Musings of a Monkey Mind

Oops, Sis Did It Again

2011-06-06T14:12:00.025-05:00

18 months ago Max and my sister had the most precious baby I've ever seen... then yesterday they had the most precious baby I've ever seen again! So weird.

It is my greatest pleasure to introduce you to my beautiful new niece, Miss Avery Brooke :)

She was aptly born to flight officers at 7:47pm on their wedding anniversary
June 5, 2011
7lbs 3oz
20in long

and after she got her hair did :)

The day started like any other day that starts with your phone ringing at 4:30 in the morning.... I startled awake and practically fell out of bed trying to answer it with a frantic, "are you okay?!?" The only other time I woke up so quickly was when a huge, drunk football player thought it'd be a good idea to surprise me while I was asleep in my dorm room. By laying on me. Ever wake up thinking you're being raped? Didn't think so. It's not fun. So my ever so calm and reserved sister (of whom I'm not sure how I'm related for that very reason) says quietly and peacefully, "Yes, everything is fine. I need you to come home now, my water broke."

I was out the door like Jackie Joyner-Kersee on steroids, my hair probably looking a lot like her dreads at this point too, and since OKC decided to have overnight highway construction on The Most Inconvenient Day ever, thoughts about having a baby on the kitchen floor were dancing through my head... but I was home in no time and there was apparently no need to rush. Brooke was quietly doing what she does best: organizing life in no hurry whatsoever. And it's a good thing too, because she was back at the house by 7am ??? The doc said her water didn't break, but that "she peed herself".

For the record, I'm only comfortable telling this part of the story because 12 hours later we were obviously snuggling a baby, not a 7lb turd. I'm gonna need that doctor's credentials asap.

Anyhoo. We headed back to the hospital when "she peed herself" again and she was admitted (doctor dipshit was obviously not on-call at that point). But the home stretch didn't start off too well when the nurse misplaced her IV and her arm blew up like the elephant man. I just seriously don't have the stomach for stuff like that, people. I almost passed out and we had only been there 15 minutes. But IVs were replaced and my sense of calm was soon restored.

Now Mom tells the best story of Brooke's virtually silent natural labor with Vincent and I was so curious to see if she was over exaggerating like the drama queen she (I) is (am). So at about 6pm, as if I was transported through time to his birth in 2009, Brooke would start to tell a story and just kind of stop in the middle of a sentence, close her eyes, gently relax her arms and breathe normally through a 20 minute contraction. Okay, maybe not that long, but the little Richter Scale of contractions scared me! Most of them were like 5.0s at this point and getting close together, but Brooke was like a silent pregnant Buddha in an annoyingly patterned hospital gown.

It wasn't until 7pm that our little Richter Scale didn't matter anymore because sister was on her side, couldn't move petrified from pain, getting no breaks between contractions AND she broke 4 of my fingers from squeezing my hand. It was around then I decided I would never have a child. She still wasn't making noises because she's pretty much the strongest person I know, but she didn't have to say anything, her wrinkled brow of pain and the fact that I didn't see her eyeballs for an entire hour said enough. She actually ordered an epidural to stop the madness, but the elusive anestesiaologist "Jim" was playing the slots at the casino or something because it never got there....

Brooke went from 6cm to fully dilated and begging to push in 30 minutes. A swarm of nurses and doctors trying to hide their frenzy frantically set up for Avery's arrival. Like earth, wind and fire, Mom grabbed Brooke's right shoulder, Aly migrated to her left shoulder, and I posted up on her left leg. With our Anderson Women powers combined we just stood there and cried for the fifth element to get her shoulders the hell outta Brooke. Funny thing is, when they turned on those birthing flood lights, it was exactly like the final scene in that movie. Except sadly, half naked Bruce Willis wasn't there.

The doctor told her to push at her next contraction and we all waited, hearts pounding from excitement.... and like an amazing magician, the doctor pulled a beautiful baby girl out of Brooke's. hat. The love just poured out of us and for a hot second I forgot about all the pain my sister was in, because my baby niece was laying there being wiped and poked and prodded and of course, adored. THEN the doctor turned to us and her mouth was moving, but I couldn't hear any words.

That's a lie. She was asking who wanted to cut the cord since Max was somewhere between Spain and Africa bringing home the bacon. But seeing as I almost lost my lunch with Brooke's little IV situation earlier, I opted out of the generous offer by pretty much sprinting to the door screaming. Good thing Alyssa isn't squeamish (she donates plasma). She hopped on it like white on rice.

And that was it, folks. The baby girl we've been waiting on for what seems like forever is now in our arms. Brooke brought her home in a "Daddy Loves Me" onesie, perfectly suited for her since I know Max is beaming with pride wherever he is, and Vincent had a Welcome Home sign and some sweet kisses waiting for her! I actually wouldn't be surprised if he made the sign himself - the kid has the vocabulary of most men I've dated.

Welcome to the world, Avery Brooke! We love you dearly and will soon overstimulate you with squeezes and Raffi music. Here's a prelude to the madness:

all I really need is a song in my heart
food in my bel-ly
and looove in my fam-ily

check, check and check :)

For Daddy's Eyes Only

2011-06-06T06:32:00.010-05:00

The only thing missing from yesterday's miracle was you, Max :( here's a sneak peek at your new favorite anniversary present....

She has her momma's lips and the sweetest little disposition... hardly cried at all during her bath :) I promise I'll write her official birth story in the next few days when I get pics from Aly's camera so you can have a better pictorial and all the details.

We miss you terribly, hope all is well on the ship. xoxox

I Don't Make Promises I Can't Keep

2011-05-31T23:42:00.002-05:00

Okay, so I didn't get the pic at 6:15am, but I got it!

Check out this uniform ... is that not one of the cutest oxymorons you ever did see??

and this one's going in the record books for obvious reasons. Makes me happy just looking at it.

My Pledge of Allegiance

2011-05-30T20:07:00.007-05:00

It's Memorial Day. Have you thanked the service men and women in your life lately? I have. Please look at a couple of those precious heads years and years and years ago...

And when I say YEARS ago, I mean it. They're coming up on their 2nd child, 6th wedding anniversary, and going on 10 total years together.

This is a photo of Brooke pinning Max - I think it was a "thank you in advance for putting up with my shit" pin. I KID I KID.

Speaking of funny things. My goal is to wake up at 6:15 tomorrow morning to snap a pic of Brooke in her maternity uniform as she makes her way into the office (not for much longer!!). Just imagining her barking orders at sassy men all day in an empire waist camo jacket that hardly hides her delicate situation is enough to make me smile. The least I can do is share it with you.

I Have the Talking Stick, So Shut Up

2011-05-26T09:10:00.003-05:00

I can't help my inherent negativity today, people. I didn't get coffee this morning and I feel like I'm being punished for years of good health. How can this be?!?

I was the first of many ACL reconstructions on our team in 2002, then broke my foot in 2004. Both recoveries were painless, with -0- complications. But here we are 8 years later and my body is SCREAMING its revenge. I haven't been in this much pain since watching Leonardo DiCaprio kiss his poorly chosen Juliet in '96 (I sincerely hated Claire Danes for at least a year...... ahhh to be 13 again.......)

But the last month has been a game of injury tag between my left knee and my left foot. Now I'm the first to admit my self-control was put on the developmental back burner somewhere around the discovery of Teen Night at Red River, so when my head says "hussy, Body is pissed, take a week off", my other head says "GROSS. YOU ARE GROSSSSSSS. Move. Be active. Do something." The latter of the heads is a bit more assertive than the former. So I go workout - then I ice my parts with frozen corn - then I wake up in the morning unable to move - then I get to lab and write about my body falling apart and how terrible it is to be 28.

Seriously though, the only thing worse than being me right now might be being my sister right now. Girl's been dilated 3cm for a week!! She's all belly, but HUGE. Alyssa and I laugh at her a lot when she waddles to another room and asks us if the ice box she calls a house is too cold. Can't blame her though, it's 90 degrees outside and she's just about 9 months pregnant. We're all eagerly awaiting the arrival of baby Avery, placing our conservative bets on when she'll make her appearance. I put my money on this weekend. Mostly so I won't be so bitter that I didn't get a Memorial Day vacay. BUT ALSO BECAUSE I just can't hardly wait to scoop her in my arms and love the shit out of her.

Thinking about this little, precioushead baby girl, suddenly I'm not a NegativeNancy anymore (and my 800mg ibuprofen is kicking in)

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder, Right?

2011-05-14T10:07:00.014-05:00

So apparently it's safe to assume I'll take a blogging hiatus between February and May every year... let's call it a "spring cleaning of the monkey mind", a necessary evil to spur creativity. Or just precious time needed to keep my head above water with school. Even if finals are over, competency exams are not :( This means I should probably be studying everything I've learned since August, but alas, I choose to break my blogging seal of silence instead. A sacrifice for the greater good. And also a byproduct of my ADD.

So Brooke recently went through my blog and extracted every entry about Vincent to put in his baby book. She printed upwards of 30 pages chronicling his first year+ of life! It's apparent I love the crap out of the kid even though he treats diaper changes like a WWE match. AS IF WE ENJOY IT EITHER, SON. But seeing all those entries printed out and being a self-professed advocate for middle children nationwide, "helping fight second child adversity one birth at a time", I have a DUTY to Avery to make my way to a keyboard and chronicle her life too.

I mean, she expressed to me not long ago through a sort of heel-to-belly Morse Code that she's a little worried about it. It's understandable that she wants to be a priority too. Can we blame her for that? She doesn't ask for much - mostly breastmilk, a clean butt and the occasional gawdy pink bow. Despite her mother's efforts, Alyssa and I will make sure the bows happen, but picking up my blog again is really for her. Avery Brooke will get her 30 pages of content in the next year..... because middle children UNITE!

So what's been going on the last 3 months? Oh you know, in no particular order, a gradually growing sister soon to pop, a new house, raising a boy, school, New York, school, Chicago, lab, NASCAR?, school, learning how to nap out of necessity. The usual.

I really wish I had some pictures of lab or studying so my life didn't look so damn fun, essentially making me look like a liar that this semester has been rough..........................I swear. Ask my mom. I haven't talked to her since February.

Anyone seen Father of The Bride II where they keep the house at -30 degrees and everyone except the preggos are walking around in scarves, hats and gloves? That's kind of what it's like here. So I'm headed to make some hot chocolate and curl up in a blanket. In May.

Until next time...

Wrestling. My New Favorite Sport.

2011-02-20T19:48:00.004-06:00

My dad used to wrestle... or as he would pronounce it, "wrassle"... so he and grandpa made a day trip to Norman for the Bedlam Series today (wrestling championship between OU and OSU).

It's the first time I've played spectator to this particular sport and I'm wondering why it took me so long - those tight adult onesies and bulging biceps never hurt nobody, and you can't tell they're 5'5" from up in the stands, so everybody wins! I was cringing for a hot second when one wrestler was in the splits being dragged by his foot across the mat, but it didn't seem to bother him at all.

Fortunately for OSU, not so fortunate for me, the crowd was nothing short of enthusiastic. I made the huge mistake of thinking I could study for my Energy Nutrients exam during the competitions, so I was that girl that brought her books to a wrestling match. I don't even think there is "a girl" like that, but that's what I did. So I had to ditch the loudness for the familiar peace and quiet of the campus corner Starbucks. I pulled up a chair, made out with my coffee for a second and thought about the great decision I just made. I opened my book and started down the metabolic pathway of gluconeogenisis memorizing enzymes, ATP products, etc... when out of no where came my worst nightmare.

We'll call him Homeless Harry.

He was wearing jeans up to his neck, headphones from the 80's and OH HOW I WISH YOU COULD SEE IT... a sheriff's badge. He was nice enough to leave his trashbag outside, but he decided to sit r i g h t n e x t t o m e. I wouldn't have minded so much if it weren't for the moderately offensive odor competing with my vanilla latte and the Shrek-level chatter he was uttering constantly. I ordinarily would've given him some cash, but he was ruining my great decision to leave the match! He was definitely more distracting than men in tights and I couldn't possibly get up and move just because he sat there. That's rude even to homeless people.

So I challenged myself to focus (something I have a pretty hard time doing), but I couldn't because when he would start rambling, he'd turn in my direction. This little gesture made people think he was with me.

Don't worry, I'm pretty sure he was completely unaware that anyone else was in the Starbucks with him - let alone that I was taking his pic and making him famous on the internet.

My New Favorite Picture

2011-02-13T16:58:00.005-06:00

It could be because he's walking around with his favorite family picture and a duster of all things, because that's just hilarious... or because there just aint anything cuter than a babe in the nude caught red handed :)

Who's Your Daddy

2011-02-10T18:32:00.013-06:00

I've been waiting for some inspiration for this blog post.

Some might say the 15+ inches of snow we've had here in OKC in the last 2 weeks is inspiration enough, but SHAME ON ME, what do I have to show for it? Just these photos taken from the comfort of central heat and the PJs I didn't change out of in 72 hours.

The first snow day was so fun! The anticipation of the white fluffiness, the canceled classes, the family time . . . then the second, third and fourth days came and I started to feel my muscles atrophy and brain cells die. I needed stimulation. Then we went back to school! It was great! FOR ONE DAY. Until the next snow storm came through, and then the white fluffiness just became a nuisance.

I could tell you about yesterday when I forgot to leave the hot water faucet on drip and the pipes to the upstairs bathroom froze, but that's embarrassing, so let's move on.

Instead, I'll tell you about why it's a bittersweet day in the 16th Street Village. While I'm being held hostage by my bed, recovering from the mildest form of the stomach bug going around the house, I can hear my broNlaw singing and working and spending quality time with the OtherOtherWhiteMeat. Hearing a dad playing with his son doesn't normally send me into a sinking depression, but M is leaving for Norfolk tomorrow on the next journey of his career with the Navy :(

Who else is going to bring home a seasonal smorgasbord of tasty beer beverages for me to sample?? And while my sister is incredibly intelligent, very few can hold a candle to our Walking Encyclopedia. I might actually have to start looking things up again! That also makes me sad. Don't even get me started on how handy it is to have him around in times of freezing pipes. But even more than all those things, I'm sad that the OtherOtherWhiteMeat has no idea what's about to happen and is surely going to miss him.

I'll try my hardest to mimic the masculine BET dance moves M taught him and grunt with sound effects, but you just can't fake testosterone and you just can't replace Dad.

GEEZ - I'm not one for sappy blog posts, but way to kick me while I'm down! As I was typing this, M was putting the OtherOtherWhiteMeat down for bed and all I heard was, "...I'll be far away, but I'll be thinking of you every day. And we'll talk on the phone and we'll..."

You have to be a freaking tin man to hear that and NOT curl up in the fetal and cry yourself to sleep!

Or maybe I'm just emotional because we'll have a newborn here in 4 months and I can kiss my beloved sleep goodbye. I can't really separate the two right this second. I've been in bed all day, I'm going crazy.

I know it's not forever, but an entire year sure seems that way right now. We'll miss you, M xoxox

Thoughts Swinging From Limb to Limb

2011-01-24T21:57:00.009-06:00

I was halfway out the door to get a 10 o'clock snack because I'm starving for some unknown reason, but I got sidetracked by a sister on my bed playing with her virtual baby, Dartanian, and the random thought that I needed to buy another text book... so now I'm blogging.

I spun blood for the first time last week. There were no "Outbreak" moments where I cut my glove and contracted a deadly virus, so I'd say it went well. Other than one little thing that I c o u l d n o t believe I was being reprimanded for at school.

After we spin the blood, the extracted serum is placed in a small box with other blood samples in a huge freezer (about twice the size of a regular fridge). It has 6-7 drawers behind two double reinforced doors of solid steel. Imagine my surprise when I took the little box out of our drawer, walked it over to the table about four feet away to put the new serum in.. a process that would take all of 30 seconds.. and my lab partner very kindly told me to "shut the door when [I] do that". That's like asking someone to remove their tires while they wash their rims!! I'm fully aware that's the worst analogy ever, but I'm trying to convey how INCONVENIENT that is to shut a million heavy doors, only to open them up 30 seconds later. Ugh.

Anyway, almost immediately I broke into laughter at the anticipation of telling my big sister B all about this ("B" is a nod to her anonymity, not to be confused with "bitch"). She's repeated this line to me multiple times during my stay in her village, so I knew she'd get ample satisfaction out of the irony. Admittedly, I'd usually get a little peeved at her request/comments, but in that moment at the lab I realized I must really have a problem. Even though refilling a Britta jug is just a tiny bit less important than blood serum, I'm still going to change my ways.

Oh. The other day I was forced by little sister A (a nod to her anonymity, not to be confused with "awesome" or the grades she makes) to run 120's in an arctic blast. I'm all about helping her get back in shape to kick ass on the soccer field, but I'm not getting paid for this shit. Hearing ice crunching under my cleats was NOT okay. I could feel icicles forming on my alveoli. My toes were turning black from frostbite, close to a point of no return. Never again.

And lastly. I was sitting at the dining room table enjoying some girl talk while baby V (a nod to his anonymity, not to be confused with "viceroy") toddled around screaming at his new high pitch level that only dogs and Andersons can hear, we hope - it's just darling. So in an effort to distract him from his new talent, I dropped to my knees, looked him in the eye and said, "Sweetie. Be a doll and go get the mail. That's what men of the house do." And what does that crazysmart 14 month old do? Walked his butt through the livingroom, around the couch, over to the mail slot in the door and picked up the friggin' mail.

I swear, I live with three geniuses and my little sister.

Christmas Break, Take Two

2011-01-20T19:42:00.018-06:00

Now where was I?

Oh yes... the Dude Ranch

In order to get us all on the same trail ride, dad "stretched the truth" a bit by telling the lady we all had "horseback experience". Mom rode a horse every day... THIRTY-FIVE years ago. Alyssa had a friend with horses? Brooke is strong like a horse? And I had some experience falling off a few of them in my childhood. Either way, we spent the whole drive there going over the things that most people with horseback experience would know, so we didn't foil dad's little plan

1) don't walk directly behind a horse and get the shit kicked out of you
2) get on from the left side, left leg in the stirrup, and whip your right leg up and over
3) there shouldn't be a gap between your crotch and the saddle when you're trotting. "That's what the city girls do".

