Could You Do Me a Flavor?

I know I don't really have any right to ask any favors right now. I have been complacent in my posting and definitely complacent in my commenting. But could you cut a girl a break and do a little favor?

Watch these guys tonight:



They are really good, see:



And see, I have another favor to ask. Could you watch AND vote. I know, I know. I shouldn't be asking for anything at all, but I swear I will make it up someday....

All I Want For Christmas is...

Curious folk may ask themselves why I spent so much time this morning preparing a new template and customizing it and mastering HTML like a big dog, as opposed to simply writing a post. A post would be much simpler, less time consuming and cause 59% less eye strain.

However, I am a glutton for punishment. Changing templates sucks. However, I am thrilled that I have completed the change. I was wanting to get rid of purple, I am not a very purply person. I am much more white/black/blues. My outfit today? Black top, black jacket, grey pants, black shoes. Yesterday? White top, black pants, same black shoes. Tomorrow? Blue top, grey pants, same black shoes. Very monotone. Very simple. None of that trying to figure out an outfit mess for me. I do really well with matched sets. This sounds like it could be a Christmas list. Or not. (Email me for sizing, as necessary.)

So, point is, I could have written a post this morning. Lord knows I haven’t posted much this month. And the Good Lord also knows my life isn’t lacking substance. In fact, I could use a bit less substance. And more stability. And housing. Housing would be awesomest. And perhaps, a Dyson.

In fact, let’s revise that Christmas list, shall we?

• A place to live that is in excess of 300 square feet.
  
• A cappuccino maker that fits nicely on my kitchen counters in my new apartment that has enough space for me to do yoga if I ever decided I wanted to do yoga.
  
• A closet. Or....two closets?
  
• Neighbors that don't try to unlock my door because they can't read the numbers that are on the wall right next to the door.
• Neighbors that don't burn their dinner every night, setting off the smoke detectors and stinking up the whole floor with their burned crap.
  
• A landlord that is not so front desk like. Not so 18 and working at a hotel because mommy made your ass get out of bed today and so you gotta be rude to me.
  
• And oh yea, a Dyson.

Thanks Santa, you rock. I will have cookies and soy milk laid out for you in my new place, if you could see fit to arrange a pre-Christmas day gift for me.

No Mo Hotel-ing.

I am seriously contemplating a new blog, a hotel review site. By my count, I have stayed at 13 different hotels since August. For 2 and a half months, I have lived in one. I have added 2 so far this weekend. Now, I am talking cheapo hotels. No-tell motels. We are not chilling at the Holidae In (extra points for artist i.d.).

And hi, I have not left the state of Texas and it is in the 30's. Snow? WTF? Thank goodness for a delivery from home of my box of sweaters and a portion of my extensive coat collection.

When traveling cross-country, besides warm knickers, I recommend audio books. I have listened to 2 so far this trip, and have a 3rd for the trip home.

And take pictures while driving down the highway going 80, you can capture things like this.


Happy Sunday after Thanksgiving, folks.

Thankful

When I am stressed, when I am tired, when I feel beaten up on, I withdraw. I pull into my own little shell which has a wonderful cozy chair where my thoughts just sit and chat, rebuilding my tough (as a marshmallow) exterior.

This rebuilding process frequently includes a few key elements. Thrift stores, garage sales, estate sales, some place to rummage through piles of crap and find hidden treasures. Coffee shop, a book and a patio. Comforting food and dark beer.

I found so many treasures this weekend. Many things to post on Ebay, many things I will keep.

A few weeks back, I had a bad experience with an extremely rude dealer at an estate sale. Miss Politeness, Daughter of Mrs. Uber Manners, actually spoke up and told this woman how rude she was. I passed up quite a few desired items from that sale as I just couldn't give that mean woman my cash. Imagine my surprise when I found one of the items at a church bazaar. Aren’t these napkins fabulous!

At the same sale, a set of aprons were found. Check this one out.

Matching oven mitt and pot holder! Cat was not included in the sale.

I am feeling more like myself, got some rest, recharged my batteries a bit. However, there is nothing like going home, to my parents and then to my love.

Turkey, sweet potatoes and Paula Deen stuffing.

