Year: 2010

  • All shiny and new

    Do you love the new look? Because I LOVE the new look.

    And if you’re reading this in your feedreader then you need to make the    extra effort to click over here and see the new design. (You don’t really have to. I don’t want to be pushy.) Of course if you always read from your feedreader then you may not even know what the old design looked like. But pretend you’re excited anyway.

    I have known for a long time, deep in my heart, that I was ready for a new design for the blog, but didn’t know exactly what I wanted. I had some vague ideas, but no real concrete plan. Which is basically how I go through life.

    Sometime around mid-December, I emailed Cathy at Desperately Seeking WordPress and asked if she’d be interested in helping me work on a new blog design. What I failed to mention were all my obsessive tendencies and complete inability to use helpful adjectives in describing what I wanted it to look like.

    So, bless her heart, she said she’d love to help me and put me on her design calendar for mid-January.

    You don’t even want to know how many emails we’ve exchanged since then, but I have a feeling that Cathy feels significantly older than she did when she started this process because these are some real live excerpts from my emails to her:

    “I found this painting that I love. Can we make it look like this, but without the British flag?”

    (It looks nothing like the painting in question. And that’s a good thing.)

    “I think I want the letters to be a peacock blue, but not too bright. Like maybe a soft peacock blue?”

    (Soft peacock blue? I hope she rolled her eyes when she read that.)

    What’s the thing that shows up in your browser bar? You know? That thing that looks like something?

    (The answer is a favicon. I’m going to have one.)

    “I don’t know. I can’t decide. Will you decide for me? I have issues about making decisions.”

    (Yes, will you please code and design everything and make all my decisions?)

    Ultimately, Cathy used a graphic that I sent her way back in December and we worked together on all the other aspects until it was something that we both loved. She was so great about making suggestions that I wouldn’t have thought about or even known that I should think about, but added so much to the final design and feel. I wanted something that was simple and clean, but still pretty. I wanted something that felt like me. And this is it.

    Seriously, I can’t thank Cathy enough for her endless patience and design sensibilities. She is a peach.

    (However, peach wasn’t a color I wanted on my blog. Just some soft peacock blue.)

    In other news, we received our new receiver from Dish Network yesterday and I had to spend an hour of my life that I’ll never get back trying to program the new receiver with our remote control. Then, to add insult to technological injury, I still had to call Dish Network customer service so they could verify our new receiver and help me figure out why the T.V. in our bedroom wasn’t working.

    Honestly, they don’t make a bottle of Valium large enough to help me through that kind of situation. At one point the girl asked, “Can you find your RS0009 code?” and I said, “Is that even a real thing or are you just messing with me? And, while you have me on the phone, can I help you with any free tax advice?”

    Fortunately we got it all working because I would have had to crack some skulls, or at least talked to someone in a not very nice voice, if the DVR wasn’t up and running in time for a T.V. lineup that I like to refer to as Majestic Monday.

    And. lastly, look who still has all their teeth.

    Her loose tooth is bothering her so much that she couldn’t even eat her broccoli last night. Although, miraculously, she managed to eat all the Doritos I sent in her lunch.

    Note to self: Call and schedule a haircut appointment for your child.

  • I could see clearly now until the clouds came back

    Friday started out like a normal day. I dropped Caroline off at school, came home and got back in bed with a cup of hot choffee (Half hot chocolate, half coffee. Trademark pending.) and waited for Regis and Kelly to come on. This is what my bout with SAD has done to me. It has led me down a dark road that causes me to turn on bad morning television because how am I supposed to leave the house and accomplish anything when it’s cold and rainy outside?

    But right about the time I finished my choffee (trademark pending), I saw a strange light flooding in through my bedroom windows. And in the words of the oath I recited during my sorority pledge presentation in college, LO, THE SUN.

    All of a sudden I turned back into a productive member of society assuming that the sign of a productive society member is someone who cleans their bathrooms, vacuums their rugs, sweeps the wood floors, showers, blow dries their hair and gets dressed in something other than velour sweatpants and a sweatshirt that reads “Texas Aggie Football 1993”.

