Year: 2011

  • If you don’t hear from me in 24 hours, you’ll know why

    Well, it’s sad times here at our house. P has been stricken by what appears to be the stomach bug that I’d thought we’d managed to dodge. As I sit here on the couch watching The Golden Globes and wondering if Sandra Bullock’s bangs are of the clip-on variety, he has been quarantined to our bedroom. I should probably go check on him but I’d hate to wake him up. Or worse, catch what he has.

    However, I think we all know that once the stomach virus enters a home it takes no prisoners. Which is why I’ve been very careful about what I eat tonight since there’s a good chance it might end up on a list of foods that are dead to me.

    The irony is that I really thought Caroline was coming down with something. On Thursday night she was completely congested and had that glassy look in her eye that is usually a harbinger that cold season is about to take you down. We were up several times during the night and I even offered to let her stay home from school on Friday, but she insisted she wanted to go because it was the end of the 9 week grading period and she was desperate for perfect attendance.

    That trait skipped my generation.

    After school on Friday she seemed better but we still laid low most of the weekend. It was rainy and cold here which is the kind of weather that just begs you to stay in your pajamas and be completely unproductive. And who am I to say no?

    Late Saturday afternoon, Caroline had another basketball game. It brought me as much joy as the first one except they were playing a team of girls that seemed to have a little more experience. Which is my polite way of saying they were way too aggressive according to the league rules and the refs didn’t call them on it. Not that I’m bitter about it.

    When the game was over, P and Caroline packed up and left to go to the ranch for the night. And I was ALL BY MYSELF. I debated all my various options and ultimately chose pajamas, the couch, homemade mac and cheese for dinner and the Miss America pageant.

    And let me tell you, I chose well, young Jedi.

    (Is that even a real line from Star Wars? It seems right but I am not a fan of the Star Wars movies because they involve space and spaceships and science fiction.)

    I grew up watching the Miss America pageant. It always seemed like such a big event. I’d grab my little notebook and keep track of various scores as they scrolled across the screen. It probably speaks to the fact that I grew up in the 70’s that I truly believed that being Miss America was the female equivalent of a boy growing up to become the President of the United States. A boy would have to work hard, make good grades, build a political resume, but all a girl had to do was be able to play a decent rendition of Moon River on the spoons and have hair that defied the laws of gravity for all her dreams to come true.

    In recent years I haven’t watched many pageants. I think this is directly related to the fact that most pageants are no longer aired on a major network and I forget to regularly check the T.V. Guide to see what’s on CMT. But on Saturday night, ABC brought the pageant back complete with our favorite host of bad television, Chris Harrison. Well done, ABC. Well done.

    And so what could have been an average Saturday night with carbs and pajamas, turned into a veritable extravaganza of sparkly gowns, big hair, smiles that have seen more than their share of Crest Whitestrips, and black two-piece swimsuits that looked like the underwear section of a 1978 J.C. Penney catalog.

    My cup was already overflowing when the talent portion began. American viewers were treated to an array of talent that included a rendition of Papa Was A Rolling Stone and an Irish Riverdance complete with a moonwalk.

    And then Miss Arkansas showed the world that she was a yodeling ventriloquist. At that point I might as well have just turned off the T.V. because the only thing that could have topped it is if one of the contestants had answered, “Is that NeNe Leakes’ sister?” when asked about the WikiLeaks controversy during the interview portion.

    But these girls were way too polished for that. Miss Nebraska even used the word “espionage” in her answer which is probably why she is our new Miss America.

    And, bottom line, no one admires how well you can engage in a debate about national healthcare when you look that good in a swimsuit. Although I’m sure I’ve turned heads at the neighborhood pool when people hear me discuss my thoughts on U.S. foreign policy.

    After the pageant was over I still wanted to make the most of my free night so I watched P.S. I Love You with Hillary Swank and thought it was pretty good. I also can’t figure out why no one ever mentioned that Harry Connick, Jr. is in it because I would have seen it long before now had I known.

    I went to church on Sunday morning and came home with tentative plans to go see The King’s Speech before P and Caroline got home. But then P called and said they were on their way.

