Another day

  • What about Mel?

    I’m sitting in a hotel room in Houston with an exhausted little girl curled up right next to me. Even though we’re in a king size bed, she feels the need to snuggle up as close to me as she can. And, honestly, I’m not complaining.

    We’ve already had such a good time this week and we still have two more days of BIG FUN left on the calendar. I mean, sure, some kids are spending their Spring Break at more exotic locales such as Winter Park, Disney World or the McDonald’s Playplace on San Pedro, but I hope Caroline will always remember the Spring Break she spent eating a cup of turkey noodle soup in the dining room of a retirement community or those precious moments we spent perusing the dollar aisle at Target. Who needs snow skiing when you can buy a pack of twenty Easter-themed pencils for $1.00?

    Anyway, we left Bryan yesterday morning. We’d planned to go to an Aggie baseball game while we were there but it decided to rain ALL DAY LONG which meant we had to alter our original plans. So instead of Aggie baseball fun, we went and ate lunch with Nena at the retirement community and ultimately ended up at Post Oak Mall where Gulley and I let the kids bungee jump for $7.00 a pop until we realized that we were going to run out of money long before they ran out of energy.

    On Monday night, Honey had a big birthday party for Big and the entire Bryan family showed up. And I feel like I need to explain a little bit for those of you who haven’t had countless hours of your life to waste combing through my archives. Gulley and I met a long, LONG time ago when we were both students at Texas A&M. Since she grew up in Bryan, we spent a lot of time with her family. Because you know what college kids love more than just about anything? Besides cheap beer? A place to eat a delicious home-cooked meal and a washer and dryer where you can do your laundry without stockpiling quarters for weeks on end.

    In fact, there may have even been a summer where I just moved into her parents’ house because it seemed to make more sense than driving over there every single day. And I think it speaks volumes about what kind of people they are because they let me. And they fed me. And they took me in and made me their own.

    Or maybe the whole thing was like the movie “What About Bob?” But I choose not to examine that too closely.

    Anyway, the whole family was over for Big’s birthday. I ended up sitting next to Nena and somehow we got into a discussion about obituaries. I’m not really sure how it happened, but it seems to be a popular topic among the senior set. She told me she has a friend who is a former beauty queen and she’s been writing her own obituary for years because she doesn’t feel like anyone else will do her justice. And, apparently, she occasionally calls Nena and reads her the latest version of the obituary. Because that is totally normal.

    Nena leaned in and whispered to me, “Oh she goes on and on about how she was a drum majorette and a former Miss Fort Worth County and a Kappa Alpha Sweetheart Queen and the homecoming queen at her high school. But she never mentions A WORD about how she’s been married FIVE TIMES.”

    In all fairness, that’s a lot to work in to one obituary.

    So now we’re in Houston.

    We arrived about noon yesterday and met my friend Amanda and her kids for lunch at a Mexican restaurant because she and I share a love of the Mexican food. I’m a little sad to report that Caroline won the honor of spilling her entire Shirley Temple even though she was the oldest kid at the table. I blame it on her obsession with the maraschino cherries in the bottom of the glass. She will not rest until she’s dug out every single last one of them and semi-destroyed my serenity in the process.

    After we cleaned up the Shirley Temple, we left our peaceful, relaxing lunch and let the kids ride their scooters to the park so they could play for a while. Later on, after Caroline and I had arrived at the hotel, Amanda texted me to let me know that Jackson was so worn out that he’d fallen asleep on the couch and said she hoped Caroline wasn’t too tired from the big afternoon.

    I looked at Caroline from the spot where I’d collapsed into a chair and watched her jump up and down on the hotel bed repeatedly before I texted Amanda back and reported that, sadly, our excursion didn’t really have the same effect on my child because she has some sort of condition that causes her to never, EVER, get tired of all the constant moving.

    We went to eat dinner at El Meson in the Rice Village. If you’ve never been there and you live in Houston, then I highly recommend it. It’s a combination of Cuban food and Mexican food which will probably be the culinary choice of Heaven.

    And now I have to go to bed because we have two more days ahead of us and this might be the Spring Break that kills me.

    In which case, I really need to start working on my obituary.

