Another day

How many blog entries have I started with “I’m up in the air right now”? By my mental calculation I believe the answer is A LOT.

The funny thing is that I don’t really like flying. It’s not so much the whole “you could come crashing down from 40,000 feet in the air” part as much as the “I don’t like being confined to small spaces next to strangers with possible cold and flu symptoms” situation.

And, really, the whole experience used to be a lot more pleasant but now that they want to charge me $2.00 for a Diet Coke, the bloom is off the travel rose. I mean, seriously, did the hundreds of dollars spent on the ticket not cover that Diet Coke?

Anyway, I’m up in the air on my way home from Travis’s CD recording. It was such an incredible night of worship and I get a little giddy thinking about his version of “Victory In Jesus”. I was able to all-too-briefly say hi to some sweet blog friends and I’m so sad we didn’t have enough time to all sit around and talk about life live and in person.

Perfect. The pilot just announced that there will be a little bit of turbulence and I swear if it causes me to spill part of my $2.00 Diet Coke, I’m asking for a refund.

Oh, and I also forgot to mention that I was reprimanded by the flight attendant. I’m sitting in an emergency exit row and she was trying to begin her lecture on opening the emergency hatch. Meanwhile, I was completely caught up in my issue of People Style Watch featuring what’s hot and what’s not for 2009 and didn’t even know she was speaking. I am a mother; I can tune out distractions like it’s an Olympic sport.

All of a sudden it dawned on me that someone was repeatedly saying “Lady in the pink scarf in seat 16A. LADY IN THE PINK SCARF!” Sure enough, I was the lady in the pink scarf who holds the safety of all the passengers in what are most certainly my less-than-capable, People-magazine-holding hands.

So then I had to pull out the laminated card in the seat pocket in front of me and actually pretend I was paying attention, which I wasn’t because let’s not even pretend I’d remember what to do in case of emergency other than completely panic.

In other unrelated airline news, I know I said I had a video that I was going to post. However, due to a vast amount of technical issues, I’m not entirely sure the video even exists at this point. I apologize, but rest assured in the knowledge that all you’re missing is another very low-budget Big Mama video production.

In closing, I am well aware that this is the most random post and has no coherent train of thought other than my outrage at paying $2.00 for a can of Diet Coke, but I am flat exhausted. It’s been fun to travel and see friends and what not, but I need a day or nine to recover. I plan to do a lot of sitting on my couch in flannel pajamas while eating homemade soup and catching up on all the fabulous T.V. that’s waiting for me with open arms on my DVR.

Because that’s just how ambitious I am.

Remember last September when Hurricane Ike was supposed to hit Corpus Christi and then that very same week this tenement on wheels showed up at our neighbor’s house?

And remember how I made a lot of jokes about Cousin Eddie coming to visit and ha, ha, ha wasn’t that funny?

And then a week later the neighbors told us they’d actually bought the RV for $2500 on the internet from a man with the worst case of plumber’s crack I’d ever seen who drove it down from Wisconsin or somewhere? (The man drove it, not his plumber’s crack. Just to clarify.)

A few days after that, the metal love shack disappeared and I (falsely!) assumed that they took it to wherever it belonged, like perhaps the city dump.

However, the mobile ghetto showed up again about a week later and it’s been parked in their driveway ever since. It’s essentially the view from our back porch, which makes the high property taxes we pay to live in this neighborhood seem totally worth it.

Between the RV and the raccoon crackhouse next door, it seems like we ought to get some kind of tax rebate.

Anyway, the neighbors walked over yesterday to let us know they are going to be out of town for a few days and asked if we’d mind keeping an eye on the place while they’re gone.

Later I told P, “It would be a crying shame if someone steals that RV while they’re gone.”

To which he replied, “Yes and it would be a bigger shame if I just happened to loan someone my truck to help them steal it.”

I’m not saying it will happen. It’s a purely hypothetical scenario.

I wish I had something deeply meaningful and profound to say on this last day of 2008, but that would require thought and effort.