Awesome, I got this.

So we get there and the first thing they ask is: who has the least experience? Of course the entire family looks over at me. Since most of my time was spent being trampled by the horses, I'll take that... so they gave me the horse they call the babysitter. He was old and calm, and was lagging so far behind the rest of the pack, I got a ton of great pictures of my family's asses. And the countryside and some buffalo.

That right there is the result of not being a city girl and hugging the saddle to avoid 'gaps'. Left us limping for 3 days straight!!

We had some good laughs out on the prairie...where the wind come sweepin' down the plains... and came back to the sweetest little cowboy and a huge steak at sunset.

Dude ranch = good choice

A few days later, I rang in the New Year at a little house party with my both my sisters from other misters

Ooooh love them!! Life is good.

And now 3 weeks later, it's January 20th and I'm back in school. I decided it'd look good on my resume to become a graduate research assistant in the Origins of Human Disease Lab, working on a study for one of my professors. One of my responsibilities is to host blood draw clinics for our pregnant mother participants and handle the separation of the serum from the platelets via centrifuge so the blood can be processed and tested for glucose, insulin and lipids...... very serious stuff. I can be serious when I have to be.

Seriously.

The Million Dollar Question

2011-01-17T23:29:00.005-06:00

My days are numbered here at the 16th Street Village.

It's nothing I did. As far as I know, I'm the perfect house guest minus the occasional "Ashley dropping" and loving people too much (that's how I see it and until one of my roommates gets a blog, that's how it will stay). It's an issue of numbers. I've never been a math whiz, but when I tried to get into the kitchen today and couldn't get to the bananas because a flurry of people and toddlers were walking in and out of the house, I realized it's a numbers thing. 1 girl needs 1 banana, but 5 million people in not 5 million square feet means no banana until 5 million people are subtracted out or more square feet are added.

Seeing as Brooke is due with baby #2 in June, the "subtract people" option doesn't work... so we're moving just a few streets over to a house I can do cartwheels in and a backyard Vin can run circles in. It's ohsovery fun and nice and good, except my room desperately needs to be painted. (I promise I'm getting somewhere with this story). It's teal. With green and brown bubbles floating in random places. It's so pre-teen, and I loved being a pre-teen, but I put away my childish ways long ago. Except for calling shotgun and hating onions.

Now Brooke has been gracious enough to give me the option of suggesting colors for my room in her house, HOWEVER, she feels strongly in Color Feng Shui of levels. I made that term up, but something about complimentary colors of rooms throughout the house. I don't know, I don't decorate whole houses. All this meant to me was: I need to know what color she's painting the new nursery before I can even make suggestions, and to get there, she needs to know the answer to The Million Dollar Question

IS IT A BOY or GIRL

Not that she'd deck out the nursery in navy blue or pastel pink anyway, that's just not her style (which I am in TOTAL agreement with), but she needed a general direction ... and today, at 19 weeks, the gender compass pointed ...

That right there, my friends, is a .7 lb baby with nothing but 2 arms and 2 legs, if you catch my drift!!! A bundle of baby girl joy is on the way and I am SO excited!!! Not because I wouldn't have L O V E D another nephew, but because diversity is always good. I mean, she'll have Anderson blood in her, so I'm not counting on a quiet, reserved female per se, but just any bit of girly will do! Brooke told me almost immediately that she won't let us put crazy bows in her hair every day, but as Father Stand In, I reserve the right to put what I please on her head when I please to do it. Or when Brooke isn't looking anyway.

Just kidding, Brooke. Seriously, I mean it. Just kidding.

Oh thank heaven for little girls

Epic-ness

2011-01-11T23:32:00.002-06:00

Dr. Phil, Oprah and I think that positive self-speak on a daily basis is important to maintaining optimal mental health... but when your birthday falls on 1-11-11, it's especially important. As such, I'm offering a moment of silence to the Universe for the epic year I know I'm about to have. Cheers.

And thank you, Jesus. I'm one blessed little lady.

The Glory Days

2011-01-10T16:37:00.004-06:00

... they still have the 'ol Has Beens on Rice's camp site! single tear. sniff, sniff.

Oh Christ-mas Tree, Oh Christ-mas Tree, My Break Was An Entire Month Looooong

2011-01-09T14:20:00.024-06:00

After living out of a suitcase for just under 3 weeks, my pale ass is back in OKC and finally settled in! It took about 3 days to get used to my new room layout (apparently my choice of furniture placement doesn't show well to potential buyers)... it took about 3 minutes to get used to the weather - and by "get used to", I mean "decide I'm never going outside" ... but it only took 3 seconds to get used to having nothing to do and nowhere to be :) Much like opposable thumbs and my Potawatomi heritage, I really took Christmas Break for granted. I haven't had time to organize my sock drawer since May of 2001 and it's amazing, this thing called free time!

Christmas was one of the best yet. The OtherOtherWhiteMeat is walking all over the place, usually in circles, and climbing all over things. Except ChuckECheese. This pretty much tells the story about how that trip went...

He won't be afraid when he figures out you get DOUBLE tokens for each 'A' on your report card. That's like 5 extra go 'rounds on the Siiiide Winder. Man, I love that place.

So also this Christmas break, I met my new parents! I've known them all my life, but it's just recently that the image of bell bottoms and long hair (on both of them) has given rise to a sweet little picture of pure country. Apparently most every night, dad puts on some tunes and a fire, mom pours a glass of wine and they watch their favorite evening entertainment, Perry the possum. He walks across the backyard to the leftover birdseed on the ground, eats it, and walks back across the yard. Ya'll, they talk about it for like 30 minutes and sometimes text their daughters something fascinating like: "Perry stopped in the clearing and looked over at us." The build up is almost too much to handle! I MEAN, WHAT WILL PERRY DO NEXT?? I got to witness this activity, if you will, with my own eyes... it only seemed natural to take Perry's picture and introduce him to the internet...

Right in tune with this new CountryBumpkin image I have of them and their love for sprawling land, peace and quiet, my dad planned a little vacay to Quartz Mountain near Altus, OK to watch some eagles. I saw ONE, from about 300 yards away, but the other part of the vacation was awesome. I rode next to CountryBumpkin's offspring, Sleeping Diva, through a bunch of cotton fields, small towns and tumani tutanka (c'mon, you haven't seen Dances With Wolves?)

We stayed in a little cabin amongst Rudolf's prancing cohorts, naked trees and, according to our father, some boogeymen... one of which tried to attack me our last night there. OKAYYY, what I thought was a white midget boogeyman moving very fast, might have been my mom walking down the hallway with a pillow. But it freaked me out... we had just watched Fargo!

We ate lots of delicious food, climbed gorgeous mountains, enjoyed many-a-game of dominoes (most frustrating game EVER to play with this sarcastic family), went for nature walks and runs and picked cotton from a nearby farm. We made Alyssa do that, just in case Farmer Johnson was sittin' on his porch with a rifle.

Then there was the Dude Ranch. I was so excited to put on what I thought was a Dude Ranch outfit, until my big sister delivered The Low Blow of the vacation when she said I looked 'so metropolitan'. THE NERVE. I'm known for being a bit sensitive, but I shrugged it off nicely if I do say so myself. And tapped into the Beverly Hillbilly in me for the obligatory pose with hay and a pitchfork.

Seriously? Metropolitan?? w h a t e v e r

We have a house showing in like .5 seconds. This just turned into a 2-part series. Goodbye now.

Hold Onto Your Panties

2011-01-05T22:08:00.001-06:00

Christmas Break/New Years Post is coming soon to a blog near you....

My Favorite Week of the Year

2010-12-21T19:57:00.006-06:00

I'm gonna go out on a Christmas tree limb here and say, 'TIS OFFICIALLY THE SEASON..... except for that part about dropping the ragtop of my mom's convertible while shopping because it was 75 degrees on December 21st (p.s. anyone that complains about weather like that is certifiably insane and obviously mad at the world. Why would ANYONE complain about that???)

Anyhoooo - the tree is dressed in red and gold, like a royal tree of Lucas, TX. Dad's sitting on the couch across the room watching KERA channel 13 on mute, listening to his favorite blues CD on the stereo. I can't get a good grasp of what this FASCINATING special is about. There are chimpanzees, intermittent violinists and an overweight woman showing pictures of her childhood journal maybe? But what cracks me up most is that while we sit here in the same room, watching the same show on mute, I know he must be as confused as I am... but yet there he sits, so peacefully enjoying his show... there he sits, in the very utter simplicity that confuses the hell out of me. I'll tell you all about The Possum later.

And then there's grandma over there in her little house out back. She's the sweetest little putterer south of the Red River. She spent the last 72 hours baking chocolates, snicker doodles, datenut pinwheels, pralines and more. And I've spent the last 72 hours pretending I'm going to the bathroom, but really sneaking over there and eating 1-3 servings of the latest batch.

Brooke, Max and Mom are on their way home from OKC now. They're bringing me 3 of my favorite things for the holidays:
My culinary math book
My 2nd niece or nephew in utero
and
My First Love

See that bib??? I didn't even buy it for him. He just does sweet things like that for me.

So as soon as Alyssa is released by the Work Police and Grandma Joy finds her way to the house, the Anderson village will be complete for my Favorite Week of the Year! We need to hang our stockings and ask Santa what he wants to snack on this year... it was Shiner Bock in '09... and then Alyssa and I will prepare to annoy the hell out of the entire family for the umpteenth time. We like to wake up at about 6am to open presents. It works because it's tradition, and tradition is pretty much THE Anderson family foundation. That and story telling. And sarcasm. Or stuffed bellpeppers.

It's Finals Week

2010-12-08T19:29:00.007-06:00

I probably SHOULD be stressed, but instead... I chose the DressAsAChristmasTreeAndForgetAboutFinalsForTheKids exit. Good choice, because I l i v e to hulahoop. Remember skipits?? Man, those were the days.

1,850 Kcals and 1,000 Pics

2010-12-05T00:00:00.006-06:00

According to the Diabetic Exchange list, that's the number of calories I consumed until I stopped counting around 3pm on Thanksgiving..... gross. Someone stick a fork in me, cause I am so done. But trust me, I didn't let any of my newfound nutrition education keep me from eating anything, so quit rolling your eyes. I had my customary 2 helpings of everything, 3 crescent rolls, 3 slivers of each of mom's pies (apple, cherry and pumpkin) and alllll the fixins. But other than overeating on National Overeat Day, I got to do some cool things...

Drive my dad's almost finished toy - 1965 Ford truck. It's a standard with just 3 gears. Really goes to show you how slow the pace was 45 years ago if a car's highest gear was THREE.

Just a beautiful piece of the 60's waiting for me right there in Lucas, Texas (it's gonna be mine when dad dies!!!!). We also got to see Vin's hard work come to fruition as he took his first steps :) He started out rather unstable a few weeks ago, but a little practice makes perfect and BAM, I fear for the safety of all breakables in our house in the months to come. The little boy is on the loose.

It was also the Year of Hair and Funny Faces. Vin got a mohawk

and I got a new sister. Everyone, please meet Alyssa's dark brunette "special" twin, Alisha. At least she's got a nice personality.

and as much as I'd like to solely throw her under the bus for taking the Weird Award of the holiday, here are my contributions. VINCENT LOVES THAT FACE, MIND YOU.

And in the name of no nightmares for my readers, I'll conclude with some sweet, normal family moments

I lub us.

Study or Relive Dream Wedding Weekend?

2010-12-04T18:05:00.020-06:00

A.D.D. votes wedding.

Three weeks ago I laughed in the face of every person who told me I'd die in the harsh Oklahoma winter as I SUNBATHED in our backyard. Today, those people laughed back as I cried tears of cold pain during Saturday Morning Routine [at 7:45am, bundle baby up, walk to bakery, purchase fresh delicious pastries, bundle baby up, continue walking to Starbucks, purchase delicious coffees, eat fresh delicious pastries with delicious coffees, bundle baby up, walk home. And I don't do this to burn off the calories, I swear. I do this because Brooke and Max do this and I'm part of the family now. It's so fun.]

But I bring this up because I have yet to give a detailed account of Nikki's wedding which was the reason I sunbathed a few weeks ago. It didn't do a lick of good as you can see in the pics below, but I'm PROUD TO BE CANCER FREE! No fake n' bake here.

But seeing as her wedding was in mid-November, I was actually afraid it was gonna be too cold for a short, strapless purple dress, but it was in the 60s-70s all weekend! And the weather wasn't the only thing that was perfect. I was an absolute emotional ball of happiness the whole time. Nikki looked like a boutique wedding gown model, I saw faces I haven't seen since we were 12, Nikki and Justin were glowing, the ease at which everything happened was just amazing.

We got ready in a room just a few doors down from where the ceremony would be held and took most of our pics there too. Exhibits A - E:

Nikki wasn't nervous at all until right before we had to walk out ... so we did what any nervous bride and maid-of-honor would do - we sang. Very loudly. One of our favorite songs from eons ago when we were 16 and carpooling to soccer practices: Oh Happy Day from Sister Act :) :) :) it took the edge off because everyone was laughing, probably at how off-key we were, but WHATEVER. It worked. The ceremony was something out of a dream and the reception was the perfect combination of laughter and tears. More specifically, a lot of the laughter came just following the bouquet and garter toss............

I'm competitive. If you know me at all, you know this. And I'm not superstitious at all, because 1. it's stupid, and 2. because I've caught at least 15 bouquets and I'm still unmarried. Just sayin. So to prepare for a bouquet victory, I usually sharpen my elbows, take off my heels and put on my A-Team glasses. I'll be damned if any other hussy is gonna catch that bouquet when I'm in the zone -- I have a great vertical for a white girl. So it was of no surprise to myself that I caught Nikki's bouquet (cheers for myself). Now I can't remember if I hurt anyone in the process this time, but I really wanted those callalilies! They were gorgeous. But that isn't the awkward part. The awkward part is when my date, a 6'5" white guy stood among 5-10 regular sized black guys for the garter toss. See? tall....

but it wasn't until Justin flicked the thing towards the group and it landed in Mark's hand that things turned weird. I mean, I'm not superstitious, but c'mon ya'll. That can get weird if you haven't had more than 2 drinks. Good thing, I was on my 3rd-5th, really can't be sure (HEY! don't judge. maid-of-honor toasts are nerve-wracking!) Either way, after our little internal freak outs of what just happened subsided, we embraced the coincidence. He, wearing the garter around his arm and I, wearing his tie around my neck? I don't know why, but also flashing my victorious callalilies ...

The dancing, the fun, the food, the spirits. Is it too much to ask them to get married again? After the reception, the bride and groom made their way to their galleria honeymoon suite that looked more like a penthouse (JEALOUS) and then on to Jamaica for some quality time. OHHHHHH I lurv me some Mr. and Mrs. Justin Lewis :) Even if we can't get Justin to smile for a damn picture.

So I would love to start my THRILLING stories about Thanksgiving and Vin's new mohawk, but ALAS, I'm late for Big 12 championship watching party. "Boomer and Brauts". Yes, I made that up and, doubleYES, I'm really proud of it.

DVD Part II - Year One

2010-11-19T15:27:00.011-06:00

Life for DVD began one stinkin' year ago today.

I remember it like it was yesterday...... but mostly because I can go back to my blog entry of his arrival and relive every second. It was rather entertaining, from the first phone call from mom at the butt-crack of dawn to the call from dad right after he was born to let me hear him scream :) Little did I know I'd be hearing that scream up close and personal for years to come. Now it's a little different. Like louder and not quite as deserved as traveling down the birth canal for many, many hours. But for some reason I still look forward to hearing him every morning around 7-7:15am. That's L O V E for ya.

On his actual birthday, we took him to a precious new cupcake shop in town called Pinkitzle. I guilt tripped Brooke into thinking she was a bad mom for not giving him a Pinkitzle cupcake on his birthday, so the whole family (new nanny included!) piled into the car for a trip downtown. It was just as fantastic as ever. Candy out the wazoo, glitzy, black and white decor, $17 bows for babygirl heads, taffy spilling over huge cement birdbaths, big pink horses you can pose on, an authentic circus themed party room! ugh. I could LIVE there.

Vincent enjoyed it too, but not as much as his real birthday party. Great grandma, Pops and Mimi came for a small family celebration on Saturday and it was just delightful. I never understood why parents have knock-down-drag-out first birthday parties. I mean, there are at least 17 others to throw that they'll actually remember! Take it easy. But momma/Brooke did well...... if Vin could live anywhere besides Pinkitzle, it'd be in a banana...... so Brooke made him a banana cake from scratch with a cream cheese icing. Y o u g u y s, it was delish.

Ugh, I could steal kisses from those baby blues all day long (p.s. I promise we did more than just feed him sugar for his birthday).

So for the obligatory 1 year update: he's not quite walking yet, but we think it's close - you can feel his center of gravity strengthening when you're holding his hands !! He's eating like an adult already, which is evidenced by the lack of cake on his face above. Great table manners. He knows a few baby signs: "light", "milk", "all done" and "you look beautiful in that outfit, Auntie Ash". Being able to communicate with him is pretttty cool, even when he isn't complimenting me. He's SUPER responsive to the word "no", even if you aren't saying it to him. I often get stage-3-square-mouth cries on accident when I say it too loudly in his presence. It's pretty freaking hilarious. He still goes for the tags on every stuffed animal or blanket he gets his hands on, can climb up the stairs and dismount a couch like a pro. He's developed the most amazingly contagious laugh. I just can't get enough bottle feeds and snuggles and sniffs of his little self.

I can't believe he was a bump on a log 12 months ago and now he's a vibrant ball of energy. I can't wait to see what he has in store for us next.....

