I admit it: I'm old

You ever have that moment where you realize that you aren't as young as you think you are? Yeah, I had that moment over the weekend.

My sister and I were taking her girls (my nieces) after Christmas shopping and hitting up all the sales. My younger niece had gift cards and cash to burn so we hit up her favorite store, Abercrombie & Fitch, which, usually, we let her roam around and then my sis and I hit up Pottery Barn next door. But, we wanted my older niece to find something and since she hates shopping, (she looks just like her dad, otherwise I'd swear she was mixed up at the hospital and cannot be ours) we went in.

And remember how when you were in college Abercrombie was so cool? And you LOVED those bags with half nekkid men on them? And you felt so awesome and stylish? Yeah. I? Did not. My sister and I were giggling at the posters in the store and questioning who on earth could fit into a size 00 and who had a bum small enough to fit into some of those shorts.

And that's when I realized that I'm not that young and cool and hip anymore. Hmph.

Until my niece convinced me that I wasn't that old and lame that I really should try on a pair of jeans just to see.

Now, I have a pair of Abercrombie jeans from my college days that still fit (read: have stretched out so much that they still fit) and have holes all over them but I cannot part with them because damnit they fit me when I was 19 and that makes me feel OK about myself.

So, in some measure of desperation, I grabbed a pair to attempt to prove I was still cool, and lo and behold. THEY FIT.

Take that Abercrombie and your half nekkid 19 year olds. I can still fit into a pair of your jeans.
(Madison Flare) Which I obviously purchased in 5 seconds flat because they were 40% off.

And then a sweater because I might still be able to wear Abercrombie jeans but I'm on the downhill slope to 30 and need my sweaters and glasses. My sister bought the exact same sweater. We have a sickness.

(Drew Sweater)
So, even though I might be embarrassed by the store in general but gosh darn it, I can still pull of the jeans I wore when I was 19 then I think I'm still pretty cool.

(and if I can't pull off this particular look, no one needs to tell me, ok? Ignorance is bliss. And my niece approved, and she's cool, so, I go with what she says, duh)

The Sweetest Gift

I hope y'all had a very wonderful Christmas with family and friends. I know I did.

I also know that my big sister is a total enabler and I'm now broke thanks to all the shopping we did. Even with 40% off sales, my wallet is still a bit thinner. Hmmmm.... I can't complain too much--we all know a shopping afternoon with my girls is one of my favorite things.

I'll have many more holiday pictures and updates soon, but, I have to tell y'all about the best gift I've ever received.

I got it on Christmas Eve. (nope, not pregnant, since I realize that's kind of how this read. But, I'm not. Promise. If I was, believe me, this would be in ALL CAPS)

We got to talk to my sweet baby sister. Y'all know how much I love her. It was so great to hear her voice.

She's doing well. She's happy. A bit cold, but, ya know, she lives in Canada and all.

Surprisingly, I only cried when we hung up the phone. I figured I'd lose it the second I heard her voice, but I didn't! Yay me! It was a wonderful Christmas gift.

I got lots of other great things, but honestly, everything paled in comparison to that.

Wow. I guess this means I'm a grown up now.

I did not see that coming.

What was your favorite gift?

Mommy and Me

(my favorite picture of my mom, ever)

My life changed seven years ago this week.

My mom was taken from me.

I miss her every single day of my life.

I hope and pray for the day in which I am a mother and can have the relationship she and I had with my future daughter. She was my best friend. I hope I can have that with my future daughter one day.

Seven years ago today, I was decorating the Christmas tree with my best friend and my mom. I have since lost them both. My mom died on December 22, 2003. My best friend died August 1, 2005.

No one can ever replace them. But, I've been blessed to have so many wonderful people become part of my life over the last seven years.

I've finally started calling my mother in law "Mama". Not because she's replaced my mom, she hasn't, but, because she is my mother in a sense and I know that she and my mom would have been great friends.

I've been blessed with wonderful friends. In Dallas. In California. In Kansas. Missouri. New York. Ohio. North Carolina. South Carolina. Michigan. Colorado. All over. You all are my family. I hope you know that. I cannot express the overwhelming gratitude I have for y'all. For being my family and part of my life.

My mom was the type that took in all my friends. Our house was the house that everyone went to after school. I just know my mom has been instrumental in creating these friendships and I know she'd love each and every single one of you.

(my parents wedding photo--doesn't this crack you up? I think it's hilarious! Hello, 1976.)

This week is hard. As it always is. Seven years ago today, laughed and laughed, watched What About Bob and drank way too much hot cocoa.

Seven years ago tomorrow, we watched Little Women and baked cookies. And I attempted to make "low fat" fudge. Which just, shouldn't ever exist and don't try to make it because it will waste approximately 3.5 hours of your life.

And on December 22, 2003, I was lucky enough to hug and kiss her and tell her I loved her one last time. For that, I will always be grateful.

I believe in tender mercies. I believe in divinity. And I believe that God blessed me to be her daughter. And I believe in the tender mercy that was finding my old phone and answering machine with a message from her on it. One I never erased. Her telling me she was running late and could I meet her at the restaurant. I will never erase that message.

It's hard to feel festive without her, but, this was her favorite time of year. And she was a blessing to all who knew her. For her, I am grateful.

And because of Him who lived and died for us, I know I will one day see her again. And that is the reason for the season.

(the last photo of my mom and I together--taken November, 2003)

Merry Christmas.

xoxo,

SP

Sneaky Little Elf

One of the things I miss most about my mom is her ability to just "know". Christmas shopping for her was a breeze because I would just buy her stuff I wanted and she'd love it. Occasionally, we purchased each other the same gift.

She'd buy me things that I mentioned in passing months ago. Things I never knew I always wanted.

It's silly, but, I miss that so much. My dad and stepmom need a list. And 95% of the time they don't follow the list anyway and I end up with pajamas and a potato peeler. Now, there's nothing wrong with potatoes and pajamas, I just, if you ask me for a list, freaking purchase off the list or give me money. These are your options.

Then, on my birthday, I was gifted a mini food processor that I'd seen on a shopping trip with my aunt several months ago. MY AUNT. My dad's baby sister. Who is nothing like my mom. Not even a little bit.

I was floored. It was the best gift I'd received in ages. No, it wasn't the most expensive, it wasn't even on my list, but, she remembered that I'd said I wanted a mini food processor and she bought it for me. It's totally something I a) wouldn't put on a list and b) wouldn't purchase for myself (because unless it's candles or clothes from Anthro it's really hard for me to justify purchases). But she did. She remembered.