Last night I saw an interview with a psychologist on the local news and he suggested that the best way to keep New Year’s Resolutions is to set short-term, specific goals. So, with that in mind, my goal for the New Year is to take down my Christmas decorations at some point over the upcoming weekend.

I’ll let you know how that goes and if you happen to see a Christmas tree in the background of some of my pictures come March, you’ll know it didn’t work out for me.

In the meantime, let’s do a quick look back at 2008 because it’s not a cliche at all to pull out a year-end top ten list. It’s fresh and original.

1. My only child started Kindergarten and I survived, although I did spend a few days walking the aisles of HEB crying a few tears.

2. We learned that acupuncture doesn’t necessarily work for everyone.

3. If you start your New Year with a raging case of the flu, you have nowhere to go but up and a year later you’ll forget how horrible you felt and instead remember it as a lovely week of vacation from all responsibility.

4. The internet is never more supportive than when you share the history of your hair. There isn’t a woman alive who hasn’t experience deep hair remorse at some point in her life.

5. Your own child can often be your biggest fashion critic and even offer up prayers on your behalf.

6. I learned that God doesn’t just generically know me, He really knows me. He knows my name.

7. After ten years of marriage, I discovered P’s deep dark secret. He likes to hoard car wash supplies.

8. I worried that we might have to perform plastic surgery on a homemade puppet.

9. There was a lot of time spent looking for red boots for a Wonder Woman costume.

10. Six days in the Dominican Republic with Compassion International changed my life and my perspective forever. And one little girl in particular just broke my heart and is in my prayers every day.

I believe that’s what those in the industry would call a wrap.

Thanks so much for taking the time to stop by here during the last year. It wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun without y’all.

Happy New Year!

On Saturday, P took Caroline to the ranch for the entire day. That’s right. The entire day.

I stayed in my pajamas until about noon and then decided I should treat myself to a pedicure courtesy of a gift certificate that Gulley gave me for keeping her boys last week. My toes are happy to report that they are now sporting a very sassy coat of OPI’s “I’m Not Really A Waitress”.

Seriously, I would request it just for the name even if it wasn’t a great color.

So I had myself a wonderful, relaxing day filled intermittently with escorting Christmas toys to their new home in the playroom and doing some laundry.

The mighty hunters came home to report that they had managed to shoot two ducks and a coyote. Except Caroline gets coyotes confused with hyenas and told me she’d shot a hyena, which really would have been a feat considering that, last I checked, hyenas are not indigenous to South Texas.

They told the story in great detail and it involved crawling on their tummies in an attempt to sneak up on a pack of wild hogs. Let me pause for a moment to reassure myself that I vividly remember giving birth to this child even though I cannot believe I have a daughter who will crawl through the South Texas dust and mesquite in the quest for a hog.

Anyway, as they snuck up on the hogs, Caroline saw something out of the corner of her eye and whispered, “Daddy? I think I see a baby deer or maybe it’s a fox or a hyena.” It turns out it wasn’t any of those things, but rather two coyotes standing no more than twenty yards from them, staring intently.

You just know those coyotes were thinking, “That little one will be a piece of cake, but if we can pull down the big guy we’ll eat like kings.”

Needless to say, one of the coyotes went to be with Jesus and the other one practiced good common sense and got the heck out of there.

They had so much fun on their little ranch adventure that they went back again yesterday. I decided to be slightly more productive, mainly because I had to go to the grocery store since according to P we were out of “all kinds of things”, even though all he could name was Lubriderm lotion and Vaseline lip therapy.

It’s a wonder we made it through Christmas.

I decided that I’d go over to Mimi and Bops’ house to work out on the elliptical before I went to HEB because, let’s face it, the holidays haven’t been kind to my hips. I was doing so well with my workout regime prior to the week of Christmas but fell off the bandwagon and straight into a plate of sugar cookies.

When I got to their house, Bops was home from work early and suggested I might want to try his pre-programmed workout because I think he is plotting my untimely demise. I knew it was a bad idea, made even worse when I realized my iPod was dead.

