Month: March 2009

Edition 53: Fashion Friday

So, before I even get started with this week’s Fashion Friday, I need to say thank you for all your coffee table support. It’s nice to know that most of you have very similar coffee table issues. I have long suffered from coffee table insecurity and am comforted to know I’m not the only one who uses it as some sort of catch-all for candy and remote controls.

March 2 is Texas Independence Day and Caroline’s school had Rodeo Day yesterday to celebrate the occasion. I signed up to volunteer for the festivities because I had some vague notion that it might be like all the Texas Independence Day celebrations I went to in college. A case of Lone Star Light, some lawn chairs, Robert Earl Keen blaring over someone’s stereo and, if we were really feeling festive, a bucket of fried chicken.

Apparently, that’s not how Kindergartners roll. I ended up being the DJ for the dancing portion of the festivities, which basically involved constantly pressing rewind and play on a tape called “The Wagon Trail”. But because I like to shake things up, we also did the Chicken Dance. I feel that it embodies everything that those men fought and died for at the Alamo.

Anyway, yesterday morning I was pulling out Caroline’s Western apparel for her to wear to school and realized her Wrangler shirt was terribly wrinkled. I tried to ignore it, but I knew I needed to pull out the iron. So I dragged out the ironing board and began ironing the shirt into some semblance of respectability.

About that time, Caroline walked into the kitchen and saw me ironing in the laundry room. She cocked her head to the side as if she had stumbled upon a freak show and said, “What are you doing, Mama?”

“I’m ironing.”

“Oh. Hey! I saw somebody do that on T.V. one time.”

What can I say? I am a firm believer in dry-cleaning. Or wrinkled clothes.

Now for the questions.

1. Melissa asks: “I’m flying to LA this weekend to see a guy I went to high school with and recently reconnected with on Facebook. So I need ‘don’t I look fabulous and wouldn’t it make a great chick flick if we fell in love because of Facebook’ outfits for the trip. Seeing as I’m not 25 or a former DCC I’d like to avoid the scarf and tank top combo a la The Bachelor..any great looks for me?”

Melissa, I don’t even know if I have any great fashion advice to offer you, but I am so fascinated by the whole possibility of a Facebook romance that I’m a little bit giddy. Facebook is a wonder. How did we ever live before we could look up the boy that was mean to us in third grade and rest in the knowledge that he is now totally bald?

Hypothetically speaking.

I think the key is to go cute and casual. Maybe a cute printed trench or a cotton blazer with a pair of jeans for the plane ride.

Depending on your plans for the rest of the weekend, you could put together an outfit like this one (love the statement necklace) or maybe something like this if you’re feeling brave.

And you can never go wrong with a versatile dress that you could dress up or down.

Most importantly, I am going to need a full report on the weekend and whether or not your life will eventually be the subject of the feel-good movie of the year. I know you don’t know me, but I am incredibly nosy.

Hence, my love of Facebook.

2. Angie asks: “My brother got me a $50 gift card to Old Navy for my birthday. If you had $50 to spend there what would you buy for your spring wardrobe?

Too bad I can’t buy a brother because I could seriously use a $50.00 hookup to Old Navy.

But enough about me.

If I had a $50.00 gift certificate to Old Navy, the first thing I’d do is wait for about another month before you buy anything. The upside of these horrible economic times is that they are going to have to drastically reduce prices to move merchandise. Not to mention the fact that you should never pay $26.50 for an item of clothing you buy in a store that has shopping carts.

That being said, I love this skirt and it comes in various colors and patterns. I also really like this tunicswimsuit coverup. These short-sleeve henleys or ruffled front cardigans would go great with jeans, shorts or skirts all summer long.

And if I had any money left over, I’d buy two pairs of flip-flops because if you buy two, they’re only $2.50 a pair.

$2.50 for flip-flops?

Is this 1974?

That’s all the questions for today. I was hoping to answer more questions, but I’ve stayed up way too late every night this week catching up on all the DVRed television that isn’t going to watch itself and I am exhausted. Not to mention that our Spring Break officially starts tomorrow and I’m going to need all the energy I can muster to serve as Caroline’s cruise director for the next ten days with no Kindergarten.

So, in fashion terms, that means it’s time to put on my big girl pants.

I’m putting up Mr. Linky if you have any fashion tips you want to share or feel free to leave them in the comments.

