Another day

  • Houston and back

    So Gulley and I left for Houston around 1:00 on Tuesday afternoon. The only stop we made was at the Whataburger in Schulenburg where she ordered some chicken fingers and I had a Whataburger Jr. that was entirely too salty. I don’t know why I’m filling you in on completely meaningless details of our trip except that the massive sodium intake might have something to do with the fact that my wedding rings feel entirely too tight even twenty-four hours later.

    Someone asked in the comments yesterday what kind of music we listened to during the trip and bless your heart for assuming we ever quit talking long enough to listen to anything but the sound of each other’s voices. The last few weeks have been so hectic for both of us and this was the first time we’d had in forever to have more than a few ten minute conversations pieced together in various code languages so that our little eavesdroppers don’t understand every word we’re saying and repeat it back at some unfortunate time.

    Here’s a non-comprehensive list of some of our conversation topics:

    good hair highlights
    public school education
    the upcoming elections
    marriage
    wearing belts
    television, both reality and scripted
    what God is teaching us
    the holidays
    boots vs. booties
    our current breakfast food of choice
    movies we’d like to see

    I know.

    It was all fascinating. And most all of these things were discussed as we bounced from one subject (the challenges of marriage!) to another subject (laundry detergent!) and then back to the original subject (marriage!) before winding up somewhere in the vicinity of what we’d like to do with our hair.

    The three hour drive totally flew by and we had just barely made it to Houston before we decided we better head over to the church because I was completely paranoid about the parking situation and felt like the whole evening might be derailed if I had to find any type of alternate parking because it might mean I’d have to look at a map to find some sort of overflow lot and the whole thing just stressed me out. Fortunately, my obsessive tendencies totally paid off and we were about the second car to pull in the completely empty lot.

    (On a totally unrelated note, I still have a lingering cough from my bronchitis. P told me earlier tonight that he doesn’t like the way I cough. LIKE I CAN CHANGE IT. And just a few seconds ago, I started coughing and he paused the T.V. in the middle of an Ultimate Fighting Championship fight until I stopped. As if somehow my coughing was detracting from watching the men on T.V. trying to kick in each other’s heads. Sure, my cough is the most annoying component in this scenario.)

    Anyway, we had the best time. Tuesday night Bible study was amazing. Beth taught on the image of God and I’ll be processing it for days. Christy Nockels led us in worship and the whole thing was just so dang good. And her hair looked great.

    And then came the moment where I became socially awkward.

    After it was over Gulley and I were going to go get something to eat with Amanda. We were standing around and there was Christy Nockels. And I wanted to say something to her. Something like “I have loved your music for years” or “I listened to your song Glory Baby a million times the summer after I had a miscarriage” or “Your song Captivate Us makes me cry every time I hear it”. You know? Something normal.

    Christy looked at me and graciously asked, “Do I know you? Have we ever met?”

    I said, “No” and then stuck out my hand to shake her hand while I formally introduced myself like we were at a corporate business meeting.

    Then I felt like I had to explain who I was or why I was waiting around, so I said, “I have a blog”.

    The whole thing was very reminiscent of that scene in Dirty Dancing when Baby tells Johnny, “I carried a watermelon”.

    But she was just lovely and smiled and nodded at me like I was a normal person instead of some kind of socially awkward internet-type person who sits around in my pajamas and writes stuff on the computer.

    Even though, let’s be honest, if the shoe fits.

    Gulley and I set the alarm for 5:00 a.m. Wednesday morning and literally rolled right out of bed and into the car. We made a quick trip through the Starbucks drive-through for some serious caffeine and drove back to San Antonio.

    And, yes, we talked the whole way home.

    Because, fortunately, I am not socially awkward when I’m in the comfort of my own car.

  • On the road

    In about an hour, Gulley and I are going to hit the open road and head to Houston. Of course, by the time you read this we’ll already be on our way back home because we are giving new meaning to the phrase “whirlwind trip”. But when I heard that Christy Nockels was going to be a part of Beth Moore’s Tuesday night Bible study, I knew we had to throw caution to the wind and our kids to our husbands and hit the road.

    And I’m not even going to pretend like part of the reason isn’t because I’d like to see Christy’s hair up close. She has some seriously amazing hair.