If I don’t check back in soon, I wish everyone a wonderful Thanksgiving.

How Can Monday Come Around Every Day?

Oy vey. I am beat. This has been the longest couple a weeks in a very long time. My last day off was October 28. Which happens to coincide with an amazingly stress-filled week of life changing, zip code amending, copious tear production, and the indescribable thrill of continued living in captivity with the feral cats I call my own. And then, I worked 19 days straight, on average working 10-12 hours each day. This all added up to an overwhelming exhaustion and a hefty paycheck. Thank you very much, Mr. Trial.

We actually received the verdict on Wednesday. However, I am still beaten down. Worn. Exhausted. I hope to catch up with my life 2 weeks from Tuesday. And perhaps in between now and then, buy contact solution and coffee creamer, find warm clothes either in Houston or at my home in The State Adjacent, identify a suitable living situation, and enjoy sweet potatoes and stuffing at some currently unknown locale.

But that can wait. May I tell you my new favoritest chocolate thing-y?

I don’t like chocolate very much. But I am weak and tired. And CVS had chocolate products for 2/$1.00. Now who can resist a deal like that when you are half-brain-dead, half-drunk and have full-on mercury poisoning from noxious amounts of happy hour sushi specials? This is tasty stuff, I swear.

As for getting back to normal, I promise to start posting on a not-so-regular basis with posts full of inane shit and updates on felines that wake me up by licking my face and peeing on the floor.

Calm down!! Really, you are just embarrassing yourself with all that begging.

Trial Watch 2007

Trials are so exhilarating, yet so frustrating. We are ready to go, we have spent so much time and effort sweetening up our file, building up the anticipation and nervousness on the other side. We are ready and willing. Baited breath – freshly minted, but baited. And the court shuts us down. The Judge swings open the door and tells us to go home. So we throw our stuff back into the boxes, straighten our suits and go home with heads hung. It is much like blue balls.

All week the Pantyhose Alert Level has hovered between Lemon Yellow and Pumpkin. Hoping, anticipating a rise in the alert level, I wore comfortable clothing and shoes for the first half of the week. Building up for the anticipation of pain and discomfort from heels and hose. This morning, I donned a sensible black suit with heels. The alert level was clearly Pumpkin.

We had a conference call with the Court and all attorneys this morning. One minute, we are at Level Pumpkin. Quickly, it shoots to Green Apple and suddenly, with just a word, it shoots clear up to Candy Apple Red.

Wish me and my poor squeezed parts luck. We are now, officially, engaged at Candy Apple Red, imminent trial alert.

One of These Things Might Be Boring

After having Wal-Mart be the only place to shop in small-town New Mexico, and Wal-Mart being my own personal version of hell necessitating an hour long pep talk, sunglasses and a noise blocking Ipod, living in the downtown area of a big city where Wal-Mart couldn’t get their grubby hands on a plot of land large enough to house hot dogs, cat litter, guns, and quilting fabric under one roof, is quite pleasant. (Whew, what a run-on!) I haven’t stepped into a Wal-Mart in a couple of months and don’t even see them if I stay “in the loop”. Life is good, I can breathe deeper, and relax. My own personal Wal-Mart-less Zen.

However, I have an issue. (Or seventy.)

I have talked about my beloved car before for Fun Monday. I seriously adore this car. As the years and miles roll on, I am extremely concerned of the day that she passes on. Where she leaves me, alone and confused. And walking.

In her 184K life, I have gone through 3 boxes of hubcabs.

There. That is my dirty little secret.

Look, no judgment, Mr. Never Have Hit a Curb. I curb-check. Ok, I curb-check constantly. And those little boogers get knocked loose sometimes and just roll off into opposing traffic, into an empty field, into Hubcab Heaven.

Now, seriously, because a discussion about replacing hubcaps on a semi-regular basis is a very serious topic, I bought my fourth box of hubcaps last night.

It is bad when you know exactly where they are located within the eleventy billion aisles of the SuperCenter. And what color the box is. I was totally thrown off because this Wal-Mart, did not have “my” hubcaps. Orange box, gray streaks on the box. Black writing. My hubs. I had to settle for a slightly different style than the other 3 remaining hubcaps.

