Just for fun

  • This is why she’s my best friend

    For the last year, Gulley has told me that she wanted to do a guest post on my birthday. You have to understand that this is a big deal because she always swears she would never have her own blog because all she would ever write is “Today I did laundry. I drove carpool. I cooked chicken for dinner and served rice as a side dish. Then, I went to bed.”

    Personally, I don’t think she gives herself enough credit.

    Anyway, the following is by Gulley. You will notice that there are 37 things listed because today may or may not be my 37th birthday.

    37 Reasons to love Big Mama
    by Gulley

    1. We laugh hysterically every day.

    2. If we skip a day, we make up for it by laughing doubly the next day.

    3. She randomly hates things. For example, “I hate pizza.” “I hate chinese food.”

    4. She will hate things on your behalf. For example, “I hate [insert store name here] for being rude to you.”

    5. She has given me the benefit of Fashion Friday for 19 years now.

    6. She will find clothes for you, even if they would not suit her.

    7. We have an unspoken hierarchy of the type of therapy needed for certain problems: cookie dough by the spoonful, queso, or a margarita.

    8. The girl can cook.

    9. When she has made something you like, she will call and say, “Come over. I made ______.”

    10. We have shown up to drop the kids off at school wearing the same thing more than once.

    11. She’s not easily offended and all the sensitive people want to be her friend.

    12. Many times one of us has picked up the phone to call the other while the other was dialing.

    13. She makes everything more fun.

    14. She rarely ever complains about anything.

    15. She is very tender and will cry with you when you cry.

    16. She gives sound advice.

    17. She loves God and his word.

    18. On Thanksgiving we say the same thing every year: “Of all the things I have to be thankful for, you are in my top 5!”

    19. She will go Christmas shopping with you all over town even when she is done with her shopping.

    20. On any given day our conversation pendulum will swing from questions like, “Is my faith thrilling and delightful?” to, “What color velour is best? What are the top fashion finds right now?”

    21. She DID buy our entire Bible study group blue suede fringe bracelets to wear during Believing God. She did NOT spend more time deliberating on the fringe than on the actual Bible study.

    22. She always knows what to say, or what not to say. Even if it means telling me my husband is right.

    23. She will run something over for you to wear in a moment’s notice.

    24. She will pour over photos and magazines with you to find the perfect hairstyle.

    25. She will listen and listen and listen and listen……

    26. She is witty.

    27. She loves my boys and bonds with them by playing games on the Wii, Uno, and going to t-ball games.

    28. We share a passion for Aggie sports, especially football.

    29. We both complete NCAA basketball brackets.

    30. This person you see on the blog, she is all that and more, oh yes ma’am she is!

    31. We can talk baseball better than two guys ever could.

    32. I believe we will all have hair like hers when we get to heaven. She has no self-righteousness about this.

    33. We include each other in our big moments.

    34. When I start trash talking at sporting events, she is polite at first but she eventually joins in!

    35. The first time we saw each other after we were both married we stayed up talking about marriage until 5 am. Then we wished aloud that stores opened at 5 am so we could go shopping.

    36. When we went to New York together, I literally spent my last dollar on a must have track suit. She paid for my cab fare to the airport and my headphones on the flight home.

    37. Because big news isn’t big until I have shared it with her.

    Happy Birthday Big Mama! I love you more than my luggage!

  • I will not stop til I get enough

    So I’ve pretty much spent every waking moment since Friday immersed in Olympic mania. I adore the Olympics.

    It’s something about the purity of the competition, athletes that train constantly for an event that only happens every four years. The pride, the patriotism.

    It makes me believe that if only I had stuck with my competitive swimming on the Westador Ducks swim team throughout elementary school that I could have been a contender.

    Unfortunately I got tired of riding my bicycle the six blocks it took to get to the pool and, thus, ended my Olympic hopes.

    However, I believe I have mentioned once or twenty times before that I was a UIL typist in 9th grade which was kind of like being an Olympic athlete except for the fact that I wasn’t a world class athlete, but rather a fourteen year old who typed more words per minute than twenty other freshmen in high school.

    It was quite the accomplishment.

    I was also a Mathlete.