    So Gulley and I are leaving the kids and the husbands behind and we’re taking a little road trip. All by ourselves. There is no telling how many problems we’ll be able to solve in the next twelve hours without a kid constantly interrupting to ask us if they can have a sixth popsicle or to inform us that Will is looking at them funny and they don’t like it and can we please make him stop and now he’s humming and it’s getting on their nerves.

    Good times.

    We’re going to head back to San Antonio around 5:30 a.m. because Gulley has to work and I am scheduled to speak to a womens’ Bible study group. Needless to say, we’ll be stopping at Starbucks for something in a size VENTI EXTRA CAFFEINE.

    I’ll be back tomorrow with a full report of how many times we stopped at Dairy Queen and how many of the world’s issues we’ve solved. Specifically, if we believe that NeNe’s son, Bryce, really has lost his mind and if the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills have reached new levels of Botox usage. Also, I hope to have some insight regarding Christy Nockels hair and what type of product she uses.

    But for now I’m leaving the computer behind because P says he needs it to conduct important internet research on various types of ammo and hunting apparel.

    Y’all have a great day.

  • It’s only a matter of time before she starts reading the Thrifty Nickel

    So I was all set to write an entire recap of our weekend on Sunday night, but then I watched the season finale of Mad Men and was so overwhelmed by all the twists and turns of Don Draper’s life that I was rendered temporarily incapable of discussing anything but events that take place at a fictional ad agency in the 1960’s. But I won’t be talking about any of that here because I don’t want to spoil anything for those of you who haven’t made it a priority on your DVR. All I can say is OH MY WORD.

    But enough about 1965.

    Last Friday morning started off on an interesting note around here. Mainly because P called the police around 6:30 a.m. when a strange man kept circling the block in his car with the lights off and finally parked right by our driveway. As it turned out, our neighbors were having a garage sale that was scheduled to open at 8:00 and the man was merely an early bird. And was soon joined by a whole band of fellow early birds who sat outside on our back steps and smoked their cigarettes while they waited for the neighbors to open up their garage. Needless to say, P was ready to run them all off our property and Caroline was completely invigorated by the drama of the morning.

    By the time we left for school, the neighbor’s garage was open and Caroline and I both saw racks and racks of what appeared to clothing, purses and all manner of boots. She said, “OH MAMA! LOOK AT ALL THAT GOOD STUFF OVER IN THEIR GARAGE!”

    After I dropped Caroline off at school, I decided it was only neighborly to go over and check everything out. Especially since I knew this particular neighbor used to own a really cute boutique here in town and there was no telling what might be over there. Sure enough, I was not disappointed. I totally scored. Not only did I walk away with a few brand new shirts and a great necklace, but I also found this adorable chandelier for Caroline’s room.

    Use your imagination and picture it actually hanging somewhere instead of just sitting on my bedroom floor.

    Then P walked across the street to investigate how I was spending the cold, hard cash I’d just begged him for and discovered what has become the greatest thing that has ever happened to Caroline EVER.

    When she came home from school on Friday and discovered her new beaded curtain hanging over her bedroom door, she exclaimed, “I DON’T KNOW HOW I COULD HAVE ANYTHING BETTER THAN THIS. IT’S WHAT I’VE ALWAYS DREAMED OF!”

    Which absolutely made the $3.00 we spent on it seem like a total bargain because how much is too much when you want your room to look like a Moroccan casbah?

    I had to pull myself away from the yard sale bargains because my friend, Jill, was on her way to my house. Jill is one of my oldest friends in the world and, before Friday, we hadn’t seen each other in over twenty years. Actually, we’d seen each other once briefly during our freshman year of college but I didn’t even remember that until she reminded me. Probably because that period of my life is kind of hazy due to a lot of BAD DECISIONS AHOY during that particular year.

    Anyway, Jill and I have been friends since second grade but lost touch sometime during college and hadn’t communicated at all until we found each other on Facebook about a year ago. As it turns out, she and her family are about to move to San Antonio. Which, HELLO SMALL WORLD. And the best part is that we picked up right where we left off and had the best time catching up on the last twenty years. It’s nice when you realize that the same people you liked at seven years old are the same people you like now.

