Starting New

I'm not a goal setter or a resolution maker. They make me crazy. Why? Because I generally never reach most of the goals I set. I tend to make my resolutions based on who I think I should be, not who I truly am. And when you base your goals on what you deep down know is unrealistic, you just end up feeling like more of a failure when it's all abandoned.

Every year, I decide on a 'Focus' for myself. Not a goal, just a focus, or a theme, for where I want to center my vision. I post it on my mirror, just as a way of checking in. Do I truthfully look at it everyday? No. But, it's there. I take notice of it when I pull out the Windex, or when I turn and it catches my eye. It's a subtle reminder that tends to stick with me. There's no pressure attached to it, only clear focus.

For 2011, I've taken my year's theme from a favorite blogger. She originated the phrase, and it's grown into something more than the words themselves.

Do Less, Be More.

The written words seem simple, but it's message is deeper and life sustaining. What it means for me will vary from what it means for you. That's what makes these words so nourishing. And, they also make you feel like stretching your soul to be and do something greater.

Tomorrow is a fresh start. I'll open a new calendar and it will feel like a new beginning. January just has that effect. It makes your mind clear a bit and focus on what you want the new year to bring. So, whether you are a goal setter, or if you use a word to define the next 365 days, make sure you are true to yourself and what you want for those you love. As for me, I'm going to focus on being more and doing less. Wish me luck.

The HIghlights

Christmas has come and gone. I've packed it all up and put it away. Just this morning, the garbage man hauled away all the wrapping paper. Life feels (almost) back to normal.

Here are our highlights from this year's Santa day.....

She screamed when she opened this. I'm fairly certain that she will be the only child in her entire school wearing this come Monday morning.

The one present she asked for "in the pretty blue color".

It's hard to genuinely surprise a teenager. She and I had an argument about this dress (it's price) and I'd (white lie) told her I'd never buy it. Her reaction was worth it.

Somehow, Nana always finds a way to fulfill all your dreams. She bought Todd A CASE of the one thing he would need on a deserted island. Chapstick.

The cheapest gifts always produce the greatest joy.

The new family game.

Changing of the guard. The original is so faded and worn, you can't even read it. The new silver one will last my lifetime.

My sister-in-law sent me a subliminal reminder I so desperately need.

I hope your Santa day was as jolly as ours. I'm ever so grateful it's over and all cleaned up. Only 360 more days until the next one.

The Nativity

We've never reenacted the Nativity story before. I haven't ever wanted to put forth the effort. All that gift buying and wrapping kinda wipes me out. This year, Nana requested the story retold. And when Nana asks, she receives.

Sam made a lovely fair Mary. Makell insisted on being Joseph. Keagan was a very large and loud baby Jesus. It all looks pretty authentic, don't you think?

Addie was an angel. Yes, the irony did not escape me. In my version of the Nativity, the angels were calm and all together silent. I'm not quite sure she was true to character.

Towards the end of the narration, Makell stopped short and her eyes went wide. She exclaimed, "Wait a second, baby Jesus was a boy?!" Apparently this was truly stunning news to her. I obviously haven't explained things well over the last 11 years. Oh, and I guess that church attendance every. single. Sunday. didn't shed any light for her.

Good thing Nana asked for the Nativity this year. Without her, my kids would have grown into adulthood thinking baby Jesus was a girl. Where, oh where, did I go wrong?

The Aftermath

Does anyone else's house look like Santa got dizzy and threw up everywhere?

I'm Slowing Down To Enjoy

Merry Christmas from my "normal" family to yours.
Take time to enjoy it all.

A Day At The Zoo

Even after 3 years, my winter mindset has yet to change. I still marvel at the December days when we wear short sleeve shirts while exploring the zoo and riding the train. Really it's quite fantastic. Tomorrow it is supposed to drop to a freezing 61 degrees. Brrr.


You never know how a family outing is going to play out. You know it's going to either be really fun or really bad. There is no secret way to predict the outcome. You just have to cross your fingers and pray.


I must have prayed extra hard, because today was delightful. My kids had fun, fighting was minimal and we got to watch a mom and baby elephant have a bath. A perfect winter day.

Lightning never strikes twice. Right? Therefore, I know I'm in for it tomorrow. Today was good, so tomorrow will be mayhem. It's just how it goes, so I'm bracing myself. I'm going to wear short sleeves for good luck.

Naughty Or Nice?

