Other

Well.

It’s funny how things work out. Or don’t work out as the case may be.

As it turns out, I didn’t end up spending my Saturday morning in the 33 degree weather watching Caroline play soccer.

Mainly because this happened on Friday afternoon.

She turned into the Terminator.

Actually, that’s her foot. In a boot.

Which I like to say in a Canadian accent.

Even though the only time I’ve actually been to Canada was a quick trip to Vancouver back in 1999 and all I saw was the inside of a Hilton because it was for a pharmaceutical sales meeting and it always seemed they had a strict policy against allowing us to actually see the city we were visiting.

So basically what I’m saying is that I’m just making a complete stereotype that Canadians really say “A boot”. And you should also know that my sense of humor was totally lost on Caroline as I kept saying, “You’re A Boot to get A Boot”.

But considering this is the face she made when I asked her to smile for the camera, I don’t feel like she’s in a position to judge my Canadian humor.

Clearly the big question is what happened?

Yes. We don’t really know for sure.

For the last week Caroline had been complaining about her ankle. And so she’d come home from school and we’d put some ice on it and take an Advil. (Yes. We would take an Advil. One for her, one for me because the whole ankle thing was making my head hurt because I wasn’t sure what to do about it since there’d been no definitive injury.)

Finally P said I should probably take her in to see the doctor. So I picked her up from school early on Friday and we went to the doctor so we could shell out any money we hoped to save for something fun on X-Rays and an exam.

As it turns out, she has a fractured growth plate. Which sounds a lot worse than what it really is. The truth is it’s a kid version of a sprained ankle, but kids still have soft growth plates to allow their legs and arms to grow to normal size because ideally no one wants T-Rex arms.

However, these growth plates can be traumatized (Can’t we all?) and that is what happened to Caroline at some point during soccer practice or jumping down repeatedly from the tree in our backyard or while trying to do flips off the monkey bars at recess. There is really no telling.

But she has to wear the boot for two weeks and keep it immobilized.

Which translates to no soccer games for two weeks.

However, she and P still went to the game on Saturday morning to support her team. I did not feel called to such dedication and showed my support by staying in my warm bed until I woke up at 9:45 a.m. and watched an old episode of 90210. I felt like it was the right decision.

They came home around 11:00 with breakfast tacos because they’d missed the chicken biscuit at Chick-Fil-A by six minutes. Which is almost just cruel. P asked me why I didn’t run over to Chick-Fil-A to get us all biscuits and I had to wonder what alternate universe he has ever lived in where I get out of bed on a cold Saturday morning even for a chicken biscuit. We’ve been married almost sixteen years and I feel like he should know me better than that.

But the breakfast tacos were delicious and seemed a fitting choice since Saturday was Texas Independence Day. And while we didn’t want to be a part of Mexico, we are certainly grateful for their food.

Then Saturday night P grilled quail and we sat outside and listened to Waylon Jennings and Willie Nelson and Merle Haggard. And looked at the stars in the sky and made a toast to all things Texas.

God bless it. It’s a boot the best place on earth.

This is going to be a super quick post because it just is. It’s all I have time for today and I feel I should tell you that I almost opted for no post at all. But that’s so hard for me to do because I have issues and I feel bad when I just don’t post without giving a warning that I’m not going to post.

I know. I probably need medication.

But there are a few quick things I want to share and now I probably won’t be able to remember most of them and I’ll be sitting here for twenty minutes staring into space. It certainly doesn’t help that P is sitting here next to me watching some movie called The Expendables and it’s very loud. I’m not sure what it’s about but I can tell you that Sylvester Stallone is very angry about something.

Okay. Few things.

1. A few weeks ago I got an email from a girl named Logan asking if I was interested in being one of the keynote speakers at the Allume Conference this year. And I kind of thought it might be a joke.

But it turns out they were serious. And so I’m speaking at Allume which is October 24-26 in South Carolina. I’ve never been, but I hear it’s really great. Or at least it was before I became one of the speakers.

Registration opens today and you can get tickets and find out more on the Allume site.

2. I put this on Twitter but I have to share it here because it made my whole week. A sweet girl emailed me yesterday to tell me she’d written about my book on her blog. And I emailed her back to thank her and let her know I appreciated it.

Then I got an email back from her that said, “Thank you so much. Your butt really inspired me.”

Which was a first.

And, sadly, it was an autocorrect error. My book is actually what inspired her, but for a brief moment I was so happy for my butt. Even though it honestly could use some work and maybe a few squats.

3. I realize many of you have already seen this, but if you haven’t then your life is about to be richer than it was five minutes ago.

A friend sent that to me along with the other video of goats after I tweeted that Caroline informed me she had decided to give up goats for Lent like they did in the Bible.

I’ve never been so confused.

However, we’ve decided as a family to all give up goats for Lent. I’m sure you can only imagine what a sacrifice that’s been.