    (Sadly, 1993 was about the last time Aggie football was good and that is why I hold on to the shirt.)

    And, yes, I realize I could have cleaned the bathrooms during my bout with SAD/becoming a hermit, but I kept thinking my maid was going to show up until I realized I don’t have a maid. Which just caused me to fall further into depression.

    But the sun turned it all around for me. I felt like a new person, a person with dreams, goals, and ambitions! Well, maybe I’m getting carried away. It was the sun, not Zig Ziglar.

    Speaking of Zig Ziglar, when I began my first job out of college, an ill-advised foray into financial sales, the company paid for me to attend a motivational seminar featuring a variety of speakers who were supposed to get you FIRED UP about life and your career. It totally worked and I left the Alamodome determined to be the best financial salesperson I could be despite my inability to balance my own checkbook. But then the O.J. Simpson trial started and I was powerless to do anything except watch the trial while I ate Ruffles potato chips dipped in ranch dressing. So you can add the death of my financial career to O.J.’s long list of crimes.

    Anyway, the sun stayed out all day Friday and, much to my delight, showed up again on Saturday. P had to work all day Saturday because the rain has caused them to fall behind on a lot of jobs, but Caroline and I spent most of the day outside just soaking up the sun. After a winter full of nothing but gray skies, I’m afraid this may be the summer that I officially veer over into George Hamilton territory. But I have to remember that a sunny 70 degree day feels differently than a sunny 105 degree day. I’m sure MaMaw will pull out her sun hat by the time June hits.

    Sunday morning decided to be a buzzkill and showed up with clouds and some drizzle. Caroline and I are both suffering from a lot of congestion and a chronic hacking cough so we stayed home from church, but she was invited to a birthday party later in the day. After the party, she came home and was looking through the party favor bag and found a candy necklace. Clearly there is nothing more precious to a six year old girl than an accessory made of processed sugar.

    She took a bite of it and got a funny look on her face. I asked, “What’s wrong?” and she said, “I THINK MY TOOTH IS LOOSE.”

    I wasn’t sure if I believed her because we’ve had loose tooth false alarms several times that have just turned out to be a wayward piece of Chex Mix, but, sure enough, one of her bottom teeth is officially loose. I’m not sure if it was loose before she bit into the candy necklace or if the candy necklace was the perpetrator, but whatever. She finally has a tooth to wiggle after years of bemoaning her dental misfortune.

    And that’s all we heard about the rest of the day.

    She wasn’t sure if she could put up her clean clothes because of her loose tooth. She didn’t know if she could carry her plate to the sink because of her loose tooth. She could hardly eat her tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich because of her loose tooth. A tooth, by the way, that is less than half the size of my pinky nail.

    When I tucked her into bed she thought she might need some Tylenol to help with the pain of her loose tooth and definitely needed a lullaby because of THE LOOSE TOOTH.

    Honestly, where does she get the drama? Doesn’t she know there are real people, LIKE HER MOTHER, who are suffering from serious things like SAD?

    But I sang her the lullaby because I knew it would make her smile. And I don’t know how many days we have left of that little smile that looks like baby Chiclets all lined up in a row.

    They’ll be gone like the sun before I know it.

  • Fashion Friday: Edition I think I might have SAD

    I don’t know that I went into one single store this week unless you count the four trips I’ve made to HEB. It has rained and rained for days. And I have mentioned the rain?

    I’ve spent most of my time trying to avoid leaving the house unless it’s absolutely necessary. Hence the trips to HEB because P and Caroline tend to be high-maintenance and want frivolous things like “lunch” and “dinner”.

    The worst part is I’m pretty sure if I don’t see the sun in the next few days that I’m going to develop a raging case of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) if I’m not there already. And guess what the forecast calls for next week?

    More rain.

    And possibly some ice.