"Addie, what were you asking Santa?"

"If I was on the naughty list or the nice list."

"What did he say?"

"He wouldn't tell me because he didn't want to ruin the surprise."

"Which list do YOU think you're on?"

...pause........

"I'm in the middle."

Cookie Exchange

Most of what I do is an attempt to deflect attention away from my kids and my sub-par parenting skills. Every now and then, I even make an extraordinary effort to be a Supermom. As is always the case, the results are usually painful.

Case in point-- the Cookie Exchange. I decided to make these cookies. 4 dozen of them.


The labor alone was ridiculous. Half way through, I considered not even going and taking a nap instead. It was at that point that I threatened Todd with his life if he didn't help me.


The next time I decide to try something like this, I need you to hit me. Hard. Promise?

This Mother's Top 10

I'm weary from shopping and money spending. My brain hurts from thinking about Christmas so much. I'm sick of it. Not the Christmas part, just the thinking part.

While at Kohl's AGAIN, I decided on my Top 10 for this time of year. Here you go:

A Mother's Christmas Top 10

10. Arriving home from Target only to realize that I need to go back for more tomorrow.

9. My child requesting something from Santa that we already own. "But this one is a prettier color".

8. Another child requesting a Pillow Pet that will sit on the bed and never get touched.

7. Preparing teacher gifts that my kids tell me, "are stupid". And then they add, "but I'm not being rude."

6. Laying in bed at night reviewing what I've bought for each child so I can make sure there is total equality. I then purchase more to even things out, only to realize I've made it more unbalanced.

5. As I buy, I hide it away. Now I can't remember what I've bought.

4. Kids who tell me their "perfect" gift request on December 1, only to inform me on December 23rd that this request is no longer valid.

3. All. The. Wrapping!

2. Realizing that Santa gets WAY too much credit.

1. What takes me 864 hours to prepare, is unwrapped and over in 38 minutes on Christmas morning.

Amen.

House Of Candy

It's that time of year again. The time where we get invited to the "special" house to make gingerbread palaces. Starting in December, I pray every night that Andi will forget everything she knows about my kids, and invite them over anyway. It's like a candy/frosting heaven over there.


You know what makes this candy extravaganza even better? You. Can. Eat. The. Frosting!! I'm serious. No eggs in it what-so-ever. I may or may not have squirted it straight into my mouth.


I wish my house was made of candy and smelled like gingerbread. Do you think if my kids slept in beds made of gumdrops that they would still whine and be ungrateful all the time? I'm guessing it's a high possibility.


This house is entirely edible. You know what that means? I'm totally serving it for dinner. With a salad on the side, of course.

His Request

There are times in a marriage where you look at your spouse and think, "I'm so lucky". And then, there are all the other times. I'll let you decide which one today is.

Todd's first Christmas request was for some expensive gadget that is required to be installed in order to use the home speakers he. already. bought. himself. I deleted the email.

His second request was for a new wedding ring. Uh, yup, I'm serious. Farmer Todd has decided he's just not that into gold anymore. Now he wants a fancy silver, platinum, grayish one. That email was deleted while my heart broke (not really, it broke years ago when he told me my teeth looked like corn).

Today, he has discovered the ultimate gift. This one he really, really wants:


Any guesses?

It's a Urine Powered Battery. Read those words again-- A...Urine...Powered...Battery. The website describes it "as ideal for excursions of any kind, or at home if peeing into a battery is your thing".

He's a genius. And he's all mine.

Just in case you want one of your own (or you really want to buy Todd a gift), read all about it here: http://www.trendhunter.com/trends/metalcell-portable-battery

Scenes Of The Season

Twinkling lights. Toddler hands. Nana's tree.
This is what makes the season bright.

I'm Dreaming

A white Christmas. That's a double negative where I live. The temperatures are coldish here, and I wear my coat sometimes-ish. But, my front yard is brown instead of white and Todd still puts on shorts every day after work.

I don't miss all the extras that are attached to snow. The shoveling, the wet bundles of clothes everywhere, oh, and the shoveling. What I do miss is the first snowfall. It always feels like magic sprinkles falling from heaven. It blankets everything in a crisp newness that makes the world feel quiet. Nothing feels quiet in this house. Ever.

You know what's funny about this snow picture? I can't remember which kid it is. I think it's #3, but it could very likely be #2. Either way, this moment captured in the snow feels magical. And as I sit here in my Texas weather, I'm dreaming, just for an hour or two, of a white Christmas.