Y’all have a great Friday!
Maybe I need a coffee table book about coffee tables

I realize that some of you are still hunkered down trying desperately to survive the bitterly cold winter armed with only your Snuggies and gas fireplaces, much like the Ingalls family in “The Long Winter”. However, here in South Texas, I do believe winter is officially over.

We did have some cold weather over the weekend and I tried to take full advantage by making Caroline wear this darling corduroy jumper to church on Sunday since I know it won’t fit her next year. She agreed to the jumper, but when I suggested she wear it with her fur boots she told me, “I’m just not feeling the boots.”

Okay, Rachel Zoe.

You mark my words, there will come a day this summer when she will have a fit to wear those dang fur boots with her swimsuit to the pool and I’ll have to launch into my time-honored lecture on seasonally appropriate clothing. You can bet Caroline Ingalls never had to deal with this kind of stuff. Her girls were just grateful to have some new calico for a dress.

Why am I rambling? I think the steady stream of reality t.v. this week has reduced my I.Q. by at least 45 points. Points I can’t spare, by the way.

Anyway, my point is that winter is over. In fact, this is how we spent the afternoon yesterday.

(Please ignore the paint spills on the steps. Some hack just recently painted our backhouse.)

Actually, before we started in on the popsicles we gave the dogs a bath because they were beginning to stink up the whole neighborhood. P took them to the ranch on Tuesday and Scout, in particular, has never met any type of excrement that he doesn’t want to roll in.

I couldn’t find the dog shampoo but, thanks to Pantene, their coats have never looked so lustrous and shiny.

After the dog baths, we enjoyed some popsicles and played some tee-ball until Caroline fell on our sidewalk and then launched into a twenty-minute rant about how we needed to have those sidewalks removed. She DOES NOT LIKE those sidewalks! Why did Daddy put those sidewalks in our yard? It’s all HIS FAULT.

Or maybe it’s her fault for not looking where she was running. But I didn’t point that out because, good grief, don’t anger it any further.

While I was out in the backyard, I finally remembered to take a picture of the completed backhouse. And by completed, I mean that everything is now painted that you actually see and the rest is hidden by the landscaping so what’s the point?

(Please ignore Scout licking himself. It’s who he is.)

(Also, I don’t know why that window is open. Totally ruins the picture.)

I am just so relieved that I finally finished the project, even if it did bring me to the edge of sanity and reason. It just goes to show that if you work really hard, go to college, and earn a degree, that someday you can grow up to paint your own garage. God bless America.

So now that I’m finished with the backhouse, I have another home improvement project on tap. This one doesn’t involve any sort of manual labor because, NEVER AGAIN. It’s more of a home decor issue and I could use some decorating input.

Like most of the free world, we own a coffee table. It’s the same coffee table we’ve owned for the last ten years and I have no complaints about the table itself. It’s perfectly lovely and functional.

At one time, prior to Caroline’s birth, the coffee table used to have some actual decor-type items on it. But then I had to put those items away because most child-rearing manuals will tell you it’s not a good idea to let an 18-month-old walk around carrying wrought iron candlesticks.

I replaced what was on the table with two stacks of various coffee table books because apparently I am very literal about them being called “coffee table” books. The problem is that P likes to prop his feet up on the coffee table and would push the books off EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. Then we’d end up having the same discussion EVERY SINGLE NIGHT, which was basically “WHY DO YOU WANT TO MAKE MY LIFE SO HARD?”

Finally, I gave up and moved the books off the table because my blood pressure can only go so high.

Which brings us to how the table looks as of today.

Granted, if your decor is supposed to reflect your lifestyle, then I think we’re doing a pretty good job. Classy, elegant and filled with processed sugar and Disney Princess light-up wands.

Am I wrong to want more out of a coffee table? Is there any hope for me?

I’d love to hear your thoughts. The only criteria is that whatever I use as decor needs to be cheap, and, by cheap, I mean free.

Muchas gracias.
All-Natural is just another word for bad

Since Caroline is in school five days a week, she doesn’t go to the grocery store with me as much as she used to. This saddens her greatly because there is no activity that thrills her more than walking through HEB with me and seeing how many things she can ask for before my head explodes.

The truth is that I kind of miss the grocery store companionship, but mostly I miss being able to buy a box of Little Debbie Swiss Cake Rolls and then tell P, “She just had to have them!”

There was no need to clarify that by “she”, I meant “me”.

Anyway, the other day I had to run in HEB after I picked her up from school to get a few things we needed for dinner, like avocados, a large bag of M&M’s and the latest US Weekly. While we were there, I told her she could pick out any box of any cereal she wanted.

