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This is it. The last Monday of summer. By next week I’ll be up at the crack of dawn cooking a Back to School breakfast that no one will actually eat and packing a lunch that will be the best lunch I’ll pack all year because I will be enthusiastic! And organized! And will have made a trip to the grocery store to stock up on lunchtime essentials!

In fact, I’ve spent the last forty-five minutes perusing Pinterest and pinning all manner of delicious CrockPot recipes that I plan to cook in the CrockPot that I bought last fall. Although in the interest of full disclosure I feel that you should know I have yet to actually take the CrockPot out of the box it came in, but this year is going to be different. I have the CrockPot Recipe Board full of pinned recipes on Pinterest to prove it. It’s just a matter of time before I stick a roast in that bad boy.

Because that’s what the first few weeks of school are all about. It’s the mom version of a new year. I’m going to start working out again. I’m going to eat better. I’m going to take better care of my skin. I’m going to send Caroline to school in clean clothes that actually match with her hair neatly combed, maybe even curled if she’ll let me. I’ll put notes in her lunch box and make tortilla roll ups that look like pieces of sushi. And in the evening we’ll do homework before we sit around the dinner table as a family discussing our day.

I’ll talk about how it’s good to be back on a schedule. It’s better for us. When you reach the point in the summer where you have to set an alarm to be somewhere by noon, it’s probably time to get back in a routine. And I will rock the heck out of our new productive schedule for at least two weeks before I begin to count down the days until Thanksgiving vacation.

Because just like Cinderella sang in their 80’s power ballad, you don’t what you got until it’s gone.

Anyway, Friday was our wedding anniversary and now the celebration portion of our summer is officially over. P and I celebrated in the traditional manner. By which I mean that he kept Caroline while I left for a girls’ weekend at the beach with some friends. When you look at the list of traditional anniversary gifts, sixteen years isn’t even assigned anything. Fifteen years is crystal and then it just skips to twenty years which is china. In my mind that equates to giving your wife the gift of a responsibility-free weekend at the beach is the logical conclusion. Frankly, that’s better than china or crystal.

My friends and I left San Antonio around noon on Friday, made a quick stop for a fried shrimp basket once we hit Port Aransas and then made our way to the beach where we sat in chairs with our toes in the sand and experienced the bliss that comes when you don’t have to count heads in the surf or dig an enormous hole with a plastic shovel you bought for twenty-five cents at Big Lots.

On Saturday morning we were back out on the beach by 11:00 and stayed there until we finally checked the time when we saw the moon starting to come up over the surf and realized it was almost 8:00. We spent the majority of those hours solving all manner of problems, discussing all the ways we were going to be better this school year, and never once felt bad that we ate our weight in Salted Caramel Rice Krispie treats while wearing our bathing suits. It was a heck of a way to spend the last carefree weekend of summer.

And now one more week. We plan to spend tomorrow waiting by the mailbox to find out who Caroline’s fifth grade teacher will be. I’m sure there will be a few more trips to the pool, a couple of lazy mornings where we stay in our pajamas way passed what most people consider to be a decent time, and making a trip to HEB for a few last minute school supplies. It will be pretty low-key in the whole scheme of things because here’s what I know for sure, we have milked every ounce of fun from this summer. We have squeezed the marrow out of it.

It’s time to pack up our notebooks, write our names on new folders, sharpen our pencils and pray for the first cold front.

But I don’t plan to set the alarm clock until we absolutely have to. Somethings are better left until you absolutely have no other option.

Which may explain why my CrockPot is still in the box it came in.

So today is a big day. It’s the 36th anniversary of Elvis’s death.

It’s also the sixteenth anniversary of the day P and I got married.

Look at those two sweet kids.

The good news is I would do it all over again tomorrow, except maybe without the bangs.

Happy Anniversary, P! Not that you’re reading this considering it’s Friday and you don’t really care what’s cute at Nordstrom this week.

But as for the rest of you, here’s what I found this week.