    Not really, but I like the term Mathlete. The real story is that it took me two attempts to pass Algebra II and even then I think I only earned a passing grade through the time-honored tradition of bribing your teacher with fresh donuts each morning.

    Anyway, as I watch the Olympics, I’ve had a few burning questions and/or concerns.

    1. Synchronized men’s diving. Thoughts? I mean I get the diving part, but who thought up the synchronized thing? It seems a little contrived.

    Hey! You know what could make this dive even better? If we did it at the SAME TIME.

    It has incredible potential as the premise for a Will Ferrell movie.

    If your brother, nephew, or third cousin twice removed is a synchronized men’s diver, I don’t mean to offend. I’m just curious.

    2. Female Chinese gymnasts. If some of those girls are sixteen years old, I’ll eat my hat.

    3. Michael Phelps. I thought maybe I had a small crush on him, but realized I am getting old because my feelings are more along the lines of “Oh, he seems like such a nice boy and he loves his mama.”

    But the burning question in my mind is what is he listening to on his iPod before races? Rumor has it that it’s Eminem or Young Jeezy.

    See how I just threw Young Jeezy out there like I totally know who that is?

    No idea.

    If it were me (and I were back in the thick of the UIL typing competition) I know what I’d be listening to, a little “Bootylicious” by Beyonce and “Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough” by Michael Jackson.

    It’s no wonder I was an award-winning typist.

    So what would be on your iPod?

    Please discuss all these (and any other) Olympic topics in the comments.

  • Adventures in grocery shopping

    There is something that’s been going on in my personal life that I have been very reluctant to discuss. It’s been more than I can bear and has altered life as I once knew it.

    It’s about my HEB.

    For those of y’all who don’t know, HEB is a grocery store chain based in South Texas. The founder’s name was Howard E. Butt, thus, HEB. You have to admit HEB rolls off the tongue much better than, say, The Butt Store.

    Unless you only sell hemorrhoid cream.

    I spend over half my life at HEB. It is like my home away from home.

    It all started about two months ago when I realized that my favorite manager, Dwayne, had been transferred to another store. I kind of knew it would happen eventually because Dwayne was the Michael Phelps of grocery store managers. (See how I just worked in an Olympic reference?)

    Losing Dwayne was like losing a member of my family. He had been there for me since Caroline was a newborn baby, doling out Buddy Bucks and handing out balloons. Every time we went to the store, Caroline would look for Dwayne and run to give him a hug.

    But Dwayne had to move on to greener HEB pastures.

    The next thing I knew, HEB decided to quit carrying Tyson skinless boneless chicken breasts, which has required me to completely cut poultry out of my family’s diet because just the thought of raw chicken, or even cooked chicken with skin, makes me want to systematically rid the world of all chickens.

    So, I’ve had my struggles with HEB as of late but, due to their South Texas monopoly, my only other option is to shop at Walmart and, frankly, I’d rather hoe my own garden.

    Two weeks ago, I walked into HEB and noticed they had taken up all the linoleum. I figured we were getting some stained concrete floors and I was cool with that. I can handle change in reasonable increments, especially if it’s fashionable change.

    However, over the last two weeks I have been to HEB about twenty-six times and each time the store is in a bigger mess than it was the last time I was there.

    There is motor oil where the bread used to be, toilet paper where the Diet Coke was, and cereal in the middle of the produce department. I haven’t been this confused since I accidentally took twice the recommended dosage of some prescription cough medicine last winter.

    I wander aimlessly around the store hoping I’ll find at least a few things I actually need. At times I stop and ponder why the wine is on the same aisle as the diapers and baby food, but then I remember Caroline’s first year of life and realize it’s just a clever marketing ploy.

    The worst part is that every time I go back, the whole store has been completely rearranged again. So just when I figure out that the ice cream is across from the tampons (there’s that clever marketing!), they go and change it all around.

    I kind of think they’re messing with me.

    Yesterday, Caroline and I went to the store to load up on groceries. I was hot and tired because we’d already run about fifty-eight errands that morning and I just wanted the store trip to be over. Naturally, Caroline sensed this and decided she wanted to ride on one of the bench carts that create more navigational challenges than the Queen Mary in a swimming pool.

