Year: 2011

All weekend long the local meteorologists predicted that we were going to get rain on Sunday night and Monday morning. And I was FIRED UP about the rain because I do love a good thunderstorm. I made big plans to spend most of the day on Monday cleaning out Caroline’s closet while I listened to the rain and stayed warm and dry inside.

But the rain never happened.

No rain.

Because we are in the middle of a drought. And as P likes to remind me on an almost daily basis, we essentially live on the edge of a desert. Not to be confused with living on the edge of a dessert like I originally typed. Truth be told, I think it would be nice to live on the edge of a dessert, preferably something chocolate and served with a side of ice cream.

However, it did get cold. The temperature dropped about twenty or so degrees late Sunday afternoon.

(I hope you are enthralled by this weather report for a city that the majority of you don’t live in. I know this kind of useful information is why you stop by here every day.)

(Also, am I the only one who thinks it’s a little sad that I made big plans to clean out a closet? And maybe even put it on my calendar?)

So I proceeded with my plan to clean out Caroline’s closet. Mainly because it was about to be overrun by an army of half-naked Barbies, a My Little Pony sleeping bag and about sixty-two different backpacks and suitcases. Not to mention that her winter clothes and summer clothes were still mingling together which has caused a lot of “WHY CAN’T I WEAR MY BLUE SWEATER PONCHO EVEN THOUGH IT’S 101 DEGREES OUTSIDE?” And then that leads me straight into the “I AM GOING TO PUT UP ALL THESE CLOTHES AND YOU CAN JUST CHOOSE FROM THREE SHIRTS AND TWO PAIRS OF SHORTS”.

I started with her bookshelves because she has outgrown many of her books in the last year. I saved the ones that have sentimental value, but felt like we could live with Dinosaur Danger and Princesses are Pretty and definitely Ernie Uses the Potty. Especially because I’ve always felt Ernie Uses the Potty is weird because how have he and Bert lived together all these years if Ernie has had struggles with basic toilet training?

After I had a pile of books to give away, I moved on to the stuffed animals. Over the years I’ve learned that the best strategy is to eliminate six or seven of them at a time. I’ve tried to be more ambitious than that, but always end up getting busted. It’s like a prison break, if too many men try to go at once you’re bound to get caught. Not that I’ve ever been a part of a prison break, but I have seen Shawshank Redemption at least nine times.

So I used a poster to cover the hole in the wall that I used to help the stuffed animals escape.

Actually I loaded them into a large trash bag and then sorted through Caroline’s clothes. I put the winter clothes up on a shelf WAY out of sight and then did an inventory of her summer clothes. From the looks of things, her Old Navy and Gap t-shirts spent all winter huddling in the bottom drawer for warmth, got carried away and procreated all winter long. I don’t understand where all the t-shirts have come from.

Finally, I had several bags of things to give away or donate or throw out. And since this isn’t my first clean out rodeo, I immediately carried all the bags out to the stay wag and drove around town dropping them off at their various destinations. You’d think I’d be embarrassed to go out in public wearing my rattiest pair of yoga pants, a Frankie Say Relax t-shirt and an old gray warm-up jacket. And I was. But I did it anyway.

When I picked up Caroline from school, I mentioned that I’d cleaned out her closet and, OH HERE’S A NOVEL IDEA, why don’t we try to keep it clean and hang up the forty-six different shirts you try on and then discard every morning? She surveyed her closet, complimented my handiwork and was none the wiser that Big White Bear has gone on to a better place. If a better place is the local Goodwill store.

We spent the rest of the afternoon watching Black Beauty on T.V. and then asked P to build us a fire because the temps had plummeted to 56 degrees. And with a windchill of at least 52.

Let the record show that we had a fire in our fireplace on May 2, 2011.

And that Caroline even felt the need to put on a stocking cap to ward of the chill.

Let the record also show that we are all native Texans.

Have you ever eaten one pack of Reese’s peanut butter cups and thought they were so delicious that you should eat another pack and then maybe another pack? And then before you knew it you were lying on the couch with a raging stomach ache vowing that you’d never again succumb to the delicious temptation of chocolate mixed with peanut butter especially if it meant you never had to hear Barbara Walter’s voice again?

Yeah, me neither.

But, hypothetically, that experience would be very similar to my Friday spent watching the Royal Wedding. Except substitute Reese’s peanut butter cups with ABC television coverage of William and Kate’s nuptials.

And I loved every minute of it.

I didn’t stay up all night to watch the whole thing live because God gave man the ability to invent the DVR. However, as soon as I dropped Caroline off at school on Friday morning, I came home, fired up the DVR and watched the ENTIRE THING. I saw seating charts of Westminster Abbey and a largely unfortunate assortment of hats (I’m looking at you, Beatrice and Eugenie) and listened to Barbara Walters until I completely regretted my decision to make ABC my royal viewing network of choice. Why did she have to go on and on about Alexander McQueen’s suicide while I was trying to enjoy Kate’s dress?

And about Kate’s dress (I realize she’s Duchess Catherine now, but she’ll always be Kate to me), it was perfection. Elegant and beautiful and simple. She looked just like a fairy princess bride should look. Cinderella wishes she looked that good on her wedding day.

I watched the double kiss at Buckingham Palace and the flyover and then watched while the networks all rehashed the entire thing and brought in lip-readers to translate what everyone was saying and speculated about when they would have little royal children.

Then (I can’t believe I’m about to publicly admit this. I almost feel like I need to apologize to someone.) I watched the replay of the original William and Kate movie on Lifetime. It was truly horrible in the delightful way that can only be achieved by Lifetime movies and I adored every minute of it. Although P stopped by the house at one point and I immediately changed the channel because I was so embarrassed to be watching it. I’m not really sure why considering I was still watching Beverly Hills 90210 when we got married back in 1997. And I’ll still watch it today if I catch a good rerun. P didn’t marry me for my intellectual television taste.

But those who watch Uncle Ted’s Spirit of the Wild cannot throw stones at my glass television house.

In other non-royal news from the weekend, Saturday morning was a big day. Caroline’s soccer team, the team formerly known as The Cheetah Girls and now known as The Magic or TTFKATCG if you want to be cool like Prince, beat their arch-rivals, The Dragons. And I may have been the slightly obnoxious soccer mom cheering in the stands because it was her last game of the season and I really wanted them to win. Afterwards we celebrated with an end of the year party and the girls all ate grilled sausage on a stick while they soaked in the hot tub. Because what says VICTORY like sausage on a stick being gnawed on by a bunch of girls with half their teeth missing?

Which, by the way, our missing teeth situation escalated on Sunday morning when another one of Caroline’s teeth fell out while she was eating a chocolate donut after church. Her mouth now looks like a jigsaw puzzle. A very cute puzzle, but a puzzle nonetheless. I will also never recover from the moment she said, “MAMA! My tooth just came out in my donut!” and I said, “Spit it out!” while I held out my hand, totally not realizing I was about to end up with a hand full of chewed up donut.

I’d like to say it was a rookie mistake, but I’ve done this long enough to know better.

And now I’ve written this entire post and they just announced that Usama Bin Laden has been killed. That’s probably more important than the Royal Wedding.

But the clothes aren’t as pretty.