1. freeset farmhouse bag sari print

This is a Freeset bag. Freeset is a fair trade business that offers employment to women trapped in human trafficking in Calcutta. Earlier this week they lost over $150,000 worth of bags in the tragic UPS plane crash in Birmingham. (You can read more details on their website.) Because of this financial loss, they are in danger of having to shut down operations which would greatly impact the 200 women they employee. Please consider joining Pure Charity to help support them. You can find out more here.

I have a Freeset tote bag like the one I’ve featured here and I can’t express how much I love it. It’s the perfect tote bag and has stood up to some serious tests of its strap strength.

You can also donate to the families of the two pilots who lost their lives by clicking here.

2. across the sea printed maxi dress

I can’t wear this because I have a firm policy of no strapless clothing because it stresses me out. But I really like this for those of you who can deal with wearing a strapless bra.

3. vigoss clean boyfriend crop jeans

These are the jeans I mentioned on the podcast earlier this week. I first heard about them from Sheaffer at Pinterest Told Me To. (By the way, she’s giving away a $365 gift card to Nordstrom this week. Go visit her and enter to win.)

The thing is that I’m kind of a jean snob. But these are great and just what I was looking for to supplement my skinny jean wardrobe. Stretchy, comfortable and inexpensive. And they come in plus sizes too.

4. camo skinny jeans

I realize not all of you are a fan of the printed pant. But camo is going to be big for fall this year and I think these would be really cute with some tall boots and a jacket.

5. issa collection coral printed kimono dress

When Princess Kate (or PK as I call her) and William got engaged she wore a lovely royal blue wrap dress by Issa. And now Banana Republic (the place where my favorite Starbucks chair is in a dumpster) has partnered with Issa for their fall collection.

This is just one of the dresses. They also have one that’s almost identical to the one Kate wore except on the website it looks turquoise. However, in person it is blue.

6. marpesia kimono top

Remember when I shared this top earlier in the summer? Now it’s on sale.

7. tassel necklace

My sister gave me a long necklace for my birthday and I was so happy because I feel like I need more long necklaces in my life. This one would be a perfect addition.

8. ruffle hem twill jacket

You know I can’t pass up a good jacket. I love the details on this one and the color would work with so many different outfits.

9. made for me cardi

I noticed this week that several of my friends in other parts of the country mentioned that they were wearing sweaters to fight off a slight chill in the air. And this caused me to weep and gnash my teeth. Because you know what it is here?

Hot.

You know what it will be here in a month?

Still hot.

But a girl can look at a comfy sweater and dream and only feel slightly bitter towards her friends who had the good sense to live in a more temperate climate.

10. corree booties

I think we all know by now that I am on the search for a bootie. These have potential.

That’s it for today.

Y’all have a great Friday.

Thanks for all the birthday wishes. Twenty-four hours in and forty-two seems like it’s going to be okay even though I had to pull out three stray gray hairs. I realize you’re not supposed to yank them out, but I’m not getting my hair colored again until September 5th and no way was I going to let them just hang out there for that long.

Yesterday was just what I prefer in a birthday. In other words, it was a low-key affair. Mexican food, cupcakes, and some birthday cards. P had my present covered because I announced months ago that I was buying myself a ticket to the A&M/Alabama game for my birthday. I will tell you it was slightly more than $15 and I’m praying the NCAA doesn’t ban Johnny Manziel because that was kind of the whole point – to watch him play Alabama again after Nick Saban has had a year to prepare for him.

And Caroline spent most of Tuesday holed up in her playroom making something for my birthday. It turns out that she painted me a beautiful picture, but based on all the supplies and odds and ends I saw her carry into her playroom over the course of the day, I’m a little afraid to see the current state of that part of the house. No one will ever accuse her of being neat and tidy. But I bet Picasso’s mother used to say the same thing.

In non-birthday related news, I have made a sad discovery.

Please keep in mind that sad may be a relative term.

Last week when Caroline and I were driving home from Port Aransas, we made a quick stop at our neighborhood Starbucks because we were both in need of a frappuccino. Before you judge me, I’ll clarify that she gets one that is cream based, not coffee based. I find that too much caffeine makes it hard for her to focus when she’s driving the car.

Oh I kid.