Last night, I came home to a huge box waiting for me and my husband. She had told him last week she was sending us a dog from Sears (since back in the day you could purchase a dog from Sears!). We were slightly concerned we were getting some sort of dog food or something like that. Hm.

I opened up te box to find this:

The ice cream maker attachment for my KitchenAid!!

Again, I mentioned this to her months ago. She remembered. I was floored.

She's become the elf my mother once was and it's awesome. I think I even got a little teary. Over an ice cream maker!

And because I fancy myself a superb elf, I purchased her a print of the lyrics to a song my grandma used to sing and that we all sang at my grandma's funeral. I win niece of the year.

Hopefully.

(I don't mean for this to sound all braggy, I was just really surprised by my aunt. We've never been really close and it really touched my heart that she would think of me like that. I am grateful to my dad and stepmom for everything--including potato peelers. I was just humbled that someone in my family other than my mom actually "gets" me)

Merry Christmas!

Color Me Festive

(little mistletoe ball under the door in our entryway. That may or may not accidentally stay up all year)

Y'all, I'm finally in the holiday spirit.

And not a moment too soon, obviously.

I've spent the last few nights Christmas shopping like a madwoman. Seriously, what did we do before the internet? And more specifically, before Etsy? I bought four Christmas gifts from Etsy last night. FOUR. And I'm pretty thrilled about them. Hopefully, the recipients are too--otherwise, I'm keeping them for myself. Again, festive.

I'm fairly certain that this all came to pass because of the sugar coma I ate myself into on Sunday baking cookies with my first college friend ever. We met in line for the dorms. Literally, she was the first person I met. Years and 6 cups of sugar later, we're still going strong. Of course, I've gained 5 lbs since Sunday, but, you know, it's insulation.

Between listening to Christmas music 24/7 ("All I Want For Christmas Is Youuuuuuuuu") and the holiday baking spell, I'd say it's feeling rather festive for me.

For that, I am grateful.

Now, I just have to hope that my online shopping pans out into delivery before Christmas Eve and we're all set.

In less than a week, I'll be back in California--shopping with my big sis, harassing my nieces, snuggling my nephew and seeing old friends. <-- That? Is enough to turn my frown upside down.

How are you getting into the Christmas season?

Musings & Monday

1. BFF R and I hit up my former boss's estate sale on Saturday wherein I walked away with a new sleeper sofa, chair and a half and trunk for pennies on the dollar. The only problem? I have no idea where we are going to put said sofa and chair and a half. But, for a deal like that, I don't even care. Did I mention it was custom made and has washable slipcovers? Slipcovers people! This means I can finally get rid of the pink sofas. Joy to the world indeed!

2. Then we caught a glimpse into our lives as 85 year olds in which we collect things like porcelain monkeys and old toothpaste. <---This? Is what you find at estate sales. But! But! To quote BFF R "At least we lived in a nice neighborhood". Very true.

3. Lunch at La Victoria. Where I probably ate more than I ever needed to ever and am still full. Thank heavens for a place in Dallas that makes tortas! My husband is abnormally excited about this.

4. Late night non movie watching adventures with friends--the whole premise of them coming over was to watch movies. Yeah, at 1:30 AM we called it a night. And never even turned on the TV. That's friendship y'all!

5. Cookie making with my first college friend ever. Haven't seen her in years. It was like we were 18 again. AWESOME.

6. Determined that while there is Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, there is also Six Degrees of Person I Went to College With. Every single one of my college friends seems to have a connection to her. It's kind of funny. Especially since we were different years and didn't even know each other while we were in college. This will entertain me for ages, no lie.

7. Dinner and dessert with friends and a late night drive home.


Needless to say, I'm tired today, but, it was so worth it. So grateful to our Dallas friends and the family they've become.

Now, I'm off to have a project I worked on for HOURS torn apart. Exciting!

xoxox,
SP

It's Not Christmas Until...

A) I belt out "All I Want For Christmas Is YOUUUUUU" at the top of my lungs approximately 500 times in a row.

B) I have Harry Connick Jr.'s Christmas albums on repeat. ("He's so talented". Quick, name that TV show!)

C) I eat my weight in Candy Cane Hersey Kisses.

D) I cannot focus.

E) I inspect my chimney--gotta make sure Santa will arrive and bring me Hugh Jackman/Scott Caan/Daniel Craig/Charlie Hunnam--really, I'm not picky.

F) I wear a huge jacket even though it's not remotely cold.

G) All of the above?

Answer: G.

Given, I can be semi (ok, a lot) Grinch like around the holidays and it's no secret that December 22 is my all time least favorite day ever (read: the day my mom died) and Christmas hasn't been the same since she died, but, every year, I try my damnedest to be happy and holly jolly but I always seem to fail.

This year, I think I'm making progress.

Mainly due to my Pandora station blasting Mariah, Harry and GEORGE STRAIT. I mean, can you go wrong with that? No.

So, I'm making my list, checking it twice and jonesing for a glass of egg nogg. Festive!

But, this could just be the cough medicine talking. I'm not sure.

Merry Christmas y'all!

WebMD was wrong

I am not dying of TB (aka "consumption"), whopping cough, or pneumonia.

Nope. Just a good old fashioned COLD. My doctor said "this particular strain should clear up by the New Year."

Which, as I'm clutching wrapping paper and gift receipts, I realize isn't too far away, but, still, that's like a lifetime in terms of being sick. And, of course, my husband is sick too, so, our house looks like a tornado hit it because neither of us is lifting a finger to clean anything and I've double booked myself nearly every single day this week. Am an idiot.

On the plus side, I was given cough syrup (which I say like "seer-up", how do you say it? Or do you say "sir-up"?) with codeine in it, which definitely means a drunky drunk SP last night. HILARIOUS to all involved, I'm sure.

True Story: I was whispering sweet nothings to Scott Caan on Hawaii Five-O last night. Which, in general, I could take or leave the show, but, Scott Caan plus JIN (from Lost, duh), I mean, I won't turn it off.

image from here

And hello, do we not remember Scott Caan as Tweeder on Varsity Blues? Obviously.
image from here

True Story Number Two: That movie pretty much defined my high school experience.

True Story Number Three: I might still be a teensy bit tipsy.

True Story Number Four: I still have a cough.

It's going to be a long week.

Some Things Never Change, Also, Am Still Sick

(feel free to alert Hugh Jackman that I'm on my death bed. I suspect he'd want to know. Probably so he can have that restraining order released. KIDDING)

So, I didn't run a half marathon yesterday (I say this a lot lately. Who am I?). Instead, I stayed in bed, swilled Robistussin and NyQuil like it was my job and ate my weight in gummi bears. Obviously, it was wildly successful. Also? Watching Bones whilst hopped on on Robitussin= not recommended.

