Year: 2007

  • Oh I would, but I just don’t want to

    I’m so glad that y’all got as big of a kick as I did over my fab new blouse. But for the record, if y’all think I’m going to put that thing on and take a picture of myself in it and post it on the World Wide Web for God and whoever, or whomever, or whatever to see, then might I suggest that you lay off the alcohol.

    Between the braces on my teeth and that blouse, it would really be more metallic sheen than anyone needs to see on one person.

    I don’t want y’all to think the reason I never post any pictures of myself is because I am vain and not thrilled with how I look wearing braces because, honestly, the truth is, I am vain and not thrilled with how I look wearing braces.

    So, don’t blame me for the lack of photos, blame my orthodontist.

    And really, the two pictures I have posted of myself where I am looking down are really some of the best photos I have ever taken, because the camera?

    She doesn’t love me, my friends.

    And on a similar note relating to unphotogenic-ness (yes, it’s a word), I made a mistake about 3 weeks ago that I am just now ready to own up to. I’ve been suffering in silence because I didn’t want to admit that I made a mistake, and oh, what a mistake it was.

    Did y’all see Reese Witherspoon at the Academy Awards or Golden Globes and she had done the revenge weight loss, look-fab-plan-to-get-back-at-your-man type thing? And she had that cute, long hair with those cute bangs and she just looked the best she’s looked in forever. I decided I needed to get myself some of those bangs.

    It was a bad call.

    I went to my hairdresser and showed him the picture of cutey-cute Reese Witherspoon and her precious bangs and asked him his thoughts. He said it would work for me (total lie), but perhaps we shouldn’t cut the bangs as thick as Reese’s, especially since I have a cowlick just off the center of my forehead.

    And here’s the thing. Here’s the part where I just lost all sense.

    I know I have a cowlick in the off center part of my forehead. It was the bane of my existence back in the days of teasing my bangs until they cried out for mercy and I silenced them by hosing them down with Flex Net Super Hold, but time and side swept long bangs had caused me to forget about angry cowlick with constant PMS. The bangs work for Reese, why shouldn’t they work for me?

    Well, for starters, the cowlick. And to make matters worse, my hairdresser was delicately trimming my new bangs and I was waiting to behold my Reese-ness (except that I’m not blonde, my hair wouldn’t stay that straight if I ironed it, and I don’t have an adorable heart-shaped face) when he said, “Wow. It looks like your bangs have quite a bit of wave in them.”

    Well that’s not good.

    What he meant by “quite a bit of wave” was that my new bangs were pretty straight until right at the end where they do this weird, flip out, crease-type thing like, perhaps, they got caught in a door. I feel certain that the change in my hormones after pregnancy is responsible for this treachery.

    To make the bangs work at all requires me to hold them flat against my head while I blow them dry and then, flatten them into oblivion with my straightening iron while cursing the day I ever saw Reese Witherspoon glide across the stage with her fancy bangs.

    Needless to say, I am growing them out, and bobby pins and headbands have become my new best friends. And if y’all think there is anything more attractive than a woman in her mid-30’s with braces on her teeth and bobby pins holding back her bangs, well you just don’t know the half of it. I have even had mornings where I’ll throw on a baseball cap to just block the whole thing out, because there is nothing more frustrating than straight ironing your bangs until they sizzle, only to walk outside and have the humidity turn you into the girl with frizzy bangs that split just off center of her forehead due to a bad cowlick.

    I totally blame Reese Witherspoon.

    And my orthodontist.

  • I didn’t know the meaning of embarrassment until I was a mama

    This morning, while it was still just the heat equivalent of being baked in an oven as opposed to being dropped in a Fry Daddy filled with boiling oil, Caroline and I went to the park.

    She went down the slides and played on the various playscapes and then said, “Come on, Mama! Let’s go swing!”

    I put her on one swing and I sat down on the swing next to her, even though I noticed it had a little dried bird poop on it. No big deal. I’m a gamer like that.

    After a few minutes, she said, “Let’s switch swings, Mama!” So, we got off our respective swings and when she walked over to mine, she looked down and yelled, “OH MAMA! DID YOU POOP IN YOUR SWING?”

    As if I’m her incontinent mother who makes a habit of pooping on playground equipment.