    Which is why I’ve been searching the internet for raincoats for Caroline and me. P bought himself a new raincoat from Cabelas last fall because he believed the meteorologists when they said it was going to be a wet winter while I tended to fall into the I’ll-believe-it-when-I-see-it-because-weathermen-are-big-fat-liars category. Unfortunately this strategy backfired on me.

    And I can’t really discuss the super cute raincoat that was way on sale at Boden last spring that I didn’t buy because it hadn’t rained in San Antonio in two years and why would I need a raincoat when I live in a desert?

    I still haven’t ordered a raincoat for myself, but I found this darling one for Caroline along with some matching rainboots. Too bad it doesn’t come in my size.

    Although I’d be perfectly happy with this darling hot pink one from Boden. Maybe it will go on sale so I can buy it thus ensuring that it will never rain in San Antonio again.

    Anyway, I thought I’d answer some questions today since I really haven’t been out in the stores and all my online shopping has been dedicated to the pursuit of rainwear.

    1. Commamama asked: “I was wondering if you could recommend a fashionable, small cross-body handbag (I spent a long time with my friend Google figuring out what to even call the object of my quest). Right now, I carry a glorified wallet on a string, and it isn’t pretty, though it does contain at least one dart from the recent Nerf toy Happy Meal series.”

    You would be horrified if you saw the size of the purse I carry everyday. It really is just one step shy of a duffle bag. But it comes in handy on the days I decide to carry around my home phone. And someday there will be a lucky chiropractor who will profit from my need to carry around everything I own on my shoulder.

    But if I decided to downsize and be sensible, then I would probably opt for something like this Betty Bag. It’s practical and cute all at the same time.

    Or you could go with something like the No Mad or Saddle Satchel Kavu bag.

    OH WAIT. I was just looking at Piperlime for something else and saw this ADORABLE Orla Kiely sling bag. I realize it’s probably bigger than what you are wanting but OH MY WORD at the cuteness.

    2. Judith asked: “I’m going to the beach with my boyfriend’s family over spring break. Can you recommend any modest cover-ups or swim shorts to wear over my swimsuit? Any other spring fashion tips? What style flip-flops or sandals are in this year?”

    Oh the beach. I would like to go to there.

    Okay, a trip with the boyfriend’s family is kind of a big deal. Am I wrong? It seems like a big deal, but what do I know? The last time I had a boyfriend was thirteen years ago and I married him.

    Victoria’s Secret is a great place to look for swimsuit coverups because they have a wide variety of styles and coverage. I love this ruffled kaftan, strapless smocked dress, and off-the-shoulder tee dress. They also have some cute cropped cotton cargo pants and smocked gauze shorts that you could throw on over your swimsuit with a tee or tank.

    Athleta has the Surf Side Kurta that I have long adored and also this tunic-length rashguard that can be cinched up as much or as little as you want.

    As for sandals, there are so many great options. You can never go wrong with your basic flip-flop, but you could also look for something with a little extra something like these with a little peony or with a fun print. You can’t go wrong with just a simple t-strap sandal
     or maybe something with a wedge heel if you want a little height. I believe my love of the the wedge heel is well-documented.

    Hope you have fun and, if you get a chance, mail me a picture of the sun. I can’t remember what it looks like.

    3. Jayde asked: “I want to wear the tall boats but I need to know how and you can’t just tell me you have to show me. I work in a corporate setting and not sure what’s appropriate for work as far as boots go.”

    The sad news is that I took to long to answer this question and I can’t find any pictures on the world wide web to show you some great looks with boots in a corporate setting, but I’ll do my best to help you out since you shouldn’t have to pay for my extreme procrastination.

    Since you work in a corporate setting, I’d recommend investing in a good pair of black boots with or without a heel depending on our preference. Corporate America thrives on the color black so it’s a safe bet you’ll be able to find plenty of clothing options to pair with your boots.

    You can wear them with tights and a shift dress or a skirt. They’d also look great with a classic wrap dress or worn under your favorite pair of dress pants as long as you choose a style that’s dressy enough.