Guess what else I'm dreaming about? Kids that obey. I'm totally asking Santa for it. Why not, I believe in Christmas miracles. Especially white ones.

Lead, Guide, Walk Beside

The following thought was sent to me recently. It's the perfect theme for this time of year. In between the shopping, spending, planning and frenzy, may we take the time to find our inner calm and remember what is truly important. May we quiet our lives so that we may always hear the sound of the bell ringing us home.

"Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it. From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse. But if you stop and look, you will notice something quite amazing.

Looking into the eyes of one horse you will see that he is blind. His owner has made a good home for him. If you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell. Looking around for the source, you notice it comes from the smaller horse in the field.

This bell, which is attached to the horse’s halter, lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow. As you stand and watch these two friends, you’ll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the blind horse, and that the blind horse will listen for the bell, and walk slowly toward the other horse, trusting he won’t be led astray.

Like the owner of these horses, God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect, or have problems or challenges. He watches over us and even brings others into our lives, to help us when we are in need.

Sometimes we are the blind horse being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives. Other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way."
(Author unknown)

Full Circle

It is quite a strange thing to have your baby reach a milestone. Unlike the siblings before her, her's has more of a finality to it. She is the last one. That's it, no more. Once she passes an age, an event, a phase, it's really gone. That's what makes it so strange.


Addie got baptized. The last of the three. It seems we've come full circle. Or maybe, there isn't really a beginning or end to it, just one continuous round.


She has anxiously anticipated this event, this milestone. She was confident and self assured. She was up from her chair and in the font before Todd even reached his side of the water. I hope she always remains that sure of herself and what she wants. Actually, I pray for it.

This family feels older now. We no longer have anyone who is 'little'. I guess we've entered a new season and I didn't even notice it. Somehow, Addie getting baptized just seemed to clarify it for me. It's that full circle thing. Daily life goes round and round, and just when you least expect it, the circle changes.

For now, I'm holding tight to my circle. With all it's bends and turns, I find it quite perfect. Maybe that's the secret to the journey. Not trying to change your circle, but simply embracing the one you have. Every milestone, a curve along the way.

4 Of 40

I have a serious aversion to glitter. I mean serious. It's therapy-worthy serious. Glitter is never, and I mean never, allowed in this house. Cute glitter shoes that the girls begged for? Nope. T-shirts with glitter in the design? Heavens no. Glitter lip gloss? For sure, no.

So, imagine my surprise when I decided to make a glitter tree. I shocked myself. I stood in the isle at Hobby Lobby and just stared at the bottles of glitter. I had to take a deep breath before I picked one up. Glitter gives me the heeby-jeebies. It's messy and it. sticks. to. everything. But yet, it now resides in my house.


Making the tree almost gave me a fatal heart attack. No matter how hard I tried, that darn glitter just got everywhere. After I was finished, I vacuumed every square inch of the kitchen. And I must admit, I vacuumed by entire body as well.

With the tree now in position, things just got a lot more sparkly over here. Who knows, maybe I'll branch out and buy Todd some glitter shoes for Christmas.

* tutorial for tree found here.
** 1 of 40 here, 2 of 40 here, 3 of 40 here.

Countdown

23 days until Christmas, people.
Twenty. Three. Days.

Have mercy.

Where's The Middle Man?

If you look up the phrase, 'Vicious Cycle' in the dictionary, this is what you will find:

I make a list of all the food I need to buy.
I clean out the fridge in the process and throw away all the old food.
I traverse the isles of the grocery store and buy new food.
I hall all the bags of food into the house.
I replace all the old food with new food in the fridge and pantry.
The kids open the pantry and exclaim, "There is nothing to eat!"
Then the kids complain, "Why don't you ever buy Pop Tarts!? Everyone else's mom buys Pop Tarts!"
I pull all the food back out of the fridge and cook dinner.
I clean up the leftover food and the dishes it briefly touched.
I walk out of the kitchen.
I hear a child cry, "I'm hungry!"

Am I missing something here? Is there a step I've missed or a loop hole I haven't found? When I sat in the auditorium on my college graduation day, this is certainly not what I envisioned. Not even close.

Eight Is Great

When I was pregnant with Addie, my pediatrician gave me some medical wisdom. He assured me that Child #3 was ALWAYS calm, sweet and go-with-the-flow. I believed him. I had to, I was in survival mode.