    I picked Caroline up from school and she immediately requested that we head over to the garage sale, but, alas, they had already closed down for the day. I promised we could go on Saturday morning after her soccer game. Which is how we ended up over there at 10:30 a.m. in full soccer gear buying all manner of newsboy caps, pink hairpieces, faux zebra print jackets, a flower mirror, several pieces of costume jewelry, and a pair of floral suitcases that are right out of 1967.

    Caroline had brought her own money to pay for her purchases and so she approached our sweet neighbor with her pile and asked, “What kind of deal can you give me on all this stuff?”

    The neighbor looked at her and said, “Well, that zebra print jacket alone is priced at $30”

    Caroline just looked back at her. Unflinching.

    Our neighbor knew she’d been beat. She looked at Caroline and said, “You can have it all for $20”.

    Caroline thought it over for a minute. I assured her she was a getting a great deal and so she handed over her money.

    As we carried all her loot back to the house, she exclaimed, “OH MAMA! I DON’T KNOW WHY WE DON’T SHOP AT MORE GARAGE SALES!”

    And, thus, a new generation of garage sale shopper has been born.

    Nena will be so proud.

    And also probably a little jealous of what we found.

  • Odds and ends with an emphasis on odd

    I felt like I had some loose ends to tie up after yesterday’s post. Or maybe it was just in my head. Either way, it seems like this is a good time to throw out a few odds and ends about various things.

    Also, don’t miss the giveaway/review link at the end.

    1. I don’t know why I chose thirty-three as an ideal age to get married on yesterday’s post. Maybe because I know so many single women who hit thirty and panic as if time is running out. And I’m trying to singlehandedly change that perception.

    So, thirty-three might be the right age for some people and twenty-four might be the right age for someone else. I’m just a believer in having a little time to get to know who you are before you get married. And that may take some of us a little longer than it does others because we are slow learners. I say this as a slow learner who had to continue to learn a lot about myself and being unselfish long after I got married at twenty-six.

    In fact, I am still learning.

    And that is my soap box for today.

    2. Hazel says you need to be careful about who you marry because you could wind up married to a man who’s about as useful as a pocket on the back of a shirt.

    Also, Hazel is on her way out. But I bet she shows up again before flu/cold season is over because I have a tendency to get the bronchitis when my immunity is down.

    3. Caroline’s shirt in the picture yesterday came from Zara. If you don’t have a Zara near you, then I am so sorry because you can’t buy their stuff online and they have some really, really cute things for grown-ups and kids.

    4. I had an epiphany the other night. I should state that it was while I was in lying in bed after a heavy dose of prescription cough medicine.

    People don’t play enough card games anymore. Or maybe it’s just the people I’m around that don’t play enough cards. Or Trivial Pursuit. Or whatever.

    I want to bring the game night back. I dream of a future filled with holidays where we all sit around and play games.

    And if there is wagering involved, so be it.

    5. I’m giving away two copies of Choosing To See by Mary Beth Chapman. I read the entire book in a little under two days and it is just so, so good. Click on over to my review page and leave a comment to enter.

    Have a lovely day.

  • We are in need of a big toe

    Well, Hazel went to the doctor yesterday and received an official diagnosis of bronchitis. She was sent home with a prescription for all manner of steroids, antibiotics, inhalers and cough medicines. Which she promptly filled at the pharmacy even though she suspects all these fancy medications are a big scam that started when Medicare took over. In her day, all a person needed to stay healthy was to take a little exercise and drink an occasional glass of homemade wine to keep away the sugar diabetes.

    Speaking of sugar, it has come to my attention that Halloween is just a little over two weeks away. The good news is Caroline has already picked out a butterfly costume, complete with silver sequin clip-on earrings because that’s what all the butterflies wear these days, and it’s just sitting in her closet waiting for the big day. I kind of hoped she’d go with my suggestion of being a black cat so I could make a black tutu and paint little whiskers on her face, but my sad little suggestion never had a chance against the sparkly clip-on earrings.

    The bad news, at least the bad news for Gulley, is that Will has decided there is no other costume option for him this year than to be Big Toe. And for those of you unfamiliar with Big Toe, here he is:

    Shockingly, there is no Big Toe costume available in the aisles at Target.