But, I did promise to show you pictures from Thanksgiving. I spent a good amount of time pouring over all photo albums that my dad is obviously hoarding and needs to send to me like yesterday.

We found many great pictures of a pint sized SP, including this little gem:
Notice anything funny?


Here's another look:
Yep. That's me. Age two, carrying around a can of Diet Coke. Awesome.

Obviously, not much has changed in 24 years.

I wanted to show you pictures from Thanksgiving

But, instead I'm going to mope around like a sad little puppy because wouldn't you know it, I have a cold.

And not like a kinda sorta tickle in your throat type of cold. No. The I Didn't Even Make it Halfway Through Psych and Then Coughed All Night And Have Eaten My Weight In Gummi Bears and Ice Cream Because Good God That's All I Can Stomach Right Now --type of cold.

Did I mention I have two 12+ hour days ahead of me and a half marathon this weekend? Lord, help me.

Send TheraFlu. And Diet Coke. And season 3 of Burn Notice on DVD. And Agent Booth while you're at it. And Hugh Jackman. I hear that Australian accents actually cure a cold.

I'm going to go attempt to work since I have a major project due today. And then probably go pass out somewhere near the watercooler around 3 o'clock.

If you don't hear from me by next week, please, alert the authorities (and Hugh Jackman. I'm sure he'll be concerned).

(It's pretty clear that even sick, I'm nothing if not dramatic. Why I'm not an actress, I'll never know.)

Non germy hugs,
SP

Let's Talk About Relationships *

* or, allow me to ramble because I'm all mushy and running on about 4 hours of sleep and 3 Diet Cokes.

So, one of the bonuses to going back to my hometown for like almost a week is that I get to be all judgey mcjudgersen of the people I grew up with. Oh, and then get all teary eyed because my hometown? Has like FOUR STOPLIGHTS now. Y'all, when the put the stop signs in by the high school it was like someone had committed murder. We were all a good 45 minutes late to school because a bunch of country kids could not figure out a four way stop. Seems like the joke is on us because the stoplight eliminates the need for us country folk to use our brains and just tell the color. Which could still be tricky for some. Yes, Nikki, that was directed at you: olive green is not the same as yellow. But, I love you anyway.

So.

I also had a lot of time to think about relationships--and, as we know, it's always really dangerous when I think about anything other than Target, Hugh Jackman, shoes, Diet Coke and or my DVR. Just, roll with me on this one, k?

Growing up, I remember my mom having friends all over the damn world and marathon phone calls to DC and Salt Lake and Switzerland and I never could understand that. Even through high school, I knew I would leave Small Town USA but I never realized that my friends would thus not be the people I grew up with--shocking!

Granted, I'm still in touch with a select few of those country kids and facebook has helped me reconnect with some once very dear friends, and of course, my closest then are still my closest now (love you Niks).

I went home last week on a mission. To get in touch with my old friends. To grow relationships.

Let's just say, notsomuch. I was emailing another friend who is also from a small town and telling her about how one of my nearest and dearest from high school has gone down a very bad path and it broke my heart--I told her that while we may get judged when we go home, as long as we aren't doing that, I think we're OK. The news put me in a foul mood and I was all sorts of annoyed and hateful about my stupid small minded backwards town. And praised God I left seven years ago. Sadly, I realized that we will never be able to have the relationship we once did.

And then begrudgingly, I went to a Starbucks date with an old friend/a guy I dated for like a millisecond and his little boy. That? Renewed my faith in relationships. It was like no time had passed. We laughed. Talked. His little boy informed me that spilled hot chocolate is "isgusting" (disgusting) and I was filled with the utmost joy in our relationship. We haven't really talked in a long time, but, our friendship and love for one another hasn't changed. He has stayed in our small town, but, he's been successful--raising a son, having a career and growing.

I smiled about that for hours. And then arrived back to my comfy home in Texas to find birthday goodies from wonderful friends from far flung corners of the country and now I understand how my mom had friends all over the world--as you grow, you form new bonds. Near and far. (I realize this isn't earth shattering or anything, but, it was a happy, reaffirming thought to have after a rather anticlimactic trip back to Small Town USA)

I'll never forget those bonds and relationships I have back home, but, I'm so grateful to those that I've created all over. And I will do my best to be a better friend and foster the relationships I created 12 years ago and the ones created 12 months ago.

How about you? Do you have friends all over? Did you ever think you would? Is it ever hard to see your old friends?

Awesome Blossom, Extra Awesome

So, I was going to ramble about how this week will be super awesome because a) It's Thanksgiving and b) It's my birthday, but, then I decided that really, I don't care because I'm all grumpy from not running but I'm just too tired to run and I don't know why because I have no good excuse and this effing sucks.

So, the chances that this week will be really awesome? 65.3%. All you bookies can take that to the bank.

Anyways.

I will force awesome upon you if I must.

Point Numero Uno: I scored a bib for the White Rock Half, which, I'm wildly excited about and almost cried over. Because I was so depressed that I didn't get myself a bib beforehand and realllllly didn't want to fork over $125 for the full. So, I'm thrilled that I gots myself a bib for the half. Yay me.

Point Numero Dos: I got to hear from one of my favorites at church yesterday. He spoke about freedom and Thanksgiving. He, his wife and young son came to America from a war torn Germany in the early 1950s. They learned English by reading DMV manuals and watching soap operas. They became citizens five years after moving here. They have truly accomplished the American dream and I don't know anyone who loves our country, our freedoms and our servicemen and women more than him. Hearing him speak, I'm reminded of how lucky we really are.

Point Numero Tres: It's a short work week. The end.

What is your awesome blossom, extra awesome for today?

PS. The title of the post is from The Office. I seriously hope y'all knew that.

xoxox

The 26th Year

So, we know that I’ve been all “Lawdy, I’m getting old. Lawdy, I haven’t done anything. Lawdy my life is depressing.” And that? Needs to stop.

I’m not going to sit around like some old lady. I’m going to do something. I’m gonna get something pierced. (if y’all can tell me where that quote came from, I’ll love you forever) Only, I’m not really gonna pierce anything.

Instead, I’m going to kick ass and take names.

I’m going to make a list—and check it twice (sorry y’all, Lite 103.7 has started playing Christmas music and it’s pretty much what I’m listening to 24/7) (unless I'm rocking out to some Dierks Bentley or bluegrass. Since I'm channelling my inner country girl this week).

I’m going to make a list of things that I will do in my 26th year and by golly, I will get them done. None of that “I’m going to paint the bathroom crap”—because honestly, I still haven’t painted it, and, ya know what, I probably never will. That’s not true, I’ll do it 2 days before Rach gets back from Canada and tell her I did it the day she left. Aren’t I an awesome sister?

