middle of the living room.

Friday night we took the girls to the high school football game. This is what they looked like as they walked in.

So big, yet so little. I love that they still hold hands when they walk together.

We cheered for our team, but sadly the game came down to a bad call by the refs which caused the Debbie Downer who’d been sitting behind us the whole game to announce repeatedly she knew THE WHOLE TIME that there was no way we could win. Thank you, Sunshine. You made our Friday night super special.

On Saturday morning Caroline had her first soccer game of the season so I was concerned when she and her friend woke up at the crack of 6 a.m. after being up so late the night before. But they had plenty of adrenaline to get them through and led The Stingers (the team formerly known as The Magic, formerly known as The Cheetah Girls, formerly known as The Rainbows) to a 2-0 victory over a group of fourth and fifth graders that were bigger than me.

I’m not sure why C is rocking the socks over the knees look, but she scored her first goal of the season so it must have worked for her.

After the game we came home and it began to rain (I forgot to mention that we woke up to rain on Friday morning and, I KID YOU NOT, didn’t know what we were hearing. I thought a pipe had burst.) so we all took showers, put on our pajamas and watched Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets. It was the most delightful Saturday in recent memory.

Later that night we ate dinner with some friends, stayed up too late and then spent most of Sunday in our pajamas again.

It would have been the perfect time to put out our fall decor. Except I still have my dead summer plants in the urns on my front porch.

And my landscaper, also known as my husband, needs to buy me some mums.

But I’ll choose my own pumpkins. It’s important to pick just the right ones when you plan to keep them until Christmas.

Here’s a little guarantee for you.

If the world was ending and the end was being broadcast over all the various networks, you can believe that I would miss the whole thing because I’d be sitting on my couch next to P, watching two men dressed in camo perched on top of a mountain whispering, “Bob? Do you see that elk?”

“I see it, Bob. I see it!”

“That is one big elk, buddy. Wait until you have the right shot.”

The only way I’d find out that there was anything more pressing going on in the universe than Bob and his big elk would be because I’d check the Twitter where people would be tweeting furiously about the world’s end.

Because that’s exactly what happened last night when Friday Night Lights won the Emmy for best writing of a drama series and Kyle Chandler won for best actor. I missed it. BUT AT LEAST I GOT TO SEE BOB SHOOT HIS BIG ELK.

To add insult to injury, I thought I had recorded the Emmys on the DVR but we had big storms roll through the area (I’m not complaining. I will never complain again about rain in any form.) and our Dish Network lost its signal and the DVR missed Kyle Chandler’s speech. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.

Unless your DVR quits working in a thunderstorm.

BUT I GOT TO SEE BOB SHOOT HIS BIG ELK.

And that’s what really matters.

I’ll be back with more about our weekend tomorrow. (OH IT WILL BE RIVETING.) but for today I have a really cool giveaway going on. The nice folks at Alexander Creative emailed me about a month ago and said they’d love to give away one of their Family Rules posters. I wasn’t sure what that looked like so I checked it out.

Yes. Love.

They come in a couple of different colors and if you win you can choose which color you’d like. And you can check out all their fun stuff right here.

To enter:

Leave a comment on this post. You can tell me what you did this weekend or just say hi.

I’ll leave comments open here until this Friday, September 23 and then choose a winner using random.org.

I’ll email the winner and they’ll get your poster to you.

That’s it.

Just wanted to clarify that I’m not being compensated for this giveaway, just thought it was cool and y’all might like it.

Have a great day. And if you know where I can watch Kyle Chandler’s acceptance speech in its entirety, please let me know.

In return, I’ll let you know where you can watch Bob shoot his elk.

I almost hate to admit this because I fear you will all be disappointed in me.

I didn’t make it to Target to look at the Missoni collection. I know. It’s like I don’t even know who I am right now.

The truth is that I had good intentions but we all know the road to owning inexpensive Missoni merchandise is paved with good Target intentions. But then Tuesday morning turned out to be busy for a multitude of reasons and by the time I thought about making the long journey to Target I could tell from all the buzz on Twitter that it might be like walking into sheer insanity or an elementary school cafeteria.

There were rumors of people piling their baskets full of everything Missoni they could get in their red plastic cart, the Target website crashing, and shoppers who bought only with the intention to resell it on Ebay. Which, honestly, raises some unshoppingmanship red flags with me. Whatever happened to just shopping for the love of zig-zag prints?

Anyway, I think all of the hoopla caught Target totally off-guard. I just hope the security assets protection division had this bad boy gassed up and ready to go.

Oh that the Lord would allow me to see it in action one day.

In other news, well, there’s not much other news. I took Caroline to the dentist yesterday morning and that was every bit as fascinating as what you’re imagining. And I did have a mini-celebration when the dentist announced her permanent teeth are coming in really straight and her bite looks good because I don’t know if y’all know this but orthodontia don’t come cheap. I know this because I had to have braces at the tender age of thirty-four years old. I refer to that time period as the two years I walked in extreme humility and lived in fear of shooting a rubberband from my mouth across a cocktail party.