Happy Birthday my babyboyhead Bincent/Vincenzo/other other white meat. Auntie Ash loves the dirty diaper out of you.

A Picture's Worth 1,000 Words

2010-11-16T23:19:00.014-06:00

and since I don't have time right now to give Nikki and Justin's wedding the recap it deserves, these treasures will have to do for now.... I still get goosebumps just looking at them!....

My Halloweekend 2K10

2010-11-06T11:40:00.019-05:00

There's nothing quite like Halloween in this Oklahoma City neighborhood. I learned that last year when I came to host Brooke's baby shower (which kind of deserves a flashback for the brilliant theme "A Baby Boy is Brewing!" C'mon now, how cute is that???)

This year though I got to see the festivities every day... driving through the streets watching the creepiness unfold...

These people seriously go ALL OUT with skeletons coming up out of the grass, boarding up their windows and caution taping their lawns... one house even built up scaffolding and designed it like a ship for pirates to stand on and scare trick-or-treaters. I can't hardly wait for Christmas to throw up here! With the decorative possibilities and the really, really good chance of snow, it might be my favorite Christmas e v e r :)

So this year, my friend Cody came up and we spent the weekend gallivanted around the city. I got to embarrass my bffl by talking/yelling at her belly in a large crowd of people (dude, I had to teach her baby how to dougie and she couldn't hear me with all the drunks around!)

I've always wanted to be a cheerleader. That's a lie. But I HAVE always wanted to be a Sooner fan, and what better way to show my spirit than to be totally cheesy and pose in a cardboard cut out?? I don't think there IS a better way.

So at some point during that not-so-freezing Halloween night game, the mood struck me to dress up and go out. This was totally UNpremeditated, but I decided the infamous Pocahontas costume needed to see the dance floor this year, so I took one for the team and made it happen. And guess who I ran into on the way to the dancefloor! My buffalo!! What are the odds, right? Haven't seen that guy in ages. He looked really good... a little stiff, but good...

It was pretty fantastic. But not as fantastic as being a total VIP at the Thunder game on Sunday. It's good to know the GM :) And although we're not acting like VIP's in this particular picture, I promise I behaved myself.

I wish I could say the same for Cody when these "ladies" showed up

More importantly though, we had the pleasure of watching this Thunder fan show his enthusiasm, amongst other things, the w h o l e game

It was totally hilarious and entertaining, and also a fantastic reminder of why I'm back in school to become a Registered Dietitian.

So this time next week, I'll be in Houston for Nikki's wedding. So much happiness coursing through my veins, I can't hardly stand myself! And many of you will be pleased to know, I'm not tanning in the tanning beds for the wedding. Instead, I'm advocating backyard tanning in cold weather and changing the old elementary program tagline to... I'm Proud To Be Cancer Free!

Pi R Round

2010-10-25T21:40:00.008-05:00

I'll begin this post with a little diddy for Coffee. Thank you, Caffeine, for making this post possible. If it weren't for you and everything you do to my extremely responsive system, I wouldn't have the confidence that I could write this post and still be up for many, many more hours... hours that I need to study for my exam tomorrow over Glycolysis, metabolism and basically everything God knew when he created us! Impossible, you say?? YES, YOU JUST MIGHT BE RIGHT, but with Caffeine, anything is possible!

So here we go.

Last week was a rough one. On Wednesday, I had what will forever be known as The Meringue Disaster. I'm fortunate enough to get to learn about the science behind making fantastic foods like pastries. So in foods lab, we got to make our own pies from scratch. I was so excited to bring home a schoolmade pie to Max (as a small thank you for living rent free, ya dig?). I slaved over my pie crust, making sure it was the perfect consistency, rolled out with the perfect amount of flour, pinched off perfectly when placed in my pie pan. It was just beautiful. I slaved over the filling, of which I tasted. many times. and it was a m a z i n g. I slaved over the meringue. Dear God, I slaved over that meringue, but all of it was fantastic! I even sprinkled some coconut on top that browned perfectly in the oven. Everyone was complimenting my pie... ooohhhh-ing and ahhhhh-ing over my creation. So just before I was about to head home to present this DELIGHT to Max, I noticed there was just a bit of water on one side of the pie sitting between the crust and the meringue layer. I just couldn't leave well-enough alone. I slowly tipped the pie over and ..... BAM ..... my entire meringue layer slid right off the top of the pie into the dirty sink. Everyone gasped. I screamed. I almost cried. I loved that pie. So I did what any brokenhearted girl would do. I ate it. Almost all of it. In 5 minutes. Which was also not the greatest decision.

RIP Coconut Cream, you will be missed.

I didn't get a picture of my pie before it died, but if I had, I would have posted it here. So instead, here are some pics of The OtherOther White Meat. Pretty much sweeter than pie.

back to the books. Stay tuned for my Halloween weekend recap. Oh boy.

A Boy and His Predecessors

2010-10-23T09:58:00.008-05:00

Wherein I Pack 2 Large Events Into 1 Post

2010-10-20T23:44:00.010-05:00

Oh my goodness, a wave of Busy hit me like a ton of bricks the last few weeks! I have so many things to say! But instead, they've been written down on OCD lists or acted out through immaturely antagonizing my sisters.

All I can manage right now is:

H o l y M o l y, last week was full of firsts. I felt an earthquake and went out with the Okies! Both occasions rocked my world (so cheesy, but I had to)

OUHSC MAs 2011 Inaugural Party (otherwise known as "Dietitians Can Drink Too, Ya Know")

and the birthday girl (who I'm actually related to in the most bizarre and indirect way) with a death grip on her Edna's Lunchbox. I chugged one with her because it's what you do at Edna's. I'm surprised it didn't come right back up immediately. I'll never have one again.

and the guy that lied to me about his dancing skills when he asked me to teach him how to two-step, but I don't care because he was hilarious. And probably gay. I'm just sayin, he practically forced me to pose for a picture with him, then requested to see each one and told me to delete the bad ones. I take that back. He's totally gay and I love him.

As far as the earthquake... 4.3 on the Richter scale feels a lot like a full body muscle spasm for 45 seconds. SO COOL. I wish I had a picture of the damage, but luckily Uncle James was on top of it:

Just can't escape the sarcasm in this family. I cherish that.

Cinderella, Cinderella, Night and Day It's Cinderella

2010-10-11T21:02:00.009-05:00

Not too much goin on up here in Oklahoma City... just kicking some Organic Biochem ass, attending neighborhood music/art/beer festivals with the fam and cussing Discount Tire for putting a leaky tire on my car 2 months ago. Oh. And the Navy turned 235 on Saturday, can you believe it?? We went to her birthday party. Just sayin, it's a beautiful life.

There's This Song Called Boomer Sooner

2010-10-07T22:46:00.009-05:00

and it goes something like this ... BOOMER!! SOONER!! BLOCK YOUR DAD'S NUMBER FROM YOUR PHONE NEXT OU/TEXAS WEEKEND!! ... it's a fun song.

To Grandmother's House I Go

2010-10-04T21:10:00.020-05:00

Once upon a time, I traversed miles and miles of Oklahoma mountains to ride in my grandma's homecoming parade.

I'm serious.

Good 'ol Allen, Oklahoma (population: Not Many) had their annual homecoming events and my sweet little Grandma Joy bribed me with a flag to waive in the parade. She didn't have to ask me twice!

Moving from Houston to Oklahoma City has calmed me down A LOT, but going from Oklahoma City to Allen almost had me comatose. In the best way possible. It was so calming!

If you're not careful, you'll miss your turn off Highway 1 and miss the town completely, but once you're on Broadway, driving through downtown, it's a hop-skip-and-a-jump to Grandma's cottage of Joy

Her part of the Allen Alumni float (aka: a golf cart) was already decorated when I got there and she outlined our schedule for me down to the minute. This may be a small town, but we ARE related and there aint no shortage of activity with the Andersons! We met her running buddies and the rest of the parade practically in her backyard.

When we drove up, the class president of the high school was literally like, "Hey, Joy, lookin' good! You can line up down there!" Now it isn't much of a surprise that I'm kin to popular people around the country, but this girl was eighteen (18) years old and is on a first name basis with my g r a n d m a. I'm just sayin, she's popular.

It didn't take long to drive the parade route, but it was definitely an affair to remember. After the homecoming court announcement, we drove the float down to Dave's Diner for some dessert with friends. My first chocolate pie. I liked Grandma's sundae better, and the homemade peanut brittle her friend baked me. Dave's was pretty much an awesome, sugary experience. And I really hope that's the name of the diner. SEE THAT? A consequence of being a city girl - I'm terrible with names. Which is the perfect segue to my VERY FAVORITE story of the weekend ... since I can't remember their names ...

Before the parade, I had the pleasure of meeting a super sassy 86 year old woman and a nice younger man I thought was her son. I quickly stood corrected when he told us the story of their Friday night activities: they were at a concession stand at a fair, ordered a couple hot dogs, when they were served, the lady said, "the condiments are over there". He grinned, cut his eye at the servers and replied,
"oh no thanks, honey, we're way to old to use those."
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, YOU GUYS, I was in hysterics! 1. because it was funny, and 2. because I was laughing at a sexual joke with my Grandma and her friends. Anyway, turns out this youngish maintenance man totally put the moves on 86 during a house call a few months ago and they've been inseparable since. Moral of the story? Love has no boundaries and age is just a number. Amen.

So back to the show. Please look at these sweet little feet that drove us all 8 minutes through the parade route. And that boom box you see would have played the Allen fight song the whole time if we weren't forced to loan it to a 5 year old. Really, I'm not bitter.

So after dessert, we napped. Well, let me rephrase that: I napped. Grandma was too excited to nap. Then we went to the middle school cafeteria for the golf team's spaghetti fundraiser, and onto the stadium to see the Queen get crowned and watch some football on a very small football field. I love my life.

If you look very closely, you can see a precious 5 year old in a purple dress. Really all I can see is a stealer of the Allen fight song CD I should have listened to on the parade route. Really, I'm not bitter.

Anyway, Grandma said the game wouldn't take long because of the Mercy Rule. Apparently there's not much competition in the area for their 1-man show, so they haven't made it past halftime yet this season... but she spoke too soon, because Weleetka brought their A-game, took us through all 4 quarters and beat us by 2 points. It was a tough loss, but if the Allen coach finds himself on Musings of a Monkey Mind, please let the record show that WE NEED TO GET A KICKER. Thank you.

The halftime show wasn't too shabby for a band that's only been around for 2 years. But I kept singing Kenny Chesney "The Boys of Fall" to myself to keep music in my life. Seemed appropriate.

The athlete in me was impressed that everyone on the field AND the sidelines took a knee during an injury. A far cry from my experience with injuries... pretty sure I was spit on when I tore my ACL

OKAY, FINE. That's an over exaggeration for the sake of story telling. I wasn't spit on. But this is true... if there was a trophy for Biggest Fan, she'd get it

We rolled in the door somewhere near 11:30PM, took ourselves out to the porch swing and watched the football game "traffic" clear out. It was right about then that I truly started appreciating the small town life. There's something so redeeming, peaceful and pure about the atmosphere of Allen, Oklahoma. It's no wonder my grandma moved back after all these years. And when we visited the war memorial and our family plots at the cemetery the next morning, I was just overcome by nostalgia

and SO happy I made the trip. It's actually really nice to take a step back and get up close and personal with your roots :)

A Day In The Life of Vin and Auntie Ash

2010-09-23T20:55:00.010-05:00

Just in case you were wondering... phonetically, it's pronounced "an-ee ash". Thank you for respecting my chosen name and saying it correctly. The baby may struggle with it at first, but I'll make sure it sticks.

SO. Until Brooke chooses a nanny (at which point we will throw a party), Alyssa and I keep Vin on Thursdays. Oh how we cherish our time with the OtherOther White Meat. I REALLY REALLY cherish nap time and bottle time. BECAUSE I strive to adhere to the lifestyle outlined by his parents, as those are important aspects of raising him in a structured routine........................... and also because he is very quiet during those times. And because I think it's funny to feed him in non-traditional positions when he gets squirmy.

Today I asked him if he wanted to do a photo shoot, and being MY nephew, was all "DUH. Get your camera lady." So I did and he struck the perfect pose.

Then we played a new game I call 'Chase Me Around This Ottoman, You'll Like That"... and he did

It wasn't until the Zany Zoo that things got crazy with Auntie Ash. He likes it when I get crazy.

But because he's an introvert, LIKE EVERYONE ELSE IN MY FAMILY, he asked me to leave him alone for a minute with the balloons to recharge.

But, LIKE EVERYONE ELSE IN MY FAMILY, he was back for more Auntie Ash in no time

Suckas.

Song of the Century

2010-09-22T21:43:00.004-05:00

Just Like Heaven
Katie Melua

Enjoy. I did.

QuickQuick Slow Slow right through Brookie's Birthday, Baby

2010-09-21T18:03:00.014-05:00

I L O V E T O D A N C E.... mostly after really fantastic news or 2-3 drinks, but Alyssa and I have dance parties in her room occasionally for no reason. And that's where I had my first dance with my nephew.

Our dance of choice was a two-step. I tried really hard to follow, but had to take over halfway through. All in all, it was a great dance.

p.s. I love taking pictures with this littleprecioushead because, well, I love him. But also because he makes me feel REALLY tan. I've started calling him The Other Other White Meat.

And 30 years ago today, his momma (from whom he got those baby blues and white hues) was born... the Honor of the Anderson family. Literally, I tell you.

I remember our childhood like it was yesterday. Or mainly the stories that other people tell me because I have a terrible memory. But I what I DO remember is Brooke teaching us to spit watermelon seeds 20 years ago... "like thiii-es" ... and I also remember her catching me sneaking out once or twice and threatening my life ... or crying like a baby as I sped down McDermott at 5am trying to catch everyone THAT FORGOT ME AT THE HOUSE and were on their way to the airport to ship her to the Naval Academy!! ... and I fondly remember having a nervousness heart attack during my toast at her wedding ... and seeing her with her newborn baby for the very first time, all smitten and sleep deprived and endlessly in love ... what a trip through life, sister. Love you dearly. Happy Birthday :)

Does anyone else think it's really sad that those Thanksgiving photos from TWO THOUSAND SIX AND SEVEN are the last sister pictures I have on file of us?? Other than this series, of course...

That was a fun little flashback. Now it's dinner time. And mint chocolate chip ice cream cake (Serving II) time. Peace.

Operation: Oklahoma Optimism

2010-09-18T14:38:00.003-05:00

Oh, Today, you sweet beautiful day ... full of carrot cake muffins and coffee ... quiet bakeries just made for studying ... sunshine from all angles ... the promise of a new church experience in the morning! OOOOH SQUEEZE THE HAPPINESS FROM MY VEINS AND MAKE IT HURT SO GOOD.

I'm having one of those happy days. It might have something to do with the fact that I slept past 6:30am without the screams of a 10 month old. OR A TEXT FROM HIS MOTHER REMINDING ME THAT HE WOULD NORMALLY BE SCREAMING NOW IF HE WERE ACTUALLY IN TOWN. (Really not funny, Brooke. I was sleeping like a baby that morning, but I forgive you). Or, n e r d a l e r t!!!, it might have something to do with my first Organic Biochemistry test on Monday that I'm strangely excited about! OR it might have something to do with the fact that last week was quite possibly the worst week of my life and things can only go up from here.

I kind of look at this little situation like postpartum depression. No mother wants to admit after giving birth that she isn't madly in love with her child...... I feel the same pressure here (in different regions of my body of course. haha sorry). I don't want to openly admit that I'm not madly in love with Oklahoma and school right now. But then again, I just did, so maybe maybe I do want to. I've just been so excited about this opportunity for sooooo long, planning my dive and diving my plan, preparing for grueling curriculum, a crazy schedule, meeting tons of new people, completely changing career paths! And here I am, a month into it, feeling unchallenged by classes with WAY too much free time, and I've met a handful of married 23 year olds that just can't hold a candle to the souls I love and miss so dearly in Houston.

So here's the good news. That was last week. I was able to recognize and process this black cloud over my head and found a little box to put it in. It went something like this. Step 1. cut a hole in the box. Step 2, put your junk in the box. Step 3... throw away the box (I don't know what you were thinking, but this is a family blog)

I threw that bitch so far, it threw my shoulder out. Along with my back.

But my back can only get better, my sore throat is almost gone, I visited THREE precious little places that were so Houston-esque it made my heart smile, and I'm gonna kick ass on my orgo exam Monday. Operation Oklahoma Optimism has commenced. Oh happy day.

And I JUST decided I'm going to the mall tomorrow. I'm not into retail therapy so much as workout therapy, but given the circumstances, damnit, I'm buying myself something.

18 Years and Counting

2010-09-14T19:24:00.011-05:00

So aside from my trip to the ER, this weekend's focus was NIKKI. My precious Tamara Nicole Hawkins. She's my oldest running buddy, dating back EIGHTEEN years. I think we can all agree it's a miracle to keep a friendship that long and yes, I feel oh-so blessed to have her in my life.

Quite frankly, I'm also really excited that I'm just head over heels for her soon-to-be-hubby, Justin! He's genuine, funny, God fearing, honorable... and downright quirky sometimes and I L O V E a little individuality. He was precious enough to involve me in the engagement a few months ago when he decided to pop the question in Houston. He staked out the location, planned the execution and I was there in camo with my camera on continuous shot to capture Nikki saying the most important "Yes" of her life. Ugh. I get goosebumps every time I think about it.

So November 14th, here we come. My dress is ordered (thank goodness she chose a pretty color for white girls), my shoes are purchased (perfect height and strappy-ness), and my Maid of Honor hat is ON. I've already started rough drafts for my toast so it'll rock the house... kind of like my dancing (please see Exhibit A of my signature MJ move below). What can I say? I like to be prepared. So it's no surprise that when I ended up in the emergency room at 2pm on Friday, my main focus was HOW IN THE HELL WILL THIS WEEKEND WORK?? And then..... like God whispering down on me, Dr. Devo said "here's some Darvocet and muscle relaxers. Have fun."