ANY CEREAL.

This is what she chose.

Needless to say, I thought we were going to have to take her in for some genetic testing.

Especially considering that I wouldn’t have survived my freshman year of college without Cap’n Crunch Peanut Butter Crunch Cereal.

Oh, the Cap’n. We had some good times.

It’s hard to imagine many good times involving natural marshmallow pieces, which is probably why you don’t hear many people say “YUM! These Mallow-Oats are just a big bowl of naturally-sweetened deliciousness!”

But I kept my mouth shut. If my child doesn’t want to embrace her heritage of artificially-flavored, high-fructose ingredients, then so be it. Spread your wings and fly, my little hippie.

The next morning, I poured her a bowl of the Mallow-Oats. She took one bite of a natural marshmallow and I could tell by the look on her face that she immediately regretted her decision.

“This is not good, Mama.”

“I know.”

“Can I have something else?”

“Yes, baby. Let Mama get you a Swiss Cake Roll.”

I’m totally kidding.

I’d never let her share my Swiss Cake Rolls.
Episode fourteen: Big Boo Cast (I know!)

It is with shocking irregularity that we manage to produce any sort of podcast. I’m not sure what the problem is, but I may think it may be directly related to why we are just two moms being big goobs on the internet as opposed to, say, Oprah Winfrey.

But with the MOST SHOCKING conclusion in “Bachelor” history, Sophie and I felt like we wanted to share our thoughts on the subject along with various other reality T.V. programming.

I can guarantee there probably won’t be much insight on the whole Molly/Melissa/Jason love triangle that hasn’t already been analyzed, but that’s kind of our motto. Bravely going where a lot of other people have already gone.

So to listen to all the insightful insights, just click here.
Where is the kiwi knife when you need it?

Words really can’t express the stress I experienced yesterday when I realized that on tap for evening television was not only a special two-hour episode of “24”, but also two glorious hours of “The Bachelor” finale followed by a one-hour “After the Rose” special.

For those of y’all who struggle with the math, that adds up to FIVE HOURS of quality T.V. viewing packed into one evening. It’s a burden I didn’t take lightly.

It’s times like these that I give thanks for the inventor of the DVR because no way could I entrust this kind of abundance of viewing riches to a VCR that was known to warp a tape and leave me wondering how various episodes of “E.R.” ended. Of course who knew then that I would still have the option of watching “E.R.” sixteen years later?

An option I decline, by the way. If there was ever a show that needed to be put out of its misery, then “E.R.” is it. Well, and “Caillou”. But that’s more about my misery.

So last night I knew P and I would watch “24” while it was actually on. It’s one of the few shows that we both enjoy, primarily because it’s one of the few shows he watches that isn’t called “Tracks Across Africa” or “Where the Wild Boar Grows”.

But here’s my problem with “24”. Every season there will come a point where they push the limit from believable to completely unbelievable and P will say a few words he probably shouldn’t, get up off the couch, and announce he’s done with “24” FOREVER. In fact, there was a point last night when I believe he actually said, “Jack Bauer is dead to me”.

Most of the time, by which I mean ALL OF THE TIME, I am not really aware of all the tactical and weaponry flaws committed that make the show so utterly unbelievable. The plot points that tend to stretch my imagination are usually things like the President’s wife stabbing him with a kiwi knife or the fact that I’m pretty sure I wear jeans in a bigger size than Keifer Sutherland so how can he be all that tough?

The bottom line is that due to some ludicrous plot lines that took place on last night’s episode, we have reached the point where we’re done with “24”. Now that I think about it, I’m not sure we’ve ever actually seen the end of any season. It’s just what we do.

Thankfully, after “24” was over last night, P flipped through the channels and happened to catch the end of Ted Nugent’s hunting show entitled “Spirit of the Wild” and was blessed to see Uncle Ted (as Ted Nugent calls himself because don’t we all call ourselves Uncle) playing the National Anthem at Texas Stadium. It was the only thing that could have restored his faith in the power of television.

In the meantime, I knew I had three hours of “Bachelor” viewing just waiting for me on the DVR, but there isn’t enough money or curiosity in the world to make me watch it while P was still awake. He’d just ruin it with all his mocking and eye-rolling. So I completely avoided email, Twitter and Facebook because I was afraid someone would spill the beans.

It was like a 45 minute media fast and I was beginning to feel a little faint.

Thankfully, P went to bed and I was able to watch the entire train wreck with the benefit of fast-forwarding through all the gratuitous walks down memory lane that are the hallmark of any “Bachelor” finale.