    Big Toe is part of a line of stuffed animals called Ugly Dolls. I personally think they’re adorable. And Will feels the same way. He has at least ten of them, along with an Ugly Doll lunch box, journal, and assorted books. There is no greater show of affection than when Will informs you that he’d like for you to draw in his Ugly Doll journal or to go with you to the store to help you choose an Ugly Doll of your very own.

    So, since some of you seem to be a little crafty (I mean that in the Martha Stewart sense, not the sneaky and backhanded sense) Gulley and I thought y’all might have some suggestions as to how one might go about making a Big Toe costume. Please, help us Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re our only hope. I would so love for Will to be able to add “and she makes Big Toe costumes” right next to “and she builds floats” on my resume’.

    As for Hazel?

    She couldn’t care less about the whole thing. She thinks Halloween is just an excuse for children, who most likely already have way too much quit in them, to roam the neighborhoods like a bunch of ne’er-do-wells begging for candy. If she wanted to share her Luden’s cherry cough drops with the neighborhood, she’d move to one of them foreign countries and become a Communist.

  • I also have an fifteen cough drop a day habit

    I think it was Thursday afternoon when my non-specific seasonal malady began to include a cough. And, true to form, by Friday morning I sounded like an octogenarian named Hazel who’s had a three pack a day habit for the last sixty years.

    I’ll tell you about Hazel. She’s from the old school and doesn’t cotton to newfangled treatments like multi-symptom cold medicines. Hazel likes to sit on her front porch and throw bricks at cars that drive by too fast. Hazel doesn’t think there’s a problem with America that can’t be fixed by taking your youngsters out to the woodshed to learn ’em some manners and human decency. Hazel thinks this whole world has been on the fast track to hell since the Roosevelt administration. Hazel sits around and pops Luden’s cherry cough drops like they’re candy.

    (On a sidenote, I was typing in a few things from the weekend into the Note section on my phone because, yes, sometimes I actually have specific thoughts I want to share. And I typed in “Hazel” and began to type “Luden’s cherry cough drops” and it auto-checked it and changed it to “Ludendorff”. So it looked like I was planning to write about a woman named Hazel Ludendorff.)

    (And so I am.)

    Hazel Ludendorff is my new persona whenever I’m feeling under the weather. Because Hazel is a tough old bird and she can withstand anything even though she’s not one to miss an opportunity to enjoy her ill health. Hazel likes nothing more than to guilt a neighbor into delivering some homemade chicken noodle soup.

    Anyway, in spite of Hazel’s attempts to hack up a lung, it was a good weekend around here.

    On Friday night, we had some friends over for a little party for P’s birthday. I made a big batch of crawfish etouffee’ and a chocolate sheet cake at the birthday boy’s request. Although, let’s be honest, he’s more of a birthday man than a birthday boy at this point.

    Then on Saturday, the Cheetah Girls had a big game against the Wildcats. And I’m happy to report they played the game of their lives. They were running and paying attention and kicking the ball ALL AT THE SAME TIME. It was a great game.

    I left the soccer fields feeling joyously optimistic, which is so unlike Hazel, and convinced that the Aggies were going to soundly defeat the Arkansas Razorbacks. I believed. I BELIEVED. And then I spent the next four hours watching my hopes and dreams get smashed to bits by an offense that didn’t seem to realize the object of the game is to get the ball in the endzone.

    As soon as the game was over, Caroline and I headed down to the ranch to meet up with P and spend the night. It was a quick trip, but I was glad we did it, if for no other reason than the sunset on the way down there was incredible. Just that perfect shade of orange and deep purplish-blue with a little sliver of a moon coming up.

    And then we drove back home on Sunday afternoon. I crawled into bed and slept for about four hours while P ran interference to make sure Caroline didn’t wake me up to ask me what color I thought God should have made the sky if it wasn’t already blue. I was hoping to leave Hazel Ludendorff behind by the time I woke up. But no such luck.

    Hazel is still with me. Which means I’ll most likely be spending Columbus Day the way Columbus and his crew wish they could have spent it back in 1492. At a med clinic being treated for scurvy.

    Except I don’t think I have scurvy.

    But I might have a touch of the bronchitis. Or maybe it’s just Hazel’s rheumatism acting up again.