  • We’ve been very busy having all the fun

    We are having a great time and I would really like to write about it using a lot of words, but it’s midnight and Gulley and I have been talking non-stop for the last two hours with no signs of stopping. And I need to get to bed at some point because Caroline and I are leaving for Houston later today for the next stop of Spring Break Road Trip 2010.

    So I promise I will be back tomorrow with a long, LONG post about all the fun we’ve had in Bryan/College Station because OH THE STORIES, but for right now I just have a few quick thoughts about some things.

    1. American Idol is officially on my nerves. I can’t put my finger on the exact problem, but it has something to do with Randy giving everyone the exact same feedback last night. And Lily getting voted off last week. I think I may be done with Idol forever.

    Or just until next week.

    2. Gulley’s mama made a pan of delicious homemade brownies for us last night. During a commercial break I went into the kitchen to get a brownie for everyone. A few minutes later, Gulley went to get another brownie for Will and walked into the living room holding the pan of brownies and wondering aloud if I was trying to cut the brownies in some sort of creative stairstep design.

    Doesn’t everyone cut brownies that way? Am I the only person who believes that the edges are the best part?

    Honey just said she was glad I was comfortable enough to cut brownies that way when I’m not even in my own home.

    3. We went to visit Nena yesterday at her new retirement community. Caroline and I had to make a stop in the public restroom where I saw this sign hanging on the bathroom wall.

    Is that a fork in the picture? Because, if so, I think that might be the oddest assortment of non-flushable items I’ve ever seen depicted.

    4. Just in case you haven’t been to Target, I feel that I need to let you know that they have a new collection of all kinds of cuteness by Liberty of London.

    Like this floral halter dress.

    Or this trench coat.

    Or, be still my heart, this cutey cute tote bag.

    Y’all have a great day.

  • Sudafed, pizza and road trips

    Well, I spent most of my weekend trying to find the perfect combination of medications that would allow me to breathe through my nose and sleep at the same time. Needless to say, it’s been exciting around here.

    Fortunately, my background as a pharmaceutical rep has given me just enough knowledge of the pharmaceutical world for me to feel confident about practicing medicine without a license. Of course my knowledge is limited to the conditions that match the drugs I used to sell. Do you have high cholesterol? I’m your girl. Urinary incontinence? I can help. Respiratory problems? Oh please. Give me a challenge.

    But if you happen to have a migraine headache or some type of fungus? I can provide absolutely zero help and would really prefer to not hear about your fungus. However, I do know that the cure for diabetes is drinking two glasses of wine every night. Granted, I learned this bit of information from Gulley’s grandaddy’s cousin George who wasn’t any kind of medical professional and whose only experience was his own bout with diabetes. It’s probably also important to keep in mind that he referred to diabetes as “the sugar diabetes” which isn’t really a term that many practicing physicians have used since 1943. I suspect that George just liked his wine. And I’d suggest that you consult your physician before following George’s advice.

    Ultimately, I’ve discovered that the best pharmaceutical combo for my current condition is one Sudafed and a Benadryl served with a cough medicine chaser. Two Sudafed help me breathe better but my hypersensitivity to the pseudoephedrine makes me feel like a Rhesus monkey on crack which tends to inhibit my ability to get a good night’s sleep.

    But in spite of my ill health, we managed to have a decent weekend full of activities. Mainly because Caroline’s Spring Break began when she got out of school on Friday and she wasn’t really game for my suggestion that we ought to just take a really long afternoon nap on Saturday.

    Saturday morning we headed down to El Mercado with Mimi and Bops to just look around. We weren’t really looking for anything in particular, but it’s fun to just go down there every now and then. Caroline was thrilled to discover they had a mechanical bull.

    They offered an assortment of cowboy hats for the kids to wear while they ride the bull, but I told them we’d just take the bull ride, not the free case of head lice. Except I think what I actually said was, “NO, NO, NO! DON’T PUT THAT HAT ON HER HEAD!” because I’d taken two Sudafed that morning and was in Rhesus monkey mode.

    On Sunday morning, P and Caroline went to church while I opted to stay in bed and count all the things that are fundamentally wrong with Daylight Savings Time and all this incessant falling back and springing forward of the clocks. Especially when you’ve spent half the night trying to breathe without resorting to taking another Sudafed.