    They walked in and P announced he wasn’t feeling great. Unfortunately he didn’t mention it until after I’d kissed him hello. And then I went to unpack Caroline’s bag and came across several bones from various dead animals about the same time P’s stomach virus kicked in.

    I don’t know which made me feel worse at the time. But I have a feeling which one might make me feel worse in twenty-four hours.

  • Fashion Friday: Edition what a way to make a living

    I vowed that this week I’d be better about posting at least a few pictures of the items featured on Fashion Friday. But how was I to know that 9 to 5 would be on T.V. and I’d be completely taken in by Dolly Parton and Lily Tomlin in what I believe to be one of the greatest movies of our generation?

    There was no way of knowing.

    But I’m not going to let it totally get in the way of Fashion Friday. Here are a few cute items I’ve seen this week:

    1. roll-up button-front tops

    I saw this top at Old Navy yesterday and immediately bought one in white. And, get this, they really are on sale right now for just $15.00.

    And they come in a bunch of colors.

    And it will be the perfect thing when and if I ever feel hot again.

    2. printed button-down shirt

    This was also at Old Navy and also on sale. I was so tempted to buy the blue gingham because I just knew it would look so crisp with a pair of white jeans and a cute wedge heel. But then I remembered that it gets really hot here and white jeans rarely fit into my lifestyle.

    However, now that I’m looking at it again, I think I have to have it.

    3. striped long cardigan

    Y’all.

    I have loved this cardigan ever since I first saw it. When I noticed it was on sale after Christmas, I put it in my shopping cart at Free People many, MANY times. But I couldn’t commit because I’d never seen it in person and didn’t know if I’d really like it.

    And then Mimi and I went shopping on Tuesday and stopped in Free People on the off chance that they might have one left on the sale rack. They did. And it was only $49.99.

    My procrastination and powers of indecisiveness have finally paid off.

    4. white ruffle bib henley

    I am a sucker for a white shirt. A sucker.

    5. a new angle dress

    I have a top that’s similar to this that I bought at Gap. I love it with leggings and my tall boots.

    6. studio mona coat

    This is so completely unpractical and outrageously expensive (even on sale) unless you’re Audrey Hepburn. But, oh, it makes me want to be Audrey Hepburn for a day because LOVE.

    7. sochi sweater dress

    I think this looks so comfortable and cute.

    8. button-front trench coat

    Tim Gunn says that every woman needs a good trench coat in her closet and I tend to agree with him. It’s the perfect piece to throw on over a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and MAGICALLY you are totally polished and put together.

    9. red uptown elegance scarf

    I adore this scarf.

    10. un-cabled pullover

    Maybe it’s because I’ve been cold all day and longing for a big, thick sweater, but this looks divine.

    That’s it.

    Y’all have a great Friday.

    And don’t mix up your Skinny and Sweet with Rid ‘O Rat.

  • Everyone in the audience is getting a post about OUR BOOK CLUB!

    After school yesterday Caroline and I went to the library. And before you think I’m a wonderful mother for taking my child to the public library, I need to confess that when we pulled up in the car she said, “Oh yeah. I remember this place.”

    And while we were looking at all the books and trying to make some selections, I remembered that I’d said I was going to announce my choice for our first (and maybe last) book club just like Oprah.

    Everyone in the audience is getting a 2011 VOLKSWAGEN BEETLE!!!!

    Except I’m not Oprah. So no one here is getting a 2011 Volkswagen Beetle unless you buy one for yourself.

    However, the book club thing is legit.

    After much debate and reading of summaries and reviews, I’ve decided on Half Broke Horses: A True-Life Novel by Jeannette Walls.

    It first called to me where most of my true loves do. The shelves at Target. The title drew me in and then I was almost completely sold when a partial review on the back cover billed it as “Laura Ingalls Wilder for adults”. And I do love me some Little House on the Prairie.