I believe my feelings about the finale are best summed up in a letter to the ABC network.

Dear ABC Network,

You are walking a very thin line, my friend. First, there was Sunday night’s episode of “Brothers and Sisters” that had been repeatedly touted as featuring a “SHOCKING DEATH!”. A character flat-lining for two seconds and then being revived doesn’t constitute a shocking death. If so, there would be a SHOCKING DEATH every week on “Grey’s Anatomy”. I feel completely betrayed.

And speaking of betrayed, now you give us this whole “Bachelor” debacle.

It’s as if television isn’t even real. If you can’t count on two people finding lasting love and commitment during a six-week period of time that includes trips to New Zealand, multiple hot tubs, and Goodyear blimp rides, then I don’t know what’s left to believe in.

Sincerely,

Uncle Melanie

P.S. “The Bachelor” is dead to me. For now.

P.S.P.S. Please let Melissa know she’s better off. She’d be wiping that Nancy boy’s tears for the rest of her life and sometimes you need a man to be the strong one. Maybe you could introduce her to Jack Bauer.

If you don’t watch T.V. and spend your time reading books and seeking actual knowledge, then I apologize for this entire post. It’s just that when you spend five hours (really just three hours because of the marvel that is the DVR) then it’s pretty much all you have to talk about.
And today I quote Benjamin Franklin

I don’t know if y’all have heard, but apparently our nation is in the midst of some economic turmoil. You don’t hear that much about it unless you happen to read the news, have a conversation with someone, or leave your house, but it’s true. The economy has fallen and it can’t get up.

So, let me tell you about the new pair of jeans I bought on Thursday. I found them on sale at The Rack and just had to have them. They fit so great and were such a good deal. Plus, they have cute back pockets that flap over and I’ve been dying to have some cute back pockets that flap over. I hugged them to my body as I walked up to the cash register while whispering, “You complete me”.

The only problem was that as soon as I got in the car I felt guilty for buying them. To be honest, as much as I tried to justify in my head that I NEEDED them, the six other pairs of jeans in my closet would beg to differ.

And, thus, they are going back to the store this week. Hopefully, they’ll find a good home with some girl who knows how to love and care for cute back pockets that flap over.

My guilt over my jeans purchase went deeper than the fact that I really shouldn’t be spending the money. Yes, that’s definitely part of it since we have no idea how long this recession is going to last and need to be wise with our finances, but something else was making me feel that deep-down yuck in my stomach. I couldn’t quite figure out what it was, but I knew it wasn’t insecurity about the pocket placement on the jeans because that was perfection.

Then yesterday morning, we went to church. The sermon was about being content.

And I realized that was the heart of the jean issue for me, lack of contentment. As much as I am content in some ways, there are other areas where I am so quick to overlook the blessings I have been given because I am always looking for the next thing, whatever that may be.

When I came back from my Compassion trip to the Dominican Republic, my heart was changed. There is something about standing in a shack and hearing a woman tell you that she has all she needs because she has Jesus that gives you some clear perspective. It challenged me to question if I could say that same thing, but even more than that it made me want to live that kind of life. A life that doesn’t get so bogged down in all the things I want and instead focuses on what I have, because, unequivocally, I have more than I deserve.

Honestly, I am ashamed at how often I forget that.

I’m not saying I’ll never buy another pair of jeans again because that would be a lie. The truth is that if God ever gets me to a point where I look in my closet and say I have all I could ever want, then He will have worked a miracle akin to parting the Red Sea.

But last night I looked over the photos of all the sweet faces that I fell in love with in the Dominican and thought about how so many of them had joy and peace that we just don’t really see in our neighborhoods and schools. It made me think of a quote by Benjamin Franklin, “Content makes poor men rich; discontent makes rich men poor.”

(That’s right. I just quoted Benjamin Franklin. Apparently I used to read more than People magazine.)

I want to be that kind of rich. A rich that says I have all I need, in spite of a world that tells me I need so much more.

“…give me neither poverty nor riches, but give me only my daily bread. Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you and say ‘Who is the Lord?’ Or I may become poor and steal, and so dishonor the name of my God.” Proverbs 30: 7-9

The other benefit to contentment is it makes you want to reach out to those who really are in need. If you’d like to sponsor a child through Compassion, you can click here or on the graphic below to go to the sponsorship page. It doesn’t have to be a child from the Dominican Republic, there are thousands of kids everywhere whose lives could be changed for just $32.00 a month.