ANYWAYS.

The list.

It’s like my Birthday Bucket List.

So, here goes:
(in no particular order)

Go on a girls weekend with these two awesome ladies

Go somewhere with my photog bff

Go back to London already

Run a marathon (duh)

Have a spa day

Rock out at a concert

Get my yee-haw on at a rodeo

See my niece graduate high school. And then cry like a baby

Get the perfect haircut

GO TO THE BEACH

Spend an entire day all snuggled up with my pups—and not be sick!

Watch all of North and South

Watch all the Anne of Green Gables series

Re Read Little Women

Host a dinner party

Have a girls brunch

Host a pool party and bbq

Conquer my fear of the bike

Go to a college football game

Plant a rose bush

Spectate BOSTON. AGAIN.

That's all I've come up with so far. What would you add to my Birthday Bucket List?

PS. In case you were wondering, I accept ponies, Burberry, shiny things, Agent Booth and or Jax Teller as birthday gifts. Feel free to send.

The Secret Life of SP

Or, not so secret, as it were. Is? I don't know. I don't have my English major sister here to ask. (She's in Canada. It's cold there. You can send her cards and stuff, I bet she'd appreciate that. I'm serious. Want her address? Just ask.)

Moving on.

So. I think it's fairly clear that I'm from a small town. And that my brother in law is a cowboy. My niece is a rodeo queen (only not really, because an actual "rodeo queen" is basically a beauty queen, and, my niece is more of the she kicks major butt and wins a lot, versus standing around and looking pretty. Which, she is.). My husband grew up on a ranch.

I grew up riding horses, having farm animals (or, notsomuch farm animals as much as "animals that have wool" i.e., sheep and llamas. True story) and living in the sticks. I LOVED it.

So, Friday night, the hubs and I headed out to the Texas Stampede. Which is a weekend of rodeo, music, petting zoos, and country gathering. Or something. Basically, it's awesome.

It's been a long time since I've been to any type of rodeo event--I think the last one was almost three years ago when I watched my niece tear it up at a local rodeo. That's too long!

Y'all? I had a blast. I forgot how much fun all that is. There's just nothin' like watching someone take on a big ol' mean bull and winning (bull riding). And saddle bronc riding--I love me some saddle bronc. And of course, between my husband and my brother in law, they knew like 85.3% of the guys there. One of my in laws neighbors is the world champ saddle bronc rider or something. He wasn't there. Sads.

Anyways. We had so much fun. Cheering on the guys and gals (barrel racing) as they gave it there all. Hollering for the kiddos in muttin bustin'. And laughing at ourselves. And then rocking out to Dierks Bentley until 1am. He does an awesome show, by the way. I was impressed. It also doesn't hurt that he's just darling and I pretty much want to run away with him. Too bad we're both married.

So.much.fun. And y'all? Let me tell you, nothing makes my accent come out like a bunch of cowboys. I don't so much have a southern accent, as I do a country accent. Which is not to be confused with redneck!

So, this is the secret life of yours truly. Corporate girl by day, country girl by night. And I wouldn't change it for anything.
We all know that I want my future kids to play football/cheer, but, if they wanted to do rodeo, I'd be a OK with that. Of course, we'd have to win the lottery first, as that crap is expensive.

(please excuse the horrid photos, they were taken with my cell phone with a crappy camera. I couldn't figure out how to work the husbands supa dupa fancy cell phone camera!)

Marine Corps Marathon

It's taken me forever to get this race recap posted, but, I thought in honor of Veteran's Day, I would post it.

I’ve never loved saying “Oorah!” more than I did on Sunday, October 31, 2010. Y’all. Y’all. Y’ALL. There are no words. But, I’m going to try to find some.

I knew that going into this race it would be emotional, I knew that. I got all emotional when we drove past The Mall arriving the other night, I mean, I knew I’d lose it at the race. Well. Well.

We had VIP passes, so, we got to park at Ft. Meyer and walk up to the race, which was really close. As we’re walking to the start, we look off to our right and the sun is just starting to peak out, and you can see the rolling hills of Arlington National Cemetery. The tears started! I mean, these are people who sacrificed and served for our country. Ohhhh the tears.

We checked into VIP and you know, hung out with the Chairman of the Armed Forces Committee and you know, Jill Biden!!!! Holy jeezus. Remind me of this day if I ever complain about my job, k? (don't have a pic of the husband and the VP's wife because he didn't want to bother her. His words: "She's a heck of a lot prettier in real life! And a lot smaller!")

I have a picture of my husband and the Commandant of the Marines. Um. With his arm around my husband like they’re old friends. Um?!

The Marine Corps band and the color guard lined the route to the start line, the USMC emblem was everywhere. Marines were shaking our hands and encouraging us. They were cheering us on. Me. Little ol’ me. Ummm, backwards much?

Marines manned the water stops and aid stations, they oorah’ed me the whole way! They high fived me. They encouraged me.

They cheered each other. They saw friends they’d served with. I saw fathers running for lost sons, I saw mothers running for lost sons, I saw brothers running for theirs lost in service, I saw so many moving things.

I finished my 26.2 mile trek at the Iwo Jima Memorial and the tears started again! I’m such a chick!

I ran past the White House, The Capital, The Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial, The Jefferson Memorial—it was a once in a lifetime experience and I’m so lucky and grateful to have run it.

Seriously amazing. Hello, a race put on by the military?! These are my people! Organized like whoa.

I saw Marines carrying 70 year old women across the finish line. I saw Marines hoisting little boys in wheelchairs onto the bleachers to watch the race—to which, I started getting emotional and my husband goes “Oh, I’ve seen things like that all day”. Even he, boring ol’ cynical man, admitted that it was the best race he’d ever been to.

As we ran up the final hill to the finish line, it was filled with Marines cheering us on (yeah, cause, you know, they were sparse the rest of the way—kidding!) and high fiving us and they were genuinely happy to be there.

We finished, and Marines were handing us water and blankets and telling us where to go. We lined up to get our finisher medals and a young Marine put a medal around my neck and said “Oorah, congratulations, babe!”. And I wanted to hug him. But, I didn’t. Because I didn’t want to you know, get taken down by snipers or anything (yes, there were snipers).

As you know, my IT band has been giving me fits lately and I felt good going into the race. I was optimistic (which was stupid). I can usually tell by mile 4 how the day is going to play out. At mile 4, I felt great. At mile 5, I felt great. Mile 6, 7, 8? Awesome. Awesome. More awesome.

