If lovin’ the 80’s is wrong, I don’t wanna be right

Juli and Christi Roberts, prom night, 1989. Pure awesomeness.

Do you think my lips were red enough? Do you think Christi’s hair was tall enough?

I think I had bathed in Calvin Klein’s Eternity too. It was a gift and I thought it smelled pretty close to heaven. Now I think it smells pretty close to cat pee.

Just thought I’d share. Happy Saturday!

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Coffee conundrum

I never finish my second cup of coffee. I always have good intentions . . . I always say to myself, “Yes, I need that second cup. One is just not enough.” And then when I get about halfway through it, and I am nearing the end of my getting-ready-for-work process, I don’t finish it and I leave it on the bathroom counter. Or if I’m feeling very OCD that morning, I’ll take it to the kitchen sink.

If you’re aware at all of my monumental cheapness, you will understand how this waste of the precious nectar of life is unacceptable.

Well, I have had a revelation.

Remember how I told you I was sleepy and kinda funky between 4 and 6 in the afternoon? How about iced coffee from my leftovers, and save myself the $5 that I would have spent at Starbucks? It’s hot out, iced coffee is good, iced coffee is free, iced coffee is yummy.

I realize a smarter woman would have figured this out already, but I have never professed to be smart.

Here’s what I did. Put the half a cup in the refrigerator before leaving for work and when I get home, fill a big glass with ice and a sweet-n-low, then pour the coffee over it. It’s already got cream in it so it’s perfect. Mix and enjoy. And then I blog while I’m enjoying my big iced coffee.

Aren’t you glad I shared this? I am so crafty. Not.

Happy weekend to you all!

My pantry quandry

No matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to fill up my fridge and pantry enough to keep the boys around my house happy. I had a friend tell me that if my fridge and pantry were people, they’d be the Olsen twins.

Rude.

I go to the grocery store all the time! I spend money, lots of money, upsetting amounts of money at the grocery store, and the fridge still looks bare. Why is this?

Lynn tells me I don’t shop like a normal American. Instead of shopping for 2 weeks of food at a time, I shop by meal, just getting fresh stuff for the meal I intend to cook.

This baffles me, because I don’t do it on purpose! I think I’m buying half the store, in fact, when I get about halfway through working my way up and down the aisles, I start to get antsy thinking I’ve bought too much. I’m mentally adding up the cart and my palms get sweaty.

Does buying groceries give anyone else anxiety? Am I just weird?

Thank God we have the money for me to go to the store and buy whatever we need, I know I am extremely blessed to be able to do this. Yesterday I filled up and washed my car, and then went to the store and I thanked God for it. But that familiar feeling hit me somewhere between the frozen foods aisle and the Cokes and bottled water aisle. I began to feel like I had over-indulged and was about to blow the bank account up. I never feel like I get the things I need in those last few rows.

Maybe I should start shopping from the other direction, that way by the time I get to produce, I will just pare it down to apples only instead of my usual, apples, bananas and oranges. Yes, that’s what I should do, start at the drug store side and I’ll have a cart full of lip gloss and cleaning supplies. Then I won’t buy food and it’ll be the perfect diet!

It’s funny, I’ve been grocery shopping for my family of 3 now for nearly a decade, and I still get nervous when I approach the check-out counter. You’d think I would be used to it.

I never impulse-buy right there at the end because I’m always fretting thinking I’ve spent too much. But I’ve never had to go put things back or just bail out of the store leaving my cart behind, praise be to God in heaven above.

Well, I think now seeing this in black and white, I am just weird.

I’m rather embarrassed that I just shared all this with you. I think I’ll go rearrange my pantry and fridge and try to make them look more full.

A different kind of glee

Let me preface this post by telling you that under no circumstances will I ever divulge what was so funny. Even if you sit on me and yank out my fingernails, I will never tell. It’s way too embarrassing. But suffice to say, if laughter doeth good like a medicine, then I OD’ed that night.

Have you ever laughed so hard that you truly were crying, I mean tears streaming down your face, pee your pants, fall on the floor, can’t get up, laughing? Those moments are the absolute best. I live for them.

I don’t know who took these pictures, I assume it was Lynn simply because he knows how much I love a good laugh and he has been known to video me at those moments. (More on that later!)

That night was so fun, it was so liberating, it was so hilarious, it was so gleeful. And it FELT SO GOOD. That kind of deep soul-satisfying laughter really does feel great. No matter what might be going on in your life, losing yourself in that just takes you to another place for a little while. And when you get back, you sit there and giggle and maybe fall back into it a few more times, and then giggle some more. And then go check your face because your mascara is dripping off your chin.

And the best part of the trip is, there’s no hangover!

It’s like revving an engine . . . it just kind of blows all the gunk out and gives you a fresh, clean start. What a perfect image to have in mind as we launch into 2011. A big engine blow-out. Oh, wait. No. That’s not a good image.

Let me start over. My New Year’s resolution is to laugh until I pee my pants more.

Yikes. That’s not so good either.