    I knew it was going to be a special trip when I managed to knock over an entire display of Pecan Sandies before we’d even been there for five minutes. In my defense, it wasn’t really my fault since they weren’t on the cookie aisle but rather next to the charcoal and lighter fluid.

    We went through the whole store like we were on a bad scavenger hunt while Caroline provided running commentary for everything. “WOW MAMA! YOU REALLY KNOCKED OVER A LOT OF COOKIES!!”

    Finally, I had almost everything I needed, but couldn’t find the bottled water. I was desperate to find bottled water. Please, OZARKA, help me out.

    I couldn’t find any HEB staff to assist me in my quest. They were all too busy unpacking boxes and arbitrarily moving around the stock. I was tempted to head back to the diaper aisle and load up a case of wine for immediate consumption.

    About the time my blood pressure was about to shoot off the charts, I located the bottled water. On the dog food aisle.

    Naturally.

    We headed to the shortest checkout line I could find and just when I thought I was safe, Caroline yelled, “LOOK MAMA! THAT LADY IS SHOWING HER BOOBIES!”

    I was too embarrassed to look around to see what she was talking about, but honestly I can’t blame that woman. She was probably hoping to attract the attention of an HEB employee to help her find the bottled water.

    Desperate times call for desperate measures.

  • The big gulp

    Gulley and I lived on the convenience store diet throughout college. We would stop at 7-11 on the way to class in the morning and start our day with a Big Gulp. Dr. Pepper for her. Real Coke for me. Most days we would each buy a package of powdered donuts to go with our 72 oz. beverage.

    After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.

    We’d head to our Intercultural Communication class and daintily sip our carbonated drinks and eat our powdered donuts while we listened to Professor Gonzales lecture about you know, culture and communication. Obviously, all that sugar and caffeine was causing my brain to short circuit, because I actually made a 13 on a test in that class.

    A 13.

    I’ll never forget that he was about to pass out the graded tests and gave some lecture about how most people did pretty well, but there was one person who made a 13. Gulley laughed and wrote a note on my paper that said, “Maybe it was you. Ha. Ha.”

    It was me.

    Ha. Ha.

    And after I got that test back, I gathered up my donuts and industrial-sized beverage and headed to my academic advisor’s office to let her know I was dropping the class. I mean, let’s be honest, you can’t recover from a 13.

    Anyway, after a hard morning of academic achievement, we would drive back to our apartment and then go back to 7-11 with our roommates to get another Big Gulp. Everyone needs a little afternoon pick me up and what says pick me up better than 144 oz. of caffeine and sugar?

    As we talked about our Big Gulp consumption, I had a few thoughts.

    1. Did I drink even a sip of water throughout my college career?

    2. Why could I not figure out that maybe part of what was contributing to my ever increasing weight was the fact that I was easily consuming 2000 calories a day in beverage alone?

    And that’s not counting the Zima.

    3. Do college students still drink Big Gulps or have they become extinct with the advent of the Grande Mocha Latte with extra whip?

    4. It’s interesting that these days, unless I’m on a road trip, it would never even occur to me to drive to a convenience store for the sole purpose of purchasing something to drink. Sonic, yes. QuikMart, no.

    I realize I have rambled enough about this entire subject, but during our Big Gulp conversation, Gulley brought up a memory that I had long forgotten.

    Big shock there.

    During my first senior year in college and Gulley’s junior year, we lived in a duplex right around the corner from a Quikmart. Needless to say, we were frequent customers making around 4-5 visits a day. It was our standard stop. We even knew all the cashiers.

    One night, Gulley’s mama called and asked her, “Do you know somebody named Al?”

    Gulley thought about it and said, “No, I don’t think so.”

    Her mama said, “Well someone named Al called here looking for you and said he knows you from the Quikmart.”

    It was then that we realized that Al was one of the cashiers at our favorite stop. It seems he had gotten Gulley’s phone number off of one of her checks and wanted to ask her out. And no, Al wasn’t exactly date material for a variety of reasons, but first and foremost because he was about 35 which, of course, is ancient. Fortunately, the number on her check was her parent’s home phone number, not ours.

    As were laughing about this story this week, I made the comment that, looking back, it’s kind of scary that Al got her phone number off her check.