    Here’s an excerpt from Publisher’s Weekly:

    For the first 10 years of her life, Lily Casey Smith, the narrator of this true-life novel by her granddaughter, Walls, lived in a dirt dugout in west Texas. Walls, whose megaselling memoir, The Glass Castle, recalled her own upbringing, writes in what she recalls as Lily’s plainspoken voice, whose recital provides plenty of drama and suspense as she ricochets from one challenge to another. Having been educated in fits and starts because of her parents’ penury, Lily becomes a teacher at age 15 in a remote frontier town she reaches after a solo 28-day ride. Marriage to a bigamist almost saps her spirit, but later she weds a rancher with whom she shares two children and a strain of plucky resilience. (They sell bootleg liquor during Prohibition, hiding the bottles under a baby’s crib.) Lily is a spirited heroine, fiercely outspoken against hypocrisy and prejudice, a rodeo rider and fearless breaker of horses, and a ruthless poker player. Assailed by flash floods, tornados and droughts, Lily never gets far from hardscrabble drudgery in several states—New Mexico, Arizona, Illinois—but hers is one of those heartwarming stories about indomitable women that will always find an audience.

    So there you have it. Here are the details if you’re not afraid to dive into a novel that features life in Texas before there was air-conditioning.

    1. Go get a copy of the book or download it on your Kindle like all the cool kids are doing these days. Amazon has it on sale for $6.63 right now.

    2. Read the book. I feel that this is probably self-explanatory but I have a need to over-explain everything.

    3. On Thursday, February 17th, I’ll write a post with my thoughts on the book and some discussion questions. Everyone is welcome and encouraged to leave your thoughts, comments, insights, etc. in the comment section.

    4. We can respond to each other there in a polite, civilized way that doesn’t include comments like “YOU’RE AN IDIOT IF YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK”.

    5. If all goes well and we have a good time, I’ll take suggestions and pick another book on Thursday, February 17th and we can start all over again.

    6. If it doesn’t go well then I will retire to my home in California, enjoy my rose garden, and start my own television network.

    7. Or I will just continue to blog about things that don’t involve discussing books.

    Y’all have a great day.

  • The girl that turns my world around

    One morning last week I got out of bed. This isn’t any different from what I do every morning. I got out of bed, made my way into the kitchen, fixed Caroline a healthy breakfast of Lucky Charms served dry in a bowl, and packed her lunch. Then I walked to her closet and picked out three different outfits for her to choose what she’d like to wear to school that day.

    As I made my way back to the living room, holding three different outfits on hangers, the absurdity of the situation dawned on me. And it only took three years.

    Maybe it’s because I’d just finished reading The Other Boleyn Girl, but suddenly I felt very much like Mary Boleyn. Except without an affair with a power hungry king and the corsets. I have become Caroline’s very own lady-in-waiting. I pick out her clothes, I fix her hair, and I make sure she has everything she needs before she walks out the door.

    And I don’t mind doing any of these things. I’m a mom. It’s what I do.

    But on this particular morning as I humbly offered the three outfits carefully chosen from her closet, she looked at me and said, “The problem is you and I don’t have the same taste. I don’t like any of these choices.”

    And I might have become slightly unhinged. Don’t mess with a woman recovering from Christmas vacation who has just slaved over a dry bowl of Lucky Charms and cut the crusts off a ham and cheese sandwich.

    “Well, if you don’t like what I’ve picked out then you can go look in your closet and choose your own outfit. It doesn’t matter to me.”

    It’s true. Yes, there was a time when I desperately wanted her to wear certain outfits with matching bows in her hair and all the right accessories. But then she started first grade last year and I looked around and realized that every child at her school dresses in a style that can only be described as HOBO CHIC. And, honestly, that’s probably an insult to hobos all over the world.

    So she walked into her room and I waited to see what she would choose. And I waited.

    And I waited.

    After ten minutes had passed I walked in her room to find her twirling around in front of her mirror. Still wearing her pajamas.

    I WAS A DONKEY ON THE EDGE.

    “WHY AREN’T YOU DRESSED? WE HAVE TO LEAVE IN TWO MINUTES!”

    “I don’t know what I want to wear.”

    So I made a few more suggestions that she greeted with, “Or what else?” And I wished that I could do something simpler, like broker a deal for peace in the Middle East.