    After they got home, we all seemed to feel that a nap was the way to go. Or maybe just P and I thought that. Caroline was more inclined to play her Nintendo DS and occasionally poke me and ask if I was ready to get up and do something fun.

    Finally, I gave in and we headed to Central Market because we were invited to a pizza party at the home of some friends and we were supposed to bring a few toppings. Let me add that the mom is a food stylist and a chef, so I didn’t really feel like some sad little pepperoni was going to do the trick. So we picked up some vegetables, basil, and fresh mozzarella cheese to go along with our sad pepperoni.

    We went to the pizza party and had the best time.

    Here’s Caroline rolling out her dough. In her new dress that we bought at El Mercado after the bull ride.

    And here she is showing me the dough. Which actually kind of messed up the dough and caused her to have to roll it out again.

    All the best pizza chefs make smiley faces out of pepperonis.

    Putting it into the oven.

    One of the dogs really wanted to eat Caroline’s pizza. He just knew it was a matter of time before a pepperoni fell.

    His tenacity paid off in spades when Caroline dropped a whole piece of pizza.

    This is the pizza I made. It was delicious. Seriously, I can’t really think about it or I’ll be sad that it’s all gone and worry that we didn’t really savor the time we had together.

    And this is the other dog. Her name is Mama.

    I’m a little bit in love with her even though I cut her head off in this picture. The blame lies squarely on my lack of photography skills, not a lack of love.

    Tomorrow (actually today if you’re reading this and it’s Monday) Caroline and I are headed out on a little Spring Break road trip. We’re just like Thelma and Louise. Except not really because that would be wrong. So we’re like a mother and daughter on a road trip who wish they had some sort of movie reference that tied in to wrap up this post in a neat little bow.

    Oh well.

  • Don’t fall in love with a dreamer or sponge rollers

    So I don’t really feel any better. On the upside, I don’t sound like Bea Arthur anymore. I guess everything has kind of settled in my chest and irritated my throat to the point that I’ve mellowed into something along the lines of Kim Carnes.

    I spent most of the day yesterday lying on the couch and complaining about how bad I felt at any given opportunity. The mailman acted like he wasn’t that interested (Please ma’am, just take your Hanna Andersson catalog and let me get back to my appointed rounds) but I think, somewhere deep down inside, he was interested in my analysis of the Spring time cold and how it relates to the changing weather and allergies.

    Listen. It’s hard to write a blog post when you don’t feel good and haven’t done much all day. What am I going to say? I washed our white towels today and bleached the heck out of them. I also used plenty of fabric softener even though P is bothered by my use of fabric softener for the towels and says I do it that way because of my ethnicity. I’m not sure what being Italian has to do with using fabric softener, but I can tell you what being German has to do with thinking your way is the best way even though it’s clearly not. And how it leads to towels that aren’t very soft and don’t smell like lavender.

    Of course he also complains that the monogram on the towels hinders their absorbency which kind of ruins his credibility on the entire matter.

    Anyway, as much as I would have liked to get all Nyquiled up and napped all day after I washed those towels, I had to make a trip to HEB because we were running low on all our essentials. I think by now we all know that means York Peppermint Patties, Nilla Wafers and Q-tips. And then I had psyche myself up for the biggest event of our day.

    The first soccer practice of the Spring season.

    That’s right. We’re coaching soccer again. The Mighty Rainbows are back together. Except we’ve changed our name to the Cheetah Girls and our colors are lavender and silver. I’m not sure of all the reasons for the change because I am not a six-year-old girl, but I think they felt that Rainbows didn’t really suit them anymore. It’s been three months and they’re bigger, stronger, and faster. They are cheetah-esque. Assuming that cheetahs turn cartwheels and spin in circles until they’re dizzy during soccer practice.

    I’d decided earlier in the day to make Sloppy Joes for dinner because it would be late after soccer and I needed to make something quick and easy that we’d all eat. But Caroline announced on the way home that she was no longer a fan of Sloppy Joes because they’re “too sloppy”. So she ended up eating Kraft mac and cheese because all the cold medicine had rendered me helpless to fight that battle.