    And the best part is that a great pair of boots can easily transition into your casual outfits as well. They’re the fashion gift that keeps on giving.

    That’s all for today. I’m off to see if I can find some sort of Vitamin D supplement or a tanning bed.

    Y’all have a great Friday.

  • Uncle Ted in 2012

    Yesterday P received a fresh shipment of the Ted Nugent coffee that he loves and adores.

    And not only did he get three pounds of fresh coffee, he also got some sweet new bumper stickers.

    I bet you can’t get those at Starbucks.

  • Is there a deduction for a bad DVR?

    Some day when I look back on the end of 2009 and the beginning of 2010, I will remember it as that time when technology tried to kill me. I feel like every week there is a new technological glitch in my life that really makes me long for a simpler time when all a girl needed was a new slate board and a piece of chalk.

    Over the weekend I noticed our T.V. was acting a little funny. Actually, it wasn’t the T.V. but rather our Dish Network service. All of a sudden the screen would freeze in the middle of a show or the DVR would stop in the middle of a recorded program like it was over even when it wasn’t. I didn’t know what was going on so I resorted to my time-honored solution for all technical problems and unplugged the receiver and plugged it back in again.

    And it totally worked.

    Until it didn’t.

    It seems that the old unplugging maneuver only works so many times before the Dish receiver starts making sounds like it’s going to explode and all you can think about are the episodes of Chuck and 24 you have recorded and OH THE HORROR if you lose them.

    Yesterday afternoon things reached a crisis point and I realized I could no longer avoid making a call to Dish Network’s customer service. I believe I’ve mentioned there is nothing I dread more than dealing with any sort of technical customer service. I rank it up there with being punched in the stomach or realizing that stores are actually selling acid-washed jeans again.

    I’m looking at you, Forever 21.

    But I am a fan of the television. So I picked up the phone, dialed the Customer Service number, looked at the T.V. and whispered, “This is for you, baby. It’s all for you.”

    Naturally I had to push 1 to let them I know I wanted the call in English. And 2 to clarify that it was a service issue. When I finally got a real live person on the phone, I explained the situation and how I’d already unplugged it and plugged it back in several times. Because that’s their answer for everything which makes me feel like I may have missed my calling in tech support.

    The guy asked if the T.V. was showing an error message. I explained it was earlier but was working now. That was the wrong thing to say because without the error code that holds the keys to the kingdom, he couldn’t help me. He suggested I call back the next time I received an error message.

    So I did. FIVE MINUTES LATER.

    I made note of error #224, picked up the phone and went through the five stages of grief while I waited to talk to a real live person. AGAIN. When I finally got someone on the phone, he asked me for my error code.

    OH I’ll GIVE YOU MY ERROR CODE. IT’S 224.

    He told me that I needed to unplug the receiver, wait thirty seconds and then plug it back in. Seriously, are people getting paid to dole out this kind of advice? As if the whole “Pants on the Ground” phenomenon wasn’t enough to make me question where we fall intellectually as a society, the Dish Network customer service sealed it for me.

    I politely explained that I’d already done that oh, I DON’T KNOW, 500 times in the last five days, but I did it again because I was trying to be a compliant customer. So I unplugged the receiver and said, “Okay, I just unplugged it.”

    He replied, “Okay. Let’s wait thirty seconds and then plug it back in.”

    “Alright”

    Awkward silence.

    Then, out of the blue, he says, “While we’re waiting, can I ask you a question?”

    “Sure.” (Thinking we were heading towards a complicated series of technical questions.)

    “When is it too late to file your taxes for the year? Is it March 31st?”

    Are you kidding me? I’ve called you because I need to watch 24 and find out how many times Jack Bauer yelled at Chloe last night and you want me to answer your tax questions?

    I answered, “April 15th.”

    “Oh really? Man, I didn’t know. I’ve had, like, a lot of different jobs this year and I had this one where I only made $15.00 and do you know if I need to count that on my tax forms? What if I don’t mail them in on time? Is there a penalty? Like, can I go to prison?”

