Year: 2009

Skatetown Texas

Later today I’m leaving on a jet plane for Charlotte, North Carolina to speak at the She Speaks conference. Actually it’s not quite midnight here right now so the real truth is I’m leaving tomorrow, I’ll be lucky if the plane is anything more than a miniscule tube of death, and I’m only speaking at one session called “Blogging for Beginners”, which will basically consist of me standing in front of a room of people or maybe just six people and saying, “A blog is a journal that is on the internet. What? You have a question about writing code? Sorry, can’t help you but I love that shirt you have on. Where did you get it?”

I know it makes you sad to think that you’ll be missing out on such a vast wealth of world wide web knowledge.

Anyway, you might think that I’ve spent the day packing for my trip or at least making some sort of list of things I need to pack, but you would be wrong. I’m just going to throw a bunch of stuff in a small carry-on bag an hour before I leave and hope for the best. It’s like I don’t even know myself.

Part of the problem is that I had a busy day getting everything ready for the slumber party we’re throwing for Caroline’s birthday which happens to be the day after I get back from the conference. The other issue is we had another friend’s birthday party to attend for most of the afternoon. And not just any kind of party, but a party that involved this.

Yes. That is my foot in a roller skate. Please note that neither the carpeting nor the skates have changed since 1982 which was the last time I was in a roller rink.

I’ll tell you what else hasn’t changed; The pro shop that still sells beautiful white roller skates with hot pink wheels that make you want to take up professional roller skating because they are just that cool, the roller rink disc jockey who announces “Time for all you fast-skaters to get on the floor and show us what you’ve got!”, and the guy that’s way too old to be there, yet has all the best moves and spends the majority of the time skating backwards in his fancy black skates with white stripes while his long hair flows behind him like he’s the Fabio of the Magic Skate.

Caroline was invited to a roller skate party which caused me no small amount of distress because she’s never really skated. Santa Claus brought her some Disney Princess plastic skates for Christmas but he didn’t realize that her parents wouldn’t have an infinite amount of patience to teach a child to skate who insists that she knows what she’s doing only to fall flat on her bottom, so our skating experience has been limited.

My thought was that I’d put her in roller skates and I’d just stay in my shoes and help her keep her balance. It might have been a brilliant plan had I not worn flip-flops but it only takes 42 pounds rolling over your big toe once to make you rethink a strategy.

So I went and got myself a pair of size 8 skates circa 1976 when Disco Duck was king and hit the floor in spite of the fact that my center of gravity and bone density have significantly changed since the last time I donned a pair of skates. I figured at least a broken arm might make a good opener for my session at She Speaks. “I got this broken arm while I was roller skating yesterday. I totally lost my balance when I reached for the comb in my back pocket to brush out my wings.”

As it turns out, roller skating is kind of like riding a bike, it all comes back to you. In fact, for about thirty glorious seconds I even skated backwards which caused Caroline to scream to all her friends, “LOOK AT MY MAMA! SHE KNOWS HOW TO SKATE BACKWARDS!” That’s right, kids, Mama knows how to skate backwards because when she was a little girl Hollywood gave us quality movies like Skatetown U.S.A. and Xanadu that motivated you to hone your roller skating skills. At least I know that when she turns thirteen and starts to doubt my coolness and relevance, all I have to do is take her roller skating and remind her that I know how to skate backwards. I’m sure it will still be just as impressive.

By the end of the party, Caroline was getting the hang of it a little bit during the brief periods of time that she’d actually let go of the wall and move her feet as opposed to just pulling herself around the wall to achieve forward motion. Based on her enthusiasm for the loud music, the disco ball and the skates with hot pink wheels, I think we have a lot of skating in our future.

The whole experience was honestly like stepping into some sort of time warp where the employees, carpets and disco ball haven’t changed since 1978. What other establishment gives you that kind of experience other than maybe a Waffle House?

Not many, my friends. Not many.

