Tis the season that our family and friends gather to enjoy a peaceful, laid back, enjoyable Christmas, right? Wrong. Tis the season for sick kids, failed diets, horrible traffic, empty bank accounts and rude shoppers! I have found that being overly prepared gets you nowhere. Take for example, baking. I baked a couple dozed cookies for Peyton's teachers at preschool and all that got me was a little jiggle where I don't need it. Don't understand? Let me clarify. I baked these tasty little gifts from heaven called "Gooey Butter Cookies". Get it now? No...shall I go on? Do you remember that "Sex in the City" episode where Miranda bakes a chocolate cake? She eats a small sliver, then another, then thinks covering it with foil will keep her from going back for more. She was wrong. She then eats a sizeable piece and then places it in the fridge in hopes of forgetting her sinful treat. After another bite, she dumps it in the trash. She then stares at it in the trash, as if she is contemplating if it is still edible. She then walks over to the sink, grabs the dish soap, and squirts it all over the cake, at last giving it it's final resting place. That's what I should of done with these cookies. They might as well have devil horns and a pitch fork saying, "Don't worry, your husband loves you no matter how fat you are."
Strangely, in the midst of this chaos I find myself a little less neurotic. I have been waiting til the last minute to get certain things done. And if they don't get done, I don't care. Who is this person? I let Woody and Peyton decorate the Christmas tree....I didn't even check to make sure the red to green bulb ratio was accurate. I let Peyton put the bows on the presents and didn't worry that they weren't centered on the gift. It finally came to me the other day why I have been so calm. Happy pills. It has to be. When Woody ate the cookies that were supposed to go in a teacher's goodie bag, I laughed...I LAUGHED! What the hell is going on? In all seriousness, it's not just the happy pills. I started a new (very deep) Bible study this year and I think the teachings that I have applied to my life have tremendously changed my way of thinking, thus changing my attitude and actions. He reminds me of His presence everyday. Like when Peyton and I are shopping, she has to tell every person we walk by, "Merry Chrismas!" and "Jesus is the most important part of Christmas!" Now seriously people...if a 3 year old gets it, why can't you? Is it really necessary to start a riot over a $2 waffle iron at Walmart on Black Friday? Or to pepper spray a crowd of people so you can increase your chance of snagging an XBox? Come on....
Now here comes a challenge for you, one that I give myself everyday. Go out everyday in hopes of inspiring others to act in a positive respectful way this holiday season. Now, don't go acting like Will Ferrel in "Elf". That's a tad extreme...I like to imagine how Paula Deen would act. Could you imagine her Christmas shopping? She's probably a blast! Who am I kidding? She probably has someone who shops for her. And I'm pretty sure she would of laid a smack down on the stock boy at HEB when he said they were out of unsalted butter. (Yes, they were OUT of unsalted butter!) All I'm saying is, be respectful. If you don't get your kid their prized toy for Christmas and they are upset about it, it's probably time you teach them the real meaning of Christmas and also teach them what soap tastes like. And if you eat too many cookies or pie, who cares? There are bigger issues to worry about. Take time out of your day to help someone. Whether that's paying for someone's coffee or just smiling at them. Help an elderly person or a mom with kids in tow by putting their grocery cart away for them. Trust me, people will follow your lead. Because in the end, the person with the bad attitude acting like a fool is the one everyone will stare at and think, "That lady needs some happy pills!" I know, I was that lady.
Remember that you are only as strong as the hold of your hairspray, the coffee you drink, and the friends you keep!
Friday, December 16, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
The "Man Chair"
Have you ever noticed that anything a man makes or deems theirs, starts with "Man"? For example... The man table: a picnic table that has been raised to chest level to partake in beer drinking and other reindeer games. The man tongs: A cooking utensil used for man cooking/grilling that a woman is not allowed to touch. The man stump: Yes, this exists...well, at least it used to. A tree that was cut down and a large waist high stump remained in the ground that was then lacquered and used to lean on and set your beer on when partaking in reindeer games. And lastly, the man chair: Does this really need a definition?