Then, around mile 9, we were rounding a corner on a downhill and it happened. Blinding, puke inducing pain. My vision got blurry and I could hardly walk, let alone run. Awesome. So, I started limp running. You know, that run where you basically jump on one foot and run? You don’t know what I’m talking about? Consider yourself lucky.

And then I had to move to power walking. For reals. And then I could run with little spurts for a few minutes until my eyes would go blurry from the pain. So I started power walking. And stretching. And whining. I’d forgotten my iPod and let me tell you, 16 miles is a long ass way to go with no music and just your thoughts. Turns out? I don’t have that many thoughts!

And I’m thinking if I can get halfway, I can totally do this. I’m not going to quit. My husband texted me to ask if I wanted to quit (since he and my family were tracking me and could see that I'd slowed down). Heck no! If our men and women in uniform don't quit, I don't quit!

Then, around mile 12 (?), I don’t remember, a Marine comes running up behind me, pats me on the shoulder and says “God bless Jack”, since, I was wearing an Operation Jack shirt and all--and I had a bib on my back that said "Going the Distance for Jack".

Whew. Well. My life doesn’t suck. It isn’t that bad. So, I start running. And I can only run for a few minutes at a time, but, I’m still running. And then walking. And I keep this up until about mile 17 where I get a burst of energy and manage to run for a few mile straight. This is through The Mall, behind the White House, in front of the Capital Building—pretty awesome.

Then we get to The Bridge (you have to cross The Bridge in a certain time so they can reopen it to traffic--wasn't an issue at all until I got hurt), which I was so nervous about because I was losing serious speed due to my IT band and my knee (which gave out right before “God bless Jack”) and I didn’t want to get pulled off the course, so, once I made it to the bridge, I didn’t even care what happened.

I really battled a lot of feeling sorry for myself thoughts once I was relegated to walking/run walking/power walking. Luckily, those were fleeting. I was being cheered on by the military. Dudes. My life isn’t that bad. And I smiled because I was running!! I was running a freaking marathon!

Remember, a year ago, I was scared to run one? Well. I’ve run five now! And I get to run outside and not be worried about my safety because these men and women protect us! Life doesn’t suck!

Around mile 21 I started to smile and remind myself that this is what I do. I run marathons.

My dad and my husband live in some weird fantasy world where they think this should be my last marathon. They are wrong. I will keep doing this until my legs fall off. Which, actually might be sooner than later at the rate I’m going, but, still!

Miles 20-24 were painfully long, through Crystal City which was really neat and packed with spectators, but, I just wanted to be done. I was sick of moving so slowly and wanted to run already.

I high fived the Marine Corps MC (Band of Brothers) around mile 24—they were out on their bikes cheering us on. For whatever reason, that totally cracked me up.

I picked it up and tried to run it in. I managed to run a bit of mile 25 and we were so, so close. You could hear the spectators. You could see where we started earlier that morning. I knew Arlington was coming up.

At mile 26, I buckled down and ran up that hill. Ran up to the finish lined with Marines. Lined with Americans. Lined with family.

It was by far, the best race of my life.

I would highly, highly recommend this race to anyone. Totally organized, so well put on, so emotional and moving. There’s a 10k too! Run the 10k! It’s so, so worth it.

I’m so grateful to the men and women who’ve served and sacrificed for me. I’m so moved by it all. So grateful to the wives of servicemen who sacrifice for us all. I’m so grateful to them all.

I wouldn’t be able to run a marathon in our nations capital if it wasn’t for them.
God bless the USA.

Semper Fi and Oorah!

Me and my bib in front of the course map at the expo. My lucky number is 8, so, I figured 2x2=4. 4x2=8. Awesome.
This was the photo above our bed in the hotel room. It was meant to be!

Finishing with a smile on my face.
The US Marines and Royal Marines at the expo. Um, hello, men in uniform with accents? Please and thank you.
Start line shot.
I love this photo.
Jefferson Memorial with the Washington Monument in the background. Awesome.
The United States Capital Building. Word.
My proud papa tracking me online all the way from California (note: this was also the day he discovered how to send me a picture via text. I'm a proud daughter!) (I don't look anything like him, do I?)
Finish line. (do you see the boy in the wheelchair in this picture? His dad is active duty and running the marathon and he is the little boy who the Marines hoisted up onto the bleachers to watch his dad start. And one of the many generals there, gave him a little lapel pin. Ohhh the tears!)

There I go! Crossing the finish line. You can kinda sorta see the bib on my back that I had made for Jack.

Me and my biggest fan after the race.

It.was.awesome. I cannot wait until next year!

Oh, also, off topic, but, whatever. Who watched the CMAs last night? Basically, I want to look like Carrie Underwood, hang out with Blake Shelton and Miranda Lambert (how cute are they, seriously?) and run away with Dierks Bentley.

What's Next?

Hey, remember how I freaked out last year before my birthday? I'm totally doing it again.

I'm that person.

Luckily, BFF R reminds me to calm the heck down and that our 30s will be super fabulous. She's known me since I was 19 and obviously remembers the days in which we were skinny and stupid and got up at 5AM to work out. And we could eat Taco Cabana for three meals a day and not get fat. And Friends was still on TV. Ahhh, the good ol days.

Anyways.

I'm reminding myself that 30 is the new 20, so, really, I'm just about to approach my 16th birthday, and if anyone remembers how cool turning 16 is, it's me. 16 was the age ya know? Car = freedom = awesome.

I'm not really sure what 26 equals right now, but, surely, something awesome (especially since 25 greeted me with my first gray hair--holy hell--and I'm desperately hoping that my hair goes platinum like my mom's side of the family and not gray like my dad. Then I can at least be blonde for the rest of my life for free. Priorities, people).

So.

I've run five marathons. I've done a few half marathons. I attempted an ultra marathon. I once did a sprint triathlon (never again). Basically, all these things that were on my "bucket list" two years ago. Apparently, I am an overachiever.

Or am I?

So, what's next? What do I tackle now?

My mom was a no holds barred go out and get it type of woman. I'm basically a mini her, except for that. My mom wasn't afraid to do anything. If you know me in real life, you know I'm a total wuss. I freak out before every marathon. I cannot speak in public to save my life. I get super nervous meeting new people. Who I got this gene from, I'll never know as both my parents are super outgoing and brave. (but, once I get to know you, it's pretty hard for me to shut up and stop being obnoxious)

As my birthday looms ahead of me I'm reminded of the things I still don't have or haven't accomplished yet (ahem, kids, met Daniel Craig, gone 1 mile on a hippity hop, etc), but, it's also a time to step back and remember what I have done.

I've done some pretty cool stuff, ya know?