And now I have to go pack or at least come up with reasons why it can wait until later.
The heat goes on

Because what else are you supposed to do when it’s 106 degrees outside?
Just a bunch of nothing because it’s late

It probably comes as no surprise that I stayed up way too late to watch the finale of “The Bachelorette” and, frankly, by the time it was all over I was just relieved to be put out of my misery. It’s like I can’t turn away, yet I find myself wondering if perhaps there’s a better way to spend an hour and fifteen minutes of my life than sitting in front of the T.V. getting sucked in by all the emotional drama that comes with choosing the person you think you want to marry in a two month time period. Because we all know that two months is all the time you need to really know someone.

Also, I’m very confused as to why Reid showed up wearing white shoes with what appeared to be a suit and an untucked shirt. Don’t get me wrong, it’s better than Ed’s penchant for a tank top but I think it could have been the deciding factor for Jillian.

When Jillian and Ed took what had to be the eleventh helicopter ride of the season, I wondered if maybe they were going to pull out any sort of weaponry and open fire on some wild hogs. I guess that would be a different kind of reality show. A reality show that P would actually watch instead of just mocking my taste in television.

For those of you who weren’t sure if I was serious about the helicopter hunting, let me assure you that I wouldn’t joke about such things. Actually, I would joke about it but some things in life just can’t be made up. In South Texas, the hogs tend to take over because they breed like, well, wild hogs. If their numbers aren’t controlled it could become like a plague of locusts, but with pork. What better way to control them than to take to the air in a risky method of transportation with a pilot who is mentally deranged and flies at 120 mph?

On an entirely different note, the color I used on Caroline’s walls (What? Weren’t we just talking about shooting hogs out of helicopters?) is called Dancing Green by Sherwin Williams. I nearly went with Potpourri Green by Benjamin Moore but got irritated that the hardware store didn’t have any of it available in those miniature trial-size samples and decided I’d show them by just taking my business on down to Sherwin Williams. I have no doubt that Benjamin Moore will forever regret losing all $45 of my business.

The furniture actually arrived yesterday and I spent most of the day ironing a bedskirt, duvet cover and shams. Caroline never ceases to be amazed by the iron because she sees it so rarely. It’s a novelty appliance, much like our toaster that can only be used when it decides to work. I finally got everything set up but want to wait on the “after” pictures until it’s completely finished, plus she’s in there asleep right now and if you think I’d wake her up for a picture then you have underestimated how many times I rebuilt the same Lincoln Log structure over and over again yesterday.

In other news that doesn’t relate at all to anything else I’ve written about, I’m getting my hair cut at 11:00 a.m. As usual I am in a quandry over the bangs vs. no bangs vs. maybe some side-swept bangs issue. These are the issues that keep me up at night.

Well, and wondering why Reid decided to wear those white shoes and couldn’t take the time to tuck in his shirt.
Green is the new pink

I’m not sure what happened to me as I slept on Friday night. All I know is that I woke up on Friday morning with an insatiable desire to clean some stuff out and get some things done. Actually, my initial desire was to eat a bowl of yogurt now that I’ve been reunited with my triple berry crunch granola, but after that I was ready to get down to business. I would say it was business time but that phrase has taken on a whole new connotation to me ever since I saw Flight Of The Conchords.

I decided to start with making a pile of clothes that don’t fit Caroline anymore so I brought out all her fall/winter stuff from last year and had her try it on. It didn’t really take that long because she’s grown about five and a half feet in the last two months and I knew none of her pants would fit. My favorite moment was when I pulled out this darling leggings and dress outfit that I practically begged her to wear every day last year while she adamantly refused and she exclaimed, “OH MAMA! I LOVE THIS! IS IT NEW?” No, it’s not. You know what else isn’t new? Me beating my head against a wall because I do not understand why you want to drive me to the brink of sanity.

After sorting through her clothes, I moved around a few more things because I was officially inspired to go ahead and paint her room, which is a task I’ve been putting off all summer since I’ve been very busy going to the pool and eating ice cream sandwiches.