You see, Child #2 made me cry. A lot. She was so, SO hard. So, the moment I found out I was pregnant with Child #3, I prayed. Hard. Every night, I poured out my heart and pleaded for the Lord to send me joy.


From the moment she arrived, Addie has been noisy. She moves too. Like, non-stop. Each year, I keep thinking that the calm, go-with-the-flow child I was promised, will somehow emerge. Now, for the 8th year in a row, I'm fairly positive that 'calm' and 'quiet' will never be words used to describe her.

This daughter of mine has pushed me to my parenting limits. I still feel lost most of the time. But, maybe that's the whole point of parenting. Each child presents a new set of discoveries to be made. Addie has many.

When she was born, I knew that everyone had finally showed up for the party. She was the one who made our family complete. She is our exclamation point. I look at her and marvel at all she is. She is joy. Just not in the shape and form I thought it would look like. Instead, I received a joy that is so much brighter than I could have imagined. One that has changed my life and my love. Her joy is mine.

Happy Birthday my Addie Bean.

One-On-One

In our house, 8th birthdays are special. We celebrate big. The baby of the family hits this milestone tomorrow. So, we spent the weekend celebrating.

She decided that she didn't want a party. All she really wanted was to spend 24 hours with her mom and dad. All to herself. And a hotel sleepover thrown in for bonus (because, "Hotel pancakes taste better."). This child of mine craves one-on-one attention. She needs it as much as she needs air to breathe. Thus, her 8th birthday wish was granted.


We let her guide where we went and what we did. Build-A-Bear was a highlight. She also had her nails done at the nail salon and we ate steak for dinner. Mine kind of birthday.


It's quite fascinating to see what happens when you spend time with your child one-on-one. They seem to blossom right before your eyes. They act different. They have the chance to tell you things that never come up in daily conversation. They feel happier. There is no longer a need to compete with older siblings, and the chance to get a sister in trouble never arises. It's delightful.


Stepping away from the daily-ness of family life tends to open my eyes. I watch more closely and see more clearly. It's a shame I don't do it more often. Spending alone time with child #3 gave me a chance to soak her in. And in turn, she relished in her gift of time.


Addie's gift was one that was shared. In her 8 year old wisdom, she asked her parents to devote their time to her and her alone. In a perfect family, she wouldn't have to request that for her birthday. It would be something routine. But in a realistic, busy, crazy family, time is rare. One-on-one time is almost non-existent.

Thus, her birthday gift unfolded to be a present I received with open arms. That was something I didn't expect. But I found that those gifts which surprise and awaken us all at the same time, are the very best gifts of all.

Giving Thanks

I like this holiday. It comes without embellishments or a lot of fanfare. Just an excessive amount of food. And what can be wrong with that?

Thanksgiving seems to encompass the real meaning of the word 'holiday'. It's a day that isn't measured by dollars spent, the perfect gift given, or the most elaborate decorations hung. It's a day of giving. A day of thanking. Simple, yet grand, all at the same time.

This day is measured by family, in all it's shapes and sizes. When I simmer my gratitude down to the finest details, family is at the core. It is at the heart of all I hold dear. So today, in between slices of pie, I give thanks for this piece of heaven I have been given.

By the way, we ate the tur-duck-hen. And guess what? It takes like turkey.

Cajun Style

We are having a tur-duc-hen for Thanksgiving. I'm not kidding. It's a chicken shoved inside a duck shoved inside a turkey. Again, not kidding. And to make it even better, stuffing is at the core.

I can't even imagine how this concept came about. Who actually thinks about shoving different forms of poultry inside one another? Someone with too much time on their hands. Just in case this isn't as tasty as it looks, we are also having ham. It's not shoved inside anything. Totally boring.

The rest of the Thanksgiving prep is underway. I went against tradition and bought my rolls. From the store. They are sitting on the counter in a bag. It feels a little sacrilegious not to have homemade rolls. But then again, a tur-duc-hen is completely off the grid. Maybe I'll go totally crazy and serve enchiladas. Texas is wearing on me.

500

This is my 500th post. Weird, isn't it? Over the last 2 1/2 years, I've somehow managed to give life to the voice in my head 500 times. That's a whole lot of words.

I started this blog with the intent of keeping those I moved away from, updated on my life. But over time, it has evolved into something far greater than I imagined. Deeper than I planned. In the strangest of ways, I seem to have found my true self through the words I have written. So, I expose my soul and the crazy life of my family here. It is here where I have found my voice.