We were given a leather recliner by some friends that had bought new furniture right before Peyton was born. They had that chair for about 5 years before we did so this chair was now a minimum of 8 years old. For our 5 year anniversary, I told Woody that we should invest in a new recliner since the old one had certainly seen better days. It got to the point that when you would sit in it, it would rock back and stay in that position. You would have to pick your legs up and throw them down in order to gain momentum to actually get out of it. Since Woody was working on our anniversary, I decided to take Peyton out and do a little recliner "pre-shopping". This is what women do so when it comes time to make a purchase we can "sway" our man into making an executive decision. You know, "Oh, great choice honey"....or so I thought. So Peyton and I ventured out and hit about 6 furniture stores trying to find what looked good, felt good, the best protection plan/warranty, and the best price. I found a recliner that I fell in love with and even emailed Woody several pictures to see what he thought and he agreed with my #1 choice! Or so I thought...
The next day we went to the furniture store and found the very helpful salesman that had helped me the day before. Woody sat in the chair, liked it, and it seemed like we were about to purchase our new recliner...or so I thought. Woody stood there staring at this chair like he was about to ask it to marry him. I asked him if this is what he really wanted and my sweet man did his normal mumble/him haw stalling tactic. I then said to him, "Why don't you look around and I will take Peyton to where the theater seating is to watch a movie." That was a mistake. Woody walked around the store while Peyton and I sat and watched Kung Fu Panda. When he found us, I saw him looking at the row of seating behind us with big, twinkling stars in his eyes. I got up and look behind me and there it is. A row of 3 chairs that can be purchased individually (hooray) or as a group. These bad boys don't even have a lever on the side to extend the recliner, oh no....they have buttons. Yes, they were electric...In my mind I now can see my curious 3 year sitting in this chair for hours messing with these damn buttons. Ummm, is this covered on the protection plan? Of course it is! Hooray.... Oh, and did I mention the cup holders? Oh yes, it has cup holders. He sat in it, reclined in it, enjoyed it, melted in it, fell in love with it....well, I'm screwed. He asks me if this is what I wanted since it was OUR anniversary gift and I did something that I never thought I would do. I shut my mouth. I said that if he really liked it, then we could get it. Now, the reason I said this is because at that very moment I realized something. Everything in our house from the tile, the wood floors, the paint, the bedding was what I wanted....everything. It seemed like if I wanted it, he just agreed to it to make me happy. I mean, I don't think he just agreed to it....if he REALLY didn't like it, he would of said something but still...poor guy just shuts his mouth so he doesn't have to hear mine. So we bought this monstrosity of a chair. When it was delivered, I sat in it and immediately didn't fall in love with it. It's comfy, just not exactly what I wanted but it's not like this chair is the only piece of furniture in the living room. I have a big, comfy couch that I can sprawl my fat butt out on so I'll shut up.
It didn't really hit me how much I disliked this chair until I got a stomach virus. I was laying in this chair feeling like death when nature started to call. I sat up to push the recliner down and quickly remembered to push the button...push the button....PUSH THE BUTTON!!!!! Oh God! I didn't think I was going to make it! It first has to sit up and then the recliner sllllooooooowly is put down. Thank God I made it to the bathroom in time...otherwise, that protection plan would of been put to use pretty early. Later, I laid back in the recliner and the phone rings....here we go again. I am not kidding you when I tell you that by the time this chair was back in the upright position, the answering machine had picked up. Then I started thinking, what if I am subjected to a home invasion? A fire? Does this thing has an escape hatch? Let's just say that my paranoid self will just sit on the couch from here on out. Oh, and might I add that he decided to take the old recliner to the fire station. I told him it was broken and then asked why he would take it up there. You know what his reply was? "I fixed it." Just when I think I'm so smart....enjoy your man chair.
We were given a leather recliner by some friends that had bought new furniture right before Peyton was born. They had that chair for about 5 years before we did so this chair was now a minimum of 8 years old. For our 5 year anniversary, I told Woody that we should invest in a new recliner since the old one had certainly seen better days. It got to the point that when you would sit in it, it would rock back and stay in that position. You would have to pick your legs up and throw them down in order to gain momentum to actually get out of it. Since Woody was working on our anniversary, I decided to take Peyton out and do a little recliner "pre-shopping". This is what women do so when it comes time to make a purchase we can "sway" our man into making an executive decision. You know, "Oh, great choice honey"....or so I thought. So Peyton and I ventured out and hit about 6 furniture stores trying to find what looked good, felt good, the best protection plan/warranty, and the best price. I found a recliner that I fell in love with and even emailed Woody several pictures to see what he thought and he agreed with my #1 choice! Or so I thought...