Speaking of ice cream sandwiches, I bought the miniature ones at HEB but have discovered they don’t taste nearly as good as the full-size version they serve at the pool. Some may say it’s psychological, but I smell a Blue Bell conspiracy. I’m not sure exactly what the conspiracy is since making everyone eat large ice cream sandwiches doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I’ll let you know when I put all the pieces together.

Anyway, I ordered new bedding for Caroline’s room over two months ago because it was on sale plus free shipping and I am all about some free shipping. As much as I love a good online purchase I just lament the cost of the shipping so I am a sucker for free postage. Long story short, most of the bedding came in, but two of the shams were on backorder and they were a crucial piece of the decorating puzzle because I knew I wanted to paint her walls some shade of green but wouldn’t know what shade until I saw the stripe on the aforementioned shames.

Is anyone even still reading this? Oh my word, cut to the chase.

So the shams finally arrived about a month ago, but I couldn’t get motivated to paint because the thought of taping all the trim, putting down plastic dropcloths, and gearing up to be a totally neurotic perfectionist made me want to throw myself off a speeding bus. And then something snapped on Friday and I was all like “TODAY IS THE DAY!”

Caroline spent Friday night and Mimi and Bops’ house and I spent Friday night painting. P was down in South Texas because he had to get up early on Saturday morning to shoot hogs out of a helicopter, which reminds me that I need to up his life insurance coverage because if he’s going to continue to engage in risky behavior I want to know that I can at least buy an iPhone and maybe a new purse if something happens to him.

I’m kidding because I don’t really need a new purse.

At some point I’ll do a total before and after post of the room, but right now there’s not much “after” because all I’ve done is paint the walls and I still need to get my grandmother’s furniture from my sister before I can finish it all and break out the new bedding that was shipped to me FREE.

This is the room before. I’d never really done much to it after moving her out of her crib, but it did have more on the walls. It just didn’t occur to me to take a “before” picture until I’d taken almost everything down.

And this is the room after I finished painting.

I was a little worried that it was too bright, mainly because it seemed like her room was emanating some sort of green glow reminiscent of a small party room full of leprechauns. However, it’s grown on me and I think it will look magically delicious once I get it all together.

Of course if it doesn’t, I’ll be forced to repaint the whole thing complete with about fifty Q-tips because that’s the only way I was able to perfectly line the edges of the white trim. Once again, nothing brings out my inner OCD like painting. It’s really a sickness.

At one point I accidentally got a blob of green paint on the moulding across the ceiling and I thought I was going to be sick. I may have even turned green.

Or maybe that was just the glow coming off the room.
Blah, blah, blah

I had the best of intentions to do a whole post on some possible trends for fall according to my new People Style Watch magazine. I bought the People Style Watch last Sunday afternoon and couldn’t wait to look at every single page and see if the fashion industry is honestly going to try to sell us on the idea of denim leggings.

(Regretfully, the answer is yes.)

(Also, they actually used the word “chambray” and I had to check to make sure I hadn’t purchased an issue from 1991.)

Anyway, on Sunday night I searched high and low for my People Style Watch but couldn’t find it. I even looked in the refrigerator, which is just a sad statement on my mental faculties because there was a real possibility that it could have been there right next to the lettuce and week-old leftovers. Finally, I decided that the bagger had done me wrong and forgot to put it in my grocery sack.

And then I went to crawl under the covers and there it was underneath my pillow.

I’m going out tomorrow to buy a book of Sudoku puzzles in an attempt to help my cognitive abilities.

All of this to say that I had big fashion plans but then spent way too many hours out in the sun yesterday and I’m exhausted and have lost my will to search for fashion finds all over the internet. So instead I’ll just sum it up by telling you that there’s a high probability the denim legging is not your friend.

Also, I’m finally reading “The Help” by Kathryn Stockett after hearing so many rave reviews and I cannot put it down. In fact, I may be finished with it by tomorrow night which makes me sad.

So how about you? Have you read any good books or worn any denim leggings lately?

I apologize for the randomness. I blame the heat.