So now one of wheels is not like the others, one of my hubs does not belong. I am not changing all the other hubs, just so they belong.

Because in a few months, I will lose another. But I have 3 as backup in the trunk.

Preparedness. Not just for terrorism anymore.

Arizona 1, Rest of U.S. 0

I woke up this morning by alarm. I have a busy day. I need to go to church, go shopping for foodstuffs, an oil change is a good idea (although Fianna’s dad says that your car will NOT blow up if you just so happen to substitute power steering fluid for oil, not that I did that or anything) and work my ass off all day again. We are getting ready for a trial so this boost of posting is a big tease. I will soon be working from sunup to sundown, wearing fancy pants suits and stupid pantyhose. Shit, add pantyhose to the list. God I hate pantyhose. Digression, you are my BFF right behind Kaytabug and Coffee.

I gotta run around and do a lot of crap today. Yet…at work yesterday, I got a Grande Iced Coffee from Satan-bucks and drank it around 5:00 P.M. The cats were alone all day and wanted to play all night. I got home at 10:30 and watched late night TV. All these circumstances intersected at a place called No-Sleep Hell. So I am up and a bit sleepy, but I have showered, drank a half a cup of heaven and decided to check my blogs because this NowBlowMe deal is awesome. Lots of reading while I should be getting ready for trial. Of course, in the bottom right corner of my screen a small surprise was waiting for me.

Bill Gates, I heart you some days and others…I want to destroy your little operating system and go buy a pretty white computer from the most awesome store in the mall. Today…I am not sure how I feel. On one hand, you saved me from looking like a fool by being at church darned early. On the other hand, you did not give me a call, I know you have my number, and say hey busy lady who doesn’t keep up with life these days, it is Daylight Savings Time, sleep in or lay there like you are sleeping while there is a howling fight at your feet.

I have an hour to kill. Damn it.

And the Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round

Damn CAP! Here she goes again. She apparently did not receive the memo wherein it was discussed that I would not cry anymore this week. I love her so much. I totally have a hetero girl crush on her.

The moment today that made me smile so much in this post was relating to when I told a particularly judgmental friend about my Houston news. I hadn’t really felt like telling her before as I am still working my way through it on my own. I am trying to figure out how I feel about it. Making peace with the decision and the aftermath. She asked if I wanted to know her opinion. I said no. She responded, a bit surprised, “Really?” and I said, “No, I really don’t want to know what you think”.

We each get chances every day to make decisions, some tiny as in what way to take to work. Some a bit larger - should I wear this slutty-ish skirt to work today? And some really big, should I change my entire life today? Everyone is going to make their own decisions, make big and small decisions every day with the best information they have at that very moment. Decide what to put in their coffee, whether to have a second helping of casserole, paper or plastic. Decide to go back to school after a 20 year hiatus, to move to a new city, to change lanes, both in reality and metaphorically. Each decision made is what that person thought was best at that exact moment in time. Each person is going to be judged by others in their life as to how wise each decision was. You can listen and second guess your self, or you can simply ignore what everyone else has to say and move on. Keep making decisions, keep making your path, and just keep on keeping on.

And Titillating is Spelled Wrong

I completely forgot about this prior to Halloween. Due to my own little drama, I did not share this timely. Forgive me please!!

Houston, the nation’s strip club capital, you make me proud once again.

Risk - Life, not the Game

During my senior year of high school, I did the typical stuff – SAT’s, admissions applications, and college visits. I had chosen “my” college. Decided that I was going to pursue an elementary education degree at a wonderful teaching school a couple of hours from my parent’s home. I was accepted, I applied for loans, my parents applied for loans, I was set for my freshman year. My mom and I stayed in the dorms for an orientation weekend. On the second night of the orientation, I knocked on my mother’s door, and collapsed into her chest, crying my eyes out. Fearful of this move, not wanting to leave the comfort and safety of my high school life, my parent’s home, my relationship with my high school boyfriend, to jump into a college setting – strange town, strange professors, strangers. I cried my eyes out that night. She lovingly told me to do whatever was best for me. If I didn’t want to go, don’t go.

But there were outstanding loans, there were plans with my friend to room together, there were meal tickets already bought. And I went. My friend backed out at the last minute. And I still went. I attended that school for one semester. I went home every weekend. And I ran home as soon as the semester ended.