And, if I ever get really depressed and bored, I can always climb Mount Everest (please, pretty please click on the link).

As always, suggestions are welcome--what should I do next?

I didn't run a half marathon yesterday

Which, admittedly, is totally lame. Because I really, really, REALLY wanted to. And I looooove DRC races. DRC are my peeps, ya know (how lame did I just sound?).

Anyways.

I picked up my packet, charged my Garmin, iced the knee, went to bed early and was excited to go.

In the back of my mind, I was really nervous. Since doing whatever I did at MCM last weekend, walking has been hard. I've been stretching, icing, foam rolling, everything, but, it still hurts. I wasn't sure about running the race, as I was scared I might do major damage.

I convinced myself it would be fine, and I could do it.

I convinced myself of this by eating large amounts of pasta and french fries, followed by a PowerAde and several hours of icing my knee and watching Sons of Anarchy. Because Charlie Hunnam cures all that ails you.

Only not really.

Went to bed early, alarm set early. Ready to go.

Except not. I woke up in the middle of the night in pain and tried to get comfy. My alarm went off, I got up and stumbled out of bed. The pain was excruciating. I felt like I was going to puke from the pain.

I tried to "jog it off" by running around my house in my jammies (awesome) and then foam rolling some more. When I could hardly walk, I called it a day. I texted the husband and told him I was bowing out. I'm such a grown up.

I felt all sorts of guilty because I made a deal with Sam that I would totally own my race. And then I didn't.

And since my dogs don't understand FALL BACK we were wide awake at 6:45 AM. So, I sat on the sofa, icing my knee, eating cookies (shut up) and watching TV.

Until my BFF called and offered up a lunch date. Yes please.

So. I didn't run a half marathon. But, I spent a fantastic day with my BFF and turns out, my knee still hurts. I can't imagine what I might have done to it, had I ran yesterday.

Look at how mature I am--seriously!

This just means I'll have to suck it up and run the White Rock Half in December. Whew. I can totally do that, right?

Sneaky Peek

This is what happens when you let your husband hang out at the VIP section of the Marine Corps Marathon:

He meets four star generals while you're dying somewhere around mile 15. Awesome.

Look--with his arm around my husband--like they're old buddies.

Oh, and that's the finish line area in front of the Iwo Jima Memorial. As if I haven't shown y'all that photo enough, right?

More to come soon, I promise! After all, I can't stop talking/bragging/obsessing over it anyways!

This is what Ella Mae thinks about work

It's ok, I feel the exact same way.

This is EM's protest to her dadpup doing any sort of work. I suppose she much prefers an unemployed dadpup to be at home with her?

Sigh. That's not gonna work, sweetie.

This was the scene my husband was greeted to yesterday when he got home from running errands--the data he was helping me enter had been strewn all over the upstairs.

PS. That smudge you see in the right corner of the picture is boxer Butch running back down the stairs, presumably to warn Ella Mae beagle that we were onto her. Naughty dogs.

Marathon Coma

I'm currently trying to dig myself out from under the massive piles of work I was welcomed back to (This? Is the exact reason I never go on vacation.) and attempting to find the words that could even begin to describe the whole marathon experience.

I'm coming up short.

Turns out, all I can talk about is the marathon and the whole experience, but, I don't think I can even begin to do it justice. But, I'm happily reliving it each and every single time I attempt to stand, sit or move--yes, I am that sore.

Until I can find the words and download all the pictures (PS. My camera battery died on Friday. Let's not talk about, k?), I leave you this one captured on my cell phone just after I finished the race.

The Marine Corps Iwo Jima Memorial.

We finished the race here.

I could just cry (again).

God Bless The USA.

I'm an expert in stupid

In case you were wondering, I am. If it's stupid, there's a good chance that I've done it.

Because I enjoy torture, I ran a track workout this morning, and, well, yeah, I hurt myself. AGAIN.


In my mind, I figured, "Hey, muscle memory, if the last run I do is super fast, I'll be fast this weekend". What my body heard was "I hate you and I will kill you". Or something similar.


I'm limping around the office, pretending I'm fine and hoping that the power of positive thinking will magically heal my seriously aggravated IT band. ::finges crossed::


If not, it may be a game day decision about what to do. Never thought I'd say that. Crrrraaaappp.


Please send fairy dust and magic my way. Since I'm too much of an idiot to be smart.


Oh, and just for kicks, does this picture not crack you up? My cougar grandma and my "grandpa". Christmas, 1980. Love it!
(I have to post something funny to distract me from the mind numbing pain I'm currently in)

(No, I look nothing like my dad's side of the family. As you've seen, I'm a mini version of my mama)

A New Addiction

Because Anthro, SAMCRO, Bones, Target and Diet Coke just aren't enough!

I don't remember how exactly I got hooked on the site ModCloth, but, it's totally become my crack as of late.

I adore vintage styles and classic fits. I'm short and semi curvy (I have hips. Bleh) thus, I prefer skirts and dresses to pants. I could live in dresses all year. My closet is jam packed with frilly frocks and such. And I'm only adding to the collection.

I need an intervention.

This beauty arrived yesterday (does this not look like the perfect 1940s dress? I die!):

And I'm obsessed with this and guess that it will be coming home with me very soon:

I really want this one, but, I cannot justify the price. Perhaps it will be on my birthday/Christmas wish list?

Sigh.

What are you addicted to? What are you favorite clothing styles?

I'm an idiot. (pretend this is brand new information)

(this was going to be my deja vu post, but, them I rambled about my super classy family and really, how can we lump running in with my great great grandma turning tricks to pay for our family farm?)

So, I’ve been a total slacker this training cycle for Marine Corps Marathon. But, it honestly it’s not all my fault. How can I run at 5AM when I have to be at work at 5AM? My point, exactly. So, I don’t. And then I get home at 6PM and promptly fall asleep on the sofa watching Bones. I know, tres chic, yes? Yes.

Anyways. So, I missed my first 20 miler because I was so tired and my ankle was touchy and I spent an awesome night with some girlfriends—and I even carbloaded on pizza. But, I felt better after my 12 hours of sleep and said “I’ll do better next week!”. Which I totally did. And then, I was going to do better the next week too—which I totally didn’t. Because I went on a date night with my awesome BFF and then I was like “eh”. And slept in. Lamesauce.

So, idiot over here was all “No worries, I’ll just run 20 miles this weekend with my DRC friends on Saturday since I have to work on Sunday. I won’t taper. No problem.”

And then the Universe was all “Are you mocking me? Because if you are, I will smack you.”

And I got smacked.

At mile 15.