Y’all have a good Friday.
Two decades of wisdom, except without much wisdom

About this time last year I received an email about plans for my twentieth high school reunion. And I thought, bless their hearts, it hasn’t been twenty years since we graduated from high school because that would mean we’re old and all drive minivans and wear sensible loafers. Then I did the math and realized that yes, as a graduate of the class of 1989, it has been twenty years since I teased the crap out of my bangs in the hopes they would be higher than my mortarboard cap when I walked the stage to receive my diploma and hugged all my classmates while a cassette tape of Whitney Houston belted out “One Moment In Time” over a mediocre sound system.

And then I looked in the mirror and found two new gray hairs.

And then I cried.

Anyway, the reunion is now officially only a few weeks away and yesterday I emailed a bunch of scanned high school photos to my friend Tracey to use as part of the festivities. While I looked through the album full of so many high school memories, I reflected on all the things I’ve learned in the last twenty years. Deep life lessons. The wisdom that only comes with age and the realization that Guess overalls can’t bring lasting happiness, even though they were totally awesome when I wore them with my Esprit booties.

Here are twenty other lessons I’ve learned over the last two decades:

1. Tweezers are your friend. For heaven’s sake, if your eyebrows cover half your eyelid and often impede your vision, don’t be afraid to get rid of a few of them.

2. It may seem cool to get a car with only two seats but it will prove to be impractical even though it has a sweet Alpine stereo system with a radio that requires you to turn the knob to change stations.

3. Nautical-themed attire is best reserved for toddlers and sailors.

Honestly, I don’t know if I’m rockin’ a side pony in that picture or if my ponytail was big enough to cover the entire back of my head.

4. Four perms a year is four perms too many.

5. Later in life you may experience some guilt related to your direct role in destroying the ozone layer due to excessive use of Rave aerosol hairspray.

6. Tucking your jeans into your socks just makes you look like an ice cream cone. An ice cream cone with a big, crispy perm on top.

7. Blue mascara. No.

8. Laying out in the sun using only the spf contained in baby oil is a bad idea. Why did it never occur to me that I was literally frying myself?

9. It’s possible to wear too much Lauren by Ralph Lauren perfume, especially if you carry it around in your purse to touch up your scent in between classes.

10. Just because you can get shoes dyed to match your peach lame’ prom dress doesn’t mean you should. And, really, peach lame’ is a regretful choice.

11. Peplums don’t work for everyone.

12. Same goes for shoulder pads.

13. Contrary to my belief at the time, Erasure did not prove to be the best band ever. Ditto for Duran Duran and Whitesnake. However, Run DMC and The Beastie Boys totally stand the test of time.

14. While satisfying and delicious, a lunch comprised of Cool Ranch Doritos and Reeses Peanut Butter Cups probably isn’t the best choice.

15. As it turns out, breaking up with a boyfriend doesn’t mean it’s the end of the world, although it does push the limits of how many times you can fast-forward a mix tape to Sinead O’Connor singing “Nothing Compares 2 U” or listen to the entire Chicago 17 album.

16. There is such a thing as hair that’s too big. A sure sign is when it extends past the perimeter of your graduation cap or requires you to use a bottle of Aussie Sprunch Spray and a set of 52 hot rollers to achieve the desired width to height ratio. Sometimes less is more.

17. Same goes for bows, both on dresses and in your hair. Also, a puffed sleeve should be used in moderation.

18. The banana clip was an unfortunate hair accessory made more unfortunate by the fact that I owned one in every color. I believe it was the Bump-It of the ’80’s.

19. I have never been more right than when I informed my Geometry teacher that Geometry was a waste of time because I’d never use it in real life. EVER.

20. Twenty years go by in the blink of an eye and, while each one has its share of challenges, it just gets better.

Out of curiosity and interest in the male perspective, I just asked P what he’s learned since high school and he said, “You reap what you sow”. I was thinking more along the lines of does he regret having a mullet during his junior year of high school. So I guess the other life lesson is it’s a good idea to marry someone who tends to be a little more philosophical and introspective when it comes to life, although I think it’s safe to say in retrospect the mullet was a bad call.

What about y’all? What wisdom have you gained since high school?