I regret my decision to this day. I wish I had been brave enough to embrace the circumstances and make the best of it. Make new friends, find out what college life is really about and receive a diploma. Yet I chickened out, ran home with my tail between my legs.

I have thought of this moment many times over the past few days. I want to run home to my mom and cry and tell her to make this easier, make my decision for me, keep me safe.

I am enveloped with fear and doubt and sadness.

We are moving back to Houston.

They'rrrrreeee Baaacccckkk!!

Sorry for the sporadic posting.




It will continue.

I Want a Cookie!

One of these things is not like the others


One of these things just doesn't belong


Can you guess which thing is not like the others


By the time I finish my song?


Did you guess which thing was not like the others?


Did you guess which thing just doesn't belong?

If you guessed this one is not like the others,


Then you're absolutely...right!




DECAF! WTF! Are you trying to kill me, coffee? WTH is this crap!! ACK!

Some Places...Summer Still Exists

Just a short flight away from Houston, is a beautiful island. Near that island, the sweetest, most beautiful nieces a girl can have, live. I took a super quick jaunt there this weekend. And played and wiped up tears, and spit-up, but not butts, because I am not that nice of a sister. I sniffed sweet baby scalp until I sneezed. And had the absolute delight of watching a baby fall into a deep sleep in my arms.

I ate the most wonderful ceviche at a little restaurant on South Padre, ceviche, topped with guacamole and of all things, honey mustard. So tasty!

I chatted with my sister like we actually care for each other. I admired her strength, her ability to love, her tenacity.

I carried an infant down an overgrown beach access point fearful of slipping or getting bit by a snake and got a few stickers stuck in my toes.

The next day, I carried a grumpy 2 year old around Sand Castle Days.

Due to aunt-ly duties, I was unable to get any more pictures of the castles.

My arms are sore, my legs are sore, I am utterly exhausted.

And I am head over heels in love with the sweetest, most beautiful nieces a girl can have.

This little one didn't want a picture, she wanted Tia Fianna to pick her up!!

Fun Monday Graphics!

Willowtree is taking care of hosting duties this Fun Monday.

He wants to see some clothing art. That's tee shirts, baseball caps, hoodies, sports uniforms or any bit of clothing that you or your kids own that has interesting, funny or artistic graphics.


One of my friends in Houston, whom I have seen several times since I have been here, recently commented that every time she has seen me, I have always been wearing the same thing.

This cool shirt paired with a khaki skirt, brown Old Navy flip flops. Shady Grove has been previously mentioned as my favoritest restaurant in Austin. Go there if you ever...go there.


I LOVE this shirt! This is the shirt I wear on the other weekend day with the khaki skirt after wearing the Shady Grove shirt seen above.


One shirt my friend hasn't seen me wear since I have been here is:
This is one of my very oldest shirts. The mermaid is way faded. She has since been relegated to gym clothes duty. While I joined my old gym for my stay here in town. I am doing what I usually do, subsidizing the gym by paying dues and not going.

My friend has seen this shirt nearly each time our get-togethers occur in the evening hours. What better way to hit the bar than by wearing a liquor ad.

By the frequent vodka mentions, ya'll may know that Jack is not my beverage of choice. Definitely not since Kaytabug and I reached high school. Oh wait, TMI. Don't tell our moms. But this shirt was a gift from my beloved and I love it! Black is the slimming agent of choice. Not the gym.

This is such a cute tee....if you know that I am a redhead. And I am so not Irish. One of those things Alanis Morrissette considers "Ironic". And I like to flaunt "Irony". Kinda like how I really want one of those shirts that say, "Blondes do it Better", or "Brunettes Rock" or something very similarly "Ironic".
That's all folks. I hope this post makes any sense at all. I am so so exhausted. Tomorrow or Tuesday or 3 weeks from Friday, we will be discussing the beach, with a 2 year old and an infant. What is exciting though? It is nearly November and in some places, not an hour flight away, summer continues with bikinis and beer bongs. But not on 2 year olds or infants or the heroine of this blog. But somewhere, dammit!

Sorry to Group You With Projectile and Poop, Laurie. I Heart You!