By a pain so severe I thought I was going to pass out or puke, or both. So bad that telling myself I could run through it wasn’t even possible. I was getting passed by power walkers (I don’t want to talk about it). The one time I decide not to take my phone, I’m stranded a good 3 miles from my car and having to walk it in. Ohhhh the rage. No words.

Driving hurt. Sitting hurt. Stretching hurt. Standing? Yep, that hurt too. I had to have the husband help me out of the car.

I couldn’t believe I had been that stupid. That I had temped fate in such a manner. I was 100% totally reliving the injury that plagued me last summer and fall. Not happy.

Messed around on the foam roller. Iced. Stretch. Foam roll. Massage. Rinse, repeat.

Didn’t run yesterday.

Hot bath, foam roll, ice, foam roll. Repeat.

Didn’t run this morning—but! But! That’s because I’ve learned my lesson and don’t want to tempt fate. I feel better today! It hardly hurts. I think I might be OK.

There was some serious devistation when I thought I couldn’t even run the marathon this weekend, and I didn’t tell anyone I’d gotten hurt because I didn’t want the lecture about attempting a 20 miler one week out. But! :knocks on wood: I think I might be OK. As long as I take it easy.

And have no disillusions of a PR. Which I don’t.

Marathon Number Five, here I come!

Deja Voodo

Elephant in the room, elephant in the room, elephant in the room: ALCS CHAMPS TEXAS RANGERS!!

Ah! My little brain can hardly comprehend the awesome that is this situation. Now, I’m not a die hard baseball fan or anything, but, I do like it—I’ve liked the Rangers since I moved here seven years ago.

And now my boys are going to The World Series! Or, should I say, The World Series is coming to my boys! Holy heck. All kinds of awesome. Antlers Up! Go Rangers! (and it doesn’t hurt that Josh Hamilton is just such a cutie pie. Ha!)

Moving on.

Couple of things:

1. My aunt was here this weekend, which meant that I learned a whole heck of a lot about my family. Such as:

a. My dad used to date a woman who was um, shall we say, into not wearing the clothing so much. Yeah. This probably explains why my dad married my super conservative mother and then my even more conservative stepmom.

b. My grandparents had an “open relationship”. As in, my grandma had a boyfriend. FOR SEVERAL YEARS. Of course my grandparents later divorced.

c. My grandpa and his live in girlfriend of 25+ years (after he and my grandma divorced) was his high school sweetheart and the first girl he ever kissed. If that just isn’t the cutest thing ever, I just don’t know what is.

d. My great great grandma had a career path similar to Julia Roberts a la Pretty Woman. In the middle of nowhere, Iowa. I cannot stop laughing about this.

e. Five years after my grandparents divorced, my grandma met her future live in boyfriend of 25+ years at a bar in what is now Skid Row. She was 15 years older than him (I always knew that). Awesome.

f. My grandparents had to hide their marriage, as Iowa school teachers weren't allowed to be married. I guess the move to Southern California really changed my grandparents!

g.How I didn’t end up barefoot and pregnant, married to Larry the Cable Guy at 18, I will never know. Just, judging my family history and all.

(neither of my grandparents ever married their "live in boyfriend/girlfriends", but, they became family to us kids. I adored my "grandma Wilma" and "grandpa Harry" even though they weren't ever married to my grandparents)

2. Whew. I’m exhausted. I don't have the energy to talk about how I got up way too early, ran way too far and totally hurt myself so badly I can barely walk, just like I did last year (hence the title of this post). We can talk about that tomorrow, k? K.

Why couldn’t I be from a line or nobility or something? I mean seriously.

No pictures, use your imagination

So, I told my sweet friend, miss Polka Dots & Protein Bars that I would write this post since she herself is living in a week long adventure of online dating. Enjoy the perils of my life. I can’t make this up. I’m not that smart/creative.

In college, I decided to do an online dating thing. I won’t tell you which website or whatever I used, because, well, that doesn’t really matter. Anyways. I filled out my little profile and can't really remember what I said about myself (after all, this was nearly a decade ago. Good Lord, I’m old), but, I remember my user name was CaliforniaCrewGirl. I was on the crew team and from California. Done.

So, blah, blah, I get an email fairly soon and am flattered because, well, you know, he seemed normal. We have witty banter back and forth for a few emails and I’m like “hey, this guy seems nice”. So, we decide we should chat on the phone sometime. I give him my number.

Not two minutes pass and my phone is ringing. It’s internet boy. (Sidenote: While I hate dating “games” being so damn eager is kind of scary too.)

Y’all. Y’all. Y’all. I am not one to judge an accent or anything like that, cause I do love me a sweet Southern drawl, but, he was so backwoods, I could hardly understand a word he was saying. Um?

We attempt to chat. It’s awkward. He tells me that he wants a wife. Um. I’m 18. He tells me he only wears Wranglers. That he intends to wear them on his wedding day. But, at least then he would wear black ones. Because that makes it classier. Obviously.

And that his mama would have to approve of me before we could go on a date.
Suuuuuure.

We email and chat a few more times. His mother approves of me. (WHY ON EARTH DID I EVEN PUT UP WITH THIS? Yes, all caps is necessary) (I sound really desperate, don't I?)

We decide to go on a “date”. Which, is code for, it’s finals week and thank goodness I have that as an excuse so let’s just grab apps somewhere.

Which translates to the On The Border off I-30 by Six Flags.

My hell.

So, I’ve seen his picture and he’s cute. Not George Clooney, but, I’m no Cameron Diaz, so, it’s cool.

Obviously, I wasn’t expecting George Clooney to show up, but, I wasn’t expecting Larry the Cable Guy either.

Oh Lordy. True story.

And it's wildly awkward. Like, we're fine in emails and online and even sorta fine on the phone, but, jeezus? In person. Notsomuch. How did this witty cowboy man turn into Larry the Cable Guy?

Oh, and then, when we lost touch for a few weeks because you know, my mom died, he was upset that I didn’t make time for him. Um. My mom died. I was a touch busy. And we weren’t like dating-dating. He.wigged.out. Like, was seriously upset with me. Um? No. Obviously, that was end of whatever it was.

Hopefully, he's found a wife by now.

But, it's doubtful.

Dear Brain: Stop it. Now.

Scene: Me being a responsible little elf and trying to clean up the house and get things in order before my aunt comes to visit this weekend. And get to bed at a reasonable time so I can get up and kick ass at my track workout the following morning.

8:15PM: Take an Advil PM so that I will be able to fall asleep as my knee has been hurting lately. Putz around the house moving candles and pictures while keeping entertained by watching Bones in the background for a little bit.

8:45PM: Decide I'm feeling a little sleepy and decide to capitalize on that and get ready for bed (yes, I go to bed early).

