Just for fun

This post is officially my 300th post. 300 posts. Wow. That is a lot of something about nothing.

I knew I was about to reach this historic moment and felt like I should do something special to commemorate it, but the thought stressed me out. So instead of writing brilliance, I’ll show y’all a picture of my new spring wreath for the front door.

And no, I didn’t make it, which is a shame because that would make a compelling 300th post if I could tell y’all about how I used my glue gun to glue all those flowers painstakingly on a grapevine wreath.

However, I did tell the lady at the store how I wanted her to make it, so while that doesn’t qualify me for Martha Stewart status, it seems like it should count for something.

Happy Saturday Y’all.

Here are some things that I learned from the game last night:

1. If I want to take pictures at the game, it’s important to charge my camera battery prior to leaving the house. Otherwise, I will be forced to take pictures with my cell phone, only to learn upon arriving home that I have no idea how to upload the aforementioned pictures and can’t find my copy of Cell Phones for Dummies.

2. My sister will not listen to me when I tell her to wear reasonably comfortable shoes because it’ll be a long walk from the parking lot to the dome. She’ll try to justify wearing the shoes because she walked around her house in them for 5 minutes before she left and they didn’t hurt at all.

For the record, walking around the house isn’t quite the same as a 45 minute hike consisting of more flights of stairs than I can bear to think about right now.

3. When she gets blisters on her feet from her non-practical, but very cute, shoes, she will be totally prepared because she carries band-aids in her purse for such an event.

How are we related? It’s a good day if I can find a ballpoint pen in my purse, much less first aid equipment.

If I could get my cell phone to upload pictures I could show y’all a picture of her cute shoes with the band-aids covering the blisters. I had to take several because she was worried that the first couple of photos made her feet look fat, and heaven knows, you don’t want the internet talking about your fat feet.

4. The woman in front of us in the t-shirt line will feel that it is important to know the fabric consistency of every single t-shirt for sale and then proceed to do all of her Christmas shopping for the next ten years while checking things off her list.

Serenity now.

5. When I called the Alamodome ticket office and they told me the tickets I was about to buy were on the upper level, they weren’t lying. There are airplanes all over America tonight that weren’t reaching that kind of altitude. I am not kidding when I say we were sitting in the very top row of the very top level of the Alamodome. I have never climbed so many stairs in my life.

We were so high up that I needed binoculars to watch the game on the big screen.

6. In spite of channeling Boomama and screaming “COME ON NOW, SON!” for the better part of two hours, my team still lost.

7. Memphis Tiger fans are pretty nice people, especially the ones sitting next to some crazy lady who jumped up and down while screaming “COME ON NOW, SON!” throughout the entire game.

8. It’s best to not eat a dinner comprised of processed cheese in the form of Deluxe Nachos and processed meat in the form of a hot dog, when 20 minutes later you’ll be watching a game come down to the last second.

9. Bloggy friends like Shalee will call me after the game to offer their condolences and maybe taunt me just a little bit, but it’s all in love.

10. I couldn’t be more proud of the Texas A&M basketball team. This is a team that went 0-16 in conference just three years ago and ended up in the Sweet 16 this year. They are the stuff dreams are made of and I know this is just the beginning of an incredible era for Aggie basketball.

We’ll see y’all at the Final Four next year.

Okay, so Janet from Life with the Wisners, mentioned in the comments yesterday that she couldn’t picture my sister getting excited about a sporting event and yes, for many years that was true. She was the Texas A&M student who would actually miss a home game to go shopping while the mall wasn’t crowded because EVERYONE else was at the game.

I know…I don’t get it. I mean I love to shop, but this is Aggie football we’re talking about.

In case y’all don’t understand the level to which she was lacking in any kind of sports appreciation, I’ll tell you a little story.

A year after I graduated from A&M, P and I drove to College Station for a football game…and to see my sister. Mimi and Bops were also in town for the game, so pre-game we all went to Deluxe to eat lunch because they have the best cheese fries on the planet and what is better before standing and yelling in the hot sun than eating a plate of greasy, potato goodness? As lunch was winding down, we started talking about walking over to Kyle Field, when my sister announced that she wasn’t going to the game because she needed to study.

Excuse me?

Not going to the game?

If we didn’t look so much alike, I would have requested a DNA test to make sure we were related.

Anyway, we went to the game while she and her friend headed back to her apartment to watch it on T.V. and study. During this particular game, one of our defensive players named Dat Nguyen (pronounced WHEN) made several spectacular plays. We cheered and yelled and celebrated as the Aggies won the game.

When we got back to my sister’s apartment, we were all talking about the game and how exciting it was, when my sister said, “Boy, it sounds like it was really windy!”

Blank stares all around.

We asked what she was talking about since none of us had noticed any wind. She said, “Well, everytime I started watching the game, the announcers kept talking all about THAT WIND!”