So I treated her to a double-chocolatey chip frappucino to celebrate. It was my little way of saying “Hey Kid, way to have good teeth and potentially save your parents thousands of dollars. Here’s a four dollar drink in honor of the occasion”.

I really am at a loss for anything else to say. I feel a little “we could talk or not talk for hours” leaning heavily on the not talk side. But it’s just been one of those weeks filled with the pest control guy spraying the house and picking up dry-cleaning and thawing out hamburger meat and trying to make a bunch of stuff in my refrigerator magically turn into a good dinner.

(I just read that paragraph and it sounds like the pest control guy picked up my dry-cleaning. That is not the case.)

(Although how awesome would that be? Someone should do that.)

(I could edit that paragraph so that it reads better but that would take a lot of work.)

Speaking of a lot of work, I was driving Caroline to school on Tuesday morning and she was telling about some math test she had taken the day before.

She told me, “It didn’t make sense. The question asked if an armadillo’s head is six inches long and his tail is four inches long and his total length is eighteen inches, then how long is his body?”

(Word problems are of the devil. You’ll never convince me otherwise.)

But I responded, “Well, what didn’t make sense?”

She said, “How am I supposed to know how long an armadillo’s body is? I’ve only seen ONE in my whole life and he was running really fast.”

I think she makes an excellent point.

That’s why I’ve never liked math.

However, I do like Missoni. But not enough to fight a crowd at Target for it.

So how was your weekend?

I spent the majority of mine in Lubbock, Texas and then got home Saturday night and slept until 11:00 on Sunday morning. That’s not even an exaggeration.

I left for Lubbock on Thursday afternoon. You might think a trip to Lubbock wouldn’t be that long considering I’m already in Texas, but you would be wrong. It takes a long time and a layover in Dallas to get to Lubbock. Because in case you didn’t know, Texas is an enormous state.

Lubbock, I would like to take your dry, cool air and wrap myself up in it like a blanket and stay there forever. My hair has never held up so beautifully.

Shortly after my plane landed, I headed to the rental car counter to pick up my car. The clerk handed me all the necessary paperwork and I gave him my drivers’ license and credit card while I confirmed that I only wanted the economy size car. He handed me a set of keys, directed me to the car lot and said, “It will be in stall #21. It’s a green Ford Fiesta.” When someone says “green Ford Fiesta” do you think something in the family of hunter greens?

Yes, I do too.

But it turned out to be a wrong assumption. Because as I wheeled my suitcase out to the car rental lot, I spotted my car while I was still 500 yards away.

(That’s not the actual car. I’d like to show you the real car but my phone isn’t speaking to my computer again and, thus, I cannot upload the photo. Sufficed to say, my rental was every bit as bright as the above photo.)

I have never been so sad to be alone because I had to laugh all by myself when I saw that green machine shining like a beacon from the parking lot. In the words of Mac Davis, “Oh Lord, it’s hard to be humble.”

To make matters worse, I had no idea where I was going. And do you know what’s worse than driving the ugliest car in Lubbock, Texas? Driving the ugliest car in Lubbock, Texas when you have to drive thirty miles an hour because you’re trying to decipher the directions on your iPhone.

But on Saturday during her message, Beth Moore reminded us that sometimes “we can guard our dignity right out of an epiphany.” So I feel like that Ford Fiesta in Lime Squeeze opened up my heart to an epiphany because my dignity was gone. I’ll let you know what that epiphany is as soon as I figure it out.

And so that’s why I was in Lubbock. It was the host site of the 2011 Living Proof Live simulcast with Beth Moore and I was in town to help out with the event. Sadly, I think I’ve been demoted since the last event because not only was I not in charge of selling any merch, I didn’t even get a walkie-talkie this time. Instead they put me at the marketing table which only involved passing out Homelife magazines while saying, “They’re free, Ladies. Take as many as you’d like.”

Honestly, I think it’s probably the best job for my particular set of skills, mainly because it doesn’t involve having to make change or realize that you’ve been pushing down the talk button on your walkie-talkie for the last hour.

On a side note, I mentioned to one of the women on the Event team that I used to have fun visiting Lubbock back when I was in college and Texas Tech played A&M. She said, “Oh! Then you know what’s fun to do around here. Where should we go?” And I had to let her know that we really couldn’t do the same activities in Lubbock that I did with my friends back in 1993. Largely because the SAE fraternity might be alarmed by a bunch of middle aged women out in front of their fraternity house looking for the keg party.

Anyway, the best thing about the weekend was listening to a great message from Beth, fabulous worship with Travis and the Praise Team, and getting to meet a couple of y’all. Which totally made my day.

And then I had to fly like the wind in my sweet Ford Fiesta to get back to the airport in time for my flight late Saturday afternoon. I barely made it in time and by the time Gulley and her boys picked me up at the San Antonio airport around 8:30, I was so tired that I told Gulley I could just sit and cry like a little kid does when they’re completely worn out.

From the back seat, Will said, “I know just how you feel, Mel. I know just how you feel.”

P and Caroline were off hog hunting and didn’t get home until around 11:00. I waited up for them as long as you consider waiting up to mean that I fell asleep on the couch until I heard them pull in the driveway. And then I got into bed and passed out until 11:00 a.m. Sunday morning.

The end.