9:05PM: All snug in bed with a beagle and am getting close to falling asleep. Success!

9:30PM: Still awake. Still awake. Dear brain, please turn off.

10:07PM: Go to sleep! Go to sleep! You have to wake up in like 6 hours. Go to sleep. The house will still be messy and you'll still hate the way the guest bedroom looks in the morning. It's not like you can clean right now. Or can you?

10:09PM: Ponder getting up, cleaning, rearranging and basically pulling an all-nighter. What? It worked it college, surely it would work now.

10:11PM: No, I'll just go to sleep. Damn. I should take another Advil PM. But, is that too much? Will I be able to wake up? Hmm.. I should have gotten that melatonin stuff our receptionist told me about. Also? I never thought I'd be the person worrying about sleeping meds. If I was on Twitter right now, I would use a hashtag for this as #I'mold (I'm old. Not I mold. Obviously).

11:15PM: Sigh. I'm over this.

1:39AM: Seriously?!?

3:55AM: Oh my jeeszus, the alarm goes off so soon. Please, just a few more minutes.

4:23AM: Alarm goes off. Oh hell no. Snooze.

And that my friends, is how I managed to miss yet another run because I am a damn insomniac these days.

Either that, or the taper is making me crazy.

Obviously, this results in Oreo cookies and Diet Coke for breakfast. Awesome.

Breakfast of champions, y'all. I hear this is how Ryan Hall starts his day too.

I cannot budget to save my life*

* at least at Target.

Also titled: "85% of my Paycheck Goes to Target and I don't Need Minted.com to Tell Me That" (true story)

And this is how yesterday played out:

I feel bad. I haven't sent Rach a package yet. Must fix this. Target trip after work. Hm. What does she need? ::pulls up email:: OK. Long sleeve shirts, leggings, socks--warm stuff. And foundation. Crap. I don't know what kind she wears. Solution? Call MIL. New mission? Find leggings since MIL wasn't able to find any--however, I have 4 Target stores within a 5 mile radius of mi casa, so, I will find leggings.

Tra la, la, Target is so fun. Tra la, la.

Gloves? Check. Warm leggings? Check (or, you know, yoga pants--whatever, she's getting them. Two pair!). Socks? OK. Well, what kind of socks? She said warm socks. So...Boot socks? Knee high or crew? How about both? Done.

Long sleeve tee shirts? Of course. Red shirt. Blue shirt. Black shirt. Green shirt. Done.

And it's cold up there, so, she'll need some lotion and chapstick and stuff. Naturally, I need new chapstick. Oh, and some travel sized hand sanitizer--she loves hand sanitizer. Weird, I know.

And gummi bears. And mascara--since I at least know the kind of mascara she uses. Anything else? Ohh! Fuzzy Halloween socks. Yes. Naturally.

And that my friends, is how I managed to kill more than $125 at Target last night.

But, you know what? I'd spend my entire paycheck on this chickadee if it was needed.

I love my sissypants more than shoes and would do anything for her. She's an amazing person and while I miss her like crazy, I am so grateful to her and her service each and every single day.

Sending her some warm clothes and "provisions" is the least I can do. (I'm also jonesing for Best Sister In Law Ever status, but, that's neither here nor there)

Happy Crazy Work Week and I'm Sick

Grrr. I am beyond less than thrilled right now. I missed my long long run on Sunday. I didn't leave my bed yesterday.

Hate.

But, in the upside of this hell is that I am being forced to do my 20 miler on Saturday with my DRC crazies--I haven't seen them since July. This is the true highlight of my week. Yep, that means no taper. I don't even care. I'm so under trained for Marine Corps it's not even funny.

I'm still determined to have a blast and enjoy those 26.2 miles through DC. I am beyond excited to spend a weekend in DC with my husband and rock the hell out of that race.

And because I can, here's a cute picture of me at the State Fair of Texas taken by bff. Those damn swings aren't to be messed with. We were walking around like drunks the rest of the night. We're both still leaning to the left. Also titled? We're Older Than We Care to Admit.

(Feel free to discuss how awesome my hair looks in the comments. Seriously.)

Memory Lane

(also titled "Our Scanner is Currently Working So We Must Strike While the Iron is Hot")

Remember the onesies that I obsess over (here and here)?

Well, I found a picture of them.
So, I guess I was falsifying the story when I called them onesies, because, they clearly aren't. They are little cape sweater things--and the bonnets? Oh the bonnets. My heart aches.

I have no idea which one is my grandma and which one is my great aunt, but, I don't care. I adore this picture.

While we're doing the Memory Lane thing, here are some more pictures for ya.

That's my momma and our dog in our backyard--gosh, probably sometime in the early 80s.

Me and my momma (in my blonde phase) on her wedding day--November 2, 2002. (don't I look exactly like her? I totally lucked out because my sister looks just like our dad. Yay for my mom having the dominant genes!)

My momma and her girls at my High School Graduation. Again--blonde phase and before I discovered a flat iron.

L-R we have Jenny, Malia, momma, me and Aubrey. Jenny spent every Christmas Eve with us for YEARS. Malia's dad basically adopted me and Aubrey's mom and mine were best friends. My mom considered them her girls too. We're family.

My mom had that photo in an 8x10 frame in her living room. She was such a good mom. I sent that photo to all the girls last night.

I've been scanning up a storm since our scanner is currently not on the fritz. Prepare to see much more where this came from!

Isn't modern technology fun?

Mi casa es su casa

Welcome! Grab a Diet Coke and get settled!

When we bought our home (::cough:: two years ago ::cough::), there were plenty of things we needed to deal with right away. Like the wallpaper. And the A&M/CSI splatter painting in the hallway. Other things we could let slide. Like the window coverings in the living room.

Nope, your eyes do not deceive you--those are, in fact, hippie beads. Like the ones you had in your dorm room freshman year. (note that while the previous owners had fancy furniture as seen above, they did not so much have taste--as evidenced by the wallpaper and splatter paint...I'll need to find those pictures)

So, we left them. Because, we couldn't figure out what to do. We didn't want real curtains to block the view of the backyard. We couldn't afford plantation shutters. We didn't want blinds. So, we just left it.

Then last spring, I got the brilliant idea to just take them down.

See? (also, yes, the windows are dirty, shut up) No one was really a fan of this. So, the beads went back up.
Until a few weeks ago when I'd had it up to here and decided once and for all--gauzy curtains it is.
Ta da!

So.much.better. Love.

Now, we just have to fix the pink sofas and creepy people on the mantle and we're set.

Lest you think I was being overly dramatic about the creepy people on my mantle and all.