  • The tag says dry clean only and may cause catfights

    The great thing about a trip to Bryan is that I get to see all of Gulley’s extended family. They all live in Bryan and if there is an occasion such as a birthday, y’all better believe they are all going to be there. I can remember many a time in college when Gulley and I would have to hit the family birthday party circuit before we were free to go on with our evening. Oh, and I could write a book on the summer we went to the Decatur Reunion, which isn’t just a family reunion, it’s a TOWN reunion. And people stay all week on the fairgrounds and like, camp out and stuff. With no air-conditioning.

    Texas summer + no air-conditioning = 182 levels of wrong

    Nena grew up in Decatur and her daddy still lived there until he passed away several years ago, but for years there was always the guilt to attend the Decatur Reunion because chances were good that Gulley’s great granddaddy wasn’t going to be with us by the next summer and even though he could no longer remember who anyone was, it would “just mean the world to him” to have his whole family at the reunion.

    Anyway, since it was Gulley’s mama’s birthday, the whole clan descended on her house for a cookout. Uncle Glen came in carrying a laundry basket full of purple hull peas and dropped it in front of Gulley’s mama and said, “Happy Birthday, Sis. Here’s your present. I hate to eat and run, but I’ve got to be at Joe’s Bar before all the good lookin’ girls are taken.”

    I got a lump in my throat witnessing such a tender moment.

    He told us he had his eye on two special ladies. One he referred to as “Blue Bell”, the other “Sweet Hips”. Between those terms of endearment and the tender gift of a lifetime supply of purple hull peas, it really is a wonder some lucky gal hasn’t snapped him up.

    Not to mention the fact that he lives in the middle of nowhere in a solar powered log cabin.

    At some point in the evening, all the kids were running around the backyard and Uncle Johnny, who raises racehorses, noticed that Caroline is pretty fast. So, he gets Jackson, Will and Caroline to line up and run races to see who is the fastest. I honestly think he was about to start placing bets and discussing trifectas, when Caroline finally decided that her legs were “too TI-RED” and stopped running. I carried her inside and told Nena about the running and she said, “Well you know, Johnny’s horse finished NINTH last weekend at the races! NINTH! Can you imagine?” Somebody asked, “How many horses were there?” Nena said, “Probably just 10.”

    And I just have to mention that Nena had on some darling, polka dot capri pants and when I said, “Well, Nena! Look at you, you are so stylish”, she said, “Oh, I know it and did you see my purse? It’s fabulous.”

    It was fabulous, and she kept it with her all night long just because it added to her outfit. Every now and then she’d set it down and then remember she needed it to perfectly complete her ensemble, so she’d send someone in search of it. While retrieving the purse, Gulley discovered that Nena actually had nothing in there at all. It was purely for ornamental purposes because Nena is all about the style.

    The other person we got to see was Nena’s good friend, Dorothy Jo. Dorothy Jo was wearing a hot pink suit and Nena said, “Oh Dorothy Jo! I just love that suit!” and Dorothy Jo said, “I know, I just love it, too. I bought it right off the rack and you know on a normal person I think these are supposed to be capri pants, but they fit me just perfect.” The whole look was very chic or as Dorothy Jo would say, “CHICK”.

    That’s right.

    “Oh! Your hair looks so CHICK!”

    “That dress is just so CHICK!”

    “Well, you know, she buys her clothes at Steimart and they are just so CHICK!”

    It’s gotten to the point where Gulley’s mama, Gulley and I can’t even look at each other for fear something might be declared “CHICK” and send us into uncontrollable laughter from the likes of which we’d never recover.

    And a trip to Bryan wouldn’t be complete if Nena hadn’t presented me with a gift she found at a garage sale. It’s been years since I have been the recipient of prime garage sale material, but this visit put me back on the list. Actually, truth be told, she had bought this item with Gulley in mind, but Gulley (who has been using this same tired excuse for the last 17 years) told her that, sadly, it didn’t fit. So, Nena told Gulley to give it to me because “it will fit her for sure and everything looks just beautiful on her! Just beautiful!”

    Not everything.

    Alexis Carrington Colby called today and wants her shirt back.

    Of course, I may wear it one of these days. Someone might tell me I look chick.