The next day we went to the furniture store and found the very helpful salesman that had helped me the day before. Woody sat in the chair, liked it, and it seemed like we were about to purchase our new recliner...or so I thought. Woody stood there staring at this chair like he was about to ask it to marry him. I asked him if this is what he really wanted and my sweet man did his normal mumble/him haw stalling tactic. I then said to him, "Why don't you look around and I will take Peyton to where the theater seating is to watch a movie." That was a mistake. Woody walked around the store while Peyton and I sat and watched Kung Fu Panda. When he found us, I saw him looking at the row of seating behind us with big, twinkling stars in his eyes. I got up and look behind me and there it is. A row of 3 chairs that can be purchased individually (hooray) or as a group. These bad boys don't even have a lever on the side to extend the recliner, oh no....they have buttons. Yes, they were electric...In my mind I now can see my curious 3 year sitting in this chair for hours messing with these damn buttons. Ummm, is this covered on the protection plan? Of course it is! Hooray.... Oh, and did I mention the cup holders? Oh yes, it has cup holders. He sat in it, reclined in it, enjoyed it, melted in it, fell in love with it....well, I'm screwed. He asks me if this is what I wanted since it was OUR anniversary gift and I did something that I never thought I would do. I shut my mouth. I said that if he really liked it, then we could get it. Now, the reason I said this is because at that very moment I realized something. Everything in our house from the tile, the wood floors, the paint, the bedding was what I wanted....everything. It seemed like if I wanted it, he just agreed to it to make me happy. I mean, I don't think he just agreed to it....if he REALLY didn't like it, he would of said something but still...poor guy just shuts his mouth so he doesn't have to hear mine. So we bought this monstrosity of a chair. When it was delivered, I sat in it and immediately didn't fall in love with it. It's comfy, just not exactly what I wanted but it's not like this chair is the only piece of furniture in the living room. I have a big, comfy couch that I can sprawl my fat butt out on so I'll shut up.
It didn't really hit me how much I disliked this chair until I got a stomach virus. I was laying in this chair feeling like death when nature started to call. I sat up to push the recliner down and quickly remembered to push the button...push the button....PUSH THE BUTTON!!!!! Oh God! I didn't think I was going to make it! It first has to sit up and then the recliner sllllooooooowly is put down. Thank God I made it to the bathroom in time...otherwise, that protection plan would of been put to use pretty early. Later, I laid back in the recliner and the phone rings....here we go again. I am not kidding you when I tell you that by the time this chair was back in the upright position, the answering machine had picked up. Then I started thinking, what if I am subjected to a home invasion? A fire? Does this thing has an escape hatch? Let's just say that my paranoid self will just sit on the couch from here on out. Oh, and might I add that he decided to take the old recliner to the fire station. I told him it was broken and then asked why he would take it up there. You know what his reply was? "I fixed it." Just when I think I'm so smart....enjoy your man chair.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Tease it to Jesus!
As if it isn't hard to spot a 6' tall cornfed blonde, I have to add another 3 inches to my height by rocking HUGE hair. As an adolescent, I usually slicked my hair back into a ponytail, wore no make up, an wore athletic shorts and t-shirts to school. I didn't have time to primp! Up before dawn feeding animals, getting together my stuff for school, participating in morning practice of whatever sport I was playing at that time in the year, or band practice. My eyebrows were out of control as well as my other physical features. I remember one day in 8th grade I wore a denim skirt to school and someone asked if I was going to a funeral. Yes, it was that bad. I really wish my mom would of told me that I looked like I was questioning my sexuality (even though I wasn't)...but that's another blog. In high school I paid a little more attention to my appearance by wearing mascara and lip gloss...Jesus! If that's all I had to survive on now, I'd never leave the house! Once I starting going out and seeing all the other hussied up girls, I decided to give it a try.
