We Went OUT, Y'all

I want to write.  I do.  I wish I had a good excuse for not writing, but mainly it's because we fired our house-cleaning service in exchange for a laundry service which requires far more work for me.

I have this new friend that I met at work.  Her husband is a drummer in a band as his second job.  For weeks she's been encouraging me (and others) to go see the band play at a bar last weekend.  A real bar.  Honestly, I didn't even tell my husband about it until the last minute because really, what the hell are we going to do at a real bar?  It made my 36.5 year-old heart all anxious and hand-flappy.
Turns out that when I casually threw out, "Oh Jenny wants us to go see the band..  .it's a country band (he doesn't like country music) and it's in the Stockyards.  The bar is named Filthy McNasty's.  Doesn't seem like our kind of thing. . .," he responded, "that sounds like fun!"

So we went.  Jenny assured me that I really did know what to do. . . I wasn't sure.  I mean, I stood, puzzled, at my closet for at least 5 minutes.  We went.  It was fun.  I forget how LOUD and smoky bars are. The smell of my hair awoke me in the wee hours of the morning.  The people watching!  Oh, the people watching!  I not so subtly videoed the cowboy glory.  You're welcome.  (And yes, this is for real, and no, not the norm in the whole city, only in specific areas and specific establishments.)

Is this Acceptable?

Remember how I said I was determined to not buy any more maternity clothing items?  I think I lied.  But I need your advice, dear readers. 

Fat girl+maternity shorts+Texas in the summer=????

Is it totally wrong?  I mean, mostly for wearing around the house, playing in the backyard and walking my 'hood.  Now to find some that don't cost a fortune. . . at least, if I get the thumbs-up. . .

Gilded Moments

I have these friends.  I don't write about them enough, probably because I take their amazing presence in my life for granted.  Sad, but true.  Another big reason I think I don't write about them is because I have no idea how to adequately describe these friendships without throwing out every cliche possible and being generally too ooey-gooey.

Perhaps the simplest description is to say that these women have been in my life in a significant way for 15 years.  There have been joys, sadnesses, strife, frustration, more laughter than most anyone could think possible and plenty of margaritas.  Friendships of this nature cross from the simple concept of friend into family.  Family that is chosen.  The commitment I feel to these friendships is intense, similar to how I feel about the commitment to my sister, my husband, my children.  I am aware that many in our culture may find this odd--how can you be devoted to friendship the way you are to your children?  Because there is no other way.  I am who I am because of our history.  Because of our growth.  Because I am a better person because I have friends who keep me honest, know my quirks (there are many) and provide an outlet that allow me to grow so that I may return to my home a better wife and mother.  Is this making anyone nauseous yet?

A couple of weekends ago, these ladies and some other dear friends had one of our pilgrimages to the country.  It is fortunate that LJ's family can provide housing far from society, which makes our staying up late, howls of laughter and lack of showering go unnoticed.  These get-aways are harder to come by as we grow older, as outside commitments pull and tug on our time.  No matter, when all are equally determined and committed to make something work, it will happen.

Simplicity.  Joy.  Celebration.  Nature.  Tears.  Porch-sitting.  Game playing.

Sunset on the Beer Blind.  

Skittles vodka, anyone?

Dominoes, beer and sunshine?  Yes, please.

Birthday cake!  

West Texas provides its own form of beauty.

The nearest town, roughly 250 people, has one restaurant.  The food is good.  The prices are cheap and the decor is bizarre.  

This was the sign out front.

Scary puppet-thing in the window next to the restaurant.

After dinner at the restaurant, we saw a big ol' rattlesnake in the road.  We know it was a rattlesnake because there was zero traffic, so there was a mandatory stop to check it out.  Back at the house, we did some serious star-gazing.  That's because the kind of dark it is with no other humans in sight, no lights from any other houses in the distance, no streetlights is a serious star-gazing opportunity.  Returning to reality is always difficult, no matter the good things to which I am returning.  Those magic, gilded moments are hard to leave behind.  But it is just a place, symbolic to our friendship, yes, but the core of these friendships goes far beyond setting, age or normal expectations.  I am one lucky lady.  

On Perfection.

Today was one of those rare, close your eyes and make a wish, hold your breath, perfect kind of days.  Rare.  Rarer still with an almost three-year-old consumed with a case of the whinies.  I can expound upon that another time.  Back to perfection.  I should add to my raving that it was a balmy 78 degrees.  In January.  Really.

We decided to embark upon the virgin journey for our chitlins to the Fort Worth Stock Show (no rodeo this year. . . I mean there is a rodeo, we just didn't attend).  I was excited.  Even after departing our home at least an hour and a half past our goal departure time.  So we off we went.  Brooklyn missed her morning nap.  She didn't cry.  Elliott didn't whine.  No really.  He didn't.  We saw horses. We saw pigs.  We saw chickens.  We saw lambs.  No whining.  We (Elliott) sat on tractors.  No whining.  We visited a petting zoo, where Ell declined to actually pet. . .anything.  We wrapped up our trip with a jaunt down the giant bumpy slide, complete with burlap seat, for Daddy and Ell.  Oh, and a trip on the motorcycle carousel.  NO whining.

This day then moved into another study in perfection by dining outside at Joe T. Garcia's.  No margaritas, but still perfection.  Oh, and did I mention that it was 2:00 and neither of my children was crying AND that they still hadn't napped?  Yep.  Stupendous.