  • Your stomach and your family will thank you

    Okay, so since y’all asked, here is the recipe for Monkey Bread. It is unbelievably good and oh so easy. I make this every Christmas morning so that we can have a good sugar high as we open all our presents.

    Monkey Bread

    3 (10 biscuit) cans of biscuits (I’m sure some people use homemade or whatever, but I am not those people)

    1 tsp cinnamon

    1/2 cup granulated sugar

    1/2 cup butter (not margarine, so just own the fat, ladies)

    1 cup brown sugar

    1/2 cup chopped nuts (optional and it’s an option I don’t choose. Why ruin pure, sugary goodness with nuts?)

    Preheat oven to 350. Grease a BUNDT PAN (although others would say this isn’t necessary).
    If you have chosen the nut option, go ahead and throw them in. It’s your monkey bread and I’ll keep my mouth shut.
    Cut biscuits into quarters.
    Combine cinnamon and granulated sugar. Roll each biscuit quarter in cinnamon and sugar mixture.
    Arrange them in BUNDT PAN.
    Melt butter in microwave and add brown sugar. Stir it all together.
    Pour brown sugar mixture over biscuits.
    Bake for 30-40 minutes.

    Let cool for about 5 minutes and then place on cake plate. I know some people who immediately get a fork and just start eating pieces right out of the BUNDT PAN (and yes, I am those people).

    Cry tears of joy at the goodness of it all.

  • It says bundt pan for a reason, it’s not just a suggestion

    This morning my cell phone rang around 9 a.m. and it was my friend AJ calling me. Since AJ is in her early 20’s and childless, 9 a.m. on a Saturday morning is pretty early for her and really why, WHY?? would anyone be up that early on a Saturday if they didn’t have a 3 foot tall person with the demeanor of a belligerent taxi driver telling them to get up?

    Anyway, I answered the phone because I knew AJ had been out of town and thought she might be back and looking for something to do that might involve entertaining my child. Nope. She was at the lake with one of my best friends from college, Jen.

    Now, AJ and Jen met last summer in what is just one of those weird, small world kind of things. Jen was on a mission trip in Africa for Family Legacy Missions and AJ had been hired as the photographer for the trip (and as a result is doing a very cool project called “Lahema’s Legacy” ). They were sitting next to each other on a bus, driving through Africa, and making small talk. AJ mentioned that she was from San Antonio. Jen said, “I know this is a random question, but do you know Big Mama and P? (because that’s really how everyone refers to us) And AJ said, “How do you know them? Big Mama was my Bible study leader all through high school and we are great friends!” Jen told her that we were college roommates and they marveled at what a small world it is and then linked arms and sang “Kumbaya”.

    Or probably not.

    Anyway, it is a really small world kind of thing and now AJ is great friends with Jen and she goes to Dallas to visit her and spend long weekends having fun and just hanging out at Starbucks, because did I mention that AJ is in her early 20’s and childless? She can travel at the spur of the moment and be all devil may care and go eat at restaurants that have cloth napkins.

    So, AJ calls this morning for two reasons. First, Jen was making Monkey Bread for breakfast, which is a recipe I gave her years ago, but she wasn’t making it in a bundt pan, which made me very nervous. If the recipe says it needs a bundt pan then, PLEASE, use a bundt pan. Don’t take those kind of risks with 3 cans of biscuits rolled in cinnamon and sugar and covered in 8 cups of butter. But, WHATEVER, it’s her life and I’m used to Jen’s cooking methods. She once tried to bake a pan of brownies and 3 hours later couldn’t figure out why they weren’t ready until she realized the oven wasn’t even on. So, really, if she wants to make Monkey Bread in a 9×13 casserole, I just need to let it go.

    It’s her way and part of her charm.

    My advice was to bake it about 15 minutes less than the REAL RECIPE WITH THE BUNDT PAN calls for and they text messaged me later to let me know it turned out okay. And if they are reading this then let me say that I am so proud of y’all for how well you improvised with the recipe. I wanted to text message y’all back but, honestly, I’d still be here tonight trying to figure out how to change the caps lock on my cell phone.

    Have y’all heard all that controversy about people texting while they drive and it’s a danger, blah, blah, blah? Well, yeah. I can’t even text message when I’m text messaging, much less when I’m driving. That’s just a whole other kind of skill set or something.