    And Gulley said, “I’m not sure what’s scarier, that he got my number off my check or that I wrote a check for 94 cents to pay for a Big Gulp.”

    Hope y’all have a lovely weekend.

    **Originally published March 30, 2007**

  • Hey nineteen

    I don’t want y’all to think that I spent my entire weekend singing weepy versions of “Sweet Caroline” and “Sunrise, Sunset”.

    Because while, yes, there was some of that, I was also fortunate enough to overhear this exchange between two college-aged guys while waiting in line at the pool grill.

    “Dude, what are you doing tonight?”

    “Man, I don’t know. It’s Saturday night. I just bought a new pair of shoes. The possibilities are endless.”

    Oh, nineteen. What a sweet age.

  • This is why I should never be alone with the remote control

    Oh.

    Hi.

    I bet you clicked over here expecting to see a Fashion Friday post. It would appear that I have, once again, fallen off the Fashion Friday wagon.

    Truly, I had every intention of answering a few questions. I even went so far as to begin some research on the internet.

    But, you know what they say, the road to Fashion Friday is filled with good intentions.

    The trouble began when Caroline decided she wanted to spend the night with Mimi and Bops. Mimi arrived to pick her up at 1:30 and I didn’t even wait for her suitcase to get loaded in the car before I jumped in my car and headed to my new favorite boutique.

    Plus, P left on an overnight fishing trip.

    I was in my house. All by myself. In charge of the remote control.

    Here’s how my evening went:

    5:00 p.m. Arrived home from shopping. Was actually empty handed in spite of the fact that the lady at my new favorite boutique offered to give me 25% off a beautiful shirt. What was I thinking when I walked out?

    Clearly, I was delirious from all the freedom.

    5:30 p.m. Checked email and Twitter. Looked at Fashion File Inbox to see what questions I should answer for Fashion Friday.

    6:00 p.m. Stomach starts to growl. Called in an order for a crispy beef taco plate from one of my favorite Mexican food places. Okay, I also ordered a big tostada covered in chile con queso.

    Giddy with the freedom.

    Must celebrate by eating a lot of cheese.

    6:37 p.m. Ate delicious plate of Mexican food. Whoever said “Food isn’t love” has never eaten a really good crispy taco plate.

    6:48 p.m. Started the DVR to watch the latest “Project Runway”. I’m pretty sure the winning dress was the same one I wore to Homecoming in 1986.

    7:52 p.m. Picked up computer to get down to the business of perusing the internet for fashion solutions. Decided to flip through the channels just one time. Lo and behold, “Sweet Home Alabama” was on. I can’t turn off anything starring Reese Witherspoon.

    Or Patrick Dempsey, for that matter.

    Other movies I can’t turn off if they are on T.V. include “Gone With the Wind”, “Steel Magnolias”, “The Philadelphia Story” (the one with Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant), “Coalminer’s Daughter”, “Lucas”, “Breakfast Club”, “Pretty in Pink”, and “Giant”.

    I’m sure there are others but I can’t think of them right now.

    9:06 p.m. “Sweet Home Alabama” ends and I wipe away a few tears. It gets me every time because I am a big sap.

    9:08 p.m. Open computer to check email and get down to the serious business of writing Fashion Friday.

    9:14 p.m. Check the T.V. again and discover “Smokey and the Bandit” is on.

    Well, how can I turn off the Bandit?

    People, I am only human.

    10:00 p.m. Back to the computer. Must write. Must heed the fashion emergency call.

    Decide to read a few other blogs first just to get in the writing frame of mind. And while I’m searching the internet, I might as well take the time to respond to some email.

    10:30 p.m. Turn T.V. back on just for the background noise.

    “The Holiday” is on and that part at the end where Jude Law is crying because Cameron Diaz just left for America? I must watch it.

    I have no willpower.

    Thus, I have no Fashion Friday post.

    But, hey! Now I’m wondering, what are the movies that you can’t turn off if they are on T.V.?

    And don’t be embarrassed if it’s a Lifetime made-for-television movie. I have been known to indulge in more than a few movies starring Tori Spelling or Tiffani-Amber Thiessen back before she became a serious actress and dropped the hyphen and the Amber.

    I’m not proud.

    I just feel like I need to be honest.

    Y’all have a great Friday!