Maybe just click on this link and have a laugh with me. (You will be redirected to Facebook.)

http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/video/video.php?v=1529596726626

In closing, I wish you a GLEEFUL New Year.

Mistakes and onions

What do you do when you screw up; I mean, really step in it? That’s what I did recently. I made a big mistake, a whopper. I wasn’t thinking, I just had a brain fart. I blanked, I spaced out. I screwed the pooch.

The first thing I wanted to do is literally crawl in a hole and hide from everyone and cry. Guilt overwhelmed me. I felt like a giant jerk. And my brain went a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out how I could have been so stupid as to make that mistake. I mean, come on! I’m a 38-year-old, mature, responsible woman. I have a job, a family, I’m a relatively good person, but I SCREWED UP. Now what?

Well, I have a “this is how it ought to be,” and a “this is how it actually is.” Here’s a little of both. This particular time, I happened to have realized my mistake during a phone call. You know when you get that phone call where the person calling makes it abundantly clear that you screwed up? Yeah, it was that phone call.

It was in the morning, during my coffee ritual. And I was simultaneously making a pot of French onion soup. (Long story.) I had just chopped up 4 ginormous onions for the soup and had thrown them in the pot to start caramelizing when the phone rang. When I read the caller ID, I knew it. My heart dropped to my toes. When I began to appreciate the gravity of what I had done, I had to sit down.

So by the time I hit the red “end” button on my phone and locked the keypad frantically so there was no way anyone could hear me scream, I yelled a little. And then I smelled burning onions, and I yelled some more.

I had tears from onions and tears from the phone call.

After I collected myself and repented for saying a bad word (or 5) I salvaged the soup, put it on simmer, put the lid on it, and went upstairs to get dressed. It was silent in my bathroom as I was putting on makeup, but my thoughts were screaming.

The truth of the matter was, there was nothing I could do. I had apologized, I was truly sorry for the mistake. I had done all I could. But as we all know, that doesn’t always set us at ease and make it all better. The mind will replay it again and again: what they said, what you said, what you should have said, what you should not have said. And that’s when it hit me. I have an attorney. I have an advocate. I have someone who does have the ability to make it better. And that is the Holy Spirit.

You can’t rationalize your way into peace. I tried. I’ve tried many times. But asking the Lord for help and praying in the Spirit does bring peace. Always.

So I prayed . . . Lord, I really screwed up. I’m so sorry. Please help me to fix this. Please go before me and smooth this over. Please let the ones who were affected by this see that I made a mistake and I’m sorry. Please help me get through this and make it better.

And then I prayed in the Spirit for a few minutes, off and on until I finished getting ready and headed out the door. Within that time frame, I began to feel better. I began to feel my heart crawl out of that hole and my confidence began to come back up. The beating myself up stopped, the brain squeeze let up. I could breathe again.

I know that all sounds too easy . . . over-simplified, but it works. God wants to help us, but He won’t come unless He’s asked. He’s a gentleman.

I’m a simple girl. I mess up, I ask God for help, and He helps. I ask the Advocate to intervene on my behalf, and He does. I pray in the Spirit, and peace settles down on me. Try it. It’s a good feeling.

My grown-up tree

The Saturday after Thanksgiving. I braved Garden Ridge again, this time, alone. Since hubby bought us a new tree yesterday, I needed 2 more strands of red bead garland and some more ornaments. Yay, me!

What a lovely day it has been. Got the tree finished, the stockings hung. And now chicken is thawing because there are no more leftovers.

Jax has a cousin over and they are intermittently playing Xbox and dreaming up things they want for Christmas. I have been jotting them all down because invariably, when I get ready to shop for Jaxon, I’ve forgotten everything he told me.

Here is my tree this year.

It is a foreign tree to me as it is the first time ever I have had white lights. I just love colored lights, they feel like Christmas to me. As do the funky ornaments and silliness like jalapeno lights. I think it is something leftover from my childhood. I got stuck somehow in the Christmas of an 8-year-old and never grew up. Lynn graciously just rolled with me for all these years, never pressuring me to grow up and put up an adult tree. He let me take my own sweet time until I was ready to enter the adult Christmas world.

So Christmas of 2010, I am officially a grown-up. Maybe the fact that I spend more money covering my gray hair than on the electric bill should have clued me into this fact. But at least now maybe I will stop shopping in the juniors department and wearing Bonne Bell Lip Smacker.

Slain in the Spirit

You see this girl? Yeah, that was me this morning in the parking lot of the Bethany Free Will Baptist church. Except that I was about half her height, and twice her weight. And I was wearing some ridiculous excuse for shoes made by teeny bopper singer, turned reality star, turned joke, turned designer, Jessica Simpson. Oh here, let me just show you. I may have deserved what I got for trying to dress like I’m 28 instead of 38. But hey, I live on the wild side. Thankfully I had on jeans and not a skirt or the poor little ladies who were assisting the voters would have had a fit. As it was they were fanning themselves furiously after I busted out in tongues and passed the whole thing off like I had just been slain in the Spirit by the sheer joy of exercising my right to vote.