And thus, we executed Bachelorette Party Weekend 2010.

A day on the water, tubing and lounging, a lingerie shower at which we made her try on every piece of lingerie for us... Justin will NOT be disappointed... a game of twister with a tipsy bride, some celebratory fireworks, and .... the finale .... a soul train dance party.

and a birthday brunch the next morning. What a way to turn 28. I love you, sister.

Check Out and The Cheese

2010-09-13T23:07:00.008-05:00

I've spent the vast majority of the last 4 days in a state of dizziness. A whirlwind bachelorette party weekend at the lake will do that to you, but so will a medication cocktail of Darvocet, Carisoprodol and Steroids.

Let me start from the beginning.

It was a warm and sunny Friday afternoon. After hopping into Brooke's new mommy vehicle (that I am so proud to announce is NOT a mini-van), we arrived at the Tinker Air Force Base commissary for one hell of a grocery shopping experience. Normally I would have been dressed to impress all the single, uniformed hotties on base, but I was running late and feeling rather low maintenance, so for the first time in like EVER, I left the house without a stitch of make up on, toe nails unpolished, a wife beater and butt panties WITH JEANS. I know... the NERVE. But back to the show.

In a matter of a month, I went from buying groceries for one (and I use the term loosely, because I went maybe once a month)... to buying groceries for a family of 4.5... to buying groceries for a BACHELORETTE PARTY OF ELEVEN. It was d i f f i c u l t. Mostly because I inherited my dad's observation skills and kept missing food right in front of my face, but also because I was with BOTH lippy sisters that thought everything I did was ridiculous.

It was right around Dairy that my back started aching, but that wasn't unusual (the back aching, not that it happened around Dairy). Over the last few months, I've had to give myself mini-massages to work out some knots in my lower back, but I just attributed that to regular lifting soreness and didn't think anything of it, until....................

check out and the cheese.

I'll never see an 8 oz bag of mozzarella in the same light. As I bent down to get the cheese and make the routine transfer to the conveyor belt, my life flashed before my eyes as the most excruciating pain I've ever felt shot through my lower back and I felt a pop. And I was stuck. Everything went neon, started tingling and I couldn't catch my breath. I thought I was going to black out. For a second I even thought I was dead, until Alyssa gave me the usual "quit being such a drama queen" look, and it was back to reality.

The reality that I couldn't move, I'd never felt anything so painful, and it was my spine. You know, the thing that HOLDS YOUR BODY TOGETHER. The thing that protects your SPINAL CORD - the body's thoroughfare of information from the brain to the nervous system?!?! I was freaked out, crying like an infant, and most importantly, requesting my sisters stop laughing at me so the cashier and other onlookers would stop following suit. Unbelievable.

Once they got me on a motorized scooter (I don't wanna talk about it), the ambulance put me on a stretcher and away I went. It was a horrible drive of sharp left turns and a painful and USELESS IV, but the EMT provided some unintentional comic relief when she was on the phone with the hospital... "we've got a 27 year old female, 5'4", 120, stats stable, bent over to pick up some cheese..."

Good Lord, how did I get here?

Born With Ants in My Pants

2010-09-07T00:38:00.011-05:00

So many lessons, so little time.

I'm a go-er. A do-er. Unlike my 20 year old counterpart, this Anderson sister has a real problem LAYING. Just sitting and doing absolutely nothing. I really tried to 'just be' this weekend and it was like torture to my soul. I'm not over exaggerating. Okay, yes I am, but only because it makes for a good story. But yikes, it freaked me out exactly how much I like to GO. DO SOMETHING. ACCOMPLISH SOMETHING. FOR GOODNESSAKE, BECOME SOMETHING.

(side note: I learned this weekend that I should NOT BECOME a boat-backer-upper. I have gentle hands, you see, but very LARGE biceps that can't find the "slow and easy" button for reverse. Just kidding. But apparently I have no control over boats. Or my mouth, but that's neither here nor there. Moving on.)

I'm a go-er.

This is what I tried to do for many minutes. It worked for about 20 of those minutes at a time.

Then this is what happens on the 21st minute -- a Ridiculous Pose photo shoot. This pose wins.

Then this is what happens after all ridiculous poses are chronicled. Ashley must GO. BECOME. a slalom ski-er. I'll be damned if I still have to get up on two, but I'm a champ at kicking one off!

I'm seriously laughing so hard right now thinking about how many times Alyssa's rolled her eyes at this post since she started reading it. Kisses, sister.

Where the Wind Comes Sweepin' Down the Plain

2010-08-25T22:42:00.007-05:00

I'm so very excited to bring you this installment of Musings of a Monkey Mind from my brand new room in Oklahoma City! Officially a student, a Sooner, a member of the 16th Street Village and a professional Target go-er (seriously, I went 5 times in my first 2 days I moved here), I'm settled and loving it :)

My room is a mishmash of something old, something new, something borrowed and something... goo... because I just spilled my massage candle and I'm pissed. But anyway, I'm next door to the sweetest little pooper in town, and I don't mean Alyssa. I really never thought I'd wipe someone's exploding butt while smiling and whistling a pleasant melody, but I did and take a look at these pictures...

Just TRY to tell me you don't wanna wipe his butt?! Ugh. And for those of you that feared for Max's sanity with all 3 Lippy Anderson Females under one roof, IN YOUR FACE!! We've only had one fight so far. Alyssa the savage beast ran after me with red eyes and sounds of the devil when I closed her Facebook page. I knew better than to play with fire. It won't happen again.

But besides that little jewel, I don't have to get my car inspected thanks to this great state, I get to unwind at our lakehouse as often as I want (and see my parents there because apparently they go every weekend), I get a student discount at the movies, and I'll actually get to enjoy a FALL SEASON. Did you guys in Houston know they actually have mid-range temps in other cities?? I mean, it's AUGUST and I thought I needed a jacket this morning. I A M I N H E A V E N.

School started Monday and I couldn't be happier with everything. Except parking. Don't even get me started, because I'm premenstrual and might cry if I have to relive the nightmare of being 20 minutes late to Foods Lab and being stuck with Timothy McVeigh as a lab partner for the entire semester. That's probably not funny anymore now that I live a few blocks from the memorial, but it's true. Either way, school is fascinating. If you're even thinking about getting pregnant, please make sure you find one of the 75 (out of 233!) prenatal vitamins that actually meets the recommended daily allowance of Iodine for pregnant women. Since the majority of my 6 readers are men, that was a pointless sentence, but that's neither here nor there. I'm learning and I wanted to share. And I also think it's worth sharing that I went from undergrad at liberal central where people with dreads would come to class barefoot with their dogs, or go on organized naked runs through campus... to graduate school at conservative central where it's in the HANDBOOK that we can't wear jeans, show cleavage and must have "an attractive hairstyle" or else we will be "counseled". NIGHT AND DAY. When I think about it, it's perfect for me.

I hope I'll want to go back to work when I finish my dietetic internship. You know, to pay off the loans I have from NOT working and all. But this is just too fun!!

Brooke, can I stay forever as your grocery shopper? I promise to update this blog more often.........DON'T ANSWER NOW. Just think about it :)

Rise and Shine

2010-07-20T08:43:00.009-05:00

-I'm 2 weeks from being voluntarily unemployed... who does that in this economy? I don't wanna hear it, dad.

-I'm 4 weeks from moving north across the Red River... away from my beloved H-tizzle to a whole new world (if you're so inclined, break into Aladdin song here).

-I'm 5 weeks away from becoming a full-time student again. Maybe I can get rid of my corns now by wearing flip flops every day. That alone is worth the $40,000 of debt.

Life is obviously changing. But there is something I noticed today that hasn't changed for the past 6 months. Oh, L.A. Fitness, why can't you move to Oklahoma with me? My morning gym routine is so comforting it cuddles me in its arms and rocks me to sleep at night.

E v e r y s i n g l e morning, just before I take a right into the parking garage, a Metro bus decides to park at a bus stop for 30 minutes, just waiting for someone to board. That's okay, I know Houston needs that $.50 bus fare. Every single morning, I step out of my car, cuss the humidity, grab my work clothes and walk to the front door. Usually I'm greeted by a very short, but very buff youngman. It's not a friendly greeting, per se (probably has something to do with his short stature and lack of self confidence that he tries to make up for in biceps, but you didn't hear that from me). He takes my card, punches my parking ticket and tells me to have a good workout. Sometimes I wonder if that procedure is actually in their job description

- Scan L.A. Fitness Card
- Punch parking ticket
- Wish customer "good/great workout"

It's the same e v e r y s i n g l e time. But I'm not complaining; already told you I love the routine! At that very moment I decide whether I'll take his advice or not. Most of the time the answer is yes, but I did nap between sets on the hamstring curl machine once (the slight incline was just so damned comfortable!). Then I head down to the locker room to put my things away. If all parties involved are on time that morning, I'll pass 2 men. The big, cool black guy that's trying so hard to make the elliptical look masculine - "look ya'll, no hands". And the other guy is the sweetest little gray-hair you ever did see. He wears suspenders with a tie and a bike helmet everyday... and takes his stairs so slow and deliberately, he can't even look up to say hello... SO SWEET.

Then I enter the locker room. I walk behind the same old white lady and 2 nurses in scrubs getting ready at the mirrors. One sprays hairspray on me and says good morning with a smile and the others just stare blankly as I walk by. as if I don't see them more than most family members do. RUDE. I round the corner to my preferred cubby and 9 out of 10 times, there's a bare, black, bubble ass in my face. 6 months ago I was bothered by her lack of inhibitions... cover up for gdsake, there's 1,000 towels in here... but time heals all wounds and now I pretty much respect her confidence. I mean, if someone's gonna walk around naked, it might as well be her. I'd kill for an ass like that. A white one though. I digress. So I put my things up, set my code to "1983" (don't even try to steal my things, I change lockers everyday), get my ipod, weigh myself, take a sip of water from the water fountain (whether I'm thirsty or not) and head to the weights.

The actual workout is my only variable in this delightful morning routine, but even it has its consistency...... in that Ryan always decides what I do. Like I'm a puppet in his little world of fitness. 1/2jk.

At 7:35am on the dot, it's back to the locker room where an entirely different set of women have taken over. One super-fit asian that I've never made eye contact with and two not-so-fit black women (okay, they're clinically obese) who single handedly provide me with more entertainment in 20 minutes than one episode of Ellen. Maybe it's because I'm kind of eavesdropping and that's half the fun, but I know all about their work drama and often find myself fighting the urge to laugh at something they said -- because how awkward would that be? So I take a shower, dry my hair, put on my face and head to work.

A lot of people watching, listening and greeting happens in my day before 8:30am and I LURV it. I wish I could bring this gym with me to Oklahoma. But I'm sure I'll find another group of people and another routine that I'll miss dearly when I move from there too. It's just the circle of life. For someone who moves all the time anyway.

You Might Be an Okie if.......

2010-07-19T15:42:00.003-05:00

.....you get a text message from Ashley that says "I'm at Lake Austin" and respond with:

"There are lakes other than Lake Murray??" - BHA

or

"Can you really call Lake Austin a lake?" - TCA

I'm just sayinnn. They might be Okies.

Oxymoron: Probation on Independence Day

2010-07-07T13:52:00.010-05:00

I'm on probation. Guilty of floating a stop sign. Sick of Defensive Driving. I applied for Deferred Disposition and it was approved, so I can't get another moving violation between now and September 28, 2010 at 9:00 a.m. I feel like such an outlaw and it's kind of a cool feeling... in a thank-goodness-I'm-not-really-in-jail kind of way.

In other news, 4th of July was pretty much awesome. I ate coffee for breakfast and broke my forefinger on Alyssa's knee falling off the weenie at 30 mph. No, it's not really broken, but it hurt like a mother.

Here are some highlights

Vin is on the go

Conner sings pretty songs for us

at Rachel-o's bday brunch with birthday beads

I just can't stop taking pictures of him eating limes

and being precious

and fake walking

Oh yes, and Dad won Uncle Tom's Annual Open

A Tale of Two Cities

2010-06-25T14:59:00.021-05:00

Hello, Heaven on Earth, nice to meet you

A love affair with a horsey

Morning run through St. Helena (aka: balancing out the wine tasting liver damage)

... made a bottle of Bold, Complex and Rich Cabs with a splash of Merlot... I should probably start my own winery

Alcatraz out your bedroom window? This should be the city that never sleeps

One mo' mojito. Uthanku.

And then there was NASA.

Just makes you all warm n' fuzzy and patriotic!

Deserves Its Own Post

2010-06-24T10:09:00.002-05:00

My notoriously worthless co-worker took a business call this morning! and THAT, my friends, is noteworthy.

This phone call is one of a handful of work-related conversations this man has had at his desk in the two years I've been sitting here. This is not an over exaggeration. He does nothing. He strolls around the property flirting with anything that walks, disappears from his desk for HOURS at a time.

Lately I've been overcome with a sense of guilt and lack of serious motivation for my job, since I know my last day is just around the corner, but this colleague of mine makes me feel better about myself on a daily basis... because at least I work harder than he does.

But today, TODAY, he took a business call. As painful as it was to listen to, because let's face it... practice makes perfect and he doesn't have much practice... he tried to sell our facility.

Just goes to show you - never say never

bing Bing BING!

2010-06-18T14:59:00.002-05:00

Like a pinball machine, my thoughts:

I am officially CPR certified. I'm glad to be armed with the knowledge, but I truly hope I never have to use it... mostly because real people aren't plastic and don't come with freshly sanitized mouths... but also because trauma sucks.

I want to identify exactly where the fine line is between 'withholding information to spare feelings' and 'lying'.

I got another friggin ticket to add to my repertoire. This really isn't funny, because this time, I broke the law so soon after my last ticket, I'm not eligible for defensive driving to decrease the cost and consequence. Ugh. $235 for floating a stop sign, for reals?

I hate white chocolate. I don't even know why it was invented. It definitely doesn't belong in cookies.

I dreamed my big sister decorated my room with kinetic formulas. For the record, she has much better taste than that, but it really freaked me out about gradschool.

Father's Day is Sunday. My father has been a father for 29 years. But only my father for 27. And Alyssa's for 20. Now aint that somethin'.

If I were a toll booth collector, I would definitely wear plastic gloves.

My nephew is officially crawling and we couldn't be more excited! Seriously, it's like the 8th wonder of the world (especially because they're about to tear down the Astrodome). I'm wondering if my family will be as excited when I learn to do something... like filter my thoughts?

Anticipation

2010-05-26T11:31:00.005-05:00

Like an addiction of the worst kind, I'm literally shaking from Lake Murray withdrawals... the family, the friends, the soft, clean water (that feels more like cement when you fall off your skis), the trees, the nothingness that I'll do with all my might for 3 whole days...

Thank God for Memorial Day and bug spray with deet

That isn't Lake Murray, but it's a lake I once boated on and it's beautiful, so it works.

A Tid Bit Overdue

2010-05-18T09:32:00.007-05:00

There comes a time in a young blogger's life when a hiatus from the intense pressures of blogging is necessary to rediscover inspiration... do you even know what it feels like to have readers waiting with bated to breath to soak the living entertainment out of your creations??? BUT I WILL NOT DENY MY CALLING. I accept this mission as my duty. I have a responsibility to my peoples to perform, and I shall.

For reals, February 26th was a looong time ago. To put that into perspective for you:

May is 3 months after February.

February belongs to the winter season. May belongs to the Spring season.

I had a 3 month old nephew then. He's now 6 months old.

Tiger issued an apology in February. He's still a cheater in May. Okay, okay - I take it back.

But speaking of 6 month olds. You know what I love? How every single mother in the history of the universe thinks their baby is a supersmart genius because they discover their feet a few weeks before the books say they should or because their shit don't stink or something. Pretty much annoying. Having said that though, it's totally okay for Aunts to claim these things. After all, my direct DNA didn't construct this fully operational mini-person. Sooo my incredibly advanced, soon-to-be 6 month nephew is eating prime rib! Sometimes with steak sauce and garlic mashed potatoes, AND he uses a fork.

Okayokayokay, not exactly... but he really likes beef and he's friggin cute.

In other news, this little light of mine looks more like a Batman flood light right now. Oh happy day, I am officially a Sooner!!! Sooner born and Sooner bred, but never quite made it there for undergrad. I'm OU-Health-Science-Center-in-Oklahoma-City bound in August :) I would say I'm happy as a lark, but this is a lark:

So maybe I'm happy as Brandi Chastain

My New Job

2010-02-26T09:13:00.003-06:00

I have to submit weekly Sales Leads to my boss on Fridays. Basically so she can see what I'm working on, make sure I'm being productive with my time, pulling my weight, and quite frankly, covering her @ss when the GM has questions. This had me thinking today...

I consider myself a good person... I go to church regularly, I tell someone if they dropped cash in front of me, I occasionally let people in when traffic's bad, I smile at strangers, I Don't Mess With Texas... but I'm the first to admit I have PLENTY of room to improve on my character. I can identify at least 4 qualities right this instant that I wish I didn't possess, so strongly anyway. Everything in moderation! So instead of knowing about them and merrily moving on with daily life, it's time to work on em.

Now I'm the girl that has to laminate a marathon training schedule and record my progress with a permanent marker to make it official. This is no different, I need to submit my Character Leads to make it official. And if ever there was a boss of Character, it'd be Jesus. Thus, it's only natural that I submit my Leads to Him. Basically so He can see what I'm working on, make sure I'm being productive with my time, pulling my weight, and quite frankly, covering His @ss when God has questions.

See the connection here?

I like to think and write and pray, so this works out great... except I'm on the fence whether to make these Leads public. On one hand, it might be beneficial for others to read and possibly identify their own shortcomings through my shameless transparency (or just laugh at my downfalls), and on the other hand, my mom's voice is playing like a skipping record in my head "you don't have to tell everything you know - you don't have to tell everything you know - you don't have to tell everything you know". Writing my Character Leads on the World Wide Web could get embarrassing.