See, my hair is naturally curly...some look at it as a curse but not me! I love my curly hair! I feel like it makes me an individual and matches my sassy attitude! I love when people ask me if it's naturally curly...tell me something. Who in the hell perms their hair that is not a senior citizen? Seriously people! As if the mass of curly hair on my head is not poofy and big enough, I take a teasing comb to it daily...yes daily. My hairstylist shakes her head at me every I go in to get my hair done because she is dissatisfied with the amount of breakage that I have at the crown of my head. At first I didn't think it was a big deal until my dear friend pointed out to me the breakage on the crown of her head so severe, she was lovingly nicknamed "Billy Ray"! (I love you girl...you know who you are!) The girls that would work the front desk at my last job would say, "Tease it to Jesus" every day I walked in the door. Women would ask me if I had a Seen On TV contraption called a "Bump-It" in my hair. Hell no! First of all, with my luck that thing would end up barely hanging on the side of my head like toilet paper stuck to your shoe and just an FYI, this takes skill! I could straighten my hair faster than it takes me to fix it curly! My sister can attest to this...curly hair does what it wants to. If it curls one way on Monday, that same follicle of hair will curl a different way Tuesday. I have to strategically put each curl in it's place followed by a fumigation of hair spray.
I have been recognized for my hair by strangers. I was in Dollar General one day and a lady came up to me and said, "Ma'am were you at Walmart on Black Friday?" At first I thought she was one of the handful of people that were mad that I was buying 2 Barbie Jeeps and not just 1. (I thought I was going to get shanked in the parking lot for those Barbie Jeeps.) I told her that indeed, I was and she responded with, "I thought so...I recognized your hair." Wow.... Another lady that I sold Scentsy to at her office came up to me on my second visit there and she told me that she had seen me at a local bar and that she wouldn't of known that it was me except for my hair. People ask me all the time how I can get my hair to do what it does and I tell them. Mousse, hairspray and a teasing comb...never would I disclose the actual process to do it the way I do, then I'd have to shank them. But the worst is guys...they HAVE to touch it. Dude! Don't touch it! I would be less mad at you for goosing me...
I'd like to say that my inspiration for my hair comes from the "early 90's" Reba, Dee Snider, Troy Palomalu, and every 80's hair band. Mostly Reba...I can remember watching the CMA's as a kid and Reba would be performing when my mom would say, "Look at how big her hair is! It makes the rest of her look so small!" And that folks, is what I have concluded to. I tease my hair to Jesus in attempts to make the rest of my body look small...I will leave you with this fabulous picture snapped by "Billy Ray" herself of me in a wind storm. It was described as my "Mufasa Moment" so here is my best interpretation of Mufasa. Just remember...the higher the hair, the closer to God!
'Til next time,
"You are only as strong as the hold of your hairspray, the coffee you drink, and the friends you keep"
See, my hair is naturally curly...some look at it as a curse but not me! I love my curly hair! I feel like it makes me an individual and matches my sassy attitude! I love when people ask me if it's naturally curly...tell me something. Who in the hell perms their hair that is not a senior citizen? Seriously people! As if the mass of curly hair on my head is not poofy and big enough, I take a teasing comb to it daily...yes daily. My hairstylist shakes her head at me every I go in to get my hair done because she is dissatisfied with the amount of breakage that I have at the crown of my head. At first I didn't think it was a big deal until my dear friend pointed out to me the breakage on the crown of her head so severe, she was lovingly nicknamed "Billy Ray"! (I love you girl...you know who you are!) The girls that would work the front desk at my last job would say, "Tease it to Jesus" every day I walked in the door. Women would ask me if I had a Seen On TV contraption called a "Bump-It" in my hair. Hell no! First of all, with my luck that thing would end up barely hanging on the side of my head like toilet paper stuck to your shoe and just an FYI, this takes skill! I could straighten my hair faster than it takes me to fix it curly! My sister can attest to this...curly hair does what it wants to. If it curls one way on Monday, that same follicle of hair will curl a different way Tuesday. I have to strategically put each curl in it's place followed by a fumigation of hair spray.
I have been recognized for my hair by strangers. I was in Dollar General one day and a lady came up to me and said, "Ma'am were you at Walmart on Black Friday?" At first I thought she was one of the handful of people that were mad that I was buying 2 Barbie Jeeps and not just 1. (I thought I was going to get shanked in the parking lot for those Barbie Jeeps.) I told her that indeed, I was and she responded with, "I thought so...I recognized your hair." Wow.... Another lady that I sold Scentsy to at her office came up to me on my second visit there and she told me that she had seen me at a local bar and that she wouldn't of known that it was me except for my hair. People ask me all the time how I can get my hair to do what it does and I tell them. Mousse, hairspray and a teasing comb...never would I disclose the actual process to do it the way I do, then I'd have to shank them. But the worst is guys...they HAVE to touch it. Dude! Don't touch it! I would be less mad at you for goosing me...