Anyway, we pulled up in the parking lot in front of Starbucks and I immediately noticed that it was under construction. However, it was still open for business. So we walked into what was essentially a makeshift version of your average Starbucks. Totally bare bones. Just a counter and the little section where you can add your Splenda or whatever. No tables or chairs at all.

I asked the girl behind the counter how long it was going to be under construction and she said several more weeks and then directed my attention to some drawings on the wall that outlined the future layout of the new and improved Starbucks.

And that’s when it hit me.

This is not just any Starbucks. This is my Starbucks. The one with the plush, green velvet chairs tucked away in the corner where I have written not just one, but two books now. And now the chairs are gone. They’re not coming back. In my mind it kind of feels like they should have earned a space somewhere important, like maybe next to Fonzie’s jacket in the Smithsonian. But in reality they probably ended up in a dumpster behind Banana Republic.

The worst part (as if it can get worse) is that the new configuration doesn’t seem to include any type of plush chair. Just tables and chairs. I realize that most people probably prefer this, but I need a comfy chair. My creativity doesn’t flow the same if I feel like I’m sitting at a desk. I blame the year I spent working in a cubicle for a door sales company where my soul almost shriveled up and died.

My point is I’m in mourning. And I need a new place to write. The chairs were the draw for me. I even stuck by this Starbucks when my retired friend decided to start going to a Starbucks closer to his new house. Granted, it wasn’t the same not starting my day with a debate about Kate Middleton having a baby or learning something new from the articles he used to tear out of various newspapers to share with me, but I stayed because of the green chairs.

Now there’s nothing left there for me. I am a woman without a Starbucks.

Actually that’s not true because there are at least four of them within a veritable stone’s throw of my home, but please stick with me while I’m being overly dramatic.

I just need a comfy chair that is not located in my home. Preferably leather or velvet. At an establishment where they serve coffee.

And maybe the occasional pastry.

So today is my 42nd birthday.

Here’s what I think about turning 42. I remember many years ago that P and I were eating dinner with an older couple whose kids were in our Campus Life group when the mom mentioned that she was 42. And I felt sorry for her because, GAH, FORTY-TWO. It’s like her whole life was practically over.

And now, in a blink of an eye, here I am. I’ll be honest, while I’m not a fan of the new gray hair and the wrinkles that seem determined to form between my nose and my mouth, it’s not that bad. In fact, I thought about listing all the reasons why I’m grateful for my 42nd year of life, but decided that I shouldn’t have to think that much on my birthday.

So I’ll just tell you that turning 42 beats the alternative. And I am so grateful to have a husband I adore, a daughter that makes me smile every day, friends that love me in spite of all my quirks, and a family that always supports me.

Also, the advances that have been made in anti-wrinkle formulations and hair coloring techniques.

And that I happened to catch the series finale of Friends on T.V.

Because sometimes it’s the little things.

Well. Sophie and I recorded our last podcast of the summer. Well, at least it was her last podcast of the summer because school starts in Alabama tomorrow. Here in San Antonio we still have two more weeks. And at least another six weeks of heat.

Anyway, if you’re interested in hearing about our feet, salads, pajama bottom options and the African dust cloud over Texas, then you’ve come to the right place.

If not, then you should probably click away now.

Otherwise, you can click here to listen. Or here. Or, as always, you can subscribe on iTunes.

I’ve been trying to start this post for the last forty-five minutes and all I have to show for it is a blank page and forty-five minutes of my life that have been spent alternately staring at a blinking cursor, checking Twitter to see if the person who’s trying to hack my account has succeeded, and watching a live feed of the Perseid Meteor shower from the Canary Islands.

Let me explain those things:

1. Blinking cursor – I’m struggling to find words

2. Twitter – I keep getting emails asking if I need to reset my password which means someone is trying to get into my account.

3. Perseid Meteor Shower – I have always been a fan of the astronomy. Sadly, it’s cloudy in the Canary Islands so all I’m seeing are clouds instead of meteors hurtling across the sky.