I'll have to think about this further. Goodbye.

Could It Be Love?

2010-02-22T15:12:00.003-06:00

Blessed With Beautiful Bffls

2010-02-19T11:00:00.019-06:00

This particular entry is solely devoted to one of my favorite blessings... my best friends. I like to refer to them as my 7 Dwarfs. I understand only 3 of them stand under 5'2", so technically they're not all dwarfs, but it's the first thing that came to mind, so I'm rollin' with it (I also recognize this insinuates that I'm Snow White and I'm not entirely against that either).

With Friendship Durations ranging from 8.5 to 17 years, these women have seen me through all my phases and all my stages. It's basically a miracle they're still around. In fact, I've only shamelessly begged one of them to stay friends with me by playing Whitney Houston's "Count On Me" on her recorder, but we were 14 and hormonal and it didn't seem like such a desperate/loser thing to do at the time. . . damn, hindsight is SO 20/20. . . but BLESS THEIR LITTLE PEA PICKIN HEARTS, I love 'em all. They've given me a million memories, a million words of advice, and a million reasons to count them as blessings.

(PLEASE NOTE: This listing is alphabetical. Yes, we're adults, but we're also still women. It's just the safe thing to do.)

CAITLIN

Caitlin and I had a rough start. We played club soccer together in high school and never thought very fondly of each other. She was of the "Nerdy Loser" variety since she drove a station wagon and I was of the "Boy Crazy Promiscuous" variety since I was, well, boy crazy..... so we didn't really try to blend our worlds. To add insult to injury, she was a defender and I was a forward on arch rival high school teams. Don't get me started on the 2000 Regional Championship! It wasn't until we both committed to Rice that fateful day in February of 2001 that we began calling off our troops and waving the white flag of concession. Before we knew it, we found ourselves bonded by 4 years of collegiate soccer and thrust into a big, scary world as DUH DUH DUH regular people. Eeek!! Somewhere along the line, Cait became my rock... my daily email consult... my eternal source of literary wit and hysterics. We share a passion for red wine, the desire to figure out life and memories of *8/9 days in Indonesia (a point of contention that may or may not have something to do with our soccer numbers). She's my caitertot. Fiercely.

CORI

My friendship with this little firecracker didn't come easy. She made me earn it. Moving to Allen, TX at the age of 13 is considered Cruel and Unusual Punishment to most, but my parents thought it would be funny. I knew getting popular wouldn't be all fun and games, so I proceeded to beg Cori to be my "cool" friend in 7th grade. She allowed me to tryout by acting out a scene from Cinderella during class (the one where the wicked stepmother finds Cinderella brushing her hair and brutally locks her in the attic). I must have a knack for acting, because I made the popular team and we've been friends ever since. I also got detention, but that's neither here nor there. Cori has deposited a multitude of appropriate, and not so appropriate, things into my friendship memory bank over the years. . . one particular sleepover at her aunt's house has me scarred for life, but it's in my bank, Kids Raising Kids! and Quaker oat squares, wine coolers at Cowboys, our classy prom bus, not so dirty Santas, a beautiful wedding in Nuevo Vallarta. . . what a treat she is to my life. I could never borrow her jeans unless I wanted to sport some capris, but short-stature is no reason to cut her out of my life :) I love our weekly-ish chats almost as much as I love Starbucks and am humbled by her support, even through my lowest lows. That's a good sign you've found a true friend. She's my Fishole-Coricane. Luca Luca.

HALEY

Is there anything more beautiful than that humorous, fun-loving, carefree Haleybug up there? I seriously doubt it. This is my free spirited friend that 80% of society might never take seriously because she makes her own rules and dances to the beat of her own drum. In a world of cookie-cutter lives, she's an inspiration to me. As an active member of a very small Alaskan society, she isn't a slave to the clock, but to the sunrise and sunset (which is appropriately inconsistent in Alaska). Unbeknownst to her, she reminds me every time I see her that we could all use a little more of a little less. I only get to see this bffl approximately once a year, but when we finally get to talk or see each other, it's like we never skipped a beat and I will cherish that about our friendship always. That and her ridiculous stories. When I think about her, I spend half my time in awe and half in fear and wouldn't want it any other way. I hope she ends up as sassy as her grandma so we can go on old-people cruises and laugh forever. I hope I find myself in Alaska soon to spend some sweet, calm moments wrapped up in her world. I hope she never loses her love for simplicity. I hope she occasionally washes the headwrap I gave her. I hope the organized mountain man she found balances her antics forever. In a floating cabin.

JANELLE

My favorite nomad, Jsmell, was fortunate enough to be assigned my roommate for our freshman season soccer trips ... a few months of close proximity and I'm surprised we even spoke after that, but low and behold, a true friendship blossomed. I'll never forget sitting outside Brown College our last semester at Rice and just crying about what we were leaving behind -- damn emotional females -- we shared so many sweet memories on that campus, but Janelle was headed east for Florida. We weren't entirely sure when we'd see each other again, but I knew this friendship wouldn't just fall by the wayside. Janelle is the most tenderhearted of all my best friends. She's a lover of babies and small animals, to a fault sometimes. She tried to save a mouse from a hotel once. Ick. I love her, but I hated her that day. She spent entirely too much time away from me in New Zealand and has now been in Thailand WAY entirely too long, but she's doing what she does best... sharing her heart with and teaching small Thai children. Be it email, gmail chat, skype, phone (when I don't screen the Unknown number of course), I take communication with my Jsmell any way I can get it. And when we get to catch up .... it's like "aahhhhh, not a cloud in the sky."

JAMI

On my timeline of friendship, Juhmayuhme dates back to Curtis Middle School years. When I think of Jami, I think of Korbel champagne bottles at house parties, a teal Eclipse with hubcaps just slightly worse than my gold ones, two packs of Fruit Jammers after school almost every day (think I should send Debbie some cash for all those snacks?), "he's lookin' atchya"... things like this. Jami's the chuckle that plays in the background of almost all of my Allen memories, because somehow she finagled her way into every single one of them. And even though college sent me south and her North, we always did, and always will, find time for a meal and some drinks when we meet in the middle (but not Thai food. Lord God, not Thai food. And we can thank Matt and Maud for deciding that). Either way, I've watched this lover of beer and football build her dreamlife over the years... but she's still the same tenderhearted, massivebreasted, antihugging friend I could count on back in the day and that is such a soft place to land when the craziness of life gives us the window of opportunity.

JESSIE

I think it's pretty impossible to NOT be best friends with this munchkin! She loves everyone! She even lets nude strangers into her dormroom at wee hours of the morning to use the bathroom. Ok ok, that was just ONCE, but I vow to never let her forget it. I'm not even exactly sure how friendships actually happen, but this one definitely hit its stride when we became roommates at Rice. This California spitfire showed me the beauty of buying treats and introduced me to my all-time favorite beverage, Starbucks skinny vanilla lattes. I am forever in debt to her for that. We bonded through very thin walls and developed a mutual appreciation for eachother as complete opposites that drove virtually identical jeeps (although I never drove mine into a tree. or parked it in the middle of a bus route. or tore off a parking gate. or tried to stop it from rolling backwards with my tiny 5' frame. but that's neither here nor there). I'm so thankful for her sweet spirit and easy going aura... and for letting me stand beside her when she married one of the greatest guys I've ever met. Sidenote: if you've never had the chance to actually watch love happen, I feel for you. I had a front row seat to the Making of the Stansberrys and the journey was just so fantastic. This is the friend that sends a precious little card for every single holiday. How many friends do that?? This one's a keeper.

NIKKI

When you're just 27, a relatively young age in the whole scheme of things, it's superhard to chronicle a friendship that's lasted 17 years. We've been friends for more than half our lifetime. That's i n s a n e and such a blessing. We've made it through many successful and unsuccessful relationships, a million soccer games together and as opponents, too many years of school followed by a plethora of graduations... started in Dallas and ended in Houston... by chance, by devine intervention, by luck? Who knows, but she lives 3 minutes away from me and knows me best. And ya'll, she still laughs at my jokes and doesn't take my shit! If I think hard about it, our friendship was doomed from the start. I thought all black people looked alike so I kept calling her Tatiana, and she told me I looked like a frog. Oh the innocence of 10 year olds! But our offensive beginning set the stage for an authentic friendship. I see visions of country ham, soccer, Suzuki four wheelers, smoothie kings and suburbans, Thanksgivings so near and dear to my heart... laughing parents that also found friendship... all of it playing to the tune of "Oh Happy Day" :) Can't wait to grow old with this sister.

The Jury Is Out

2010-02-15T11:38:00.003-06:00

As a 27 year old, I've hit most of the obligatory milestones on the road to being an actual adult. I got a job, bought a car, pay all my own bills, file my own taxes, set my own curfew... I even developed an aversion to politics... but there is one thing I haven't done yet and it's starting to bother me. In my defense, it's completely out of my control, but I'm pretty much dying to join the ranks of the millions of other adults that complain about this.

JURY DUTY

I want a Get Out Of Work Free card! I want a free boxed lunch! I want the opportunity to sit with other randoms and lie about something so I don't get chosen! It's like a right of passage into actual adulthood. Why can't the ridiculous government find me?

Carpe Diem

2010-02-12T10:50:00.013-06:00

I've recently been inspired to create a Bucket List. No, I'm not going through a mid-life crisis, a divorce or a death in the family. I haven't even lost my job. I just think most Bucket Lists will take YEARS to complete, so why not start early?

For as long as I can remember, my parents have POUNDED the importance of "planning your dive, and diving your plan". About 3 years ago, I took that to heart... and to the extreme... when I jumped out of a plane. I'm a moderate adrenaline junkie that wanted to do something completely out of my control and characteristically insane.

The appointment was made, the deposit was deposited, but when I pulled up to the address from the website, I literally almost turned around. The double wide trailer with clucking chickens out front didn't exactly scream SAFE SKY DIVE.

but plan your dive, dive your plan. So we moved forward with the paperwork and watched a short video in the double wide. On a 4" screen like those kitchen TVs from the 90s. BUT plan your dive, dive your plan, Ashley. So I dove out of a plane at 10,000 ft in January strapped to the front of the creepiest man I've ever met. And I l o v e d every second of it.

One week later, I got this great shot of the small, rusty plane I jumped out of and I vowed to be pickier with my next skydiving selection.

I've done other crazy things like running marathons, being a young American female that travels to Indonesia to meet Balinese people from a book I read, and I just recently signed up for a 3.6 mile run with 14 obstacles ranging from running through a creek, jumping over fire, and crawling under barbed wire in a mud pit. And I'm running it in this.

but there are still things I'm just dying to do! So without further adieu, here is my Bucket List The 2010 Edition:

• Sky dive, part deaux
• Bungee jump off a bridge
• Take Sheila Kelly’s S-factor course
• Shoot a real gun at inanimate objects, then possibly at small, over-populated animals
• Visit Andy and Haleybug in Alaska and kayak through their glacier-filled backyard
• Do a triathlon
• Zip line through a rain forest
• Slalom for longer than 2 minutes without falling
• Sober karaoke
• Decide on a Wednesday that I’m taking a vacation Friday-Sunday, and go somewhere fabulous

First up? A triathlon in April. Hold on to your tutus.

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Intervention

2010-01-25T13:22:00.004-06:00

This has the potential to be embarrassing and reflect poorly on my character, but I'm an honest engine, I just can't help it.

Intervention on A&E is my favorite guilty pleasure.

Much like Dr. Lara's radio show, it's a train wreck I just have to immerse myself in. You see, I'm a hyper-empathetic character by nature so it's not uncommon that I'll literally feel my heart break when I pass someone in a wheelchair or see someone sporting a cast and limping, and my respective limb will actually start aching. It's a pretty crazy-out-of-body experience that I've grown accustomed to.

The other day Alyssa and I were laying, one of her favorite pastimes, while watching Intervention, one of my favorite pastimes, and it was one that I will never forget. I can usually be found watching the show in my default "empathetic stance" - hands over mouth, balled into fists and shivering at the first sight of a needle. But this time, I was chin-to-the-floor. glued to the screen. IN HYSTERICS.

Alyssa and I met Janet last week. Imagine Cruella Deville morphed perfectly with Magda from There's Something About Mary. Got it? That's Janet. Early-50s with frizzy blonde hair, cigarette and drink in hand, rolls falling over the edge of her scantily clad outfits, flashing old men. d r u n k every second of the day.

I've seen many-a-Intervention, but none compare to this one. YA'LL, this lady couldn't utter a word without slurring. She literally walked around her small country town alone in the daylight with a glass of wine flashing old men on their porches. There was even a moment that she was begging her ex-husband to take her back in a voice that is comparable to the high pitch noise only dogs can hear. with a HUGE piece of brisket hanging out of her mouth. I just can't imagine why he'd have second thoughts...

Now, one of my fondest childhood memories is making home videos with our dad all over the neighborhood. Of course he came up with all the brilliant ideas, told us what to say and what to do, and like good children/mindless pawns, we acted. There's a particular scene from one of our Anderson Home Movies that I was reminded of on the fateful day I met Janet.

In a classic rendition of Aesop's fable, my sister and I were the Tortoise and the Hare. During this particular scene, my sister, The Hare, is passed out under a tree napping when I ride by her on my bicycle (slightly leaning to the right to keep my balance, no thanks to those damn training wheels). I yelled something characteristically antagonistic to wake her up, and she came running after me..... the scene from Janet's fable went a little something like that, with the exception of the pop-up-and-run part. Janet was passed out next to a car in front of her house after she lost her balance and fell with a glass of wine in hand. Her niece rode by on a bicycle, noticing Janet on the ground. The niece came back to poke her and proclaimed, "Aunt Janet is dead." Janet stirred and said, "I wissh."

So maybe that doesn't sound very funny, but the A&E camera crew filmed from the same angles that dad did. I thought it was a good connection.

Anyway, the final bit of hysteria with Janet was in the actual intervention when she couldn't keep her groping hands off her 80 year old boyfriend, Bob. She announced at they would be married soon, then proceeded to beg her ex-husband over there to profess his love for her ?? You guys, T R A I N W R E C K. But the worst part was when her son began reading a letter from his heart, "Mom, I love you so much and miss the relationship we once had..." Janet threw up her arms in disgust and yelled, "God almighy, thisis b*llsh*t." Maybe not the best reaction from a mother?

Needless to say, my esophagus and liver weren't aching with empathy. I pitied her. In fact, I think high schools should just replay Janet's show instead of those drunk driving wreck videos. I'm never picking up a beer again.

Well that's a lie, because "everything in moderation" is my motto, but MARK MY WORDS (and ignore the picture of me with vodka in the previous post), I promise I will never be an alcoholic.

Blogging Requires a Winter Break Too Ya Know

2010-01-18T21:11:00.006-06:00

Listen here. I do not appreciate threats. I don't even think they're legal. And I'm sure some Security Monitor in the blogosphere would love to open up a can of whoop ass on anyone that threatens boycotting my blog if I do not update. Now I realize it's been about 3 weeks since I've last posted, but FOR REALS... threats?! You know who you are.

Life has been a bit busy, what with working and eating and all. But seriously, the last few weeks have been a crazy mix of New Years, applying to gradschool, 20th and 27th birthdays. . . which may seem like plenty to blog about, but I need some inspiration of the humorous kind. My eyes are now peeled - just wait for it. And in the meantime, here are some fabulous photos of some pretty awesome Anderson birthday parties I've attended in the last 5 days.

'Tis Not The Season Anymore

2009-12-29T10:55:00.006-06:00

I'm sitting here at my desk, twiddling my thumbs between client relations, wishing my abundance of vacation time wasn't staring me in the face (like the money with bug eyes from the Geico commercials. Which, by the way, I actually switched to Geico last year and saved a ton of money on my car insurance: almost $80/month). I don't regret much in life, but I do regret not utilizing my vacation days for this week. UNFORTUNATELY, I'm an overachiever of sorts. The kind that feels like I can't take vacation days unless I'm actually leaving town on vacation. Novel concept, I know. But here I am sitting at my desk, with nothing but the sounds of crickets chirping because everyone else was smart enough to take this week off, and sweet memories of my favorite season.

This Christmas was a magical one with a brand new baby and snow in Texas!!

What more could a girl ask for when she already has her two front teeth?? I was pleased as punch to see a ton of old faces at a mini high school reunion. Other than that, my 5 days were spent in the confines of our 3-acre winter wonderland with the family... playing, laughing, planning, napping, snuggling (sans Dad, of course, since he's not much of snuggler)... and I'm not so proud to say, but I'll do it anyway, the only exercise I did was the Mouth kind (i.e. sarcasm, chomping, chewing, talking). Just as it should be.

Now I'm beginning my New Years Resolutions... one of which is... I will not beat myself up about New Years Resolutions.

Short and SWEET

2009-12-19T21:40:00.005-06:00

Cheesecake balls under my office Christmas tree? Merry Christmas to me.

These are what I lovingly refer to as "lard lollipops". One of the most delicious things I've tasted in a while.

I also have a confession. I went shopping for the first time today. And I will NEVER wait this late again. I'd venture to say it's worse out there than Black Friday! Ick.

Read My Mouth

2009-12-09T16:43:00.005-06:00

Lately I've been over consumed with matters of the mouth.

Recently, I started preparing for my bi-annual teeth cleaning. The week before the appointment was full of avoidance. Avoidance of coffee without straws, jolly ranchers and lemon juice. Not that I eat those things regularly, but I certainly know their catastrophic affects on your enamel. Don't ever say I don't read my pamphlets! I also flossed like it was going out of style. I guess I was hoping my week of extra devotion to my mouth would would trick the dental professionals into paying me and my chops a compliment... or that somehow, a week of brushing my teeth "with soft-to-medium strokes in the correct direction of gum growth for the duration of two ABC songs" would change the amount of plaque that's accumulated on my enamel over the past 6 months. Well, it probably doesn't, but I FELT clean going into my cleaning and that's all that counts. And folks, I'm here to tell ya, I'm proof that cramming works. From studying to flossing, I've mastered the technique of pseudo-preparation. That compliment I was fishing for? I got it. From the dental assistant. When I laid down and opened up, she said "oh, pretty teeth". But right before I let my heart smile because my work didn't go unnoticed, I realized she must see the retched teeth from those "before and after" photos daily, so I took the compliment with a grain of salt.