    At this point I seriously thought someone must have hijacked my phone line and was playing the most brilliant practical joke in the history of ever.

    But it was no joke.

    So I played the role of E.F. Hutton and explained all the ins and outs of the American tax system and how the IRS takes these things very seriously and how a person just needs to make sure they have all their necessary information mailed by midnight on April 15th.

    And then he asked, “How do you know if your post office is open until midnight?”

    I know you will find it as SHOCKING as I did that he wasn’t able to help me at all with my television issues, but hopefully he will be all square with Uncle Sam thanks to my tax tips and that’s really the most important thing. Nevermind that the United States wouldn’t even exist anymore if it weren’t for Jack Bauer and his ability to stop major terrorist attacks SEVEN different times in a twenty-four hour period.

    I bet he could fix my DVR.

    Last night P and I turned on the T.V. as if we were playing the lotto. COME ON, BIG MONEY. But no luck. We did the whole plug/unplug thing to no avail and ultimately accepted that 24 wasn’t going to happen for us. In fact, television wasn’t going to happen for us.

    And I was so frustrated because I had attempted to be proactive and remedy the problem with the receiver before it turned into a full blown issue, yet was thwarted by one young man who needed an error code before he could do anything and another young man who could benefit from a tax seminar.

    I picked up the phone and called Dish Network. Again.

    This time I got a nice boy named Shaun (Shawn?) on the phone. I explained my DVR issues, the unplugging and the replugging, the freezing of live T.V. in the middle of a show and he said, “Let me verify your address and we’ll ship a new receiver to you tomorrow.”

    Was that so hard?

    I believe the answer is yes. Yes it was.

  • File this under things that make me worry about myself

    At some point over the weekend, Caroline developed a cough. She didn’t seem to necessarily feel bad and never had any fever, but it just sounded like the kind of vague childhood cough that could either turn out to be nothing or end with the two of us in a steamy bathroom in an attempt to help her breathe better while I mentally flog myself for not taking her to the doctor sooner.

    By Sunday night I still couldn’t tell which way the cough was going to go, but she said she FELT FINE and, also, COULD I PLEASE STOP LOOKING AT HER WEIRD EVERY TIME SHE COUGHED. So I made the executive decision to give her cough medicine before bed and then just let her sleep until she woke up Monday morning and figure out what to do from there.

    She woke up yesterday morning around 8:15 and immediately asked, “Is it late? Am I late for school?”

    “Yes, baby. I decided to let you sleep in because I wanted to make sure you weren’t getting sick.”

    “WELL I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS AT ALL. I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL.”

    “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

    “Yes, I feel fine and if I miss school then I won’t get my free ice cream.”

    Because she hasn’t missed a day of school this year, she’s discovered that you get a certificate for free ice cream from McDonalds for each nine week period with perfect attendance. And, clearly, free ice cream trumps possible pneumonia.

    Ultimately I agreed that she seemed to be fine and so I drove her to school where she was about an hour late, but the whole thing kind of threw my day off. I guess I expected to be home all day with a sick kid and I just never rebounded into doing anything productive. Or maybe I was just so stunned that a child who shares my DNA would be so eager to go to school as opposed to milking her ill health.

    Anyway, the rest of the day flew by and all of a sudden I looked at the clock and realized it was time to go pick her up. I hurriedly threw on my shoes, grabbed my purse and made sure that I had my phone. There is nothing that makes me crazier than to realize I’ve left my cell phone at home. It’s like being instantly transported back to the paleolithic era known as the early 90’s when people weren’t completely accessible at all times and had social skills beyond sitting at a table with someone and texting the whole time.

    I picked Caroline up and told her we could go to Sonic because I know how she loves the Mozzarella Sticks and I know how I love a Route 44 Diet Coke. So I ordered our food and then drove up to the window where I began to dig in my purse for my wallet.

    And while I was looking, this is what I found.

    Apparently I am no longer content with just making sure I have my cell phone, but feel the need to carry around my home phone as well.

    Idiot.