    After bath time she asked if I’d please roll her hair in foam rollers. I’m not sure why she felt she needed curly hair for school the next day, but it’s so rare that she lets me anything to her hair other than just pulling it back in ponytail that I agreed to do it even though it was late and past her bedtime. I immediately regretted the ten minutes of my life I’ll never get back when she put her head on the pillow and began crying and said there was no way she could sleep in the rollers but how else was she going to look beautiful tomorrow?

    We took the rollers out as I promised her that I’d curl her hair with the curling iron in the morning. She tearfully asked if I’d sing her a lullaby, so I sang a round of Bette Davis Eyes because it would be a shame to waste this voice.

    Then P and I ate Sloppy Joes for dinner. I’d like to say they were delicious, but that would be a lie. They were Sloppy Joes. We didn’t even have any side dishes which was kind of a new low.

    And now I’m going to take some cough medicine and get some sleep. I’ve got a big morning of curling hair ahead of me and I need to be ready.

  • Oh good. A list.

    I woke up yesterday morning with a little bit of a scratchy throat that seems to be getting progressively worse. Either that or it’s my new normal to sound like Bea Arthur. Which, fingers crossed for that scenario because, SEXY.

    So since I’m probably coming down with a cold or perhaps typhoid fever, I’m just going to share a few quick thoughts and call it a night. Or a day. Or whatever.

    1. My friend Steph and I have had several conversations about appropriate, comfortable shorts for moms. I told her that I wasn’t sure that I even believed in shorts anymore. As if I could just will them out of existence because I can’t find a pair that serves as a midway point between hoochie and Mamaw. But then Gulley and I ran in Gap yesterday and discovered these boyfriend Bermuda shorts.

    In my opinion, they are the perfect pair of shorts. The right length, the right material, the right fit. Yes, Virginia, there is a pair of shorts.

    2. I’m reading Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen right now. I can’t remember the last book that made me laugh out loud at least once in every chapter. I want to write like Rhoda Janzen when I grow up.

    And speaking of books, Kelly Corrigan has a new book out called Lift that I can’t wait to read. Her first book, The Middle Place, is one of my favorites of all time. I would also like to write like Kelly Corrigan when I grow up.

    3. I’m a little obsessed with tangelos right now. You know? The hybrid fruit that is both a tangerine and an orange? I’ve developed a two tangelo a day habit. Which, hooray for healthy snack. The problem is that they are terribly messy to eat. It kind of makes me feel like I need to eat them standing over the kitchen sink instead of enjoying the tangelo while sitting on my couch and watching American Idol.

    And you think you have problems.

    4. Speaking of American Idol, my personal favorite last night was Didi Benami. I was a little nervous about the whole Rhiannon thing because, dude, Fleetwood Mac. But it totally worked.

    I also thought Crystal Bowersox was great. And she was wearing some kind of rockin’ ring. (I wanted to tell you which hand she was wearing it on, but that would require that I know my right from my left while watching T.V. and knowing the picture is backwards.)

    5. A friend of mine called me on Monday and left me a message about a local boutique that was going out of business and having an incredible sale. I didn’t go by there because I was too busy searching the ends of my hair for split ends and developing my current case of typhoid fever. But I ran into my friend yesterday and she told me that the boutique had all their jeans on sale for $30. THIRTY DOLLARS.

    I am proud to announce that I bought a $160 pair of Joe’s Jeans for $30. It almost felt like I was stealing them. I don’t know why I think you care about this, but it was a big moment for me.

    ***Edited to add that the boutique is Galeana on North Main. I didn’t mention it originally because everything was pretty picked over by the time I got there. They had a bunch of jeans left in the 30-31 sizes, but not much in the smaller sizes remained.

    6. There is another GoodNites giveaway going on if you click over to my Giveaways page. Don’t miss the chance to win a $175 prize pack that includes an iPod and to learn how you can enter to win the $2500 grand prize.

    Y’all have a good day. I’ll just be sitting here sipping on some Theraflu.

  • You’re going to need some caffeine to get through this

    And here I thought I was on the cutting edge of culinary exploration with the graham crackers and Duncan Hines frosting. So much for my plans to write a bestselling cookbook detailing all the ways the graham can be used as a dessert item. Everyone already knows. I guess I’ll have to resort to Plan B and do something totally unique like maybe design a type of disposable towel made out of paper that can be used in your kitchen.