I was also thinking about how awkward dentistry is. Almost more intimate than OB-GYN. Have you ever thought about how strange it is to have someone picking in your mouth like that? And why on earth do they try to carry on conversation with you? It's actually a form of torture for talkers like myself. I like to talk, and ask and answer without fists and metal objects in my mouth.

I'm also arriving at the big decision to have my wisdom teeth removed. I've been told I'm 3 wise, missing 1 unit of wisdom. One of my wisdom teeth is visible to me and is my favorite substitute in the chewing game when my first string is tired. (Just kidding, but I really enjoyed that metaphor). Anyway, not too long ago, I picked up my best friend from her oral surgery and had the time of my life! The girl was 2 whole minutes out of anesthesia trying to speak intelligently on the terms of her insurance coverage. Really smart things were coming out of her slow-slurring, cotton-filled mouth. It was hysterical and I'd love to provide that entertainment to someone... except I'm terrified of dry socket and not sure really smart things will come out of my mouth.

But really, there's no option. In no time at all, I'll be back in school for a year and half with no dental insurance to speak of... so now's the time... carpe diem, little tooths.

Thoughts Like A Pinball Machine

2009-12-03T12:28:00.008-06:00

I think it's important to note that as of November 27, 2009, I know my nephew in the flesh. and the pictures scarcely do him justice. He has the sweetest, freshest, brand new warm smell that anyone with a nose and a heart can appreciate. He is adorned with the softest, little fluffy brunette hairs atop his head, which I'm not sure why, but makes me think of Steve Martin's hilarity... "Oh pointy bird. Pointy pointy. Anoint my head. Anointy nointy." At any rate, he's perfect - and I'm not just saying that to annoy my sister who will undoubtedly fight me tooth and nail to be THAT Aunt, but seriously - he's perfect. And he can already talk! Can you believe it? He says Neh, Heh, Eh, Owh, and my favorite, Eairh, which means "I have wind". All of this according to Dunstan's Baby Languages. You may be a skeptic but I really wouldn't doubt that the offspring of Brooke Honor and David Max would actually be thinking those exact words "I have wind" if he has to fart, so this whole thing probably isn't that far off.

But in other news, we're approaching the holiday party season! This is also a fun time of year for me, because there's always a smidgen of a chance someone will host a Tacky Christmas Sweater party and I'll be afforded the opportunity to dress in costume again. This year, it's our annual holiday luncheon for the office and will be my largest costume debut to date, my friends. 200 unsuspecting co-workers will get to see my holiday spirit in a neon green, zip-up sweater with tacky ribbons and offensive designs (a 2008 Marshall's purchase), complimented by candy cane stockings and costume jewelry inspired by The Who ... of The Grinch, not the rock band ... I'm pulling out all the stops - there are door prizes involved!!

I'm also brainstorming birthday celebration ideas :) January 11th is always the week of or the week before the spring semester begins, so it's a good thing I didn't drink or enjoy parties in college, huh Dad?? Because I would've been shafted as far as celebrations go!! Close call! I mean seriously, from 2001-2005, everyone was too partied out from being home and was psuedo-focused on starting classes. But I don't have to worry about all that now. I can legally and responsibly enjoy an adult beverage with all my growed-up cronies (chronologically, at least). I've got some good ideas up my sleeve for this year. Twenty-seven, 27, will be a good one. I can feel it in my left knee.

And lastly, as the monkeymind comes to a close, I experienced my favorite moment this month on my sister's couch in OKC. Holding a sweet, warm bundle of blankets and deep breaths, I was told I can have full creative reign on the color of the bedroom I'll be living in come August (and an accepted gradschool application)!!!!! My sister "thinks a butter yellow would be nice, but it's totally up to [me] and [I] can do whatever [I] want". Brooke, I hear what you're saying... but what I REALLY hear you saying is "paint the room butter yellow". hahahahahahaha that is such an inside joke for 1-3 readers. Annnyyyywaay, I've decided on gold! (true gold. like the actual color of the medals I have from years of undisputed victory). It's of the "butter yellow" family, but toned down enough that I won't jump when I open my eyes in the morning. It goes with my bedspread and my new fave purchase, my throw pillow!

Really, that is all. I have a final to study for.

Peace be with you.

A Must See D.V.D.!!

2009-11-20T15:26:00.010-06:00

UPDATED with more pics :) ugh, I feel like I was disserviced by his birth 6 days before I can get up there. I mean seriously, take a look at those legs and miniature phalanges. It's like torture!!!!

It is my distinct pleasure to introduce you to my nephew,

D.V.D.

...born unto a family of smartasses on...

November 19, 2009
3:58pm
7 lbs 5 oz
20" long

Isn't he just precious???

I think it's important to mention that on Tuesday night I begged my sister to break her water before Thanksgiving so I could snuggle a baby and eat turkey at the same time. I don't really see this as an unusual request. Despite being 3cm dilated at her appointment a few days earlier, she proceeded to shatter my hopes and dreams by reminding me of her November 30^th induction.

So I did what most soon-to-be-first-time-auntie-ashes would do. I ordered a Smartzip Sleeper for the peanut and had it shipped to her. Luckily for everyone involved, the baby boutique I ordered from (www.poshtoshbaby.com) is on the ball with customer service and almost immediately sent me a personal email to clarify what size and color I ordered. Turns out I chose the Made Me Blush Pink pajamas for the boy growing in my sister. I swear it wasn't a Freudian slip.

Little did I know, my nearmistake would send shockwaves to Oklahoma and send my sister into active labor.... something about the unrealized fear of putting her son in pink pajamas and potential gender identity issues? I don't know, but her water broke Wednesday night whilst nesting in the nursery. She managed to get a few hours of shut eye before the intensifying contractions asked her to p l e a s e c a l l t h e d o c t o r. So their day started early with a 6am drive to the hospital, already dilated to 5 cm and completely effaced.

--- this would be the point I received a phone call from my mother screaming something to the affect of "HER WATER BROKE LAST NIGGGGHHTTT!!! AHAHAAHFDAFSDFAWEOBNV" ---

And the day begun.

I won't bore you with all the little details. and by "all the little details", I mean the seventy-four text message updates we received from dad between 10am-4pm. Despite his lack of attention to punctuation, he's a great story teller. Some of these are from his perspective and the others are just hospital room dialogue. HI-larious.

*PLEASE NOTE THAT MOM AND DAD WERE ALLOWED IN THE ROOM BEHIND HER HEAD ONLY*

11:52am – We’re moving to an exercise ball contractions about 2-3 min apart

12:00pm – baby is at 128 heart rate, contraction 2 min after last one, doctor talk is head is engaged

12:11pm – Just had a 10 on the contraction scale, most had been 6

12:26pm – Brooke says ouch

12:35pm – baby is kicking the monitor

2:27pm – Just started pitocin, really small amount, to get this show on the road. Still between 8-9cm now, so hopefully soon

2:36pm – She gets to start pushing

3:16pm – Ok having a contraction almost there you’re doing good ok got one building. You’re doing a lot of work push hard again push push take a deep breath. I need a break ow.

3:26pm – big doctor is in the house

3:46pm – this is work ok almost that’s super job almost done good job all forward from here. Baby’s right there ok here we go push push this baby’s very excited about being born. Come on vincent, i’m getting a calf cramp oh shit.

3:53pm – if you got it, short little breaths, you can reach down and feel him if you want, looks like he has long dark hair, push one more and I bet we’ll have a baby. Ok ok he came further, half his head is hanging out, now take some deep breaths

3:55pm – my hand is going numb

3:58pm – the big finale, almost come on one more oh you did it here, baby crying look there baby boy, dad you want to cut the cord

After 6 hours of texting all that detail, I'm assuming the numb hand wasn't Brooke's.

Patiently Waiting for My Roommate to Get Out of Law School and Get Me Out of Tickets

2009-11-17T10:16:00.009-06:00

Congratulations to me!! I am the lucky winner of TWO TICKETS in just TWO WEEKS from various municipal courts! My question is: where are all these so-called "women" that get out of tickets all the time and more importantly, HOW. DO. THEY. DO. IT?

During the 11 years I've been afforded the privilege of driving (and I know it's a "privilege" because that's always the first question on Defensive Driving tests), I've had 7 tickets.

1999, speeding -- I should have received a citation for driving a Lebaron with gold hubcaps, but instead he clocked me at 56 in a 40. I was taking my bff home after practice and vaguely remember using the excuse that we were late for bible study . . . that excuse didn't work AND I spent 3 weeks in prayer asking for forgiveness.

2001, floating a stop sign -- most embarrassing ticket of the century for a couple reasons. #1, the reason I floated the stop sign was because I just got a new jeep with a standard transmission and I was terrified of stopping. Anywhere. So naturally, I floated the stop sign in 2nd gear. #2, my dad was following me home from a soccer game when I was pulled over. Can't you just see it?? My jeep on the side of the road. A police car with fully operational lights behind me. My dad parked behind him, waiting for me to be ticketed. SO EMBARRASSING.

2003, MIP -- I was the designated driver. Need I say more about this ridiculous ticket? I still haven't forgiven my intoxicated passengers for this.

2006, running a red light -- I swear I entered the intersection on yellow, but wasn't in the mood to shmooze or argue (aka: I broke the law and I knew it)

2007, running a red light -- Late to drop me off at the airport for a flight to California, my favorite geologist ran a red light in my car. No cop, just those pesky cameras and a superbright flash when it photographed my license plate. At the time, on top of running late, I had just realized I left my bridesmaid's dress at my apartment and would possibly have to walk down the aisle in sweatpants.... flashing lights were the last thing on my mind... it wasn't until I got a ticket in the mail a few months later that it really sunk in how much that day sucked. Damn the bad luck.

2009, speeding -- on my way home from OKC via Waco. 7 hours of consecutive driving. Coming up on a small town with a speed limit drop to 55. I WAS SLOWING DOWN, PEOPLE, just not fast enough for Officer Napolean Complex. This guy actually said "have a great day" with a smirk. I threw a pitty party and cried for 30 minutes in the comfort of my own vehicle, gained control and forgave Officer Napolean for being so rude and ruining my weekend. After all, things could be worse. I could be an officer in Calvert, TX feeling justified by clocking people 2" past the speed limit sign... but either way, I broke the law and the law won... that was two weeks ago.

So imagine my dismay when I pull into a downtown Houston parking spot, ecstatic to see my mom and her friend, hop out of the car and practically sprint to their room for some quality time... then off to Azuma for a girls' sushi night... only to get back to a parking ticket from some rent-a-cop. Debbie downer. He issued me a ticket at 5:45pm when the metered parking ends at 6pm. I officially have the worst luck.

Of course I realize I broke the law in all of the cases, no matter the circumstance... but back to my original question... what's a girl gotta do to get out of a friggin ticket?!? I'm at the end of my rapidly fraying rope! I'm a good, moral person, but I'm in dire need of a script to use on the next idiot in uniform. Any advice is greatly appreciated.

Meanwhile, I'm sticking to go-karts. I snapped this picture of me and my Little while I was driving and didn't get ticketed. I'm certain that's because I'm a safe driver (disregard her expression, please) and not because Zuma Fun Center has no laws.

A Baby Boy is Brewing!

2009-11-06T16:22:00.014-06:00

Although it may seem counter intuitive after posting "Chica Chica Boom Chic", my 2009 Halloween weekend was actually devoted to my sister's baby shower.... a far cry (pun intended) from my last handful of Halloweens, but nonetheless, a wonderful way to spend the weekend.

It started out with a bang with a red eye drive in torrential downpours from Houston to Dallas. Then to add insult to injury, at some point I picked up Dr. Laura's show on the radio and like a lightening strike to my life, I suddenly understood my father, but not through her sage advice or eye-opening commentary... in fact, it was quite the opposite.

I digress.

My dad and pretty much any liberal politician are like oil and water. He'll sit in front of the TV, brow wrinkled 10-fold, death grip on the remote as if changing the channel is a threat to them as they speak, rolling his eyes, spouting off "idiot"s and other useless cut downs. I never understood how he could get so upset at these people and never change the channel (a fun experiment would be to hook him up to a heart rate monitor and turn on CNN). It wasn't until I turned on Dr. Laura and listened to her psychological train wreck of a show that I finally empathized with my dad. At certain moments, I felt my face turn red and watched steam shoot out of my ears. She's not even a clinical psychologist! A PhD in Physiology won't do a depressed Schizophrenic any good, but she's brainwashed an entire mob of crazies to believe she knows it all through being blatantly rude!! How does this happen?? Ugh. I can feel my blood pressure rising again. Anyway, it was after 30 minutes of rotating between death grip on my steering wheel, jolting forward and glaring at the radio buttons in disbelief, and yelling at the airwaves hoping she'd pick up my signal, that I realized: Dr. Laura Schlessinger is to me what a Liberal Politician is to my dad. When I listen to her, I can't stop the madness! and what's worse is, I kinda don't want to. Passionately disagreeing with idiots is a guilty pleasure of mine. It's genetic.

-So back to the show-

I finally got to Dallas and c r a s h e d. Friday morning, I was greeted by the main reason for my northbound travel, my sister and her child. Like woah:

The next 3 days were a whirlwind of freezing soccer, long lost family, loads of hugs and sarcasm and one fantastic baby shower planned around Little Sister's soccer schedule. With an October 30th contest in Norman, a Halloween shower made most sense, so we rolled with "A Baby Boy is Brewing". Still makes me giddy with delight :) Here's the shower part of the weekend...
And evidence of the hugs and sarcasm part of the weekend...

I really don't know how to end this after posting a picture like that.

Have a great day?

Chica-Chica Boom Chic

2009-11-06T16:00:00.008-06:00

Here they are, Exhibits A, B and C. Also known as, the only proof that I did in fact dress up as the lovely Latina, Carmen Miranda for a work function in Austin.

For reference, may I present the authentic Carmen....

And these are my scanned "Catch The Moments" (the kinds of pictures you have when you leave your camera on deep sea excursion boats in Puerto Vallarta)

And I've blessed you with this Blackberry Moment of the original fitting so you can actually see the fantastic skirt.

Fantastic, right?

anyhoo -- I've devoted this entire entry to my costume because MARK MY WORDS -- this will be the last time I ever spend $250 on Halloween. Thank you, [insert company I work for], for letting me expense this ridiculous costume.

The Circle of Life

2009-10-27T08:34:00.013-05:00

When I entered the big, bad world of Sales, I did everything but shout it from the rooftops that going back to school wasn't worth the investment for my career, and proud of that I was. All I needed to succeed in Sales was non-stop networking to build and maintain relationships for years to come! Who needs an MBA for that? Then time happened, and here I am a year and half later at the ripe old age of 26, well into my quarter-life crisis............ and back in school.

After I attended a conference in Atlanta in February that pushed us to "live our passion", my gears were in motion figuring out what my next step would be. My predecessors are in fine health and have held their positions for 20+ years, so I've reached a plateau with nowhere left to climb. Thus, I concluded, it's almost time to hit the road, Jack. After all, in this day and age, 4.5 years with a company is an eternity! I should get a plaque or something. (Love to the Babyboomers)

Then like icing on my careercake, I spent 10 days in July on the Great Recession Road Trip with the fam. The vacation afforded me plenty of time to reflect on my life and my career, and the decision was all but made. Come with me on this flashback:

It was a cool, July morning. We were operating on CST in a PST zone, expecting a nice lunch, yet offered a nice breakfast. After inhaling a huge blackbean and chicken breakfast burrito that was seriously the size of an armadillo, we headed out for a brisk walk along the Grand Canyon edge.

A chat with the maternal parent ensued. With topics ranging from daily annoyances, to exercise, to my career, we spoke . . . . . .

"Mom", as I like to call her, "I think I want to be a dietitian. What do you think?"
"Sweet, precious daughter of mine," as she likes to call me,"I think you'll be fantastic at anything you do."
Okay fine, she actually said - "well, I think that would fit you nicely, but it's quite the career change, babe..."
"yeah, but I've been thinking a lot about it and the only downfall I can see to being in nutrition is the pressure people might feel when they eat around me. I don't want a friend to stress about serving a vegetable/whole wheat option at her party just because I'm invited, ya know?"
My dearest mother said, "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, sweetie - you already make people feel like that."

(chirpchirp)

I love those moments. What are parents for if not for the cold, hard truth? Love you, Mom.

But seriously, the rest is history.

I sit here today, stretched oh-so-thin between school and work and extracurriculars. . . and I love it, I really do. I never thought in a million years I'd be back in school and I especially never expected to be chasing a dream realized after college graduation... but it fits. Nicely.

This time next year I'll have a Trapper Keeper and an insulated lunch box. And I'm thinking about making my case for a school clothes allowance from the parents. I'll keep you updated.

500% Humidity

2009-10-16T14:47:00.007-05:00

For the last few weeks, Houston has been one huge, dirty sauna . . . even the sun with its infinite power couldn't break through the mass of humidity and pollution. This affected my mood and my unfortunate skin tone. I say "unfortunate" because I can whip out my tribal card and receive funds for being American Indian, but I have nothing to show for it physically, except for a long nose. I'd give anything to skip the nose gene and get the tan-skin gene.

Either way, starting way back in 2001 when I moved here for college, I always got the same two reoccurring questions when the topic of Houston arose- which do you like better, Dallas or Houston? and doesn't the humidity just kill you? Up until a few weeks ago, I can honestly say I never noticed the humidity. Now granted, when I went home for the holidays and my skin would shrivel up and flake off by the pound if I didn't bathe in lotion, I realized there must be a teenytiny difference in atmospheres, but it never occurred to me on a day-to-day basis that I lived in one, huge dirty sauna.