There’s no way I’m going to get through a serious workout without Beyonce cheering me on with some “Single Ladies” because it motivates me to remember that P already put a ring on it and the least I can do is make sure he still likes it.

I lasted all of ten minutes on my daddy’s workout regimen. I spent the first five minutes thinking I might die and the last five minutes wishing I would. Finally, I admitted defeat and switched the machine to my regular program which is a decent workout and won’t cause me to drop over dead.

My goal for the New Year is to be able to do the same workout routine as my 63-year-old father.

It might kill me.

But if I had to choose, I’d rather die by elliptical than by coyote attack.

Well, we have lived a million life times since I last checked in. Honestly, I have no idea where to start so I’ll start from the beginning.

Our weekend fun and festivities really began on Thursday afternoon when I picked up Caroline and her friend S. from school and took them directly to HEB to pick up two dozen plain cake-like donuts that I had ordered on Tuesday for her class party on Friday. We walked over to the bakery section and I told each girl they could pick one treat from the bakery case. S. picked a sugar cookie. Caroline picked the largest eclair I have ever seen.

It was an ambitious choice.

Anyway, I told the lady behind the counter that I was there to pick up my order and handed her my receipt. She searched all over for my order and finally came back to report that they didn’t have my order because they don’t make plain, cake-like donuts.

Okay.

She then asked if I actually meant plain, cake-like donut holes. I said, “Why? Do you make those?”

No. No they don’t. I guess she was just making pastry conversation to distract from the awkwardness of me waiting for donuts that were never going to happen.

Dear HEB,

Sincerely,
Melanie

The good news is I was able to find the aforementioned donuts at Shipley’s, thereby avoiding a Kindergarten Christmas party tragedy. And my efforts were totally worth it when I was able to watch those little five-year-olds try to catch those donuts with only their teeth while they hung down from a string.

On Friday night, Gulley and her husband had plans to go see Kelly Willis and Bruce Robison at Gruene Dance Hall and I offered to let their boys spend the night with Caroline and me. Caroline was so excited and on the way to pick them up she said, “I don’t even know what to think about this. I AM FREAKING OUT.”

Are you also fifteen? Because last I checked, you were five.

I took the kids to E.Z.’s where they all ordered cheese pizza with a side of curly fries. When their fries arrived, I asked if they wanted ketchup. Jackson said he wanted gravy. Caroline wanted ketchup. Will said he would like some polynesian sauce.

When your kid knows to ask for polynesian sauce at age three it’s a sure sign he’s had his share of Chick-Fil-A nuggets.

After they finished their light, healthy dinner they all started to run around and dance to the music. As I watched them, I began to get a little teary-eyed thinking about what a huge blessing it is that Gulley and I are getting to raise our kids together and watch this next generation of sweet friendship grow deeper all the time. Then they started playing “If You Think I’m Sexy” by Rod Stewart over the loud speaker and the moment was gone.

I took the kids to a girls’ basketball game after dinner to watch a friend’s daughter play. I told them they could all pick out some candy at the concession stand. Jackson picked Starbursts. Will picked Skittles. My delicate flower picked a giant dill pickle.

P and I have always looked at the large jars of giant dill pickles with disdain, wondering who really wants to eat a giant pickle. I’ll tell you who. Our daughter.

I managed to get them all home and in their pajamas, then I turned on “Rudolph” in the hopes that they would all start to settle down while I went to put on my pajamas. It was a good thought even though it was completely unsuccessful. So, I grabbed a book and told them it was time for bedtime stories.

Here they all are, listening intently to my every word.

On Friday night, I saw my daughter’s future. She will be that kid at every slumber party who will only go to sleep after all her efforts to keep everyone else awake have completely failed.

I know that kid. I was that kid.

The next morning, Gulley picked us up and we all headed for Bryan/College Station to go to Santa’s Wonderland. A great time was had by all and I’ll get to that at some point.

But, for now, I’ll leave you with one of the highlights of the trip for Gulley and me, seen on the way to Bryan.

In case you can’t read it, it says, “I wish my wife was as dirty as this truck”.

I wonder if that’s what he asked Santa for this year because that is a treasure.