4. I found out about a cool ministry opportunity through a reader named Anna. It’s called Bloom. And their mission is to collect new and gently used formal dresses and accessories as well as men’s dress clothes. They are renovating their old youth house into a “boutique” where kids can borrow from our collection for prom, homecoming, banquets, and the like.

More information can be found on their Facebook page. All donations are tax deductible. The grand opening is March 1 and they’ll be giving away a Lenny and Eva bracelet to someone who likes their Facebook page.

5. I’ve been in a recipe rut. Which actually isn’t totally true. I’ve been in a cooking funk. But I think it’s directly related to the fact that I don’t feel like cooking. However, this creates a problem when people who live in your house want to eat.

Gulley and I were lamenting about this last week and how we had both gotten so bad about figuring out what to make for dinner and she said, “I’m going to get it together next week and do better”. Ever the encourager, I responded, “No you’re not. You won’t get it together for at least another three months because it’s going to be baseball season and then it will be summer. Basically you won’t get it together again until next fall.”

And then she told me she was scared of my honesty. But we laughed because it’s so true. Neither one of us is going to get it together. We just have to ACT like we have it together.

All that to say that I’ve been looking for a few new recipes. And I found the link to this tortellini with spinach, Italian sausage and mushrooms recipe on Laura’s Organized Junkie weekly menu plan. And it was delicious.

Why do I read a blog about organization? The same reason I look at creative lunch ideas on Pinterest.

I’m delusional.

Okay. That’s it for today.

See you tomorrow for Fashion Friday.

While I was gone last weekend, it was bike rodeo time at school. I don’t know if schools all around the country have bike rodeos or if it’s just a Texas thing. Maybe you have bike rodeos but call them something else. Perhaps a bike festival.

It’s essentially an event where kids bring their bikes to school and weave in and out of cones and ride in a circle and a few other things like that. And since I was out of town, P was solely in charge of all bike rodeo duties, including taking Caroline up to school to practice on the course the day before.

She’d been a little nervous about it and we discussed it the night before I left. I tried to reassure her and even asked, “Remember what it says in the Bible about worrying?”

And she answered, “Yes. Hakuna Matata.”

That particular passage is found in the gospel of Pumba.

And then I got nervous when P texted me while I was at dinner on Thursday night and said Caroline was really nervous while practicing and even wiped out a few times. That’s how you know you’re a mom. When you’re at a really nice dinner and you’re worrying about how well your child is going to weave in and out of orange cones the next day.

As it turns out she did just great when it came time for the real thing and even told P afterwards that she was “amazed” at how well she did on the cones.

Which makes that time I spend worrying about her self-esteem appear to be wasted.

In other news, I was tucking her in last night and she said, “Mom? You have something right there by your eye.” And so I wiped my eye and asked if I got it. She looked at me closer and said, “Never mind. You just have old people eye.”

It’s a moment I’ll cherish forever.

And confirmation that maybe I need to worry more about my own self-esteem.

And, finally, I am in the midst of a small crisis.

From as early as I can remember, my Nanny always made cinnamon cake. It was a guarantee that any time you walked through her front door there was either a warm cake coming out of the oven or one already waiting on the countertop.

And so it has always been one of my comfort foods, along with frito pies made with Hormel chili from a can. Which reminds me that Nanny also used to make the best chili-cheese sandwiches, but she made those with Wolf Brand chili and a slice of cheddar cheese.

Clearly I am a woman with sophisticated culinary tastes.

Anyway, I love to make a cinnamon cake. And it’s essential that you make it in a bundt pan because that’s how Nanny always made it. But lately something has gone awry.

Because I’m pretty sure this isn’t how it’s supposed to look.

Martha Stewart and Nanny would be so sad.

Granted, this one already has a few chunks taken out of it because cinnamon cakes don’t last long at my house, but it wasn’t pretty even before that.

At first I thought the problem was that I wasn’t greasing the cake pan well enough, but now scientific research in the form of five failed cinnamon cake attempts has led me to believe that fault may lie with my bundt pan.

So I’m going to buy a new one tomorrow. Or whenever I remember.

And I’ll be sure to let you know how it turns out because I realize now I’ve brought you into my bundt cake troubles and you won’t be able to sleep until you know how it all works out.

In case you’re wondering about the cinnamon cake recipe, it’s also called Sock It To Me cake. Except Nanny always added a whole extra cup of sugar to the recipe because WHY NOT?

Oh, and she baked it for 55 minutes at 350 instead of 45 minutes of 375.

And no matter how hard you try, it never tastes as good as hers always did. Even when it actually comes out of the bundt pan in one piece.

Hakuna Matata.

I cannot even begin to explain how windy it was here yesterday. But I will tell you that I woke up in a strange colorful land surrounded by singing little people and discovered I’d inadvertently killed a witch wearing ruby slippers.

Or maybe I saw that in a movie one time. I can’t really remember.