Thank you October 5-15, 2009 for showing me what humidity is all about

And I hate it. I hate walking outside and "sweating" before I start running. I hate putting on my sunglasses when I get out of the car, only to be blinded by the immediate fog effect. I hate feeling sticky everywhere I go, and most of all... I hate hiding from the outside. Needless to say, I was a class-a C R A B for a couple weeks stressing out about things I didn't need to stress out about and getting more pale.

Then by the grace of God, Friday, October 16th happened.

A semi-cold front came through and washed away the dirty sauna. It was a glorious 70 degrees in the sun, 0% humidity. Smiles to be had by all! The "young-guns" took a long lunch to the Bakerstreet patio where I spied a disabled bird. You're probably thinking he had a bum wing, which I won't fault you for... that seems logical... but NO, this bird had a peg leg. Somehow he lost his 3 little, pokey toes and was moving from table to table begging for food like a homeless man at Montrose and Westheimer. I made up a little story in my head about how he lost his toes -- I think it was a tragic bird feeder accident -- but counted myself lucky for spying this freak of nature. He's kind of like a 4-leaf-clover. I mean, have YOU ever seen a bird with a peg leg? Didn't think so. Well this little birdie just added to the glorious day of October 16th, and October 16th led us into the most beautiful weekend Houston has seen in years. I spent all day each day studying outside and soaking up some vitamin D with my favorite studying partner, my Pumpkin. Pumpkin Spice Latte.

In conclusion, Houston can be humid and super gross... but the October 16ths of the year make up for it 10-fold.

Sentimental Moment

2009-10-14T10:14:00.002-05:00

About this time of year, I'm usually planning my next scandalous Halloween costume or starting a Christmas wish-list to distribute to family members.

This year, I'm planning something of greater importance.

In a little over a month, when my family is gathered around a table full of turkey and sweet potatoes and it's my turn to speak, my cup will runneth over with a laundry list of Thanks.

From the new Flavia machine in our breakroom that allows me to make my morning coffee my way, to the miracle of life that we may or may not know in the flesh on Thanksgiving day, I will rattle off my life's delights.

If not for the fleeting moment of Thanksgiving Day, I would always be the "overemotional, hypersensitive one"... but on November 26th ... I will be the "thoughtful, thankful one"

(It's just like the Whataburger commercial. He's not the guy "that's late for the meeting", he's "the guy that brought breakfast")

Timing is everything.

G'day.

Stood Up

2009-10-08T09:35:00.008-05:00

I'm a Type A fighting for control of my life every day.

I have a plan for most emergency situations. First thing I'll do if I happen to OOPS, drive off a bridge over water, is hit the automatic window button. It'll save my life, people. In a previous post, I discussed my plan to run in the opposite direction if my roommate and I are attacked while running. I also think if I'm one of those unfortunate people that witnesses a man beating a woman, or man/woman beating a child, I'll approach and scream, not ignore and walk away. Now whether or not my adrenaline derails this plan in the heat of the moment is a whole other story... but the point is I have one.

So last night I found myself in an emergency situation with no plan - the cardinal sin for Type A's

I was stood up (sort of). Yes, this is an emergency for me. I like to have an obvious purpose in whatever I do. I'm just not the meandering, loitering type. I don't go to bars to enjoy watching other people have social interactions... that's what Creepers do (HOWEVER, I derive an insane amount of joy people watching at airports, but that's completely acceptable because I still have a purpose: I'm waiting for my flight and people know this). Sitting alone at a restaurant or a bar for extended periods of time is like fingernails on a chalkboard for me. A true emergency. And that's what I did last night.

I was supposed to have happy hour with two new friends I met at a conference in San Antonio at 5:30pm. I was raised that "10 minutes early is on-time", and OH how I wish my parents weren't over achievers like that, because life has taught me that we're the minority in that thought process..... in every avenue of my life, most people are 10 minutes late. So I went inside, took a seat at the bar and ordered a margarita, occasionally glancing over my shoulder at the door to greet my new friends. 10, 20 minutes go by. I start getting anxious, looking at the door more often, even took a stroll around the restaurant to verify their absence. Nothin. So I scoured my blackberry for a number to call. No answer, but I kindly waited 5 minutes for a return call. Nope, nada. At this point, they're 30 minutes late and haven't tried to reach me at all, so I texted bitterly, "I'm leaving after this margarita if you guys aren't here!" even though I didn't really mean it....... if these were old friends, I would've walked out 10 minutes ago, but I can't just leave like a biatch on a new set of friends! I have to give them the shadow of a doubt -- there MUST be a valid excuse for this madness.

Thus, I've made friends with the bar back that can hardly speak english, so we're actually just exchanging awkward glances. I've looked through menu 4 times for the meal I'm not planning to have. I've chatted with my sister about her impending childbirth, chatted with my other sister about her impending travel for soccer, and chatted with my mom about how embarrassed I am that I've been sitting here alone for 38 minutes. I've responded to emails, texted friends, even pretended to enjoy the baseball game on TV.

I mean, REALLY, what in tarnation keeps someone from calling with an explanation or at least responding to my fake-threatening text?? Then, I got a call. They told me some BS story that made no sense, but ended it with "we'll be there in 10 minutes! so sorry! soooo sorry!"

Fighting back my critical instinct to scold them immediately about how being late is selfish and rude, I took a very, very deep breath and realized my social pain would be over in 10 minutes and I was happy again. First time, shame on you; second time, shame on me. I should've known "10 minutes" didn't mean 10 minutes. 25 minutes later, a total of 1 hour and 5 minutes late, they walked through the door. I smiled and hugged them, "so good to see you! It's no problem!" After all, we're all adults here and I'm a forgiver sometimes, but after an honest discussion about the real reason for their tardiness. . . . . . .

a previously scheduled hair appointment

. . . . . . . . . I presented them with the opportunity to buy my drinks and the chicken fajitas I decided to have since it was now dinner time. They happily accepted, so I think this friendship will last. And thanks to this little emergency, I now have a plan for being stood up:

1) I'll have a Glamour magazine in my car at all times for entertainment during the 10-15 minutes my friends normally make me wait
2) If our friendship/relationship is established, I will wait no longer than 30 minutes, no exceptions (well, maybe termination from a job, a car wreck or anything requiring hospitalization)
3) If you're a newby to my life and my rules, I'll wait for you, but after 30 minutes... you will buy me things. With a smile.

The Burgeoning Belly

2009-10-01T10:04:00.003-05:00

This topic has managed to squirm its way into many conversations I've had over the course of my life, mostly because I'm 'baby crazy' (as some dear friends like to call it) and I stand firm that the entire process of reproducing is the most magical of biological phenomenons out there... so as it pertains to the burgeoning belly, I'm of the cup-half-full variety. If you got it - flaunt it, or shake what your baby gave ya, whatever trips your trigger.

Sans stretch marks (since all they do is remind people of the pain and anguish your body is gradually going through), a fit pregnant woman in a tight shirt or a bikini is just as beautiful as the next, if not more... and I will declare it right here, right now, even at the risk of offending any closet readers I might have.... women that think otherwise are just plain jealous or belong in the 1800's when hiding your pregnancy was all the rage.

Now I'll admit, I've gone overboard with my pregnancy infatuations once or twice in my day. A while back, I was walking towards a running trail and passed a woman putting something away in her trunk. From behind, she looked like a marathon runner in her matching black and pink dry-fit tank and running shorts, then BAM!! she turned like an airplane and my estrogen released in vast quantities at the sight of her 8-9 month belly. I instinctively said, "oh my goodness, you are so cute pregnant". I might have sprinted at her with open arms for a hug if it weren't for the look of sheer terror on her face. A few moments later, I realized we were in a random parking lot, it was almost dark, she never saw me coming, but most importantly, Private Practice just aired their final episode where Violet was attacked a few weeks from her due date by a crazy patient that thought Violet was carrying her baby........ apparently they don't make this stuff up, it actually happens!......... so I can only imagine what was going through that poor woman's mind. So that was that.

A n y w a y

This is the inaugural Kodak moment of me with my first nephew :) The first of many precious photo ops with the little bambino. Squirm at that belly and I'll come after you. It's just Beautiful.

M-I-C...K-E-Y...M-O-U-S-E!!

2009-09-24T10:08:00.004-05:00

Do you think this might be one of the reasons Baby Boomers roll their eyes at Gen Y in the office? I don't know, it just hit me as a possibility. It's not the most professional thing in the world, per se . . .

Black Cats and Pumpkin Seeds

2009-09-22T14:25:00.018-05:00

It's September 23rd. Do you know what that means?? Halloween is one month and some change away!

It's my 4th favorite holiday behind Christmas, my birthday and Thanksgiving. I'm just crazy for it. I actually get jealous of small children and little people because it's socially acceptable to trick-or-treat when you're 3'-4' tall. Soooo not fair. In fact, I think I'll plan a Halloween event catered to adults: "Trick or Treat! Give Me Something Good To Drink". I'm envisioning something like a BBQ cook-off with actual spook houses, not just tents. . a little Halloween subdivision for adults. . we'll get all the major beer, liquor and candy companies to sponsor a house. . in a field somewhere, lots of decorations, low lights. . costume-loving-grown-ups will go from house to house socializing with other costume-loving-grown-ups. . maybe some live music. . a couple outdoor scary movies. . . I'm onto something, here aren't I??

Until that dream becomes a reality, I'll settle for house parties, with the exception of this year (I'll be showering my sister and her buddahbelly with baby gifts in another state). I usually start thinking about my costume around July. It's that important. You have one chance to knock 'em dead... or sometimes 2 or 3 chances... I've been known to have multiple personalities, I mean, costumes in one year. When else is it okay for normal adults to be bi-polar, schizophrenic hussies in public? It isn't.

Now I have my frustrations about the Halloween system, too. I love creative costumes (I still have the stuff in my closet to be "Party in My Pants" - XXXXL sweatpants, put the waistband around a hoola hoop, held up by suspenders, with loads of small balloons, confetti and streamers stuffed in and overflowing, hand out real invitations that say 'You've been invited to the Party in My Pants'... I think that's a 10.0 on the Costume Richter scale), but have you noticed that ANYTHING is a costume these days if you just add "sexy" to it? Sexy Frankenstein, Sexy Lunch Lady, Sexy Tax Collector. Sex sells. I'll admit, I've fallen victim to this bandwagon a couple times, but for the record, each year I vow to wear something with more fabric than the last year as a part of my maturation process. At least I've identified the problem. I'll keep you updated on my progress.

Just in case you're struggling with ideas, here are a few of my faves.

Pocahontas with a Football Player and Top Gun.....

Bubble Bath with Sloppy Joe.....

Tinkerbell with a Saloon Hussy.....

Husband/Wife Team of Chinese Gymnasts.... haha!

Bi-Partisan (Republican in the front, Democrat in the back) with a Christmas Tree.....

And since my move to sales, I also get to attend a work Halloween party in Austin every year. This was last year's Masquerade Ball...

This was my pick for GREATEST COSTUME EVER. Oompa Loompas from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. They actually handmade these costumes!

This year, our theme is A Tribute To The Silver Screens... I'm going as Carmen Miranda! Not only is she in the punchline of my favorite clean joke, she dances with fruit on her head. Could it be any more perfect? Here's my FABULOUS hat...

That is all.

The Morning I Counted My Chickens

2009-09-22T08:53:00.007-05:00

The first 2.5 hours of my day led me to believe it would be a magical one... but don't count your chickens before they hatch.

My alarm went off at 6:38am. Since we heard the news of some female runner getting robbed a few blocks away, these days my roommate and I meet in the living room at 6:45am for our pre-sunrise runs. Often times I wonder if the mere addition of 1 female truly deters a mugging attempt, but there's something about false security in numbers that I cling to. But let's be honest, even running together, K and I would be screwed if someone actually did approach us. Not too long ago we posed the "what if" to eachother on a whim... what if someone attacked us right now, should we stay together or split up?? Roommate was of the Stay Together variety. I subscribe to a different mentality: the I Love You and All, but You Go One Way, I'll Go the Other, Then We Have a 50/50 Chance of Surviving This Craziness. Given our polar opposite views, I see an attack going something like this.........

scary man that hasn't bathed or eaten in days, jumps out at us... we both scream at the top of our lungs, mine being volumes louder than hers thanks to genetics... I take off in the opposite direction with my best 40 yard dash stride, only to feel the undeniable force of K's tug on my shirt... and suddenly I'm running like I do in my dreams... expending incredible amounts of energy, but not going anywhere because I have another woman stuck to me screaming STAY TOGETHER STAY TOGETHER... I'm batting at her hand as if to say, I LOVE YOU AND ALL, BUT YOU GO ONE WAY, I'LL GO THE OTHER, THEN WE HAVE A 50/50 CHANCE OF SURVIVING THIS CRAZINESS, but what really comes out is LET GO, B!TCH........ you can imagine how the rest pans out. So maybe running with Roomate isn't so much "safe", but fun.

This was supposed to be about my magical morning. Ok.

So I get up without a single snooze, completely rested and ready rumble. I was in the living room by 6:44am, at which point K is usually up n' at 'em, feeding Bear and what not... but all I heard were crickets. Could it be? Could my totally reliable, organized, early riser roommate have slept in after we discussed meeting for a morning run??? I attributed her slumber to a Bachelorette weekend in Vegas, but nonetheless, already felt uber-accomplished that I was exercising when she wasn't... since it's usually the other way around. The run was fabulous. A cool breeze and a soft headwind. The sun rising earlier than usual so I didn't have to spend 30 minutes exhausting my Fight or Flight options in hypothetical attack situations. New music on my iPod. Life is good. I ran through the gates at my complex just in time to feel one single droplet on my skin. I beat the rain! I am accomplished, I am fit and I outsmarted Mother Nature. Magical morning?? I thought so. So I headed to the weight room to pump some iron, like a cherry on my morning sundae (by the way, in 1998 my dad helped me learn the Table of Elements with his corny word associations "Iron - feeeeeel the burn - Fe" I just can't shake it). . .

That's when I realized I counted my chickens too quickly.

Roommate was on the treadmill. I deducted a tally from my Magical Morning Point System.

After I did some weights and crunches, I realized I was 15 minutes late for my morning routine. This wouldn't have happened if the complex had replaced the clock after the weight room renovation. Either way, I deducted another tally for poor time management.

As I exited the weight room, God opened the heavens and poured his love on me. In the form of rain. So I sprinted across the complex, only to trip at a puddle in front of a distinguished business man. Shame on me for having an imaginary point system. -2 for that crap.

I rushed into the shower, rushed through my make-up, rushed through my hair, but worse -- I rushed through my outfit selection. I chose the Express slacks with pink and purple pin stripes. They were supercool 4 years ago, but there's something about how busy they are that turns me off these days. Like I'm a business version of a Candy Striper or something. But they didn't have to be ironed and I needed something form-fitting for my site visit (don't judge) and, HELLO, I was late! Thanks to the pastel pinstripes, I deducted another tally from my Magical Morning Point System.

By this point, it was pouring cats and dogs (which is a pretty sick analogy if you think about it, but it's common, so I use it). Then. THEN. I got to work and realized I left my umbrella in my trunk. I could have gotten it at home under the COVERED PARKING, but no, when I'm late, my brain shuts off. So in the parking lot at work, I decide to crawl through my secret fold-down-backseat into my trunk to get my umbrella . . . my Candy Striper @ss in the air . . . can't see a thing . . . grabbing cleats and baskets and FedEx slips? I don't know. But not one. single. umbrella. -8 points.

I ran through cats and dogs to the door. Down the long terrazo floor hallway, slipping and sliding into my office. A soaking wet Corporate Candy Striper ready to start her day.

Never never count your chickens before they hatch.

I'm An Addict

2009-09-17T13:36:00.005-05:00

I need you to know about an addiction of mine, and just so we're clear... an addiction is the state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.

All addicts have a story, you know. A gateway drug. The beginning of the end.

For me, it started in 1991 with an ex-real-estate mogul with the mostest, my grandma's twin. Are you picturing a Century 21 billboard with a larger than life glamour shot of a high-maintenance woman looking over her shoulder in some ridiculous position, yet her smile still says, this is the most comfortable position I have ever been in ?? Yep, that's Aunt J, with a big red lipstick smile, short n' sassy auburn hair and reading glasses. (and she also had this fascinating silver necklace with a roof that opened on a mini-hinge that she'd let us play with all the time ... it had 2 silver chairs and a table inside that were freely floating about the 1 sq.in. ... is that weird? ...)

It was one cold afternoon in 1991 on Uncle J's back porch that I had a deep conversation with her (as deep as an 8 year old can get anyway), about how important it is to have nice nails and its reflection on your femininity and class. She proceeded to tell me that she paid her granddaughters $100 to stop biting their nails. Um excuse me? They were paid to grow nice nails, people. Now why couldn't the stork have put me in her direct lineage?? So I took matters into my own hands -pun intended- and said something like well, I bite my nails too which I didn't but I want to stop, Aunt J. Now it's not quite clear whether we actually shook on it, but my 8 year old brain just knew we verbally committed to a $100 transaction pending long, strong nails at the next family reunion. Something must have been lost in translation because she never paid up.... but she did create a monster.... a nail monster.

My name is Smartash and I am an addict. I am addicted to Nail Upkeep.

Clippers, hand lotions galore, cuticle tools, clear polish with vitamins for added strength... but the fairest of them all? The Nail File. Nails are body art. Like tattoos. 10 little masterpieces right there on your phalanges. Without the Nail File, sculpting soft, smooth, precise edges would be virtually impossible, and without soft, smooth, precise edges, you will never bring people back-scratching pleasure or have a pretty engagement ring picture... can you imagine a life without those things?? and don't pull the acrylics card on me here. Au natural is where it's at.