    Okay, the second reason they called was to inform me they had pulled up Big Mama on Jen’s Blackberry this morning to read my new post and I hadn’t posted anything. WHY, WHY hadn’t I posted anything? Which is ironic considering that AJ hadn’t really read the blog at all until about a month ago and neither had Jen, and now? Now that they’ve made time to get to know Big Mama they are all demanding and everything, and calling on Saturday morning wanting to know why I didn’t spend my Friday night toiling away for their enjoyment and amusement.

    I told them, “You people have got to back off. Big Mama cannot bring the funny every day, 7 days a week. I need my weekends.”

    But here I am, so apparently, they wore me down.

    Just remember ladies, even God rested on the 7th day.

  • Our very own wonder years

    Gulley and I have been best friends for almost 20 years. In this time, we have taken many the road trip together. And the last few days proved that some things never change. I do the driving no matter whose car we’re in, we stop often for snacks, and we make each other laugh until someone spits their Diet Coke across the car.

    Good times.

    On Wednesday morning, the plan was Gulley and her kids would pick Caroline and me up around 10 a.m. This would allow us plenty of time to get to Bryan in time to show up at Gulley’s mama’s birthday luncheon. We hadn’t planned on the fact that it was pouring down rain, so we got started on our way around 11:00, when P put on his raincoat and carried an umbrella for me while I put Caroline’s car seat in Gulley’s car and loaded up our suitcases and all my pillows. Then, I went around to take the wheel because, due to my control issues and my impatience, I always do the driving.

    Other than that, I’m really laid back.

    Gulley let the kids take turns picking the music. Caroline picked something from the Cars soundtrack and then, it was Jackson’s turn. He picked “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC. Gulley looked at me and said, “When you write about this on the blog, because I know you will, please mention that he heard the song during the bullriding at the rodeo this year and not because I still listen to AC/DC on a regular basis”.

    Oh, I’d say an AC/DC concert t-shirt proves otherwise, my friend.

    It’s just a joke. A little humor to pass the time until I figure out the point of this post.

    Here are our little headbangers in the backseat. Please note, not a cup pourer in the bunch.

    During one of our frequent potty stops, Gulley let everyone pick out a bag of candy for the road. Her boys chose Skittles. Caroline chose Circus Peanuts, so really, who am I to judge about AC/DC? I have a child that will choose Circus Peanuts over something normal like M&M’s or Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. Circus Peanuts are worse than those sugared orange slices that everybody’s grandparents keep in a glass candy dish.

    There was also a point on the way home today that we decided to stop and get Chik-fil-A for the kids to eat for lunch. I asked Gulley if she was going to get something for herself and she said she didn’t know, was I going to get something? And I had to reply that I didn’t feel that hungry since I’d already eaten a chocolate chip cookie, two kolaches, and a donut earlier.

    It was only 11:30 a.m.

    But we both got an order of chicken nuggets anyway, because hello, it’s Chik-fil-A and my stomach might get nervous if I just went cold turkey on consuming massive amounts of greasy food.

    Anyway, we had a great time. There are stories to be told, but it’s not going to happen right now. I’m still recovering from the massive amounts of fun, staying up way too late, and actually having a sore throat from talking so much. But here’s my thought on the road trip, and it’s a little sappy because I just watched the last episode of “The Wonder Years” and the Kevin Arnold voiceover talking about the fleeting days of childhood and one day being in diapers and the next day being grown, left me with tears running down my face because I am a big old sucker for emotionally charged television.

    And I have PMS.

    So really, I could have been watching “The Jeffersons” and started crying because it is so inspiring that George and Weesie worked their way on up to the East Side.

    But here’s my point.

    You know how at some point in life you’ve had that friend that you daydreamed with and thought how great it would be if y’all lived down the street from each other and got to see each other everyday and your kids could grow up together and be best friends?

    Gulley is that friend for me.

    When we met almost 20 years ago, I couldn’t have imagined that someday we’d live a mile away from each other, take road trips with our kids and that they would love each other as much as we love each other. But they do.

    Caroline had a great time. And yes, some of it was due to the massive amounts of candy, the donuts, the birthday cake and getting to stay up way past bedtime. But mostly, it was because of how much she loves Jackson and Will.

    I don’t know what the future holds for this little gang, but I bet there’s a lot of fun that will be had along the way.