    Finally P came in the room to intervene and told her to put on a shirt with a pair of jeans. He might have also told me I needed to settle down. I can’t remember because I had to put my head between my knees to keep from blacking out.

    After the madness of the morning, I decided that Mary Boleyn needed to come up with a better solution. Our mornings have become increasingly filled with wardrobe drama after about a year of respite and I’ve been tempted to homeschool just so we can stay in our pajamas all day.

    When she got home from school that day I announced she was now responsible for picking out her own clothes the night before school. If she forgets to do it, then she has to wear whatever I pick out with no argument or debate about the unfairness of life and how it relates to your mom making you wear leggings.

    Leggings that you begged for only two months earlier.

    As it turns out, our new system isn’t that much less painful than the old system. It just takes place at 6:30 p.m. instead of 7:30 a.m. and I have the comfort of knowing I can send her to bed shortly after we debate the merits of a plaid skirt versus a tie-dyed dress.

    Which brings us to last night. The weather forecast indicated it was going to be the coldest day of the year so far. I reminded Caroline to go pick out what she wanted to wear the next day. She asked me to help her so I obliged. I’m not a heartless tyrant in spite of my penchant for leggings.

    As we stood in her closet she asked, “What would you wear if the weather was going to be cold and you wanted to be toasty warm?”

    I pointed out a few sweater dresses and some fleece-lined tops with leggings or jeans.

    And she asked, “What else besides any of those things?”

    Seriously. Netanyahu needs to call me. We can figure this Middle East thing out.

    I said, “You find something. I need to go finish cooking dinner.”

    About three minutes later I heard her sneak into the kitchen. She threw a folded up piece of paper at me and loudly whispered, “Open it”.

    I opened it.

    It read, “I NEED HELP”.

    Don’t we all, sister. Don’t we all.

    So, because I am a glutton for punishment, I walked back in her room to give it another try. I showed her a few more outfits that she found unacceptable until I finally channeled my inner fashionista and asked, “What’s your goal? What are you envisioning?”

    “Well. I definitely want to wear my legwarmers. And two shirts. And a skirt. Maybe with some tights. And a hat.”

    Done.

    And that is how I sent Punky Brewster off to school yesterday.

  • I should write a book about what I don’t know about technology

    I have never been more grateful that my daughter got a Snuggie for Christmas than I am at this moment. Mainly because I have commandeered it for my own personal use. And while, yes, I still believe that it is nothing more than a backwards robe with a clever marketing campaign, it’s hard to deny the warmth it provides while sitting on the couch and typing a blog post.

    (Oh, my twenty-something self would be so sad at that entire paragraph. Writing a blog? On the internet? While draped in a zebra-print blanket that’s nothing more than a backwards robe? There is a queen of the nerds and it is me.)

    (I also need to disclose that my Snuggie and I just got off the couch to glare out the back door at our neighbor who has been loudly revving the engine of his vintage Mustang in his driveway for the last ten minutes with no regard for children who may be sleeping. Apparently the queen of the nerds lives next door to the king of the idiots.)

    And speaking of nerd, Sophie and I have been trying for weeks, WEEKS, to record a podcast. This used to be something we could do without much effort at all, which kind of makes me wonder in hindsight why we only recorded them about once every six months. But lately there have been all sorts of technical issues and I won’t bore you with all the intricate details. Largely because I don’t really understand the problems in spite of spending at least five minutes on various message boards attempting to troubleshoot and ultimately realizing that I don’t really know much about the internet.

    However, yesterday, we decided to give it a go one more time since she was stuck at home in the middle of ICE STORM 2011 and I was at home because that’s what I do. Sure enough, after about thirty seconds of conversation, the iChat kicked us off. I suggested that she call one of our friends in an attempt to pinpoint the origin of the technical issue. In other words, I was hoping she’d have the same problem and I wouldn’t have to shoulder the blame all alone.

    Alas, she had no problems with the iChat. Which could only mean that the internet issues are on my end. Which meant that I was forced to call AT&T customer service and spend an hour of my life in utter frustration as I reset my modem and waited while they ran diagnostic tests on the internet.

    (Is this the most boring post ever? Because it feels like it from this end.)