Oh, what a weekend! Awesome. awesome weekend.

On Friday, I met Crazy Aunt Purl. She is so amazingly personable and sweet, and cute and Southern! I had never been to a book signing before. It was a weird little thing. From reading her blog for a couple years now, it is like I know her. And everyone else does as well. So for that formal environment, it was a bit odd. I would have been much more comfortable, sitting on a back porch, sipping wine out of a Solo cup. I had some questions, but was too scared to ask anything, because I am a chicken shit. And hate public speaking, even when it is to just ask a question of CAP. So she reads a chapter or two, there is an audience Q&A and then she signs books. I have met celebrities, and have always been a bit non-plussed. When it is just a celebrity, some dude that’s on TV, some chick that makes movies, I don’t really care. Someone that has entertained me, someone that has made me laugh until I cried, and of course cried until I laughed, that is when I break out in hives. And to me, Laurie is a celebrity. She puts her life out there for us to read, she talks about her insecurities, her screw-ups, her losses and let’s us cry with her, laugh with her and just have a grand old time out on this world wide web. Meeting her was a big deal to me. And of course, I was awkward. I was nervous talking. I asked for a hug and had to hurry off because I was getting tears. Damn her and her adorableness! (Make sure and check out the pics, my torso, purse and hair clip are now famous. In a almost, not really sort of way.)

On Saturday, I met up with my sister and her family at the Houston Museum of Natural Science, but more importantly, the Butterfly Habitat. Starbucks and some donut place were kind enough to show up for the early crowd and give free coffee, donuts and kolaches (why you Northerners and Californians and whoever else…. don’t have kolaches, I do not understand and I pity you for it). We then get in line, get up to the ticket booth, we hand over our cash and my 3 year old niece starts coughing and then projectile vomits everywhere. It was a serious Exorcist scene. All over my hands, jeans and cute Old Navy flip flops. I was a tad traumatized. My experienced sister catches a good amount of it in her hands. Eww. After a clean-up, a new gift shop shirt, the kid was fine. And we proceeded to catch butterflies, let the “sleeping” ones “sleep” and just enjoy the high-pitched shrill of excited children.

They were not in town to see me though and we separated a few hours later. We met up for lunch on Sunday. It was a beautiful day in Houston for October. It had cooled off a bit and the storm clouds stayed at bay until I completed my fun. I wandered about the restaurant carrying my itty bitty niece, entertaining her and myself with a bit of baby talk. I comment to her dad that she is getting a bit squishy down South and he may want to handle that whole situation. He comments that it might be a messy one but being the sweet dad he is, he said he would get on it…. and upon closer inspection, yep she was leaky. Leaky on me.

And so after telling this to an old friend with a 6 month old, she relays a nice story to me. How moms just do things instinctively, not how I just stood there in shock and awe for both projectile vomiting issue #1 and leaky poopy-ness #2. She relayed how once she caught her daughter’s poop in her hand. What led to that, I didn’t ask, I was throwing up a bit, but just in my mouth, not projectively.

Fun Monday 37: Meet Cute

Monday…again…already! This week (and weekend) flew by! Thank goodness I can be a cheater for this Monday! Janet has asked us to:

Describe your meeting with your spouse/significant other. I especially want to hear "meet cute" stories.

And wouldn’t ya know it, I showered my love for my man all over the innernet awhile back. I am gonna copy and paste that story, shorten it and perhaps edit here and there. The original can be found here in case you are dying for more.

Throughout the week leading up to this amazing meeting, my life was crazy. I had just been promoted into a very trying position, with no one to show me the way, seeing that the previous employee was wanted in 4 states. I had just left this guy I had dated for 6 years and was working on an exit strategy from a shared apartment and co-ownership of 3 cats. One of my best girl friends had asked me to join her in Austin for the weekend for a little celebration of her becoming a licensed masseuse. I almost backed out/never really committed, but at the last moment, I went. I drove to Austin after work that Friday, got all hussied up and we hit downtown for a girls’ night out.

We walked in to a bar, got a drink, wandered around, spied some seats. And sat. And sipped our vodka, eyeing the crowd. When she went to get another round, this guy sitting next to us said hello, and asked my name. His was Craig. We started chatting. My friend came back, and we all continued to chat.