P had warned me that the weather forecast had called for wind gusts up to fifty miles an hour but I didn’t really take him seriously because I never believe the weather is going to actually do what anyone predicts until it actually does it. This is a direct result of growing up in Texas and spending way too many days being disappointed by some fool weatherman who predicted snow and school closures, only to wake up the next morning and find the reality was I had to go to school while a chilly rain fell.

But the wind prediction turned out to be right.

Unfortunately, I had to go to HEB because I have spent the last three weeks being a piecemeal grocery shopper. By which I mean that I just made about three short trips to the store a week to get whatever five things we needed to make it through for a couple of days. Frankly, I just didn’t have the time or energy to develop a well-crafted, comprehensive grocery list.

But yesterday was the day. It felt like it was time for me to return to reality. And it helps that we are looking at two solid weeks of a pretty normal schedule. So I made a list that included real things like vegetables and milk and not just Nilla Wafers and York Peppermint Patties. Then I decided to head to the store sooner rather than later so I didn’t have to dread it all day.

I fought the wind that nearly blew my car door off the hinges and made my way into HEB. I perused the produce section and picked out ingredients that had the potential to become real meals. And then, with a full cart, I walked towards the back of the store to get milk and butter and eggs.

(Why do I all of a sudden feel like I’m narrating a feature on Sesame Street?)

And as I opened the freezer doors to reach for the milk, it happened. The power went out. In the whole store. It was total and complete darkness. And all I could think was how mad I was going to be if this meant the cash registers weren’t going to work and all my grocery shopping had been for naught. WHY CRUEL WORLD, WHY?

I pulled my cell phone out of my purse so I’d have a little light and a sweet elderly woman behind me exclaimed, “OH HONEY! That is perfect! Now you can help me find my Coffee Mate!”. Because that was obviously the most important issue at hand while we stood there with full shopping carts in pitch black darkness.

So we searched for Coffee Mate for several minutes and finally found the right one (I had no idea there were so many choices) just as the generator finally kicked on. And to my eternal gratitude they announced the cash registers were indeed working and customers could check out.

I walked up to the front of the store and unloaded all my groceries on the conveyor belt only to be reminded by the checker that the conveyor belt wasn’t working because, you know, ELECTRICITY. And so I had to manually move all my groceries toward the cash register like I was Caroline Ingalls. I have never been so grateful for Benjamin Franklin and old what’s-his-name that invented the grocery store conveyor belt.

I know you are all astounded at this point by this harrowing tale of grocery store bravery.

Anyway, I came home, unloaded my groceries, caught up on a few things and then it was time to pick up Caroline from school. I’d promised her we’d go get pedicures after school as a reward for a good report card and a few other things, so we went straight to the pedicure place. And Caroline begged me to not choose some “polish that’s the color of poop” like I usually do. It would seem she’s not a fan of the browns and grays I’ve favored lately. So I went with a deep red Essie color called Head Mistress and she went with a subtle turquoise, purple and neon pink combination. Her toes look like little Easter eggs.

But while we were in the midst of our pedicures, P called to ask how long the power had been out at our house. And I was unaware that the power was out at our house. After a quick online search, I knew that City Public Service was on the scene and we headed home to wait for the power to return. And I was reminded again of all the things that require electricity. Specifically the washing machine and the dryer.

I am not cut out for the pioneer life. And God knew this, which is why I was born in 1971. He knew I’d have a lifelong love of things like indoor plumbing, electricity and KC and The Sunshine Band.

The silver lining in all of this was that I wasn’t going to be able to cook dinner without electricity. And while that may not be technically true, I had big plans to use this excuse to the fullest. Around 5:30 I was mentally planning what type of food I wanted to have delivered to the house when I heard the whirr of the computer starting up and lights started to turn on.

So that’s how I ended up cooking chicken spaghetti for dinner last night. With just a little trace of bitterness over all the hardship I’d suffered and the fact I hadn’t been able to use any of it for good.

And by good, I mean pizza delivered to my door.

****

On a non-pioneer/my-life-and-times-without-electricity note, I had the chance to meet these sweet girls in person this weekend.

I already knew Kelly and Sophie and they know me very well because I threw up in front of them on a bus in Ecuador. Good times. But I got to meet Sheaffer from Pinterest Told Me To and Shay from Mix and Match Family. (Shay also happens to be Sean Lowe’s sister. Sean is the bachelor as in THE BACHELOR this season.)

Anyway, Sheaffer had asked me a long time ago to do a Pinterest fashion inspiration post on her blog. And then I forgot about it. But today I did a version of one which really just means Sheaffer was sweet enough to just use the picture of me from the above photo since that was a Pinterest inspired outfit and technically counts.

But, wait, there’s more! Sheaffer is giving away two signed copies of Sparkly Green Earrings and one of those copies will also include this gorgeous pair of Garden Party Chandelier Earrings from Stella & Dot .

Here’s the link to Sheaffer’s blog. Head on over there and leave a comment if you’d like a chance to win.