    To make a long story short, two hours later we were still unable to get the podcast to work and I can no longer access our home email.

    Perfect.

    Like I haven’t suffered enough at the hands of AT&T and their Cotton Bowl.

    If anyone has any idea what the issue may be, I’d appreciate your input. The error messages keep saying something like “Remote ip blah blah blah trying to connect to remote ip blah blah blah” and I’m about to suggest that we get out one of those old-fashioned cassette players and just record something on a tape.

    In the meantime, my podcast microphone has been turned into a device to secure balloons to the floor.

    At least it’s good for something.

  • I am now focusing my sports enthusiasm on basketball

    The Cotton Bowl.

    That’s all I have to say about that.

    Well, except for this. I immensely enjoyed the first twenty minutes. The first twenty minutes were glorious and filled me with hope and joy.

    Caroline and I went over to Gulley’s house to watch the game with them and eat a little barbecue for dinner. (If you live in San Antonio and have never had the creamed corn from the Barbecue Station then I feel bad for you. Your life is a shadow of what it could be.) I’d brought lunch to Caroline earlier in the day and was telling Gulley that she’d requested Subway and how I am not a fan of Subway but I’ve discovered that I can tolerate a Veggie Delight on wheat bread with spicy mustard. Gulley remarked that I seem to be into my vegetarian dishes lately and I agreed that I could probably give up meat altogether. However, I feel the need to disclose that I was piling my plate high with brisket at the time. And didn’t really even get the irony until about five minutes later.

    So, probably not going to be a vegetarian as long as cheeseburgers and brisket exist.

    Anyway, we all gathered around the T.V. in all manner of Aggie paraphernalia with great big maroon high hopes. We yelled and cheered and texted our various LSU acquaintances with a little good-natured smack talk. And then, midway through the second quarter, the game and the kids all came crashing to the ground at the same time. Jackson was close to passed out on the couch because he was so tired, while Caroline and Will began to request that Gulley and I referee their argument over some sort of Bakugan toy because they can’t just accept that they’re exhausted and feel the need to fight over minutiae.

    By half time it was clear that Caroline and I should just head home for the second half of the game. This proved to be a good decision as evidenced by the fact that she began to cry over the death of my Nanny’s cat, Rascal, during the drive home. It seems less tragic in light of the fact that Rascal has been dead for about three years now. That’s what you call MANUFACTURED DRAMA.

    I put Caroline to bed and finished watching the game even though I was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed. I held out hope for a comeback long after logic would have said to just go to bed already. Gulley and I texted back and forth and ultimately agreed that watching the Aggies lose the Cotton Bowl in the comfort of our homes was far preferable to January 1, 1992 when we were actually there to watch them lose the Cotton Bowl to Florida State and nearly froze to death and had to share one hot dog between six friends because we were a bunch of idiot college students that had spent most of our money on New Year’s Eve festivities which resulted in having to pool together our remaining cash to purchase one community hot dog.

    (I know what you’re thinking. One hot dog? Freezing cold? Six friends watching our team lose while suffering the after effects of too much New Year’s Eve fun? What’s not fun about that?)

    On Saturday we stayed in our pajamas almost all day. It was cold and dreary and the perfect day to listen to Caroline read some classic literature aloud to me while we sat by the fire. Or maybe we just watched way too many episodes of Phineas and Ferb. I can’t really remember.

    P got home from hunting by mid-afternoon and then it was time for our big event. Caroline’s first basketball game. I don’t know when anything has brought me more joy. She’d never really mentioned basketball, but then several of her little friends all decided to play and now it appears that we are into basketball. Her first practice was last Thursday and she came home and announced, “I already know everything about basketball.” Which is so impressive considering she’d never even dribbled a ball until about two weeks ago. She’s a basketball prodigy.

    The game was hilarious. In large part because none of the girls have ever really played before and it took them a while to get the concept. For her part, Caroline moved around the court and guarded her opponents in a manner reminiscent of Anthony Michael Hall trying to dance with Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles.

    In the end our team won 12-8. So I take comfort in the knowledge that at least one of my teams won this weekend.

    And I didn’t have to share a hot dog with six people.