    I’m not sure what I’ve done this week, but I’m positive that it hasn’t been anything very exciting because I’m sitting here for the second day in a row trying to figure out what on earth to write about. Too bad I don’t have a picture of some crackers with some cheese so I could tell you about the great new snack I just discovered.

    Instead I will just continue to compose the most boring sequence of paragraphs in the free world.

    Most of Monday was spent chauffeuring (it just took me about nine tries to spell that word) P around because he had to put his truck in the shop. We enjoy putting the truck in the shop on a regular basis since there’s really no other way we like to spend money than to fix transmissions and wonky front end alignment. It’s so much better than a new pair of shoes or a cute top.

    After we dropped the truck off, we decided to go eat some breakfast. P took me to a little place on the edge of downtown where bars on the windows indicated that there were most likely some excellent huevos rancheros with homemade tortillas in our future and possibly being witnesses to a homicide. I like my eggs with a side of danger. And a spicy ranchero sauce.

    On Tuesday…look, I’ll be honest with you, I have no idea what we did on Tuesday. I’m sitting here racking my brain trying to remember. Oh, it just came to me because I remember the great pajama debate of 2010. It was National Reading Day and Caroline was supposed to wear pajamas to school and bring some books, a blanket and a breakfast item to share with the class. (Actually I don’t know if it was a national thing or not. I think that’s what the note said, but it may have just been a State Reading Day or Caroline’s Classroom Reading Day. Or maybe I was wrong about the whole thing and sent my child to school in her pajamas for no reason.)

    I’d already told her that I’d eat lunch with her on Tuesday, so I showed up at 10:40 (I still can’t get over the late morning lunch time) with a Wacky Pack from Sonic and some mozzarella cheese sticks. It was totally worth the trip because she took one bite of the burger and ate half a french fry. I did manage to find out from the lunch table conversation that all her friends think some boy named Cal is cute. They pointed him out to me, but I didn’t really see what was so appealing about someone who’s barely four feet tall and gnaws on his peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the four teeth he has left in his mouth.

    Yesterday morning I had Bible study and then had to make a trip to the grocery store because we were completely out of graham crackers and canned frosting which placed us smack dab in the territory of dire straits. We got our money for nothing and our chicks for free. (I’m sorry. Dire straits took me there.)

    By the time I unloaded the groceries and made enough room in the refrigerator for all the Jello Pudding Snacks, it was about time to go pick up Caroline from school. I’d promised her that I’d take her to get a pedicure because she received an award at school for academic excellence and nothing says keep up the hard work like a fresh pedi with some sassy flowers painted on your big toe.

    And while we were there, I decided I should probably go ahead and get a pedicure for myself. I mean, I’m the one who has accumulated several or a hundred more gray hairs throughout this school year from the homework alone. Because why does a person insist on drawing nine apples on the ground when the instructions clearly state that you’re supposed to draw some of the apples on the tree and some of the apples on the ground to make a total of nine apples?

    “But I don’t want any apples on the tree. I like them on the ground.”

    “That’s fine, but the instructions specifically state that SOME need to be on the ground and SOME need to be on the tree.”

    “I don’t like them on the tree.”

    “Well, then you’re not going to like second grade because in second grade it becomes REALLY IMPORTANT that you follow all the instructions.”

    (I don’t even know if that’s true. Second grade could be a complete mutiny of all societal rules for all I know. It’s been thirty-one years since I’ve had any second grade experience.)

    “Okay. I’ll draw some on the tree even though I DON’T WANT TO.”

    And that is why I felt that I deserved a fresh coat of OPI’s Ladies and Magenta-men on my toes.

    I promise I didn’t just pick that color because I adore the name.

    And, lastly, since I’ve already gone on way too long and may as well share the last detail of our uneventful week, I officially broke out the self-tanner this week. I’m invited to a luncheon/fashion show tomorrow and there’s a ninety percent chance that I’m wearing a sleeveless dress. (I’m hanging on to the 10% chance that something else will magically appear in my closet.) My arms are frighteningly pale and it just didn’t seem right to subject the public to such a spectacle.

    Speaking of, I need to wrap this up and go pluck my eyebrows. I’d hate for someone to be distracted from all the beautiful clothes because the girl sitting across from them has a unibrow.