Really? That wind?

Or do you think maybe they were talking about our star defensive player, DAT NGUYEN?

I am not making this up.

However, everything changed for my dear sister during her junior year in college when she started dating her future husband, who, to his credit, is a huge sports fan. All of a sudden, she began attending football games, soccer games, basketball and baseball games on a regular basis. Love had transformed her and she learned to at least enjoy the social aspects of sporting events.

Shortly after her inauguration into college sports, the Southwest Conference disbanded and the Aggies became part of a new conference y’all may have heard of called The Big Twelve, which is most commonly seen as The Big XII. My sister and her future husband were watching one of the first football games of the season when she looked at him and asked in all seriousness, “What are all those signs that say BIG times ELEVEN?”

Nevermind that she was majoring in math and should have had an appreciation for the use of Roman numerals.

Needless to say, she has come a long way and I couldn’t be more proud. There is nothing that warms my heart more than when she’ll call in the middle of an A&M game and say, “Did you see that play? Can you believe he caught that ball?”, and the crowning moment was when I called her on Sunday to see if she was interested in going to the Sweet 16, and she knew exactly what I was talking about.

So, in one of the great ironies of all time, she and I will be attending the game together, while her husband stays home and babysits their 20 month old daughter, which just goes to show that what she may lack in sports knowledge, she more than makes up for in negotiating skills.

And in other Sweet 16 news, because I really can’t think about anything else, well, other than the fact that Jordin Sparks on American Idol blew me away last night. She is 17 and so poised and talented. After she sang, I turned to P and said, “Do you know what I would have been like if I had been on national T.V. when I was 17? I’d have stood there waving like an idiot yelling ‘LOOK AT ME Y’ALL, I’M ON NATIONAL T.V.!!!'” which, in truth, may not be that different from my reaction if I find myself on T.V. while at the game on Thursday.

Sorry, I wandered.

Anyway, regarding my attire for the game, I would much rather white out than maroon out. I am going to have a hard time marooning out, due to the fact that all the sporting goods stores here in town are completely covered in burnt orange Longhorn paraphernalia, as if the Longhorns are in the Sweet 16, instead of home crying in their pillows about the whipping put on them by USC. It is a sad day indeed when a great basketball school such as Texas A&M is not properly represented in the athletic apparel market. So, due to the lack of good common sense by local retailers, I will be wearing a nice, white shirt directly from my closet.

And in truth, our tickets are so high up in the Alamodome that I could wear nothing and still not get on camera.

Last night, I was up half the night because I am like a little kid at Christmas due to the fact that my sister and I bought tickets to go watch the Aggies play in the Sweet 16 this Thursday, and then, the Elite 8 on Saturday (I’m all about positive thinking). And true to form, I spent a lot of time lying awake wondering what on earth I’m going to wear to the games.

The thing about being an Aggie is you should really “maroon out” at all the sporting events, but in case y’all haven’t noticed, there is not a surplus of maroon colored fashionable items. And if I’m going to the Sweet Sixteen, I am not wearing an oversized Texas A&M maroon t-shirt because you know, I might be on TELEVISION.

Anyway, after the Aggies won on Saturday, I spent most of the weekend plotting how I was going to secure a ticket to the game. When I first looked, the cheapest tickets were $250, and seeing as how we might need to buy groceries and pay our electric bill, it seemed a little extravagant to spend that kind of money on a sporting event, even if it is a once in a lifetime opportunity considering the last time the Ags made it to the Sweet 16 it was 1980 and my biggest concern was learning to skate backwards at Magic Skate.

After trying to get through to the ticket office for an excruciatingly long time, they finally decided to answer the phone and informed me that they did indeed have some tickets available at a cheaper price. So, I called my sister to see if she was interested in spending the money to be there in person, even though it means we will be sitting so high up that it will be like watching maroon ants run up and down a matchbook cover, and because she is smart and practical like me, she was totally up for it.

In spite of all the time I spent listening to a busy signal while repeatedly calling the Alamodome ticket office, I did manage to do a few other things this weekend.

On Friday, Caroline spent the night with Mimi and Bops, which allowed me to get so much done it made my head spin. I have been behind on so many things, and once I had some quiet, I was able to get a ton of things accomplished. I also managed to squeeze in some time to go to Target to buy the cute shoes I mentioned on Friday, and pick up dinner for myself at Church’s chicken.

And just so y’all know, I didn’t feel convicted in the least seeing a woman rollerblading around the track at the junior school while I was driving home with my spicy chicken tenders, mashed potatoes and honey biscuits and thinking about the brownie I was going to eat for dessert.

Saturday morning, I was working on the computer when I heard P gasp and say, “You have got to come look at this”. It was the neighbor lady who is in the middle of renovating the house next door, and she was mowing the grass in a downright fancy ensemble.