I file as a study break, during lunch breaks, while bathing, reading a magazine. Every chance I get, I will file. If I get a snag, I can't focus on anything else until I get my hands on 1 of my 7 nail files strategically placed along my life's path (in my car, in my purse, at my desk, in my bathroom, everywhere). If I have a blonde moment and forget a file, I will swipe my injured nail back and forth as quickly as possible on the closest textured surface to hold me over until I'm reunited with my Knight In Shining Emery Board.

So, you know what I wish for you? I wish that through the lense of my passion, you see how important nail upkeep should be to you and yours. Share the message, my friends.

And you know what I wish for me? I wish I would pay the same attention to my feet.

In other news, I drove the company car to San Antonio this weekend... not the coolest of cars, but it was still brand new. I was supposed to return it to security upon arrival to work on Tuesday morning. Instead, I took it shopping during lunch and returned it at 3pm. I'm just sayin. It's important that I confess that to someone.

Family Vacation: The Grown Up Years

2009-08-31T09:31:00.023-05:00

I once said in a blog entry (about 2 weeks ago), "I often wonder how I'll top my Bali vacation". What I should have said was, "I often wonder how I'll top my Bali vacation, but I also wonder how I'll top The Great 2009 Anderson Family Recession Road Trip."

I should have said this because
1) it's true, but also because
2) I should've known my dad would find this blog and be "heartbroken" by the oversight

My dad is a Chevy Chase reincarnate and he planned our family vacation down to the minute. SERIOUSLY YA'LL, a 62 page pdf in chronological order, including excel spreadsheets with drive times and purposes for stopping at said places, google maps, website print outs of all restaurants and tourist stops. . . the list goes on and on. This OCD-like organization and flare for the dramatic? apple/tree, I know.

Soooo the 2 Trees and 2 of their 3 Apples (and the oldest Apple's Orange) set off on a vacation of a lifetime in June. We drove from Oklahoma City through a couple state lines to the Grand Canyon sculpted by the hand of God; on to Vegas, lured by the sites and sounds of Sin City; then through a maze of tree sprinkled mountains on the Pacific coast to Bodega Bay, affording us the opportunity to experience culture-rich San Francisco and the inebriating effects of Napa Valley.

I have to say - I think vacations are wasted on anyone under the age of 10, because I've been to the Grand Canyon before, but somehow can only remember being really hot and thirsty. Seeing it again with a new adult appreciation for all things Natural and Amazing, was amazing.
It was also my inaugural trip to Vegas. The youngest Apple couldn't join us on the entire road trip, something about supporting her college career via soccer? but somehow she managed to meet us in Vegas for that portion of the trip (funny how the timing worked out for her :) Either way, I worried about being amongst the delightful filth for the first time with my parents and sisters (19 and pregnant) ((one is 19 and the other is pregnant)), but it suddenly hit me!!

I don't have to be drunk to stay in Vegas.

It's not like they have cops at the city limits with breathalyzers, "0.08? Sorry, ma'am, you're not drunk enough to enter." I hope everyone has the chance to experience the city sober - Cirque de Soleil, french bistros, an 8am run on The Strip, actually having the inhibitions to stop gambling while you're up??? Fabulous.

I want to know where California residents go on vacation. And then I want to know why. Why do you ever leave California, Californians?? Maybe if you vacationed in your own state, it wouldn't be in debt. Ever thought about that? I l o v e Northern California.

They have San Francisco. It's always a dear joy to walk around that city and people watch! And consume Ghirardelli's best fudge, take Alcatraz tours, ride trolleys for a hot second, let crazy homeless people tell you jokes. Just a delight.
And they have big sequoias! at Sequoia National Forests! Really, really big trees. Named BIG names like "General Sherman".Then there's Napa Valley and it's oldest child, Wine. Wine is beautiful, smells good and doesn't talk back. Dad bought a million cases. That may or may not be the reason I visit Dallas so regularly these days.
And Bodega Bay -- Hitchcock's The Birds was filmed there, but I didn't have a single nightmare. In fact, it was the most peaceful sleep I had the entire trip, because I had my own FLOOR and a purple room. Luckily, we're related to the people that own the rental, so anytime I want to pretend I'm rich and stay at a mansion on a coastal golf course, I'll just scoot on over.

I was scared about being cooped up in a vehicle with my family for 10 days, but we're much more travel-compatible than I thought. And we had a DVD player with headphones, so I didn't have to converse with them much.

Thanks to these two for the vacation. And the gift of life.
(I know what you're thinking, it'd be easier to get a good pic of dad if we photographed him awake? You're probably right)

Sleepless in Houston

2009-08-30T05:00:00.005-05:00

I've fallen victim to consciousness. It's 5:04am on Sunday morning and I'm wide awake! This never happens to me!! I swear, usually my pillows are filled with the strongest active ingredient in Nyquil or something, because the moment my head hits 'em, I'm o u t... but not tonight. or more accurately, not this morning. It's probably a combination of 3 Saturday naps, a 9pm Coke and a 2am dose of Midol, but I don't blame myself. I've found it's much easier to like yourself if you never blame yourself, even for things that are obviously yourself's fault. Denial is key here.

Did you know Midol is nothing but Advil with caffeine? So who voluntarily ingests Midol at 2am? A woman in pain severe enough to wake her from a stage 3 sleep, that's who. In fact, I've often wondered if there were a graphical representation of the pain a woman accumulates over the course of womanhood, how would that compare to the pain a man accumulates in a couple swift kicks to the family jewels? I don't think I'd ever resort to coughing or anything like that, but we both end up in the fetal...... I'm just sayin, probably similar.

So at 3am, to battle my caffeine overdose, I turned on the Tube. I officially despise 3am TV for the diet infomercials and hospital trauma programs. How am I supposed to sleep after I've seen a 17 year old's brain matter protruding from his fractured scull?? Exactly. That's when it clicked - Smartash, you've spent the last 12 hours doing math homework! Make use of this time! Grab your Biology book and be a superstudent! Once I hit emergent properties, something better clicked. Smartash, update your blog. Now that's what I call good use of time, and blogging is definitely more fun, but one must wonder . . . if I kept reading, might I be asleep right now? The world may never know, but I can tell you one thing, I'm getting some good quality time with BearBear.

He's my roommate's cat. He looks more like a cotton ball on steroids with eyes and is about as long as a 3 year old is tall, but I still smile when he comes around. Funny thing is, when my roommate asked if she could get a cat, I had just one-itty-bitty request: short hair. She returned with Bear, a white cat that needs a haircut more often than I do. I actually find myself sprinting to the kitchen on weekday mornings, whipping to and fro to prepare breakfast and sprinting back to my room, all the while dodging any floating Bear-hair that threatens the integrity of my black pants. But again, I still smile when he comes around. Especially at 5:00am.

I can promise you that cats and Midol were not what I had in mind when I started this entry, but sanity isn't really a characteristic of insomnia.

Anyway, I thought for sure I'd get some sleep before my 7:15am alarm, but now it looks like I'm pulling a good old fashion all-nighter, because I couldn't be MORE awake. Maybe I'll be extra ambitious and go for a run at sunrise! Or take a morning bath and cook a big breakfast! Lord knows I'll be hitting the Starbucks before church because this less than restful night will inevitably hit me just as we bow our heads to pray... if I don't get some coffees, my head won't be coming back up... and that just wouldn't be prudent.

Buffalo My Grill

2009-08-27T11:11:00.002-05:00

oH mY gOODNESS. I love me some Buffalo Grill.

If you've never had the opportunity to eat there, please allow me to paint the picture for you. Everything from the new parking experience to the smiley person on the microphone screaming your name... this place has it all.

First. Thanks to large corporations taking over local grass-roots (*sense sarcasm here), Buffalo Grill now has a decent parking lot. It started as a cluster of 3-point-turns and can-I-fit-in-between-this-dumpster-and-this-wall kind of parking experience, but now there are some 300 spaces, because the restaurant sits in the parking lot of the BRAND NEW BUFFALO SPEEDWAY HEB. I'm so sick of hearing their commercials, but I do have a nerdy friend that attended the VIP Grand Opening. He said it was "awesome" because they were giving away free samples on every aisle (we don't hang out much).

Once you park and make your initial descent on the front door, you're greeted by the unpretentious vibe of home. It really is something like waking up and walking down the hall to your childhood kitchen. And don't even get me started on the FUN of the new windows they installed on the West side of the restaurant. LET THERE BE LIGHT!

Now walk up to the counter, my friend. If God is on your side, there won't be a line, but don't think you're going to hell because this place is so popular, there usually is. I never look at the menu. I've ordered the same thing for 8 years. I do, however, stare at the million or so articles of restaurant awards dating back 20 years, but I don't really read them. They just remind me that I made a brilliant meal choice again. Sometimes I even say a prayer thanking Jesus for making the Buffalo Grill owners.

I'll have 2 pieces of french toast with strawberries and a side of hashbrowns, or if I'm feeling especially spontaneous, I'll get a #2 with fried eggs, over medium, grits and whole wheat toast and coffee. The cinnamon roast kind. That's what I had this morning.

Now get your drink and silverwear and find your table beneath the buffalo head or the western blanket. And just wait. Wait for your name. Be sure to listen for the vowels, because you usually can't understand the sweet lady that screams it through the microphone - "azjslee!! your order weady!!!" Like music to my ears.

I get more worked up from eating Buffalo Grill at 7am on a work day than I do most things in life... now that's good stuff.

LOLer For Life

2009-08-26T14:16:00.007-05:00

For gdsake, why does everyone take themselves so damn seriously? I understand there's "a time and a place" and blahblahblah, but isn't the most important thing in life to be happy... which happens to be characterized by the present day smile... which happens to be caused by HUMOR?? Lighten up.

If you're walking down the hall alone and you trip, don't pretend it didn't happen, and PLEASE don't break into a jog for 4 steps, because everyone knows what you're doing. Pretty people trip, you know. And so do smart people. Here's what you do: chuckle at yourself and say, "sniper!"

See how this humor thing can work for you?

Some professional mountain climbers that take themselves too seriously might not think this picture is particularly funny, but I do. And I'm sure it'll put a smile on the face of my 3 readers, so humor works for me.

Tim Gard was the keynote at a luncheon I attended today. The man has all the answers. I was in hysterics the entire time he was speaking, on the verge of wetting my panties even. He made me realize that I shouldn't be embarrassed about my tendency to laugh in boring or awkward situations. That loving humor, even in the workplace, doesn't make me immature. Humor works for me.

...like when we were busted by cops at our after prom house party with a margarita machine. According to the cop that took himself too seriously, this probably wasn't the best time to laugh. But I did, because something was funny. I couldn't tell you what it was because that was a decade ago, and I was drunk, but that's neither here nor there. The important thing is that I was laughing. And wasn't incarcerated.

Annnyyywaayy -- truth is, I officially refuse to be embarrassed that I find humor in everything.

Sincerely,
The One Who Has Her Marbles

No No - We Don't Talk About That

2009-08-14T14:14:00.005-05:00

Growing up, I got "talking at inappropriate times" checked on my report card e v e r y s i n g l e 6 w e e k s, but still managed to be a tiptop student with my "terrible" conversational habits. Sooo, I would argue that if a+b=c, then a generous social life is integral to a successful education. After all, one must have balance in life. Even in 3rd grade.

I was put in Mrs. Burg's class, the same teacher my sister had two years prior (I think it's a straight up educational conspiracy to place sibs with the same teacher. It's like having a 3rd parent! Kids need a break from favoritism, ya know). My sister is an unequivocal genius. She was born an old soul, thus, my "talking at inappropriate times" and flare for the dramatic stood out like a sore thumb for Mrs. Burg who quickly became good friends with Mom trying to straighten me up before things got really bad. I even think a frontal lobotomy was suggested, but that was before they started passing out Ritalin like Vitamin C.

To add insult to injury, this was also the year I started asking about sex. Mom tried to change the subject, but I was relentless. I needed to know RIGHT THEN why I felt warm down there when Ariel kissed Prince Eric. I needed to know RIGHT THEN why laying in bed with your friends naked while playing house was all the rave, but wasn't okay with the Big People. I just needed to know. I mean, does this look like the pose of an innocent angel?
I think it was then that my precious mother realized her baby girl wasn't missing a chromosome or an extremity, but worse- I was missing a filter. I talked at inappropriate times AND I talked about inappropriate things. This would only get worse as the years wore on and I became a sassy pre-teen in middle school... then sprouted very small breasts and found my rythym in high school... then became a sexually liberated young adult at Rice, running around campus naked with other naked nerds ... and now, as a Free Spirit, I have a blog.

Now having said that -- I do have a line. Some of my friends consider it more of a "dot" per se, but it's there. And it is crossed many times on one of my favorite websites, which is probably why I go there... it makes me feel like that innocent angel I never was.

textsfromlastnight

If you're not familiar with the site, it's a compilation of, get this, texts from last night. You can enter your texts and they poll readers on whether they think it was a "good night" or a "bad night". Based on the subject matter of the entries and the comments, I think the main demographic is Male and Female, 15-25. Or Male, 15-45. Some of the most hilarious (and toned-down-for-sake-of-my-timid-readers) entries include:

(562): Whatever. They have the same name, so it's not even cheating. It's brand loyalty.

(303): We just made watching Intervention into a drinking game. We drink every time someone does drugs.

(612): When I m@sturbate I pretend my %*$# is the slap chop and I'm destroying vegetables. Do you think that's an eating disorder?

Come on! I don't care who you are, those are funny. But it's definitely touch and go for me. If I read it on a good day, I'm laughing hysterically. If I read it on a bad day, I feel overwhelmed with pity for a teenage society that glorifies a complete disregard for the law, for their health and for their bodies on a regular basis. Most of the entries I think are gross have been voted on as a "good night" by thousands of site visitors and that concerns me. Then I think about my life, starting in 3rd grade, and I read something like this....

(248): Sometimes I forget to take my socks off when I m@sturbate. This always makes me feel like I'm accidentally in a p0rn.

and I just start laughing again. If apples really don't fall far from the tree, I don't know how I'll sleep through the night when I'm a parent.

Luuucy, you got some splainin' to do!

2009-08-13T09:39:00.010-05:00

What the eff IS a 'Monkey Mind'? About a year ago, a sister mailed me a book that would change my life.

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert is a biography of sorts for any woman searching for something. Elizabeth http://www.elizabethgilbert.com/ is an Author by trade and a Thinker by blood that found herself stuck in the all-too-common Marriage Vacuum being pressured to pro-create with someone she couldn't imagine spending Happily Ever After with. In the wake of a terrible divorce and depression, she succeeded in having her publisher fund a one year "sabbatical" for her to travel around the world to find truth and happiness in exchange for a novel that chronicled the journey. She spent 4 months in Italy finding Pleasure (eating up delicious food and Italian men) ... 4 months in India finding her Spirituality (in silence at an ashram, scrubbing floors and praying day and night) ... and 4 months in Indonesia finding the beautiful balance between Pleasure and Prayer (and consequently, the love of her life). Ohhh how I strongly recommend this book!

A N Y W A Y

Many many things resonated with me about this woman's story, but the one thing that stuck out like a sore thumb was her explanation of her tendency to overthink things... one of my greatest faults. She writes, "I have been cursed with a 'monkey mind' - the thoughts that swing from limb to limb, stopping only to scratch themselves, spit and howl. From the distant past to the unknowable future, my mind swings wildly through time, touching on dozens of ideas a minute, unharnessed and undisciplined. This in itself isn't necessarily a problem; the problem is the emotional attachment that goes along with the thinking. Happy thoughts make me happy, but -whoop!- how quickly I swing again into obsessive worry, blowing the mood...You are, after all, what you think. Your emotions are slaves to your thoughts, and you are the slave to your emotions."

And THAT, is a Monkey Mind.

The book will forever be etched in my memory, what with the 7 or 8 times I've read it, but also because of the vacation that quickly followed the inaugural read...

My bffffl and I both read it last summer and after a few cocktails and conversation about the wonder of Gilbert's journey, we charged our Mastercard with 2 flights to Bali. . . . . . . then planned the trip. Both Type-A planners to a fault, it was like a small orgasm to operate outside our comfort zone like that. Completely illogical. Yet delicious. We met up with another bfffl that lives in Thailand and skipped around the island living adventure after adventure, meeting the same medicine man and traditional Balinese healer that Gilbert herself spent 4 months with, climbing volcanoes at sunrise, rafting down rivers/the local bath and riding elephants!
The trip was in October and it was a m a z i n g. The best vacation of my life. I often wonder how I'll top this one, but I really don't have to worry about that right now ... my bank account tells me so.

Let the Games Begin

2009-08-12T13:13:00.002-05:00

Oh my goodness, I don't even know where to begin! I could take you back to The Best Day of my parents' lives (January 11, 1983), but I'll just start with last Monday - the day I was told to start a blog and actually took it seriously.

I've been following about 5 blogs rather closely for a couple years, occasionally finding myself sniffing around random pages (usually in search of pictures because the majority of the writers I come across are extremely BORING), but I never considered starting my own until a dear teammate looked at me with a straight face and made the suggestion. Now granted, it was just after our 8th pitcher of celebratory brewskies so just about everyone seemed interesting enough to write a blog, but I let the suggestion simmer and soon decided it was a brilliant idea.

After all, blogs are anonymous virtual diaries for adults, made famous by the women that stole their bff's diary, hid in the corner of the closet and snickered uncontrollably at its contents as children. And that was me. So if you add that to my self-diagnosed Monkey Mind and the incessant need to express anything and everything I think about, it's only logical that I join the ranks of my favorite fellow bloggers. And face it, my friends, despite your age, there's def-definitely a chemical reaction going on somewhere in your noggin' when you get to read someone else's innermost thoughts... here, I afford you the right to read mine.

In conclusion -- I'm not married, I have no children, but strangely enough, I still have things to talk about (mostly my friends' marriages and children, but that's neither here nor there). Follow along if you dare ... it's usually a bumpy ride on my roller coaster.