I continue to stumble upon people who read here. In 500 posts, I hope I've said something worthwhile. If not, at least you've been entertained. Thank you for returning. Thank you for reading. But most of all, thank you for accepting the voice I have offered.

She Shoots

The Runner now plays basketball. Can you see her? I tried to tell her how hard it is to take a picture of her when she keeps moving. I sweetly requested that she stand still more often while she is on the court. She just stared at me funny and walked away.


She is #1. I asked her if this is because she is super good or super tiny. I still haven't gotten an answer. Oh well.
Watching her games are kinda crazy. There are so many rules and whistle blowing. And sweat. Lots of running and sweat. I'm so focused on who is wearing the cutest shoes, that I often miss the moments when the ball makes it through the hoop.

When I'm not looking at the shoes, I'm thinking about the cute hair clips I could make to match the players outfits. Several people have asked me what position she plays. I just stare at them and open my eyes real big. "Um, isn't it obvious? The one where you run and dribble the ball. Isn't that the position they all play?"

I have no idea where Sam's love of athletics comes from. Maybe it's a recessive gene passed on through her lineage. I remember being forced to play church softball. I stood as far out in the field as I could so that I wouldn't have to do anything that would get my Keds dirty.

My sister, on the other hand, has a pretty good grasp on sports. She told me that once she twisted her ankle playing church basketball. She asked to get pulled from the game, but my dad told her (in his angry voice), "You play until you die!" I stared at her with a gasp when she told me that. I definitely think you should shop until you die, but not play ball. That's nuts.

Anyhoo, I'm going to try and concentrate and learn something. For reals. I'm sure that all those hand motions the refs use actually mean something. Either that, or they secretly want to be dancers. You just wait. By the end of this season, I'm positive that I'll know what 'traveling' is. But in the meantime, I'm totally whipping up cute hair bows for Sam and her teammates. They're going to love them.

Too Puffy?

Do you think that a person who doesn't drink coffee has any use for coffee filters? If she wants to make a wreath, she does.

If you stand back and squint your eyes, it looks like a tissue box exploded. In a good way.

2 Too Many

You know how I feel about pets. You just know. And now, there are two. Living in the same residence as myself. I don't like it.

These turtles are a hand-me-down. Sam inherited them. I must have dementia, because I don't ever remember agreeing to this arrangement. I'm sure this is Todd's fault.

Their names are Cheerio and Tortelini. They're the size of a paper weight. All day long, they sit in water and swim. Oh, and hide under a rock. Sam drops food in when she thinks they're hungry. Other than that, nothing happens. So remind me, what's the point?

"Special", Take 2

"Makell! Why did you throw up on the carpet!?"

"Oh, I was burping and the barf started to come up. I wanted to gross the girls out, so I gagged myself. Then I barfed on the carpet. Isn't that awesome?"

The Things That Make Us "Special"

I think that a majority of the time, I take for granted all that goes on around here. Everyday Foster "stuff" happens on such a regular basis, I don't find it unusual. But once I casually mention any Foster-isms to other people, they laugh so hard that tears form. It's at that point I realize that we are very far from normal. Way far.


I took this picture of Kellie in front of the temple. It's dusk, it's lovely, it's a beautiful moment. I've been saving it in hopes of writing something just as lovely and beautiful.....Totally not gonna happen.

This week, she burped for her violin teacher. Let me pause here to say, if you haven't heard Makell burp, you have NO concept for what this means. The shortest explanation-- it's phenomenal. I had to check in with the violin teacher the next day, just to make sure she was alright. In her exact words, "Never, ever, ever, in my life, have I heard anything like that. At first I thought it was an alligator. Then I realized it was a tiny, 11 yr. old girl. I laughed so hard, I started crying."

Oh, and right before Makell belched, she discovered that the violin teacher actually knows how to play the violin. She was shocked. I'm serious.



This 14 yr. old has taken up to singing the following altered Christmas carol (you know the tune): "All I want for Christmas is my 2 big boobs, my 2 big boobs, my 2 big boobs...." I've had to gingerly explain that the elves don't make those at the North Pole.


And then there is child #3. This week she told me she wants to have dinner with Justin Bieber. And somehow, she forgot to mention that she was in trouble at school for talking. "Mom, I just can't seem to ever stop talking." Oh, my dear sweet child, I know.