I, personally, have spent a lifetime avoiding mowing yards, but I can guarantee that if I found myself having to mow a lawn, I wouldn’t be wearing black pants with rhinestone pinstripes, a black paisley tunic and a black cap with the words “Bling, Bling” written in rhinestones. Of course, I wouldn’t wear that outfit while doing other things either, like for example, breathing.

Ironically, the only part of her outfit that disturbed P, otherwise known as the safety police, was the fact that she was wearing rhinestone, open toe slides and kept repeatedly pushing the mower closer and closer to her exposed feet.

Once I joined P at the window, neither one of us could look away. It was a do-it-yourself foot amputation waiting to happen, and as much as we didn’t want to see it, we couldn’t close the shutters and walk away. I tried to justify our peeping tom activities with the rationale that at least we could call 911 the minute the foot came off.

Somehow, neighbor lady managed to finish mowing, with rhinestone slides and foot intact, and just as we were about to get on with our afternoon, I noticed the mailman walking into the port-a-potty set up for the construction workers who are working on neighbor lady’s house.

I asked P, “Is our mailman using that port-a-potty?” And he affirmed that yes, the mailman uses it everyday, but not to perform a biological function. He said, “Just wait for it”.

And about 5 minutes later, our mailman stepped out of the facilities, surrounded by a great cloud of smoke. It seems that he goes in there to take a smoke break during his route.

My question is, how desperate do you have to be for a nicotine fix to smoke in a port-a-potty facility used by no less than 15 different construction workers on any given day?

I think instead of making him toffee next year for Christmas, I’m going to get him a pack of Nicoderm CQ patches. It will be the gift that keeps giving.

Well, let me just say, honesty? Definitely the best policy. I wrote yesterday’s post in a flurry of emotion and frustration and posted it without thinking twice. Later on I thought, “Sweet mercy, what did I just post on the internet for everyone, including my mother-in-law, to read?”

And for the record, I cried again while I read through all of your sweet, encouraging comments. I think all mamas just need to know that we’re not the only ones who have contemplated running away from home, or better yet, packing our child’s bags and letting them run away from home, because after all, we’re the ones paying the mortgage.

So, thank you from the bottom of my heart for responding to my raw honesty with your heartfelt sincerity. Seriously, I can’t express how much all of your encouragement meant to me. We’re all in this motherhood business together and I personally don’t have room for someone who claims to LOVE! EVERY! MINUTE! of being a mama.

But now, let’s talk about something really important.

American Idol.

I normally don’t talk about American Idol because I believe that Boomama does an excellent job of covering the highlights and lowlights every week (much like she does with her hair), but I just have to make a few comments because Gulley called me yesterday and asked, “How is it that I am late for the party known as American Idol?”

All I could tell her was I have no idea, but I am equally guilty. This is the first season I have ever watched AI and truth be told, I only started watching because Boomama promised it had more drama and tears than The Bachelor, and if that’s the case, then count me in.

I partially blame my initial lack of AI interest on Survivor.

P and I were big Survivor fans during Season 1 and 2 while Survivor mania gripped the nation, but then Season 3 came along and we lost interest. I quit believing in the entertainment value of reality T.V. and chose to watch more highbrow television, such as reruns of Seinfeld and ER.

If I am perfectly honest, I felt like maybe I was too good for American Idol and its throngs of devotees, which is more than ironic when you consider that I watch The Bachelor.

I can’t believe how wrong I was.

It’s a travesty of epic proportions that I have been missing out on this level of entertainment season after season. In fact, Gulley and I even wondered today if we could rent the past seasons on DVD. We don’t even care that we know who won and we wouldn’t be able to watch Kelly Clarkson without wanting to hear her sing “Since You’ve Been Gone”.

We feel like we were late for the prom, but without all the pastel taffeta and alcohol concealed in flasks.

Tuesday night was Gulley’s first night to ever watch, and she only turned it on because there was nothing else on. She called me Wednesday and before I could even say hello, she asked, “What is up with Paula Abdul? Girlfriend acts like she’s taken a baker’s dozen of the Percocet.”

And with that comment, we were off and running.

“Oprah needs to call Sanjaya and tell him she wants her hair back”

“Why would anyone try to make Motown all electronic and modern?”

“Endless Love is a bad enough song without changing it to make it worse.”

“Don’t tell Diana Ross (after she tells you that she wrote Missing You because of her sadness over the tragic death of Marvin Gay) that you’re singing it because you miss your fiance in San Antonio.”

“I have got to find me a dress like the one Stephanie Edwards had on last night. She may not win AI, but she’s my vote for best dressed.”

“Why does everyone think Simon is so mean? He’s just honest.” (Granted, I am married to someone who lives by the code that if you don’t want to hear the truth, then you better not ask.)

Two new American Idol fans have been born, and along with Sanjaya and his hair, we’ll be back next week.