I'd like to say that my inspiration for my hair comes from the "early 90's" Reba, Dee Snider, Troy Palomalu, and every 80's hair band. Mostly Reba...I can remember watching the CMA's as a kid and Reba would be performing when my mom would say, "Look at how big her hair is! It makes the rest of her look so small!" And that folks, is what I have concluded to. I tease my hair to Jesus in attempts to make the rest of my body look small...I will leave you with this fabulous picture snapped by "Billy Ray" herself of me in a wind storm. It was described as my "Mufasa Moment" so here is my best interpretation of Mufasa. Just remember...the higher the hair, the closer to God!
'Til next time,
"You are only as strong as the hold of your hairspray, the coffee you drink, and the friends you keep"
Saturday, October 8, 2011
The "Martha" in Me
Welcome friends! I am totally new to this blogging thing but have enjoyed keeping up with several friends' blogs so hopefully I can bring you laughter, inspiration, and several smiles just as their blogs have done for me! Well, inspiration was a stretch but it's worth a shot.
I officially started by setting up my blog page on Thursday and it is now Saturday and just now sitting down to write my first blog. Why you ask? Well, as many of you know, I am a bit of a crafty person. Not serial/crazy/stay up all night and scrapbook kind of crafter, but the creative juices definitely run deep down into my soul. Everytime my wonderful husband hears, "Hey honey, I have this idea for a project", I think he gets nauseous and starts thinking how we are going to pay for our daughters college when I'm out spending money on materials for a "project" that half the time results in trash because it wasn't perfect. (Yeah, I can be a perfectionist sometimes too...but definitely not when it comes to the cleanliness of my house.) I love to make things special...personalize, stick with a theme, stay up all night punching out ant sized holes in baby shower invitations in the shape of a baby elephant hula-hooping. Okay, sometimes I do stay up all night crafting but let's move on. After trying to come up with a clever name, I then decided to navigate around the setting to see what I can do. PERSONALIZE?!?! ADVANCED SETTINGS?!?! The "Martha Gods" have spoken! This blogging thing was an excellent idea. Hmmmm....I wonder what else is out there? Oh....my.....gosh....the possibilities are endless! Backrounds from owls to gnomes to japanimation? I may have to change my theme every month! Who am I kidding? Every month...HA! Who wants to change there blog theme every month? I'm thinking every week! Heck, everyday if I want to! And this is when I realized that I have a problem. I can't even set up a blog and personalize it in one day. It takes 2 1/2 days for me to decide on something and I'm not even sure if I like it...good news is, it doesn't cost me anything so I now believe that my husband will be very supportive in my blogging efforts.
'Til next time remember....
"You are only as strong as the hold of your hairspray, the coffee you drink and the friends that you keep"
I officially started by setting up my blog page on Thursday and it is now Saturday and just now sitting down to write my first blog. Why you ask? Well, as many of you know, I am a bit of a crafty person. Not serial/crazy/stay up all night and scrapbook kind of crafter, but the creative juices definitely run deep down into my soul. Everytime my wonderful husband hears, "Hey honey, I have this idea for a project", I think he gets nauseous and starts thinking how we are going to pay for our daughters college when I'm out spending money on materials for a "project" that half the time results in trash because it wasn't perfect. (Yeah, I can be a perfectionist sometimes too...but definitely not when it comes to the cleanliness of my house.) I love to make things special...personalize, stick with a theme, stay up all night punching out ant sized holes in baby shower invitations in the shape of a baby elephant hula-hooping. Okay, sometimes I do stay up all night crafting but let's move on. After trying to come up with a clever name, I then decided to navigate around the setting to see what I can do. PERSONALIZE?!?! ADVANCED SETTINGS?!?! The "Martha Gods" have spoken! This blogging thing was an excellent idea. Hmmmm....I wonder what else is out there? Oh....my.....gosh....the possibilities are endless! Backrounds from owls to gnomes to japanimation? I may have to change my theme every month! Who am I kidding? Every month...HA! Who wants to change there blog theme every month? I'm thinking every week! Heck, everyday if I want to! And this is when I realized that I have a problem. I can't even set up a blog and personalize it in one day. It takes 2 1/2 days for me to decide on something and I'm not even sure if I like it...good news is, it doesn't cost me anything so I now believe that my husband will be very supportive in my blogging efforts.
'Til next time remember....
"You are only as strong as the hold of your hairspray, the coffee you drink and the friends that you keep"
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