I could stop here and tell you all the "special" things Todd has done recently, but I don't have the time. But, he did mention this week that he fell out of the car a lot as a child. "What do you mean, you fell out?" Todd, "You know, like when the car was moving. The door came open and I flew out." He explained all this with a straight face, as if it were a normal childhood occurrence. He was stunned when I assured him it was not.

"My dad came driving around a corner, and I was opening the door, so I flew out. Oh, and I was riding on top of the sugar beet leaves in the truck, and I fell out of there too. Didn't your mom ever have to lean across the seat and grab your shirt so you didn't fall out the car door?" Um, no. And this little explanation seriously explains a whole lot.

You Can't Pay For This Kind Of Show

There is a WalMart down and around the bend from me that I enter for only one of two reasons. One- I'm in a pinch for time and it's my ONLY option. Two- I'm depressed and I need to be amongst a group of people that make me feel like my life is a downright fairytale. Today was a combination of the two.

This particular WalMart makes me feel like I've stepped into the heart of crazy town. I honestly don't know where these people live their everyday lives, but they all congregate and shop together. This afternoon was extra special. There must have been somethin' in the air. My shopping trip lasted all of 14.8 minutes. You won't believe what I saw. I'm still stunned. My eyes stared so much at my surroundings, they started to burn.

At the customer service line, I encountered a man returning a foam mattress. Queen size. After sleeping on said mattress for a couple of weeks, he decided the middle section hadn't fluffed out enough. He simply folded it all up and strapped a bungee cord around it. He then shoved it into a shopping cart. He carried the empty box along side the cart.

I saw a Mexican cowboy. He was sporting wranglers and a real leather vest. No lie. Afterward, I did a double take at the girl wearing a tank top in order to show off her poinsettia tattoo. Who gets a poinsettia tattoo!?

I couldn't help but stare at the man wearing denim overalls with a bandanna hanging out of his back pocket. I'm not positive, but I'm fairly certain he was getting a Money Gram to cover the supplies for his moonshine.

My head was spinning a bit at this point, and I even started to get the giggles. I speedy quick grabbed the two items I needed and headed to checkout. Just as I was about to step out the doors, I heard a woman exclaim, "Man, I should have worn my elastic waist pants!" I closed my eyes and kept on walking.

Not For The Weak

The following are the 2 best quotes I've read in a long time. Avert your eyes if you have a weak stomach or your spirit is sensitive to cuss words. Mine is like tough rawhide. And to top it off, I'm posting this on a sabbath day. I'm going to be struck down. Which, when you think about it, would be a nice reprieve from life.

Awesomeness #1 (thanks Megan): Bacon Flavored Soda. Read the full story here. This is way too fantastic. My favorite quote--

"Nailing the flavor was tough. We didn't want pot roast, we didn't want pork tenderloin, we wanted bacon. The drink started out tasting more like ham than pork. But eventually we were able to get the crispiness of bacon in there without it being overpowered by porkiness."


Awesomeness #2 (courtesy of awesome Nana): Quote of the Week from LA Times columnist, Burt Prelutsky--

"Frankly, I don't know what it is about California , but we seem to have a strange urge to elect really obnoxious women to high office. I'm not bragging, you understand, but no other state, including Maine , even comes close. When it comes to sending left-wing dingbats to Washington , we're number one. There's no getting around the fact that the last time anyone saw the likes of Barbara Boxer, Dianne Feinstein, and Nancy Pelosi, they were stirring a cauldron when the curtain went up on 'Macbeth'. The three of them are like jackasses who happen to possess the gift of blab. You don't know if you should condemn them for their stupidity or simply marvel at their ability to form words."


Hopefully these words have made your Sunday complete. I somehow find them warm and fuzzy.

3 of 40

1 of 40 and 2 of 40

Today I am sporting something I swore I would NEVER wear. A school bling shirt. My girl's intermediate school to be precise. I feel like my whole chest is bedazzled.


I'm not a bling kind of girl. I'm an Ann Taylor Loft lady. Last time I checked, there were no appliqued sequins anywhere to be found in Ann Taylor. I worry that I'm becoming more Texan. I bought this shirt myself. On purpose. I don't even know if someone my age can wear something this sparkly.

I'm leaving the house in 48 minutes. I'm bracing myself for strange looks and whispered giggles. Which will probably never happen. After all, when in Texas, be a Texan.