We go home.  We napped.  We painted.  We played.  We laughed.  This is one for the record books.

Snack break. Yes, I did remember the hand sanitizer.  

I was impressed with the hard work and cheerful, friendly attitudes of the teens there to show their animals.  They didn't seem to mind stroller-pushing, camera-wielding families with toddlers wanting to pet their animals.  I never did the ag-thing, but it made me think I would be proud to see my kids work that hard at something. . . I mean, without considering the slaughtering-thing at the end.  I couldn't handle that. 

One of the rare acutual petting moments.

We loved the baby chicks and the ducks.  I am fairly certain Ell would have been happy to spend all day in the Children's Barn.  

Tractor-sitting is always a big hit.  

Creepy-eyed goat and Brooklyn.  She was far more willing to actually pet the animals.  

Takes me back.

Loving the "motorcycles."

Will Rogers Colosseum on a perfect day.

I love the Art Deco inspired art architecture.

Brooklyn checking out her feet at lunch.

He's like my own Jackson Pollock.

At the end of the day, Ell told me that his favorite animals were the piggies.  Can't you see why?

Perhaps my favorite picture of the day.  I mean, of the ones sans children.

And did I mention that when we returned home, our cleaning service had been to visit?  I know.  I'm a little spoiled.  We would live in squalor if not for the cleaning service with both of us working full-time.

And THAT is how you spell a perfect day.

Most Eligible Dallas?

Confession:  I love me some trashy tv.  Love it.

My latest exploration?  Most Eligible Dallas on Bravo.  I have a love-hate relationship with this insipid show.  I stare at the people and wonder how they became to be so shallow and yet I can't move away from the screen. I stare and wonder, where do these people work?  when do they have time to sleep? do all children of wealthy parents end up as not-so-hard-working socialites? do people across the nation assume that all Dallas-ites are that shallow?

Now Dallas is way different from Fort Worth.  Wayyyy different.  I typically turn up my nose at Dallas-ites, my husband is known to assert that he would NEVER live in Dallas.  Before my sister up and decided to attend college in Dallas, I was certain of the same thing.  But then something happened.. .  I realized there's some great neighborhoods in Dallas.  Great people.  Great restaurants.  Great shopping.  Now, to be honest, I also realize that there's the plastic, shiny side of Dallas that makes me tired just to contemplate.  This is the side featured in my trashy tv show.  Inherited money, girls constantly shopping for husbands, big hair, big make-up, all-designer, all the time.  Even a local radio host has fallen into the trap.  Listening to him hosting shows on stations featuring oldies from the 60s, 70s and 80s, I assumed he was a fun-loving, family man.  Fun-loving? Yeah.  Family man?  Yes, in so far as he has 4 ex-wives and numerous children.  That's a lot of family time.

I digress.  My point is that I can't stop watching because I have to know if Matt and Courtney finally kiss.  Pathetic, but true.  So if you are watching this out in trashy-tv-land, please know there are darn nice people in Dallas.  We aren't all on the plastic, seen-to-be-seen scene. 

Now back to America's Next Top Model, my original trashy tv addiction.  All Stars?  Even better.

Intoxicating Baby Scalp

Seriously?  Is there any better smell that the head of a tiny baby?  I say no.  I find myself sniffing Brooklyn's head over and over, letting it fill up my senses, eyes closed in bliss.  I want to bottle it up, saved for days when she's over-hair sprayed, yelling "I hate you," or the tween years when she's greaserrific and not into washing her hair.

Brooklyn participated in a rite of passage two weekends ago--she visited the Ranch.  Site of girls' weekends full of margaritas, game playing, relaxation and porch sitting.  It was the first time in 14 years that we have taken a child with us for a girls' weekend.  I have to say, it went surprisingly well.  Being a monumental moment, it was captured via iPhone pictures, for isn't that how all big moments are captured?

Breakfast sudoku time with Kathy.  Ranch staple of sitting at the banquette.

Chilling on the floor, pulling her head up to check out mommy.

Turns out that Big Sam loves baby heads, too.

Just one more sniff!

Sunset on the Beer Blind.  Don't worry, no beer was consumed by small people.

As always, leaving the Ranch was difficult, but made more enticing by going back to my sweet toddler boy.  He insisted on sending me a video when he was with Glammy & Poppy.  And as is typical in toddler-world, I came back to my sweet boy saying "Gwammy" instead of "Mammy" and asking "why" incessantly instead of the continual "what for?"

My Accent, Y'all!

My sister posted an accent Vlog and I'm totally fascinated by people's accents, so I thought I'd give it a go. . . well, with lots of reservations. I'm not a big fan of: a) hearing my voice on playback, b) the amount of chins in this video, c) the shape of my eyebrows, and d) my hair--it looks a hot mess. BUT I'm being brave and posting it anyway because it was authentic and totally caught a genuine moment of my twisted sense of humor and I didn't think it would work to try and re-create that. Disclaimers OVER.

Steal this idea for your own. Here's the deets:

 The instructions are to say these words: Aunt, Route, Wash, Oil, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, Sure, Data, Ruin, Crayon, Toilet, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Spitting image, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Syrup, Pajamas, Caught

 And answer these questions:

•  What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house? 
•  What is the bug that when you touch it, it curls into a ball? 
•  What is the bubbly carbonated drink called? 
•  What do you call gym shoes? 
•  What do you say to address a group of people? 
•  What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs? 
•  What do you call your grandparents? (I added, what do you call your parents?) 
•  What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?