We decided to change bars and I asked Craig to join us. He followed and we proceeded to get liquored up at a few more locations. When the bars closed down, I asked for Craig’s number and find out I completely misunderstood him that his name was NOT Craig. We programmed our proper names and spellings into our respective cell phones. And we kissed.

Pretty Miserable Sister

I am so very, very tired this week. But see, I have no one to tell how tired I am because a certain very important someone has worked triple digit hours in the past week. Triple! How do you even work triple digit hours in 6 days? Who am I to complain of how I worked from 8-7 in a cozy little office with air conditioning, carpet and a cushy chair. My working conditions and hours prohibit any bitching to him this week. Dammit dammit dammit. Cuz mama is tired.

And has thought of many new ways to kill the cutest weetle kitten. She needs Benadryl, Valium. I am quite sure the cat has ADD, a major sleeping problem and a slight empathy problem. I don’t think it matters how early I go to sleep anymore, she is going to destroy several hours of this sleeping business.

And the dreams of someone breaking into my room, they could stop. Thanks!

I have a really hard time with motel places. The ones where the rooms open to the outside. I get really freaked out that some dude in a red hoodie is breaking in and attacks me. He has followed me across many states for many years. Well, he apparently has followed me to Houston and has upgraded his hotel stays.

And the night before last, both cats decided to join in on the fun activity of Wake Mama Before Sunrise. To the right of me, the usual culprit Chloe was licking my face, to the left, Yoda joined in by nuzzling at my neck. Hi, kitties, love the attention and all, but it is 4:00 A.M. When the clock says 7:00 and I have overslept, then and only then is this acceptable behavior. Please, pretty please with a mackerel on top?

How will I ever survive a child? I was trying to rationalize with a damned cat at 4:00 this morning. “Look, little kitty cat, I will give you treats, I will make a special Fiesta run and get you Canned Cat Food, if you will just let me sleep until 6:30 without any further interruption.” “No, really, please.” “Ok, well, how about a new toy? You like mice? Would you like a brand new mouse?” And by 4:45, I was offering the damned kitten a pony.

I can just see it now, my 6 month old baby will have a Maserati.

Would someone please babysit a very friendly early rising kitten please? Pretty please with a Maserati on top?

Fun Monday: My Hood

Pamela has been so kind to host our Fun Monday this week, requesting:

I want to see what you see on any given morning this week; from somewhere very near where you live. Front porch, back porch, down the street, around the corner. Just makes sure it's your neighborhood. Post a photo that will send me to the travel agent to book a weekend at your local Bed & Breakfast. Post your October View on Monday, October 8 . Write a little or write a lot.

As I have mentioned, I am living in a hotel in Houston currently. I have always been a suburb girl. Always on the outskirts, but now, I am smack dab in the middle of Houston. A freeway running right outside, restaurants, bars, shops all within a short walk. Urban living. Concrete jungle. I love it!

It has been a rainy weekend, a busy weekend. Most All of the photos are from the window of my car, while jetting down the freeway.

This is Lakewood Church, the former basketball stadium.


Hazy rainy downtown buildings.


Street Sign.

Maybe I could take a piano back home? Strap it to the roof of my Corolla?
Right off the freeway:

Could someone translate?

This sculpture is at the Menil Art Museum. It is a bit hard to see in these tiny little photos, but each end says "Love".

How about the evening view that was so beautiful I figured out just enough Photoshop to make it a header?

Business Call Girl

I am curious, the dating scene has their set schedule for returning calls. In the business world, is there a similar timeline? Do you make it a point to return a call within a certain time period? Do you get pissy if someone does not return your call within that defined respectable period?

I practice a 24 hour call back. If I haven’t called you back in 24 hours, I either accidentally deleted the voice mail or more likely, I am avoiding you. And if I don’t receive a return call in 24 hours, you bet your bottom dollar that I am calling back. It often seems that people are surprised that I call them a second time.

I hate to see stuff sit and if I have a pressing matter, I can be a hound dog.

What do ya’ll think is proper?

And is it alright to use ya’ll in business letters?

Hee! Just joking. I would never use ya’ll in a letter. Everyone knows it is spelled y’all in formal writings.