This always happens after I take a break from the blog. I have too much to say, too many words. And instead of rolling them out and telling a story in any kind of concise format, I just BLECH all over the page and my fingers move faster than my head. So please bear with me. I promise I’ll make myself stop around the 1,000 word mark because – in one of the most overused phrases ever – ain’t nobody got time for that.

So. Caroline turned ten on August 3 and we left that very day for a week at the beach. That was her birthday request, to spend her birthday at the beach with some family friends. And so we combined her birthday with our annual beach vacation because that’s what you call killing two birds with one stone. Except easier.

But I didn’t mention we were headed to the beach because P doesn’t like when I tell the world wide web that we are out of town. You never know when the members of a crime ring might be reading and take the opportunity to come help themselves to our fabulous collection of plastic cups and tens of dollars worth of costume jewelry.

Anyway, we all arrived in Port Aransas late Saturday afternoon and met up with P. He’d been down there since Thursday because he was fishing in a tournament and, although the tournament was on Saturday, it was important that they pre-fish on Friday. Yes. Pre-fishing is a real thing. Maybe you’re like me and wonder how they know the fish won’t swim elsewhere over the next twenty-four hours. I wish I could tell you but no one has been able to explain it to me. They just know.

We all got settled in on Saturday evening, ate pizza and then let Caroline open her birthday presents. This is her reading the card that Gulley’s boys got her. It had a punchline about monkey butts that was clearly a crowd pleaser.

Best of all, she got a Glimmer Art kit and gave us all our very own glittery tattoo to sport on the beach the next day. Because you know what they say, “When in Port Aransas, do as the Port Aransians do.”

(I don’t know that anyone has actually said that except me.)

The next morning we hit the beach. We set up our tents and our chairs and our coolers and our Fritos and bean dip. And that pretty much describes the next four days. We built sandcastles and dug holes. We fished and looked for sand dollars. We rode waves until we could barely stand up.

(Clearly I didn’t take these next two photos because they are far too good. These are the work of my dear friend Leslie.)

It was delightful. The only hiccup came when Gulley’s husband, Jon, got stung by a stingray on our second day there. To his credit he didn’t pass out, but he was white as a sheet when he came hobbling out of the water. But P went into emergency preparedness mode and assessed the situation, determined the course of action and drove him back to the house so he could soak his foot in hot water. Did you know that was what you do for a stingray sting? Neither did I until I googled it on the beach. And our friend Pat knew that the biggest risk is some sort of terrible bacterial skin-eating infection that could kill you, so he made up a bleach/water mixture to clean the wound. Meanwhile, the moms stayed on the beach with the kids and ate bean dip and helped them make sand castles because we were all a little leery of the actual ocean for a few hours afterwards.

I mean you know that there are stingrays and jellyfish and sharks out there, but you try not to think about it. And then you get confirmation that, yes, there are things in the surf that view you as part of the food chain and it kind of puts a damper on things for awhile.

Everyone else drove home late Wednesday afternoon, but we stayed until Thursday. Caroline was beyond exhausted after five days of non-stop fun, yet she was determined to get up early Thursday morning to fish with P. By the time they made it back to the house and we started to pack up the car, I looked over and she’d passed out cold on the couch. Bless her.

And so we made it back home with at least 75% of all the sand that used to be on the beach in Port Aransas. I spent the rest of Thursday washing load after load of laundry and unpacking coolers and all those other fun vacation chores that you don’t know about when you’re a kid because you get to pass out on the couch. Then, late Thursday night Gulley texted me to let me know that Jon had hurt his ankle (not the same foot as the stingray sting) while playing basketball and they were headed to the ER.

As it turns out, he tore a ligament and is now in a cast and needs crutches for the indefinite future. Needless to say, he’s had a rough week.

Which is why, after P read last night that an almost 12 foot shark was caught in the surf at Port Aransas, Jon said he was glad he wasn’t there because I think we can all agree it might not have ended well.

But the bottom line is it was a great week. One of those times we’ll look back on all year round and feel blessed for the time spent with good friends, good food and enough fun to cause us all to want to sleep for days after we got home.

(Photo by Leslie again because, yeah right, like I could capture this.)